#wait I just realized this is forty-five

[beskarandblasters]

Does Your Mother Know?

No Outbreak!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Ways to help Palestine

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author’s note: Inspired by Does Your Mother Know by ABBA + part of @freelancearsonist’s ABBA Drabble Challenge!

Summary: Joel finds a pretty young thing on the beach to spend some time with on his vacation.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, reader wears a bikini & a dress, no outbreak AU, ambiguous beach location, both reader and Joel consume alcohol, age gap (20 years), oral sex (F and M receiving), semi public sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is on birth control, pet names (sweetheart, baby), no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

He watches you walk out of the ocean, the sun hitting the droplets of water rolling off her skin. Your bikini, a tad too small, emphasizes your breasts. He’s staring at you, eyes squinting from the sun. And that’s when he realizes he’s not wearing his sunglasses. 

Fuck. You caught him staring. 

Your lips curve into a smile. You place a hand on your hip, fingers toying with the strings on your bikini bottom.

And now you’re coming over to him, bounding through the sand and hips swaying as you walk. He scrambles for his sunglasses. He wants to ogle you in peace. But he can’t find them. 

God damn it.

“Hi,” you say, standing in front of his beach chair. Your voice is syrupy sweet and he knows he’s done for.

“Hey there,” he says, looking up at you. His eyes immediately gravitate to your breasts. 

“Who are you here with?” you ask, jumping straight to the point.

“My brother.”

“And where is he?” 

“Went off with a girl he met last night,” he says, finally finding his sunglasses. 

“Maybe you should do the same.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, sliding the sunglasses on and looking at you again, “What about you? Who are you here with?”

“Family reunion,” you say. He subconsciously lets out a sigh of relief. “Don’t worry I’m not here with a boy,” you add, playfully rolling your eyes.

“What? Oh no I didn’t mean-”

“I know what you’re about,” you say, kneeling beside his chair and placing an arm on his bicep, “I caught the way you were ogling me just now.”

He stutters briefly before spitting out a measly, “I was not.”

“Don’t even try that shit with me,” you giggle, “I saw you.”

He chuckles, glancing at your hand on his bicep, and says, “Sweetheart, I just have to ask… How old are you?” 

“Old enough.”

He cocks his head to the side and smirks. “You’re cute but I need a number.”

“Twenty-five. I’m in grad school. What about you?”

“Forty-five. That a problem for you?”

“Nope,” you smile. 

-

You make plans that night to go to the resort’s beachfront bar at eight. He goes back to his room after parting ways with you, showering, and making sure to get all of the sand off. The whole time he thinks of you in that damn bikini. He wonders what you’re going to wear tonight. Surely something that will drive him insane. 

Before you separated you exchanged names. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel!” you said before turning and walking back to your room, your hips swaying again as you walk. 

That’s his kryptonite, you saying his name. Joel never knew his name could sound so good. 

-

He waits at the bar for you, wearing a button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone. He’s got that post-ocean smell about him, the saltwater making his curls extra fluffy. You’re a little late, only about five minutes or so. And for a split second, he wonders if you stood him up. 

But his heart just about stops when he sees you. 

A fucking knockout you are. Blue and white lace dress, sandals on your feet. Your skin is shiny, especially under the disco ball hanging above. How is it that this pretty young thing wants anything to do with him? 

“Hi, Joel,” you say, placing your hand on his arm again. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he says, his jaw on the floor. He can’t hide his desire for you. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he continues, eyeing you up and down. 

“Thanks!” you giggle, giving him a twirl, “Sorry I was running late. Had to make up a lie about where I was going tonight.” 

“Oh?” he says, grabbing your waist and pulling you close, “Where are you supposed to be tonight, naughty girl?” 

“Shuffleboard,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

“You blew off shuffleboard with your family to hang out with me?” 

You lean in close and whisper, “Can you blame me?” Your breath tickles the shell of his ear. Just like that, he’s putty in your hands. 

“N-No,” he says, with a shiver down his spine, “Drinks?” he says, turning and looking at you. 

“Sex on the beach,” you tell him.

You grab a table while he orders your drinks. He comes back with a Miller Lite for himself and your cocktail. But after a few sips, one of your favorite songs comes on; Dancing Queen by ABBA. 

“Let’s dance!” you say, jumping up from your seat and holding out your hand. 

“I don’t dance,” he chuckles. 

“I’m not taking no for an answer!” you say, pulling him towards the dance floor. 

You dance with him, bodies pressed together and laughing the night away. He thinks about your family, your mother… and what they would do if they saw you with an older man. He wonders what Tommy would think of him if he saw him with such a younger woman. 

But then he looks at you, how you smile at him with the disco ball above shimmering your features. He can see in your eyes that your feelings are big, your lust for him so prevalent. He should be taking it slow. But he can’t. Not when you give him that look, not when you flash your dazzling smile at him. 

Suddenly the crowded dance floor is too much for him and he wants you all to himself. After a few songs, he grabs your hand and leads you back to your table. You’re laughing with each other, giddy and over the moon. How he wishes this night would never end. 

“You’re not a bad dancer!” you say, semi-shouting over the music and downing the rest of your drink. 

“You’re a natural,” he says, finishing his beer. 

As if you’re reading his mind, you lean in close and whisper in his ear again, “What do you say we get another round and get out of here?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he says, eagerly standing up and heading back to the bar. You giggle as you watch him, stumbling a bit as he orders your second round and closes out the tab. 

He comes back with the drinks and hands you yours, interlocking his hand with his. 

“My room?” he asks, “I assume we can’t go to yours.”

You lean in and finally kiss him, whispering against his lips, “What about the beach?” 

You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? 

“Yes,” he says a little too quickly, pulling another laugh out of you. 

You walk hand in hand down the beach. You’re a little tipsy, the sway of your hips a little messier than before. For once, Joel is thankful Tommy dragged him on this trip. 

You lead him all the way to the private cabanas on the beach, only guarded by a rope. There’s no one else around. Sex on the beach under the moonlight— this trip can’t get any better. 

“You’re sure about this? Like you’re not worried about getting caught?” he asks, lifting the rope for you. 

“We’d be giving them quite the show,” you shrug. 

God, you drive him wild. 

You set your drinks down on the side table by one of the cabanas, lying down on the padded furniture. You kick off your sandals and Joel watches as you sprawl out, the skirt of your dress riding up a bit. His cock twitches in his shorts. A bit of your cleavage peeks out from the neckline. He needs you now. 

“What are you waiting for?” you ask with a smirk. 

“Just taking the view in,” he says, mirroring your grin. 

But he can’t anymore now. He needs to taste you. He needs to make you shiver. 

He gets down in between your legs and pulls your dress a bit more. And that’s when he notices you’re not wearing any panties. 

“No panties? Naughty girl.” 

“You couldn’t tell I’m a naughty girl by where we are right now?” you laugh. 

But your laugh is cut off by a slow lick up your cunt. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you against his face. He devours you, nose rubbing against your clit and tongue circling your entrance. The soft breeze from the sea tousles his curls and you moan under the night sky, back arching up and thighs trembling already. 

In no time you cum against his face, whimpering thanks to his skilled tongue and his perfect nose against your clit. He stays between your thighs for a moment after you’re done coming, lapping up your release. Your skin is tingling, cheeks hot from the intense orgasm you had but also the adrenaline. He pokes his head up and you catch a glimpse of his wet facial hair under the moonlight. 

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart,” he says. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he says, going back in for another taste.

Another shiver runs down your spine. 

Once he’s satisfied he lies next to you. Once you’ve caught your breath you waste no time getting up and straddling him now. 

“Your turn,” you say, inching down his legs and pulling his cock out of his shorts. It’s better than you ever could’ve imagined; long, thick, and uncut. 

“You sure?” he asks, caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting this. 

“Mhm,” you say, swirling your tongue around the tip, “Only been thinking about this all day.”

“Fuck,” he moans. You maintain eye contact with him the whole time, sucking him off like such a good girl. He thinks about what you just said. 

Only been thinking about this all day. 

How did he get so lucky? 

Your hand wraps around the base, stroking the part your mouth can’t fit. A mixture of his pre-cum and your saliva rubs down his shaft. He tries to burn this picture-perfect moment in his mind forever; you suck him off under the nighttime sky with the beach behind you. You suck in your cheeks and suck him off harder, moaning when more pre-cum leaks out of his tip. If he’s not careful he’ll bust right here right now. But he wants to cum inside you if you’ll let him. 

Just when he’s teetering on the edge of orgasm he stops you, hand caressing your cheek. 

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” he says. You take him out of your mouth and swipe the wetness off your chin. 

“Are you ready?” you ask. 

“Baby, I fuckin’ need you,” he says. 

Hastily you straddle his cock again, sopping wet cunt hovering over him. The head teases your entrance and you just can’t take it anymore. You sink down onto his cock in one swift motion, hands resting on his chest. You both sigh at the feeling; his cock enveloped by your warmth and you feeling full. 

You rock your hips back and forth and his hands hold your waist. 

“You’re fuckin’ perfect, you know that?”

“Y-Yeah?” you ask, voice high pitched from your arousal. You lean forward, face inches from his, and ask, “Be honest, you were thinking about this when you saw me get out of the water earlier, weren’t you?”

“Maybe.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him. 

“It didn’t happen exactly like this in my head.” 

“No? What was your little fantasy?” you ask, rocking your hips harder. 

“Fuck… Right there on the beach.” 

“In front of everyone?! Naughty boy you are, Joel,” you say, kissing him. He sneaks a nip at your lip, hands migrating from your waist up to your breasts. He was thinking about these all day, watching the way they sit so pretty in your ill-fitting bikini top. 

You move your hips like a goddamn angel. And his cock fits inside you perfectly, hitting the most sensitive spots inside you. If you keep moving like this he’s going to cum soon. 

You don’t stop. You only pick up the pace, sitting up and placing your hands on his chest again. 

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna make me cum if you’re not careful.”

“So?” 

“I can?!” 

“I’m on the pill,” you smirk, leaning in for one final kiss. You cum together in a harmonious symphony, his cock pulsing his cum inside you. You both moan into the kiss, riding out your highs with the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore. This is heaven. 

Eventually, your hips slow to a stop and you pull yourself off of him, lying beside him with his cum running down your thigh. He pulls you close, right into his chest. You smell his cologne and press a few sloppy kisses to his neck. 

“You’re amazing,” he says, rubbing your back. 

“So are you,” you giggle. 

You spend a while talking and getting to know each other after the mind-blowing sex you just had. But between all the energy you just exerted and the alcohol, you’re tired, drifting off to sleep in his arms. 

Before you completely fall asleep he asks, “When do you leave?”

“Sunday,” you yawn. 

Three days left together. 

He knows you can’t spend the night here but for now, he’ll let you take a little nap. He wants to spend as much time as he can with you before you return to your family. His pretty young thing for the remainder of his trip. 

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 🩵

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #no outbreak!joel miller

[minnieminshi]

Pucking Chemistry

Summary: You never should’ve agreed to tutor the captain of the hockey team. Who shows up a full hour after the agreed meeting time? Choi Seungcheol, apparently as you’ve come to learn. And now you’re stuck tutoring him because for some reason, you're his last hope to pass chemistry so he’s eligible to play in an upcoming tournament. 

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself lol, mentions of your father abandoning the family (it's minor and only mentioned like once)

Word Count: 9.9K (I was possessed lol)

Extra info: high school setting, Cheol uses the term "princess" a lot and I'm a sucker for calling people by their last name, mentions of Monsta X’s I.M (aka Changkyun) and Kard’s Somin (but she gets mentioned like once lol), your little brother’s name never gets mentioned but you do call him Frosty lol, and my knowledge of hockey is limited to watching Dr. Mike on yt talk about hockey injuries so there’s not a whole lot of hockey action in this fic lmao.

Author's Note: this fic made me realize my little brother is turning 13 this year and I can’t handle that because what do you mean he’s a teen now he literally turned one the other day and I think that shows in this fic lol. Also if I only count the days I actually sat down to write this fic it only took me 3 days lol, but I had 3 tests this week and had to be productive so that nerfed me. This is also the first fic I'm posting in this app so bare with me lol and in honor of Scoups and Jeonghan getting cleared to return to activities, I present the beginning of this series

Sporteen Masterlist

Sitting in the school’s library, all your chemistry notes laid out, you began to rethink agreeing to tutor the school’s hockey captain, Choi Seungcheol. With another glance to your phone, you sighed, ten minutes passed what the two of you agreed to meet at. If you didn’t like your chemistry teacher as much as you do, you would have never agreed to do this. 

He’s a sweet guy, I’m sure he won’t give you any problems!

But it’s only ten minutes and sometimes things come up. Maybe he’d walk in after a few more minutes and then you two could finally start. 

Except those ten minutes slowly morphed into thirty minutes, forty five minutes, and now suddenly it’s an hour and not a single word from Choi Seungcheol about where the hell he’s at.

And while having to wait an hour for someone to show up to something they needed sucked, that’s not what pissed you off. What pissed you off was the fact that after this tutoring session, you had a date with Changkyun, set up by your friend Somin, but thanks to the no show Choi Seungcheol, you’d have to rush home, get your little brother ready for the evening and get ready for your date. And while you could hypothetically get everything done in time, you would prefer it if you didn’t have to rush. Your little brother’s probably gonna complain about his quick dinner of chicken nuggets and macaroni after you promised him yesterday you’d make him what he called an “actual meal.” You reminded him that he was twelve and fully capable of cooking for himself and suddenly the quick meal was the best thing he’s ever eaten. 

So he could survive a rushed meal, however getting ready for your date was a different story. Rushing to get ready in the morning for school was one thing. You could halfass an outfit and get your brother out the door in fifteen minutes flat if your mom was already at work, but you needed a little more time to actually look good enough for someone who wasn’t related to you or hasn’t seen you slumped over your desk with textbooks and notes sprawled all over the floor. 

Now, because of Choi Seungcheol, you’d have to rush, something you wished wouldn’t happen. 

“Sweet guy my ass,” you mutter under your breath as you begin shoving your things into your backpack. Just as you finished shoving the last textbook into your backpack, a deep voice caught you off guard before you rolled your eyes.  

“Where’re you going princess, aren’t you gonna tutor me?” 

Oh? 

Letting out a low chuckle, you turn to face the captain who you wished you could smack that smirk off his face and crossing your arms over your chest, you leaned against the table. “Tutor you? I agreed to tutor you an hour ago, and since that’s passed, I’m heading home to go enjoy my evening.” 

As you turned around to grab your backpack and go home, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked up to see him holding onto you, a hesitant look in his eyes. Your brows furrowed as you shook his hand off. 

“Look, I’m sorry about being late, but something came up.” He muttered, his hand falling to his side as he shoved his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. You scoffed as you shouldered your bag. “Too busy to send a heads up?” 

You look up to see a light blush dust his cheeks as he looks away from you, and if you weren’t so pissed at him, you’d find him kinda cute. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You sighed as you glance at the clock on the wall, and with a sigh, you turn to the hockey player. “Look, I have plans so I can give you 45 minutes.” 

“Forty five minutes? That’s barely any time to learn anything,” he complained with a small pout on his lips as you rolled your eyes. “Take it or leave it Choi, you’re the one who was late.” 

He let out a small huff before agreeing to the terms, pulling out a chair as you pulled out your phone, setting an alarm for exactly 45 minutes. Thankfully tutoring him wasn’t terrible, he actually seemed to listen to you and he even took notes while you explained the most recent lesson to him. Maybe if he was kind enough to send a message earlier you might actually feel bad about leaving, but alas that wasn’t the case. 

With the default alarm ringing, you began packing up your things once again, this time, really just throwing everything with no regard as to how things landed in your bag. With a little speeding you should be able to make it home in about fifteen minutes which gives you about ten minutes to make your brother’s dinner and have about thirty minutes to get ready for your date. Perfect timing as long as you leave right now. 

Just as you begin to walk away, pulling up your little brother’s contact to tell him you’re on your way, Seungcheol calls you out. “Are we still good for next week?” You freeze, slowly turning to look at him as your phone rings. “Next week? Listen Choi, I think it’s best if you find someone else to tutor you.”

Before he can say anything, you cut him off. “Listen, I have things to take care of after school and I can’t wait for over an hour, wondering if you’ll show up. I’ll tell Ms. Park to find someone else and we don’t have to worry about seeing each other again.” With that, you walk out the library, your little brother having finally picked up and making things easier for you as he grabbed all the food you told him to. 

Looks like things will be going back to normal after today, no more having to worry about Choi Seungcheol. 

Or so you thought. 

What you didn’t expect to see when coming to pick up your little brother from his little hockey club practice is Choi Seungcheol out on the ice, with your little brother excitedly talking to him about who knows what. 

You internally groan, why, just why did he have to be the one to coach your little brother’s team. And why did you have to say you’d never see him again, it’s like you were asking for the universe to play a cruel prank on you by making sure this would happen to you. 

Weeks ago, when your little brother asked you if you could start taking him to a hockey club he joined every Saturday, you didn’t see any issue with it initially. As long as he had the proper gear (that your guys’ mom provided) you thought it was great he found a sport he enjoyed after he burned through basketball, soccer, tennis, and baseball in a matter of a few years. Plus it meant you could have Saturday to yourself for a few hours while everyone else was out of the house. So a win-win in your book. 

Or so it was a win before you were left in disbelief, standing off to the side as you watched him talk to Seungcheol. You shook your head, calling out his name as you made your way to the plexiglass wall, wanting to go home. You made the rookie mistake of walking into the rink with no jacket, thinking it would be a quick run of picking him up and going back home. How foolish of you to think things would work out for you. 

You let out a small gasp as you made eye contact with your little brother, holding it for a few seconds, only to have him ignore you and continue to talk to his coach, who you knew was aware of your presence. You groan, grounding the heels of your palms into your eyes. Oh how you wished you were an only child in moments like this. Instead you were cursed to be a big sister to a little brother who made your life oh so difficult. 

Calling out his name one more time, he finally looked over at you and started to make his way off the rink. You sighed, thankful you weren’t going to have to resort to actually going out on the ice to drag him out. 

“Took you long enough, I’m freezing over here,” you said once he was at the wall, carefully stepping onto the non-frozen ground with his skates. “That’s on you for not bringing a jacket into the rink.” 

“And that’s on you when all you get for dinner is a slice of bread,” you say when you hand him his sneakers that he had put on the seats before practice had started, and where his backpack was. “Can’t believe you feed me like I’m some paperboy from the 1900s,” he grumbled, but he took the shoes. 

Before you could shoot back a reply, Seungcheol skates up to the wall, a smirk on his face. You roll your eyes, wishing he’d go back to doing figure eights or whatever the hell he does on the ice. He calls out your name but you choose to pretend you don’t hear him, instead leaning down to grab your brother’s backpack, a small groan leaving your lips from the sheer weight in his bag. It’s like he carries rocks in this thing, you complain as you shoulder the bag. He shoots you a look as if asking why are you carrying my backpack, but he doesn’t question it, you know the whole gift horse saying. 

Just as he finishes tying his shoe, Seungcheol crosses the threshold, leaning against the door as he eyes you. You could feel your eye twitching as you watched him what looked like inspect you, and you fight back a groan when he smirks at you.  

“What happened to never seeing each other again prin-” 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you grit out, hoping your little brother could help you if he truly cared about you. You glance over at him, and just from the look in his eyes, you know he’s not helping you out. It’s like his eyes are shining with awe just from being near Seungcheol and you wonder what your little brother sees in him. 

He can’t be that great, you still– well hate’s not the word, that’s too strong, it’s more so you greatly dislike him for what he did a week ago. You still think it was shitty of him to not tell you anything about being late. And of course his cocky personality is really starting to get on your nerves, especially when he calls you princess, as if you two are that close. You’ve only spoken to him a handful of times and yet he calls you a petname as if you’ve known each other for ages. It just makes your skin crawl. 

“You know each other?” Your brother asks, poking his head into the conversation as he looks between the two of you. Before you could say anything, Seungcheol butts in, “she tutors me.” 

Your jaw drops as he smiles, as if he didn’t just lie to your little brother. It’s like every time he opens his mouth he finds a new way to piss you off. You dryly chuckle as you grab your brother’s shoulder, trying to guide him away so you can leave. “I don’t, now come on, I gotta start prepping dinner.” 

“But it’s Saturday, we usually eat out today,” he says and you give him a tightlipped smile. “I just feel like cooking today so why don’t we go home now.” 

At that, it seems like your brother finally puts the pieces together, and nods his head. Just as the two of you are about to leave the rink, Seungcheol calls out your name once again. Already knowing what he’s going to ask you shake your head. “I’ll tell Ms. Park on Monday to find someone else to help you.” 

And with that, you’re gone and Seungcheol’s on his own again, wondering how the hell he’s supposed to get his chemistry grade up without your help. 

“Do you hate Scoups hyung?” Your brother asks once you pull out of the parking lot, your car currently playing I’ll Make a Man Out of You as you let out a confused sound. “Scoups? Is that what you guys call him,” you chuckle, finding the nickname a little silly. 

“He said he doesn’t like people calling him his full name,” he explains with a shrug. “Now, do you hate him?” 

Wow, he’s really not letting this go. 

You sigh as you look over to your right. He’s looking at you expectantly, as if there’s this great and terrible backstory to explain why you wanted to leave the rink as soon as the hockey player approached you. When you tell your brother what happened a few days ago between the two of you, he just rolls his eyes. Yes rolls his eyes, as if being forced to wait an hour for someone to show up isn’t a good enough reason to dislike a person. 

“He apologized, what’s the big deal?” He asks, and it’s moments like this when you're reminded your brother is just a boy. “It’s the fact he made me wait an hour with no heads up that I’m still upset about.” Your brother looks over at you, a small smile on his face. “I think he’s a good guy, I’m sure he had a reason why he was late. I don’t think he meant to blow you off like that.” 

You blink, letting his words sink in for a moment before shaking your head, focusing back on the road. “Let’s stop talking about Choi and focus back on planning your essay that you have due on Monday.” 

He groans, throwing his head back onto the headrest, complaining about why his teacher needed them to write about an important person in their life. “I’m going to write about our dog,” he mutters once the two of you pull up into the parking lot of your apartment. You chuckle, locking the car as he holds open the elevator for you. “We don’t even have a dog.” 

“Ms. Kang doesn’t know that.” He shrugs and sometimes you wonder how your brother’s made it this far. “Whatever you say Frosty, but that essay better be done by tomorrow since mom wants us to go out to eat for dinner.”

“Hey Frosty’s a pretty good name for a dog, you think I could use it for a husky?” 

“You know what, go crazy dude.” 

The last thing you expect when you were walking to the parking lot, heading over to the middle school to go pick up your brother, was to be pinned against a wall in the science building, much less to see Choi Seungcheol, on his knees, begging for you to not talk to Ms. Park. 

You could only blink, wondering what the hell has gotten into him. Did he hit his head too hard from a fall on the ice or something? Feeling a little embarrassed, you try getting him back on his feet before anyone walks down the hall. Thankfully he gets up, but unfortunately he keeps you pinned to the wall, towering over you. 

“Choi, what the fuck’s gotten into you,” you mutter, trying to push him slightly away from you, putting some breathing space between the two of you. 

“Please don’t talk to Ms. Park to find a replacement tutor.” He quietly says and you could feel your jaw drop. No fucking way he’s still on this. You put your hands on his shoulders, effectively getting him to look at you. “You can’t be serious.” 

He groans as he closes his eyes, as if he was thinking of what the best thing to say is. One of your eyebrows raise as you wait to see what he says, and what looks like great reluctance from him, he finally confesses his woes.

“There’s a big tournament coming up in a month and if I wanna play, I need to get my chem grade up.” 

You stare at him for a few seconds. That’s it? Why would this concern you? Feeling a little nice, you don’t voice out your thoughts and instead ask, “so what does that have to do with me? You can just find another tutor.” 

He shakes his head and you tilt your head to the side, now intrigued on what he could possibly say. 

“You’re the only person who actually makes chemistry make sense so if I want a chance to pass this class,” he looks up and your breath hitches when you look into his eyes. You never noticed how pretty his eyes are, or how fucking long his eyelashes are. Shaking those thoughts away, you notice what looks like hope in his eyes, and you realize he really thinks you’ll help him. “I need your help.” 

You blink, trying to weigh your options. While you still hold a grudge against him for the first tutoring session, this tournament’s important to him. The two of you are seniors, and depending on his plans for after graduation, this may be the last time he gets to play the sport. Then of course, you can’t stop thinking about what your brother said the other day, and unfortunately for you, you trust your brother’s judgment. And if Seungcheol’s ineligible to play, you really don’t want that to affect your brother’s team. He’s grown to love the sport in the weeks he’s played and you really don’t want him to lose his growing passion. 

You sigh, closing your eyes as you lean your head back against the wall. “Fine, I won’t talk to her.” He smiles and before he could thank you, you cut him off. “But just know I’m doing this for my brother, he really seems to like you and I don’t want you failing to affect your coaching.” 

“I’ll take it as long as you’re agreeing to keep tutoring me,” he smiles and you’re stunned into silence for a few seconds when you see dimples dot his cheeks. You shake out of it and wiggle out of his grasp. “Yeah, just make sure you’re not late without a heads up, Choi.” 

The next few weeks are filled with Choi Seungcheol, and you’re not sure how you feel about that statement just yet. In the beginning, you were still a bit reluctant, still fearing he’d be late with no excuse, but at your first tutoring session, he had arrived at the library before you. You were walking to some of the tables at the back of the library when you heard someone call your name, only to see it was Seungcheol, who had reserved a study room for the two of you and already had all of his notes out. 

You felt a little bad even though you arrived on time. You had to drop your brother at home so you couldn’t meet right after school, but you did your best to get there as soon as possible. 

He was very attentive while you explained everything to him and you wondered how he was failing chemistry in the first place when it seemed like he knew all the topics. It was when the two of you got to the practice problems did you see where the problems were coming from. 

Your teacher, Ms. Park, has the tendency to make half of your homework situational problems, where you had to apply the basic knowledge that, on its own, was quite simple, but once put in a non-laboratory setting became a lot more difficult if one didn’t have a complete grasp on the concept. And that’s what you suspect is happening to Seungcheol, and the reason he was failing the class. Good thing you caught on in the beginning of these sessions and you could plan accordingly. 

It was another tutoring session when your phone started ringing, you grabbed your phone, confused on who was calling you when you excused yourself, leaving him to work on a problem on his own while you stepped out into the study room next door to take the call. 

Your eyes widen when you hear your little brother’s quiet voice on the other end, hoarse as he asks if you could come back home. You tell him you’re on your way before hanging up the call, and rushing into the study room you were just in. 

Seungcheol jumped at your sudden intrusion, but before he could complain about you scaring him, you started to throw your things into your bag, grabbing your keys. “I’m sorry but my little brother’s sick so I gotta go take care of him.” 

You were halfway through the door when you turned to look at him, “I’ll make it up to when he’s all better!” And just like that, you were out the door, apologizing to the little kid you almost bulldozed down in your rush to your car. 

You make it back home in a new record, most definitely going past the speed limits as you skid into the parking spot in the parking garage, haphazardly raising your hand with your keys in hand in the air as you run towards the elevator, not double checking to see if you actually locked your car. If you didn’t live on the fifth floor, you’d actually consider taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, but alas, not even the haze of trying to get to your little brother was enough for you to suddenly have an increase in stamina. 

Thankfully the elevator didn’t take long and you were able to make it to your apartment, throwing open the door as you tossed your backpack down the hallway. You rush into the living room to see your little brother laying across the couch, buried under a pile of blankets. He’s really out of it if he didn’t even bother to look up at all the noise you made trying to get in. You sigh before heading to the bathroom, looking for a thermometer and to check if there was anything you could give him over the counter. 

Tsking at the 100.4° on the small screen, you wiped a damp towel over his forehead, wondering how he got this bad in the span of the 45 minutes that you were gone. He didn’t look too bad when you had picked him up from school, tired sure, but not knocking on death’s door like he is now. You were about to give him the medicine you found when there was a knock at the door. Not knowing who it could be, you quickly gave your brother the medicine and headed to the door. 

You check through the peephole and take a step back, your jaw slacking as you realize who’s on the other side of your door. 

Choi Seungcheol. 

How the fuck did he figure out where you live? You don’t remember telling him and last time you checked, your address wasn’t public knowledge. Shaking off the initial shock, you open the door, now curious as to why he’s here. Before he could explain his sudden visit, you beat him to the punch. “How the hell do you know where I live?” 

He pointed to the floor above you. “Jeonghan told me, plus it was listed on the emergency contacts your brother filled out.” You blinked at him, wondering why your upstairs neighbor would rat you out like that, or how he knew your exact unit number. Whatever, what’s done is done. You point at the convenience store bag in his hand, asking about what he has. 

He brings his free hand to scratch the back on his neck, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips, avoiding eye contact. “I- uh got kinda worried and wanted to check up on you guys.” He brings the bag up, “I don’t know what he’s sick with so I just got the generic stuff and I brought snacks.” 

You stare at him for a few moments before chuckling, thanking him as you take the bag from him and gesture for him to follow you into the apartment. He hesitates for a second before you nod at him, assuring him that it’s okay. He slips his shoes off and sets them down next to yours, following you into the apartment. 

Your little brother looks a little better, actually looking up when the two of you walk into the living room (it’s only a few steps past the little entryway). He looks at the two of you for a second before laying back down. He shoots back up, as if wondering if Seungcheol is actually in your guys’ apartment. 

“Real or am I hallucinating?” 

You laugh as you adjust the towel over his forehead, “as crazy as it looks, he’s real. Now you should lie back down while I make you a porridge to eat.” He nods his head, laying back down as he adjusts the towel to sit over his eyes. You expected Seungcheol to stay in the living room with your brother, you didn’t expect him to follow you into the kitchen, asking if he could help you. Getting over the initial shock, something that keeps happening whenever you’re around him apparently, and start telling him to grab everything that you need. 

It was funny to see him panic everytime you left him on his own to check on your brother, his eyes wide as his head kept snapping from the stove to you. Who knew the tough hockey captain could get so nervous by being left alone in the kitchen? 

Thankfully it didn’t take long for the porridge to be made, and once you confirmed that your brother was able to keep his food down, you went back into the kitchen. “How do you like your ramen Choi?” 

You turn to see him pouting and for some reason you feel the urge to poke his cheeks. Weird. 

“Why do you keep calling me Choi?” He complains, leaning against the counter as he watches you take out another pot and two packages of your favorite ramen brand. You look over your shoulder, closing the cabinet before standing back up. “Would you prefer me calling you by your full name?” You tease, smiling as you see his cheeks turn the softest shade of pink. He stumbles over his words before you hear him mutter a quiet no, and you just laugh. 

“I just don’t get why you call me by my last name instead of what everyone else calls me,” he says, handing you an egg when you ask for one. You shrug, “it started when you blew me off the first tutoring session and it kinda stuck.” 

“What do I have to do for you to call me something other than my last name,” he begs, and you laugh at how serious this is for him. You didn’t think his name would be this sore spot for him, but it is amusing to see him so stressed over something so small. You look over at him while the water’s boiling, biting your lip as you pretend to think it over. “Get over a 90 on our next chem test and I might consider it.” 

His jaw drops as he stands there frozen for a few seconds before groaning. “A 90? Listen, you're a great tutor but our next test is in literally three days and the best I’m getting is probably a mid 70.” 

“Then Choi it is,” you reply, grabbing two bowls. At least he believes he can pass this next test, that’s some progress. Before he can start complaining, you both freeze when you hear your little brother yell out, “can you two stop flirting and get me another bowl of porridge,” and before you can yell at him for even saying that he throws in a little “please” at the end. Wow, how polite of him. 

“We’re not flirting!” You say, walking into the living room to take his bowl, and as much as you want to tackle him to the ground for even suggesting you’re flirting with the hockey player, you decide to take pity on him, this time. He’s lucky his body failed him today. 

Once your sickly brother is content with his second bowl of porridge, you take your and Seuncheol’s bowls to your small dining table. He follows and you go back for utensils, asking what he’d like to drink. Once everything is set on the table, the two of you start eating in a comfortable silence, the show your brother was watching filling the otherwise silent apartment. Your eyes fall to his backpack that was by the door and you swallow what’s in your mouth before motioning to his bag. 

“Wanna continue with where we left off? I really think if we can get past this topic you can definitely score somewhere in the 80s.” His eyes follow at what you’re pointing at, and he nods, finishing his bowl before getting up to grab his backpack, and even getting your backpack that you had thrown earlier. 

The two of you pick up where you left off, occasionally taking breaks when your little brother claims he needs your assistance with what he calls “surviving” when in all actuality it was just him wanting another refill of his water. 

It was nearing 8 o’clock when the two of you were done for the day. As he was gathering his things, your brother got enough strength to get off the couch, heading to his room before waving bye to Seungcheol, telling him he’d definitely be good to go to practice on Saturday. The hockey player laughs as he leans over the table to fist bump him, telling him he better keep his word. You smile at the exchange, happy to see your brother doing better. 

“Come on, I’ll see you down,” you say when he’s gotten all his things. Before he can argue with you about it being unnecessary, you wave him off, saying how it’s the least you could do after he came all the way over to check up on the two of you.

The two of you are in the elevator when he finally speaks again. 

“Is it usually the two of you this late into the evening?” He asks, his eyes hesitantly flitting from your face to the wall next to your head. You hum, leaning against the railing with your eyes closed, “our mom works late at the hospital and…” You trail off, opening your eyes to see Seungcheol watching you, something in his eyes that makes you look away, the floor suddenly a lot more interesting to look at. Why does he look at you with so much care? 

“Our dad left when my brother was a couple of months old so it's just been us three,” you say, not quite believing you're actually telling him this about yourself. Hell, you don’t even know if he has siblings and yet you’re out here telling him your family life. Crazy what some dimples and pretty brown eyes can do to a girl. 

“Oh.” 

Ah, probably should’ve lied about your absent father. Something about him working late should’ve been excuse enough. Well, too late for that you internally groan at. Before you can apologize for making things awkward, he interrupts you. 

“Can we move our tutoring sessions to your place?”

Your jaw drops for a few seconds before you snap out of it, blinking to try to get your brain caught up to speed. “Why?” 

He sighs, turning away to face the elevator doors and you’ve never been more thankful for someone to stop looking at you. “I kinda hate the idea of your little brother waiting at home by himself while you’re tutoring me.” 

“He’s twelve, but as long as you don’t mind coming over here,” you say, glancing over at him, “then okay, we can move to our apartment.” He smiles and you feel this weird pang in your chest. The last time you felt this excited over a person was when you were getting ready for your date with Changkyun the other day. Does that mean you’re starting to actually enjoy Seungcheol’s company? 

Bound to happen considering you spend your Monday and Wednesday afternoons with the guy. It’s just, it feels different than what you felt with Changkyun and part of you just wants to bury that thought away and focus on anything else. Thankfully the elevator ride didn’t last too long and you walked Seungcheol to his car, your chest feeling a little bit tighter as you watched him drive away. 

It’s Saturday and you’re back at the rink to pick up your brother from practice. He’d gotten better and while you were hesitant to drop him off at practice, he insisted that he was all good to practice. You let him go, but not without texting Seungcheol before heading over to practice, asking him to keep an eye on your brother. This was the first time you texted him about something other than about your tutoring sessions and while your hands were shaking just thinking about talking to him about something other than chemistry, thankfully he agreed to keep an eye on your brother. 

You grab a jacket from the backseat, not wanting to freeze while you wait for your brother. He always manages to be the last one out of the rink, always talking to Seungcheol while everyone else skates towards the door to change out of their skates and into their shoes. 

And just like the past couple of weeks, your brother was still out on the ice, except instead of the two standing to the side talking about their practice, the two were skating over across the ice, the small black puck gliding between the two of them as they pass the puck amongst themselves. If you squint, you can see what you assumed is Seungcheol giving your brother tips because soon he nods and adjusts his hold on his stick. 

Then, catching the two of you off guard, he steals the puck from the hockey player, successfully scoring a goal on the unguarded net. Your mouth falls open before cheering for your brother. Sure it wasn't a game changing play, but you were still proud of him. Upon hearing your cheering, your brother skates to the wall where you’re standing, the short wall and the plexiglass the only thing separating the two of you. 

“Did you see that! I totally got him good!” He excitedly told you and you smiled. “Sure did dude, next time I think you should go for his knees, then you’d have no one stopping you,” you joke, smiling as your little brother laughs, complaining how that’s “not very good sportsmanship” but winks at you when Seungcheol skates over to the two of you, wiping off some of the ice shavings off his pants. 

“I can’t believe you’re telling your brother to kill me, princess,” he pouts and you roll your eyes, glad it’s so cold in the rink you can’t tell if your face is burning from the petname or from the freezing temperatures. You roll your eyes, pulling the collar of your jacket higher in an effort to cover your face. “Isn’t that part of the sport Choi, pushing and shoving each other?” 

He shrugs, a smile on his face. “Glad to see you know something about the sport, I see Frosty over has been teaching you.” Your brother groans when he hears his coach use the nickname you gave him once he started hockey. It started off as a small joke that somehow morphed to having the whole team only ever calling him Frosty. Hey, at least he’s already got a marketable name, you told him one day when you were driving back home after practice a few weeks ago.  

You shrug, tugging your jacket tighter. In all actuality your brother hadn’t explained the sport all that much besides the occasional “you don’t do that” or “that’s a good thing” or other vague explanations when you ask him questions. Instead, after a tutoring session with Seungcheol, and as a way to procrastinate an essay you had to work on, you decided to look into the sport. It wasn’t much, just a quick google search about the rules that had you clicking off the site after a few paragraphs and instead watching a couple of matches on youtube. You had half the mind to ask Seungcheol but decided against it. You were just supposed to be tutoring him in chemistry and you thought learning more about the sport he put years in was a little much for you. (And the thought of him in his full uniform was starting to make your heart ache just a little much.) 

“Might as well since I come here once a week,” you say, and Seungcheol smiles, and you wish he didn’t have such a cute smile. His gummy smile is going to be the death of you, you think as you look over to see if your brother’s got his shoes on. 

You don’t know when you started to see Seungcheol in a different light. Probably around the time your brother got sick since that was the first time you got to see him not in a school setting. Or to be more exact, the moment he asked if your tutoring sessions could be moved to your apartment so you could watch over your brother. Whenever it was, you wished it didn’t happen. 

After the results of the chemistry test the two of you have a week, your tutoring sessions would be over since by then you’d know whether or not he’d be good to compete in the tournament. While a part of you was sad to think about not being with him every Monday and Wednesday with him, you’re at least happy about the fact his grade’s would be doing better. And sure, at first you were helping him out reluctantly, but after spending so much time with him, you realized he was nothing like you originally thought he was like. 

Your first meeting really was just a fluke, and he was just a nice guy. You actually had asked him after a few sessions why he was so late to the first tutoring session and you can remember the cute blush that grew on his face as he explained how he was planning the youth hockey team’s practice and lost track of the time. He looked so cute, his cheeks a rosy pink and a small pout on his lips, and that’s when you thought, yeah, he’s not that bad of a guy. 

“Okay, I’m good to go,” your brother says, and you blink, snapping out of your thoughts. You nod, extending your hand to help him carry some of his gear. Noticing your empty motions, Seungcheol takes a step towards you but you shake your head. “I’ll see you on Monday Choi.” 

“Yeah… see you later, princess.” 

You’re really, truly fucked, you come to realize as you stare at your phone. Why, just why did you have to send that text? 

Your friend, who was under the impression you still hated Seungcheol for blowing you off the first tutoring session, asked if there was a way you could set her up with him for a date. And you, still not wanting to admit the fact that you’ve definitely started catching feelings for the captain, agreed to set the two up. And trying to convince yourself that the warm feeling you get in your chest from just seeing him smile meant nothing, you sent a text wondering if he was down to meet with your friend over the weekend. 

And now you’re waiting for a response, hoping that he won’t agree to the date. Hell, you’re on your knees hoping that even if he does say yes, that it goes horrible so they don’t keep meeting. Terrible, yes, but your heart can’t handle the idea of someone who isn’t you by his side. And yet you still won’t admit that you have a crush on him. (Denial is one hell of a drug.) 

When you hear your phone go off from a notification, you push yourself off the floor, where you’ve made home the past couple of minutes. With a shaky hand, you flip your phone over, clicking on the notification. 

Choi 🏒: tell her sorry, I’m not interested in dating right now 🫤

Oh. 

He’s not interested in dating right now? For some reason that hurts more than if he said he is interested in the date. With a shaky inhale you text him back, letting him know you’ll let her know and you toss your phone away, burying your face against your knees. 

Okay so maybe you do have a crush on Seungcheol, big fucking hurray. 

You’re walking back to your car when you hear someone calling out your name. You recognize the voice and freeze, wondering what Seungcheol wants with you and wishing he’d just leave you alone. Despite him doing nothing wrong, you really don’t want to see him right now, especially since you were going to use the drive back home to prepare yourself for your tutoring session with him. 

He runs up to you, a smile on his face as he blocks you from opening the driver’s side. You cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow as you look at him. “What’s up Choi?” 

“I came by to tell you that I can’t make it to today’s session.” He explains and you notice how his cheeks are tinted pink. Just how far was he running from? You give him a look as you lean against your car. “So why didn’t you just text me then?” 

“I wanted to see you.” 

Your eyes widen as you turn to face him fully. You feel your face burn as you try unsuccessfully to say something in return. He smiles and you want nothing more than to wipe his adorable smile off his face. The fact he doesn’t even know the emotional turmoil he’s putting you through is insane and you wish he didn’t have this much power over you. You try coughing, covering your face as you look away from him. “Yeah, whatever, is that all you have to say?” 

He nods and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweats and still with that frustratingly cute smile, his stupid dimples on full display, “I’m still good for Wednesday though, I want to celebrate our last session before the test Friday.” You nod, a tight lipped smile on display as you wave him goodbye. 

Once in the comfort of your car, you groan, dropping your head on the steering wheel, wishing you weren’t so crushed over this. Things come up all the time, it’s not a big deal he can’t make it today. If anything you can just use this time to get your homework done for the week so you don’t have to worry about it later. Maybe instead of groveling over a guy you could actually be productive for once. 

Wednesday rolls around and you don’t think you’ve given yourself a chance to think about Seungcheol. How could you when you’ve been busy doing your homework, planning what you’d cover in today’s session, helping your brother with his homework, doing all the chores around the apartment, and if you weren’t busy with all that you had your headphones on, not even giving yourself the chance to think. Who needs to think when you’ve been so busy? 

You pull out of the parking lot of the middle school, your little brother grabbing your phone to change the song that was playing. Sticking to a song that you hoped wouldn’t show up on your spotify wrapped, you keep driving, your thoughts starting to drift off to Seungcheol. Catching yourself, you will yourself to listen to the song your brother chose, and you wonder which was worse for your mental health. 

Once in the comfort of your apartment, your little brother heads off to his room claiming how he doesn’t want to watch his older sister flirt with his hockey coach while he does his homework. At first you’d argue that you weren’t but as of late you knew there was no saving yourself and didn’t even try to fight back anymore, only groaning as you started to set the table. 

A few minutes later you hear someone at the door and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself to get through your last session and as a way to prepare your heart for the inevitable. Seungcheol smiles as he steps inside, slipping off his shoes as he places them next to yours. You turn around and your eyes widen as your face heats up as you take in his appearance. He was just wearing a pair of sweats and a black shirt and yet you could feel your heartbeat race at the sight. You quickly turn around, pretending to adjust your notebook as you try to calm your beating heart. He’s worn that outfit combo tons of times and yet now your heart decides to give you trouble. 

If he notices your internal struggle, he doesn’t say anything. He takes his seat at the table, taking out his things as you finally look at him to start. Hopefully your heart can take the next few hours, if not, thankfully your mom’s a registered nurse. 

“Hey princess,” he starts and you, against your better judgment, smile at the petname, “can I ask you something.” You put your pencil down, turning to face him as he put his pencil down, the problem you had given him to work on an afterthought. “Sure, go ahead.” 

“If I ace this test will you come watch me play in my tournament?” He asks, his eyes sparkling with hope and you find yourself leaning against your hand to cover your mouth so he can’t see the dopey smile on your face. “When you say ace, how high of a score are we talking here,” you tease. You don’t know where this sudden confidence came from but if it helps you from burning away in your seat, you’ll take it. 

He smirks, leaning close to you and your breath hitches, freezing in your seat. “I say at least a mid 90.” You chuckle, leaning in close as you internally scream at yourself to back the fuck away from him. “Sure, you got yourself a deal, but I’m expecting the best from you Choi.” You say, beginning to turn away so he can’t see the dopey smile on your face.

“Of course, can't disappoint my princess, can I?” His pointer finger and thumb gently hold your chin, making you look at him and his stupid smug face that you so desperately want to kiss. 

Oh yeah, your heart’s definitely going to explode. 

You think you mutter something along the lines of “in your dreams Choi” but at this point you’re not even sure you can still rangle up enough brain cells to formulate a coherent thought. Heat floods your cheeks as he still holds your face and you swear you see his eyes fall to your lips, or at least you think they do. You’re too busy staring at his lips to really be too sure. 

Somehow your one brain cell manages to scramble enough thoughts to control your body, except it makes you lean in closer to him, close enough you can feel his breath hover over your lips. Your eyes flutter shut and just when you think everything is going great you hear your little brother yell your name from his room and that’s enough to snap the two of you out of the daze you’re in. You clear your throat, excusing yourself as you push out your chair and head to your brother’s room, wondering what the hell he needs that he just needs you right now.

“What do you want?”  You hiss out, leaning against the doorframe of his room. He looks up from his desk, papers scattered across the wooden surface as he turns his swivel chair to face you. He shrugs, “I felt this weird disturbance in the force and called you over here.” 

It takes everything in you to not throw him across his room. You sigh, “yeah that disturbance was born twelve years ago.” 

“Hey!” He throws a pokemon plushie, piplup if you remember correctly, at you. You duck and the plushie hits your bedroom door behind you. You turn around to pick it up, only to immediately throw it back at him, and successfully manage to hit him in the head with it. He stumbles back in his chair and you laugh at him. He glares at you for a moment before breaking out into laughter as well. “Okay fine good aim, I’ll give it to you,” he acknowledges with a surrender of his hands, the plushie back on his shelves, joining the rest of his collection. “Now go back to tutoring Scoups hyung so you can make dinner.” 

You shake your head, a small smile on your face. “You can always make dinner, you should probably start now since I’ll be going off to coll-” 

“Don’t say the c word!” He interrupts, a new pokemon plushie in hand. His eyes are wide and your smile softens before it’s turning into a small pout. The past year you’ve been trying to teach your brother how to take care of things around the apartment since soon it’ll just be him waiting for your mom to come home, but each time he always changes the subject, or even resorting to throwing his plushies to stop the conversation. In that moment you don’t see your twelve year old brother who loves to get on your nerves, instead you see your baby brother who never left your side for anything. Your other half despite the six year difference between the two of you.

Before you know it, your throat tightens up as you watch him lower the plushie, turned away so he’s not looking at you. “Um… you should probably go back to Scoups hyung.” His voice is small, like if speaks any louder and he might start crying.  

You nod, slowly backing out of his room, “yeah, just let me know if you need anything.” You turn to walk out when you turn back to face him, “I’ll make your favorite for dinner tonight.” His head perks up and you smile at him, to which he returns. 

You make it back to the living room to see Seungcheol working on the problems you had left him. You let out a small chuckle, and he looks up, smiling when he notices your back. “Everything okay?” 

You nod, “he’s fine, he was just a little bored.” He smiles and the two of you get back to your homework. Soon enough, the two of you finish, even with the practice you gave him to really prepare him for your upcoming test, and you relax in your seat, a smile on your face. Seungcheol faces you, his smile growing as he looks from his papers to you. “Thank you, I don’t think I could’ve done this without you.” 

You wave his compliment off, your smile perpetually stuck on your face when you're around him. “Nope, it’s all you Choi, I’m simply here to help you. Now you’ve gotta ace this test so I can go watch you win this tournament.” He smiles and you don’t think you’d ever find dimples this cute on another person in your life. 

“Anything for you, princess.” 

You’re walking out of your last period class when you hear Seungcheol call your name out. You turn around, already smiling since you know what this is going to be about, and judging by his voice, it’s going to be good news. 

He runs up to you, stapled papers in hand and you just know it’s his chemistry test. He makes it infront of you, his hands coming up to hold your shoulders in an effort to stabilize himself, his test pressing against your shoulder. “I got my results back!” 

You laugh, your hands coming up to rest over his, smiling and feeling heat begin to creep up your face at the close proximity. “I can tell, but come on I’m dying to know what you got Choi.” A light blush grows on his face as his smile grows, his hands moving away from your shoulders as he straightens up his test since it had gotten crumpled during everything. 

Once it was straightened out, he flipped it over, handing the test to you. You take the test and your eyes widen when you see the large 100 written next to his name. You look up to see him smiling and in your excitement, you pull him into a hug. “Oh my god! I knew you could do it, this is amazing!” He tightens his hold on you, picking you off the ground to spin you in a hug. You’re laughing as he gently sets you down, you’re smiling so much your cheeks are starting to hurt but you don’t even care right now. You’re just so happy for Seungcheol, happy that this means he gets to play in his tournament. 

He pulls you into another hug, muttering into your hair, “thank you, I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.” You pull him closer, “of course Cheol.” 

The day of the tournament arrived and you don’t know why you’re so nervous. Seungcheol and the team have been doing great all day, moving farther and farther up the rackets, and yet you’re still nervous. It probably has to deal with the fact neither of you really discussed what happened last week, the whole really intimate hug in the middle of the hallway and all that. You two actually were texting back and forth the past week, and yet neither of you dared to talk about the hallway incident. 

Just like how neither one of you spoke about the almost kiss back in your apartment. 

So your nerves are most definitely tied to whatever you got going on with the captain of the hockey, the very same captain who’s leading his team to victory. This is the first time you’re seeing Seungcheol in his full uniform and damn, he looks good in his uniform. Something about how it makes him look larger just makes your heart beat faster every time he skates by where you’re sitting. 

The first time he skated by, you watched as he did a double-take before smiling his gummy smile, dimples on full display and waving at you and your brother, who insisted on coming along. (You weren’t going to tell him no, of course you’re going to bring him along.) Occasionally, he’d shoot you a look, smiling at you and you’d wave at him, feeling your face burn up every time. 

It’s the final match of the day, and you don’t think you’ve screamed this much in your life. You always make sure to cheer for Seungcheol every time he makes a goal, and halfway through the day, it turns into a competition between you and your brother on who could cheer the loudest for him. And you’re not about to lose against your brother. 

Somehow the match had gone into overtime due to the teams being tied and you’re at the edge of your seat, your little brother in the same position. At some point he grabbed your gloved hand, squeezing tight as they entered the sudden death overtime. (Why the hell is it called that?) You squeeze his hand as you watch Seungcheol go head to head against someone on the other team and you hold your breath watching as the two try to steal the puck from the other. 

Just when it looks like the other guy’s about to steal the puck, Seungcheol finds an opening, sending the puck into the unguarded goal, making the winning shot. 

You and your brother shoot up in your seats, and you pull him into a hug as you both jump in excitement and happiness. Seungcheol gets affectionately tackled by his teammates as they swarm him, and you can hear them chanting their captain’s name as the announcer relays the winning team. You look over once you’ve calmed down a bit and somehow manage to make eye contact with him. You smile and you mouth “I’m so proud of you," hoping he’d be able to understand you. 

It seems like he does because soon enough it looks like he mouths something along the lines of, “all for you, princess.” 

The tournament’s over now and you’re waiting for your little brother to finish in the restroom before you two head back home. A part of you wishes you’d get to see Seungcheol before leaving but he’s probably busy with after game things and celebrating that you’ll just settle with talking to him some other time. 

You’re about to text your brother to ask him where he’s at when you feel someone come up from behind you, spinning you around. You shriek, holding your phone close to your chest, about to curse out whoever it was when you hear the person laughing and you immediately soften, knowing exactly who it is. 

He sets you back down, turning you to face him. You smile and before you can even open your mouth to congratulate him on winning his senior tournament, he cups your face, leaning in to kiss you. Your eyes widen at the contact before they flutter shut, your own hands coming up to rest over his. His hands are freezing but you don’t mind, not when your face is burning up enough you’re sure you could warm up his hands in minutes. Your hands drift from his to rest over his shoulders, pulling him closer as you lean slightly back, with him following. He pulls away from the kiss to catch his breath, causing you to chase after his lips, already missing the pillowy feeling of them on your own. He chuckles before dipping down to kiss you again when someone clears their throat. 

You groan, already knowing who it is, dreading whatever comment he has to say. You look over your shoulder, only to see your little brother smiling. You definitely expected him to be pulling some disgusted face to make fun of you. Instead he was smiling, smiling so big you would think he just won a year’s supply of his favorite food. 

“If you’re done making out with your boyfriend, do you wanna ask him if he wants to join us for dinner?” 

Seungcheol's hand slips into your own, squeezing your gloved hand as you look up at him. His smile is so big and his cheeks are a pretty pink blush. “I really like the sound of that, what do you think princess?” 

You like that a lot, you think, squeezing his hand as you drag him to follow you and your brother, laughing when you hear his teammates cheering for their captain, for finally getting his girl. 

Maybe tutoring the captain wasn’t so bad after all.

#seventeen x reader #scoups x reader #scoups x you #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you #scoups x y/n #seungcheol x y/n #choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol x you #choi seungcheol x y/n #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #scoups fic #seungcheol fic #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen fic #svt fic #minshi writes

[bloompompom]

Tits for Tat

I hope you have a good idea about how you're going to pay for that tattoo...

✦ written for @bastardblvd's slimeball collab event! ✦ pairing: sleazy tattoo artist!eren jaeger x sweet sorority girl!reader content: ~6.7k word count. female reader, dubcon elements (sex in exchange for a tattoo), manipulation, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, brief oral sex (m!receiving), rough sex, corruption kink, dirty talk/light degradation, exhibitionism kinda sorta, light impact play, mirror sex, explicit language, explicit sexual content, content some readers may view as dark. reader discretion advised. 18+

The last thing you expected was for girls’ night to end like this. 

It was just past ten o’clock that Friday night. What was promised to be a night filled with gossiping over wine coolers turned into you and your two friends skipping through the uptown, loudly and practically elbow-locked like the best of chums. Or chumps, depending on whether the onlooker was a glass-half-full or half-empty sort of person. 

For any other twenty-something, the night was still young—still in its mother’s womb, actually. Fellow students had started their treacherous journeys across campus, sneaking from their dorms as if no one could hear the conspicuous clamor of bottles each time their backpacks smacked against the backs of their thighs. But for others—let’s say, hypothetically, tattoo artists—the day was at its end. And that was exactly why your little trio of giggling idiots was making a mad dash before closing time. 

The three of you had done everything together, and you meant everything. From ensuring you had the same lunch schedule since grade school, to surviving your awful calculus teacher senior year of high school, you were always at each other’s sides. If one of you didn’t have a prom date, then none of you did.

Like, if not for them, how else would you have gotten through that nasty breakup and lived to tell the tale? When your boyfriend, your first boyfriend—no, your first love—dumped you over the phone six months ago. 

You could talk about them forever, really, but all that was to say, they were your very best friends. Sisters in every sense of the word now that you had rushed the same sorority. So what better way to commemorate something as wonderful as sisterhood than matching tattoos? Little crescent moons on your ankles, specifically.

So, as one could safely assume by this point, that tattoo thing you mentioned earlier wasn’t so hypothetical after all. You stepped through the doors of the brick parlor on the corner forty-five minutes before closing. The studio lights were still on bright, and the glow of that obnoxious open, open, open sign in the window spilled red over the sidewalk, as if reading it one time wasn’t enough. 

The standee out front proudly welcomed walk-ins with big capital letters. It meant it too, because, after a brief conversation in the back, the receptionist said they had enough time to squeeze you in. The design was simple enough, according to her. ‘Simple enough’ still meant one hundred dollars, though. Shop minimum, blah, blah, blah. You each agreed and quickly signed the paperwork. 

You waited for your turns, sitting knobbly-kneed with hands folded neatly in your laps, eyes wide and darting from one another to the art plastered across the walls. 

Ten minutes felt more like ten hours, and yes, you could admit this sounded like a much better idea back at the house. But now that you were here, legs sticking to the plastic chair beneath your thighs, you realized how ridiculous this was. How ridiculous you—all three of you—were, looking more like you were ready for a slumber party than a spontaneous night out.

To be fair, you were just at a slumber party of sorts. It just so happened that your guests were also your housemates. 

What was merely an offhanded joke from your friend snowballed into the ‘Are we really doing this?’ conversation. You know, the conversation all friends have right before doing something you probably shouldn’t. If your friends jumped off a bridge, would you? 

No, of course not. But if the bridge was a tattoo, then the answer was yes. But now you were getting moony and hypothetical again.

Anyway, that was all it took (and some Pinterest scrolling) before you were on your merry way out the door and headed to the tattoo shop down the street—the only one you knew of. You even lacked the foresight to change, dressed in barely a thing since your bedroom lacked air conditioning and it was the balmy end of spring. You kept your arms folded over the Greek letters decorating your tank top, securing its neckline from slipping any further. You had already caught it twice before. 

You just wanted to get this over with. 

A woman you hadn’t yet seen waddled out from the hallway and, with a voice comparable to a bullfrog, called for your friend. With a tick of her head, she said, “I’ll take ya on back.”

She looked at you, then the friend still patiently at your side. Her left eye drooped a little, like she had a buzz going or something. “Your artists will be out soon.”

“Oh, actually,” you spoke up sweetly, perched a little higher in your seat. “We were hoping to get them together.”

Her expression didn’t change, her eye still drooped. “Listen, if I do that, then I don’t get to go home at eleven.” She leaned into you. You couldn’t help but wince. “And I really wanna go home at eleven, toots.”

Toots. You didn’t care for the nickname, but she frightened you nonetheless. You sealed your lips and waved off your jittery friend. Her mouth was more of a square than a smile as she looked back at you, nervous, and rightfully so. You wouldn’t want to be tattooed by that woman, either. Perhaps getting split up was a blessing in disguise. 

It wasn’t long before your name was called out next. By a man, this time. You heard him before you saw him. 

You perked your head and were greeted by a guy around your age. Well, maybe a few years older than you, but he wasn’t nearly as ancient as Toots. And at the very least, he didn’t appear drunk. If anything, his eyes looked a bit bored. 

For whatever reason, you took it personally. And while it was probably just the hour, you couldn’t help but think he was bored with you. Bored with your little outline of a moon that’d cost him no more than five minutes of work and you one hundred dollars. 

Twiddling your fingers, you teetered on over to him. He was dressed in black from head to toe, from the cuff of his jeans to the sleeves of his tee, rolled back to show off the tattoos littering his arms. Fitting, of course. He was exactly what you’d think of if you imagined a tattoo artist, albeit less burly and perhaps… prettier? That wasn’t the right word for it, but you could see it—see him—hidden behind his dark hair, messily tied back with sprigs and strands framing his angular face. Attractive in that bad-boy kind of way. Like, you just know your parents would kill you if you brought him home, but that was sort of hot in its own regard, wasn’t it? 

He looked you up and down, just a once-over, and you were suddenly self-conscious of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

“Eren,” he introduced once you were only a few steps away. He was tall and lean and loomed over you. 

You kicked yourself for it after, you really did, but you went for a handshake. It was an awkward move, for sure. Polite, but still awkward. One would think he’d take your hand just to shrug the discomfort off, but no, he gave you his back. Not even a ‘Follow me!’ or a second look or anything! And you definitely took that personally. You couldn’t say why you wanted any sort of approval from this man, but you did—a true people-pleaser at heart, as always. 

The back of the shop was larger than you had anticipated. You crossed through an open studio space, through the empty stations belonging to artists that, you assumed, had left for the night. You walked by each, passing rooms that appeared to be more private set-ups. Only one door was shut, and you discerned your friend's voice from behind it, then Eren led you to another. 

The room was only as spacious as it needed to be for a workstation comprised of a desk, two chairs, and stacks of drawers in the corner. Your eyes flitted over the frames of art on every wall, reminiscent of the front of the shop. You tried to match his style to the work you saw out there. 

Eren gestured loosely toward the chair in the middle of the room. You took a seat as he asked, “Ankle, right?”

“Yes,” you said. It sounded meeker than expected. You cleared your throat. 

He slumped into his chair, leaning his weight into it to roll closer to the foot of your chair. “Which one?”

You blanked. Seconds struggled by as you fought to remember which ankle you and your friends had agreed upon. One half of your brain scoured your memory while the other kept shouting, ‘Say something!’ because Eren was waiting for you to do just that.

He stared at you while you stared at your ankles. The silence between you grew longer and more excruciating until you finally decided, “Left.”

Almost like he didn’t hear you—or chose not to hear you—he barely glanced at your ankle before sliding even closer. You felt the vibration of his chair’s wheels against the tile, or at least you swore you could. You only watched him ghost the tips of his fingers up your bare leg until he was no longer near your ankle but at your side. He didn’t even touch you and yet you still had to suppress a shiver.

“It’d look better here, you know,” Eren said. He didn’t point at your hip but poked it—the little spot bikini bottoms cover. He peered up at you, eyes locking onto yours with actual acknowledgment for the first time that night. That square-in-the-face sort of look. You noticed the vibrancy of his irises, green and piercing. 

“I want it on my ankle. I’m matching my friends,” you replied, but again, there wasn’t much conviction in your voice. 

“What if you’re not friends in a year?” He reached for the box on his desk and pulled out two gloves. Between his words was the snap of latex as he tugged them on one at a time. “Then you’re stuck with a dumb ankle tattoo with people you hate.” 

It’s not dumb, you corrected in your head. If only he could have heard your inner monologue about sisterhood and whatnot on your walk over here. Besides that, his logic didn’t make any sense. Even if you moved it, then you’d be stuck with a dumb hip tattoo with two people you hate, which was really no different than a dumb ankle tattoo. But then again, fewer people would see it.

Still, the apathy oozing from his voice crawled under your skin. You sassed, “I don’t think that really concerns you, does it?”

“Whatever.” He shrugged as though he were indifferent to it. But if he truly were indifferent, he wouldn’t have mentioned it in the first place. Nor would he have continued with, “All I’m saying is that it’d fit the spot better.” He handed you a clipboard. Pinned to it was a cut-out of your soon-to-be tattoo. “And technically, you’d still match ‘em with the moon.”

He turned back toward the desk while his words lingered. You wriggled your ankle around, inspecting it, then looked at your hip. As if it were still there, you felt where Eren’s finger had been and used it as a reference to envision the tattoo. Maybe you should go out on a limb and trust him, considering he was the professional between the two of you. 

“Fine. Let’s do the hip,” you rushed to say. “Do I need to change or anything?”

He peered at you from over his shoulder. “You have on underwear?”

Your face went hot. “Obviously.”

Eren returned to whatever he was doing—you couldn’t see past him. “That works then.”

The moment you stood, thumbs looped under the waistband of your shorts, you regretted relocating the tattoo to your hip. 

Tomorrow was laundry day.

‘Why would that matter right now?’ some might ask. Oh, naive one, the reason it mattered was with laundry day just past the horizon, you were left with no choice but to put on your last-resort pair of underwear after your morning shower. A stringy, pink thong that you only saved for special occasions—aka exactly three times with your ex and the days you were too lazy to do laundry, like today. 

Listen, you weren’t a prude. It was just that you wouldn’t necessarily choose to show off the skimpiest pair of panties you owned to a complete stranger. 

This was nothing out of the ordinary for him, though. Right? It was his job, day in and day out. He’d probably tattooed areas much more private than a silly hip, a million times over even. 

But no, his attention is undoubtedly captured once your shorts were off. His eyes flitted from your face, down to your thong, then back to your face. And it certainly didn’t make matters any easier that he had to be crotch-level with you in order to prep the spot.

You didn’t dare to look at him directly, especially once you felt him touch you. More than just a finger this time, he curved his hand around your leg as he quickly shaved and sanitized you for the stencil. 

Your cheeks hadn’t cooled off by the time Eren asked, “How’s that?”

You angled your head around strangely until he pointed to the mirror behind you. You spun around to get a better look. He was right: the tattoo did look nice there. Hopefully your friends wouldn’t be too hurt by the last-minute switch. 

“Good,” you concluded, still shimmying and studying the new addition to your body. 

You caught Eren’s eyes in the mirror’s reflection. He was staring at your ass. Rather shamelessly, too, if you did say so yourself. He made a half-assed attempt to stifle the smirk at the corner of his mouth. You swore you would burn this damn thong after tonight.

You scuffled back into the chair while Eren stood up from his. He threw his gloves in the trash can by the door and told you he’d be back in a few minutes, that the stencil needed time to dry. When he returned, he smelt faintly of cigarettes. There was a waft of it right as his chair whizzed by you. 

He situated himself, which didn’t take long, and rested a freshly-gloved hand against you. In it was his tattoo machine, the needle held just centimeters away from your skin. Your body tensed. You weren’t nervous about the pain; it would be over and done in a flash. No, it was Eren that made you nervous. Incredibly so, and you were sure he knew it, too. 

“Ready?” he asked you before kicking on the machine, the whirring of it buzzing in your ears. He waited for your nod before starting. 

It hurt. Not bad, but the sting was very much present. You finally let out that shaky, anticipatory breath you’d clung to, but it didn’t dull the pounding in your chest.

Eren stretched your skin with one hand and guided the needled with the other. It had been so long that to be touched there, on such an oddly intimate part of you, felt almost foreign. Indecent, in a way, having only been held there by someone you loved—someone who, at one point, loved you in return. How none of Eren’s prodding was inherently improper and still it led your mind astray, craving something as elemental as the touch of another human being, even if it was through the barrier of medical-grade latex. 

“Done,” he announced. You sat higher up to get a better look. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

You responded with only a soft, affirmative sound. 

Eren gave you a rundown of the after-care process. It was the longest sentence he’d strung together that night, and you didn’t even hear it. It was garbled up in your head, words that you’d inevitably have to find online later. Embarrassingly, you were more focused on the placement of his hand again.

In your defense, Eren was a little more daring now with the needle out of his hand, or at least you thought so, with fingers smoothing low as he cleaned your new ink. His touches dawdled and left you flustered, wondering if he was playing with the thin band of your panties or simply pushing it out of the way.

You were dazy, only snapping back to it once Eren said he could cash you out while you gathered your belongings and redressed. “It’ll be—”

“A hundred dollars, I know,” you said. You scrounged through your purse for your wallet. You tried to hand him your credit card, but he didn’t budge.

“Cash only.”

“What do you mean cash only?” you questioned, more like barked.

That was a head-scratcher. “I’m not sure how I can make it any more clear.”

“Why didn’t you—I don’t know, say anything earlier?” You were upright now, stiff as a board—still in a thong—and verging into panic mode, waving your hand at the cluttered walls. “Or at least, like, have a sign?”

“It’s in the paperwork,” Eren said as flatly as ever.

The paperwork you didn’t read but skimmed—okay, even ‘skimmed’ was an overstatement. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

You sucked in a deep breath, let it hang in your chest until it hurt, then heaved it out. A very basic and very overt effort in collecting yourself. You fingered through your wallet. Then your purse next, every zipper and every pocket of it. You didn’t have cash on you, you never did, but you needed to stall while you hastened to think up a plan. Maybe you could stay and clean. Sweeping, washing windows, that type of thing. Yeah, that could work. 

All the while, Eren observed quietly, waiting for your fussing to settle. He was calm for someone who may or may not be paid tonight, and for some reason, it only ramped up your anxiety, like a suffocating hand around your throat. 

Eventually, your shoulders dropped with a very heavy—and very annoyed—sigh. “You want to see my boobs or something?”

Eren snorted. Snorted! The audacity of it, as if your offer was no better than a measly I.O.U scribbled onto a napkin. 

As callow as your offer was, something about it coming from your innocent pout had Eren’s cock straining in his jeans. It was a final and lasting blow, one he absolutely couldn’t take, not anymore. It was already enough that he had to bear the sight of you in that skimpy fabric you called underwear—had to feel your warmth as he smoothed over your hip. But now, there was just one more thing he couldn’t possibly ignore.

“I think you might want to pay another way,” he said.

Was he teasing you? There was a roundaboutness to his voice. A knowingness. It frustrated you. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Before you asked, he answered with his eyes. You followed them down not to your tattoo but between your legs. The darkened and unmistakable dampness on the front of your panties. Evidence of you permitting your thoughts to run with reckless abandon.

It was humiliating. Heart-dropping-to-your-ass humiliating. You squeezed your thighs shut. “Hey—”

“What? Are you too good for a quick fuck?”

You almost snapped back with a defensive, ‘No!’ but if you did, what would you be confessing? That you wanted to, and you wanted to do it with him? That your mind had been plagued with filthy thoughts since the second you felt his gloved hand on you. That the most thrilling escapade you shared with your last boyfriend was in the back of his mother’s minivan—which he still drove.

You were certain he could see it. See on your maidenly face that you were actually considering the proposition. In fact, the scale tottered toward that option. It was much more plausible than trying to bolt from the shop with a free tattoo. 

Eren leaned into you, his hand dangerously close to your thigh. He froze, almost with a flinch, before making contact. Skeptic brows crowded over his eyes. 

“You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“Of course not.” You said it with such force that it sounded like a lie. You had only slept with one person before, your ex, but it still counted. 

That damn chair started rolling again. Over to the far corner of the room where Eren flipped on the stereo, then reached for the dial to turn up the volume. You couldn’t name the song, but it was loud, and that was all that concerned you.

Your heartbeat, previously thumping in your chest, was now in your throat. The was anticipation there. Of course it was; you were about to sleep with a stranger in his place of employment. But it was more than anticipation, there was a warmth—no, a heat—throbbing within your very core. 

“Ever done anything like this before?” Eren asked.

You shook your head, opting to keep the minivan story to yourself. Truthfully, you didn’t believe you could speak even if you wanted to. Not with his fingers, now freed from his gloves, gliding up your thigh—nearly between them.

He reached underneath your chair to lower it. The surprise of the drop pulled a gasp from you, but when you looked up at him—realized you now had to look up at him to mark the hunger in his grin—your breath hitched. Then and there, it was established that you were the prey here. His prey. And the twisted part was, you didn’t mind it one bit.

Eren’s hand snaked between the crease of your thigh, skimming your panty line. He chuckled through his nose when your stomach instinctively flexed at such a chaste sensation. He toyed with your underwear, for real this time.

“Well, let me be the first,” he cooed, but his voice was as saccharine as artificial sweetener. 

He bunched your thong to the side to trace between you. If that alone had you sinuously arching your back, Eren couldn’t help but muse over what more would do to you. Would it ruin you when he pumped a finger inside you? What about two? And once he had you split and bouncing on his cock, how debauched would you sound then?

So pathetically sensitive. He had you mewling, no better than a tiny kitten, once he circled your clit deftly, with the flat of his fingers coated in your slick. Delicate and restrained hums spilled from you despite the way you chewed at your bottom lip, like you thought you could literally bite back the sounds. Cute.

Eren handled you with authority, his touch gentle but at the same time, you knew it would be permanently seared into your skin. He was intentional, even as he stuffed a finger inside you, knuckle-deep.

Your head jerked forward with a whine. “Ah, that’s—oh,” was all you sputtered, your nails digging into the vinyl of the armrests. 

He pumped a second finger inside you, expecting your wreckage but only discovered his own. Somehow you sounded more decadent—felt more decadent—than he had imagined. Silken and fluttering around him. Tight but still sucking him in for more. The thought of how snug you’d feel around his cock, how he’d have to bully his way in—

Fuck.

Eren slipped his fingers from you, leaving you panting, desperately clenching around nothing. The overhead light was unforgiving; you could see the sheen of your arousal dripping from his fingers. He stained his jeans with it as he palmed over the front of them, displaying his length to you in all of its glory. You swallowed hard. 

The look on Eren’s face was one you could only describe as lascivious. You wanted to avoid it, but to dodge it meant facing the tent beneath his zipper. It was far more intimidating than his devilish gaze, an impatient reminder of how deplorable you were for wanting it. 

“So you wanna help me out with this?”

He knew your answer, what with you already sliding off the side of the chair. He didn’t even need to ask. He only did because he wanted to hear your dumb, “Uh huh,” saliva thick in your mouth, as your sultry eyes heeded to the belt he had started to undo.

You wiggled your panties down and you kicked them off your feet. It was a vulnerable position, standing there between his spread knees as he unfastened the button to his jeans, the zipper next. His cock sprung out with a slight bob, like it was heavy. It made you achy. You unabashedly ogled, wondering how it’d fit, until he, like you, was bare from the waist down. 

“Turn around,” Eren said. He was unceremonious about it, even stroking himself as he watched you obey without so much as a complaint. 

Through your legs, you took his cock between your fingers, running over the length of it, your palm soft, your touch timid. You earned a sharp inhale from Eren, and you did just the same without having to be touched.

It was embarrassing, how you were no better than a touched-starved puppy. That even this—the tip of his cock nudging your clit, twitching in your grasp every time it threatened to dip inside you—had your thighs trembling. 

Eren splayed a hand over your back as you took him slowly, sinking onto his cock, reverse cowgirl, with a slight bend to your knees. 

There was a stretch. Enough that you had to grit your teeth. Eren was bigger, thicker, than your ex. Not to mention, it had been six months since you’d been dumped. Even longer since you last got laid. 

But don’t mistake that for a complaint. It was far from it, actually. You missed the feeling. The moment that knot of pain unraveled itself into pleasure. When a once-clenched jaw goes slack, making space for teeny, breathy sounds to escape. The burn of skin smacking skin, your ass smushed against the tops of Eren’s thighs once you’d taken all of him, little by little, until you were hit with a fullness. It was one you hadn’t experienced before, settling deep in your stomach and making your eyelids flutter shut. 

You lifted yourself just to let gravity drop you back down. You were languid, indulging in every vein and ridge of his cock, exploring the newfound feeling. 

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” Eren muttered, the end of it nothing more than a drawn-out hiss. “You didn’t lie about not being a virgin, did you?”

“No,” you moaned. The rasp of his voice alone had you tightening around him more. “I’ve only ever been with my ex.”

Something about your answer did it for him. You could tell because he whispered, “Christ,” so low you barely heard it. He groped at your ass, spreading you, mesmerized by the sight of your pussy struggling to take him. 

When Eren decided you weren’t fast enough for him, already losing your balance with your flip-flops sliding against the smooth tile floor, he firmly took hold of your hips. He pushed and pulled you, up and down, working you over his cock how he wanted. 

“Oh—oh, fuck!” you cried out, unable to stifle the whine.

You jolted and squirmed for him. It was ruthless, the way he used you like a toy. But fuck, if it didn’t feel good. Good enough to scatter prickles across your skin, sweltering and shivering, somehow at once, in the cold studio. It was so much. Too much. You needed something to brace yourself on.

Bleary beyond belief, you couldn’t think of something to hold onto in time. Thankfully, it wasn’t you that tipped, but the chair. It rolled until the back of it slammed into the desk behind you. A few things you couldn’t make out crashed to the floor. Eren didn’t react.

From the other side of the wall—hopefully the far side of the shop—you heard a muffled, “Everything okay in there?”

“Just fine,” Eren replied, infuriatingly calmly, fucking you through it, while you writhed just to try and clasp a hand over your mouth. 

With the desk as support, Eren leaned back with his feet dug into the floor. His hand curved around your hip—not the side that he tattooed, of course—and flattened it over your stomach. He yanked you down, your back shoved up against his chest, so he could pound into you, deeper than before, with you pliant and at his mercy. 

You were an incoherent mess. Babbling at this point. Filling the room with pathetic sounds that didn’t qualify as moans and whimpers but whatever was even less than that. Ohs and ahs and chokes of his name, none of which you could swallow back. 

You’d never been touched like this before, have you? There’s no way, Eren couldn’t help but think. Not by someone like him, at least. Someone willing to take what they wanted but also knew how to give—how to get you off—in return. He wondered how far you’d go if he were to lead you. 

Eren snaked his hand between your legs, his skillful fingers navigating straight to your clit. 

“Didn’t think you’d like this so much, huh?” 

You felt every word of it against your neck, but you didn’t answer. He removed his hand from your clit, only for a second but enough to make you miss it, and replaced it with a smack.

You found your voice enough to yelp.

“I can’t hear you,” he condescended.

You almost wanted to stay quiet so he’d do it again, but you were eager to please. Always had been.

Unbelievably turned on, you rolled your hips against his cock, bleating, “So much. I like it so—ah—so much.”

Eyes screwed shut, you didn’t realize until you were halfway across the room that Eren had slid the chair. He had you turned to face the mirror, right in front of it. You were spread, wider, and on display as his slick cock pumped in and out of you. It was a sight lewd enough to be mistaken for a porno.

Your phone, resting on the chair behind you, illuminated in the reflection and caught your attention. There was a moment of panic. It had to be one of your friends. They must be wrapped up with their tattoos by now, left utterly confused as to why you were taking so long.

You hiccuped, “My phone. My friends. They’re gonna—”

For once, he slowed. You wrangled in your breathing but, naggingly close to coming, mourned the loss. Eren outstretched an arm and picked up your phone. Lazily rocking his hips into you, he held out in front of you. You went to grab it, thinking he must have been handing it to you, but he only needed to unlock it with Face ID.

You couldn’t believe he was using your phone while he was inside of you. “What’re you—” 

“Buying us time.” He tossed the phone behind him, back into the chair. He didn’t start fucking you again but said, “Get up,” with a smack across your ass.

Your legs wobbled beneath you but luckily, you didn’t need them for long before Eren spun you around and yanked you down onto his lap. His cock, still warm and wet from you, slapped against your stomach as he bunched your shirt over your breasts. He took them between his hands, squeezing them together for him to nip and suck at. You knew he was looking at them earlier. 

You tried to angle yourself to ride him, but he didn’t let you. Instead, he chuckled against your skin, “Look at you. Now you’re begging for it, aren’t you?”

Eren took one of your nipples into his mouth, letting his teeth graze over it. You whined much too loudly for the situation, and he solved it with just two fingers, stuffed straight into your mouth. You gagged immediately. 

“C’mon. You can do better than that for me, can’t you, pretty?” His voice was like honey lined with acid and burned your stomach just the same. “Take ‘em well, and I’ll fuck you again. How’s that sound?”

His fingers drove deeper into your mouth, mashing down on the back of your tongue. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, but you fought past them. You suctioned your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue around them like you would his cock. 

He sounded no different from earlier when he said, “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” With eyes keen on you, he slipped his fingers from your mouth with a pop.

Eren stood to his feet, but you didn’t expect to go along with him. You didn’t think he’d be strong enough to carry you, for you to swing around with a disgusting amount of ease like a rag doll, but he was and you did. He was so arrogant with it, so ungracious, that perhaps you could re-evaluate your self-worth because you folded to him. A submissive sound squeaked out from the back of your throat the second your shoulders crashed against the wall. 

Your legs hitched around his waist, ankles crossed over his lower back, as he pushed inside you again. He hiked you higher up the wall with every thrust, smushing your tattoo between the crease of your skin. You felt the hot sting of it, similar to a papercut, but it fizzled away the closer he coaxed you into coming undone. 

Without the bothersome swiveling of the chair, Eren pistoned into you unlike before—which, frankly, you didn’t think was possible. You collided into him with every snap of his hips, grinding your clit against his pelvis so nicely, sparking your body ablaze.

You didn’t want him to get the satisfaction of knowing he made you come.  Even as you felt it, how the low part of your stomach tensed with delicious blooms, you stayed quiet about it, tucking your chin to your chest. 

But you weren’t as artful about it as you believed yourself to be. Your chest went tight, your breath silent and strangled, and not to mention, you were clenching around him, pulsing like a heart. It was a dead giveaway.

“Comin’ for me?” Fuck. That tore a strained sound from you—how could it not? “Don’t be shy. Let me hear it. Let them hear it.”

Why did he have to remind you of your friends at a time like this? And why did you… like it?

You threw your head back, smacking it against the wall in sobs of pleasure. If they hadn’t heard your moans already, they had to have heard that. The blunt of your nails buried into his ungiving biceps as you rode out the last of your high.

“What a filthy little slut I’ve made, forcing your friends to wait while you come all over this cock.” He punctuated the last word by ramming inside you, deep enough that your toes curled. 

After you finished, Eren has his way with you, as if he hadn’t before. He fucked into your willowy body, your mind long gone and fizzy, without restraint. Now, you were only there for his needs.

He panted against you, riled up with his face burrowing into the crook of your neck. He was close; you knew because he made a few breathy sounds against your skin. Then he dropped you to the floor unexpectedly. 

“Knees.” Eren jerked himself off while he waited for you. “I wanna come in that sweet little mouth of yours.”

You scrambled to get onto your knees, and what a sight you were, like a faun on its newborn legs. Sweat glistened over your chest. Over your tits—which were out, by the way, with your tank top stretched beneath them. You had on just a singular flip-flop, the right one, without a clue as to where the other had gone. 

Eren lined his cock up with your lips. You opened up for him, your mouth a small and tight O with the plush of your lips shielding your teeth. He tilted his hips back and forth, dragging his cock in and out of your mouth and along your tongue. You could taste yourself on him, tart on your tastebuds. 

You wrapped your lips around his tip and sucked softly until he cursed under his breath. He brought a hand to the back of your head and pushed you further down his shaft. His other planted itself against the wall to hold himself up while he fucked your mouth. It was rough, but it had you tingling between the legs, greedy and ready for more.

Eren groaned after a few erratic bucks. You gazed up at him, your vision glossy, eyes teary and far away, and he threw his head back. You felt him, hot and dripping down the back of your throat as you tried to swallow around the thick of his cock. 

He listened to you, whimpering around him, as he thrust into you languidly a few more times. Low growls of, “Fuck, take it, just like that,” erupted like thunder from the depths of his chest. 

Eren pulled out and smoothed a palm over the side of your face. He pinched your cheeks together as you panted, coming down from one of the biggest rushes—and certainly the best orgasms—of your life. He kept his eyes on you as he smudged his thumb over your lips, spreading them with his thumb and pushing down on your bottom teeth. You had swallowed everything he had given you. Satisfied, he dropped your face. 

You smeared the back of your wrist over your mouth, but it wasn’t enough. You used the neckline of your shirt to messily clean your mouth, hoping your friends would ignore the stain left behind. 

Eren had already tugged on his jeans though his belt remained undone. He ran a hand through his hair, now freed from its bun, the ends of it dusting his shoulders. You weren’t sure when that happened, but it was most likely your doing.

You didn’t know how you should end this. There wasn’t an eloquent way to do so, was there? There wasn’t a manual or instruction book to follow when you paid for a tattoo with your body. Paid for it with your underwear, too, apparently. You stayed quiet as you watched Eren stuff your thong into his back pocket like it was his.

“Consider it a tip,” he winked. Fine. You didn’t want them back, anyway. 

So after a business-like exchange of, ‘Are we good?’ and ‘Yep,’ all while Eren tidied his station as though nothing had ever happened, you left the shop still tasting him on your tongue—feeling him exactly where you had predicted his fingerprints would sear into your skin. 

Your friends weren’t waiting for you in the lobby but huddled together on the curb out front. It was well past eleven o’clock now. The shop must have kicked them out before closing. 

Bug-eyed and gawking at the mere sight of you, one of them commented, “I thought you texted me as a joke. I didn’t think you were actually serious.”

You had forgotten about your phone.

When you checked your messages—saw what 'you' had replied when she asked what the hold-up was—you wanted to die a little.

Fucking the tattoo artist.

Blunt and to the point and definitely something you didn’t want to share with them, even if they could have guessed it. You responded with an innocuous half-laugh. 

“Hey, I thought we agreed on the right ankle,” she inquired. She looked to your left one to find it was just as bare. “Where’s your tattoo?”

“Oh, uh,” you stammered. “It’s, um, on my hip.”

You peeled back your shorts to show them, and thankfully, they didn’t mind. 

The walk back to the sorority house was relatively quiet, and you blamed yourself for it. Only when your friend shook out her ankle and complained, “I can’t believe this little thing cost me a hundred dollars,” was the tension relieved. “Plus tip!”

“Right? And I can’t believe they expected us to have that in cash,” you remarked.

They stopped in their tracks—both of them—each shooting you a bewildered look.

“Cash?”

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #slimeball alley on bastard blvd

[youunravelme]

to all the girls you've loved before part six

author's note: okay......so i can explain. i know it's been like four months, but i swear it wasn't on purpose and tbh i lost track of time. so here's it is after months of waiting. i promise i didn't forget about it, i just had other projects i was working on (like the 30k words i wrote for two separate fics) that really took up most of my inspiration. there is a time jump in this, but not a huge one. but enough excuses! here's to part six (which is 9.4k words, i figured y'all deserved it)!

pairing: single dad!mat barzal x reader

summary: being a nanny for rich people was probably the worst thing that ever happened to you, until you started working for mat.

warnings: children, rich people, fear of falling in love, moving into angst city baby

day forty-five

you woke up in an unfamiliar place. disoriented, you looked around, noting that it was still dark outside. there was a weight around your waist that was familiar in the sense that you'd felt that sensation before, but unfamiliar in that it smelled like someone new. your heart started racing at the feeling, until you recognized it for what it was: an arm.

your heart rate settled for a moment until you blinked and realized that while you were at home, you were in a different room and considering there was no crib, you could only make one leap in logic:

it was mat's room.

jason's words came back to haunt you almost immediately.

he'll get bored of you eventually. people always do.

your hands felt clammy as you slowly slid out of mat's hold. your knees were shaking. the air was too thick to breathe evenly, but you knew if you started hyperventilating in mat's room, he might wake up and freak out with you.

so you took some shaky breaths and then booked it back to your room.

you stared up at the ceiling for two hours until ella woke up. immediately, you got up, thankful for a distraction from the conflict brewing inside your chest.

when you opened your bedroom door, mat was standing across the hall in his own doorway. his hair was disheveled and his white tee shirt was askew, but it was clear he had the same thought as you.

the two of you stared at each other until one of ella's cries snapped you both back to reality.

"i'll get her," you said quickly before darting into ella's room and ignoring the feeling of his eyes on you. they burned into your back like someone was steaming the clothes hanging off your body.

in the crib, ella was kicking her legs and flapping her arms as much as her sleep sack would allow. and for a moment, you forgot the momentary discomfort at the sight of her gummy smile.

"good morning, sweet girl," you crooned. you reached into the crib and unzipped her sleep sack before picking her up and into your arms. she immediately snuggled into your chest, tucking her head under your chin.

you changed her diaper before heading out to the kitchen where mat was cooking eggs.

you wouldn't look him in the eye, just focused on getting ella into the high chair. mat walked past you, putting her plate of fruit on her high chair tray. it was the closest you'd been since that morning in his bed. and while it was technically innocent, it didn't feel innocent.

as much fun as he was, you'd forgotten that mat was still technically your boss, a friend too, but your boss nonetheless. and sleeping in his bed, regardless of how much you believed you needed it, was a mistake.

you couldn't lose this job, lose ella, lose sydney, but you didn't think you could handle losing mat. not entirely.

so you'd settle for losing the smaller moments of closeness. you'd stay professional with him if only for the sake of keeping your heart and income safe.

god, you hated thinking of him just as an income, but jason's words rang in your head like a small town church bell at noon. was he just waiting to sleep with you? was he just taking pity on you?

it was too early to get a headache.

you sat in a chair next to ella and checked your phone for any messages when a plate was placed in front of you with eggs made in the way you loved and a piece of toast.

"it was all i could manage without giving you food poisoning," mat said sheepishly.

you said a quiet thanks and turned your attention back to your phone, missing the way mat's face contorted into a frown.

"what do you have planned for today?" he asked, taking the seat across from you.

you shrugged, not feeling too keen on going out in public after what happened the night before. you weren't stupid, logically you knew new york was a large city and the odds of running into natalie or jason were slim, but you saw them last night and you weren't too eager to chance repeating the same thing.

"i think we'll just take it easy, stay home and hang out," you said. the words what about you were sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you kept your mouth shut.

mat hummed as he took a bite of his toast. "i'm gonna go work out with tito before practice, and then i think we have some interviews or media to do," he said.

you nodded but said nothing. when ella finished her breakfast, which looked like her tossing eggs onto the floor, you scooped the plate up and hurried back into the kitchen, excited to do something more than just sitting in a room with mat. you started washing the plate, not even thinking about the dishwasher three feet away.

"i can get that," he said, reaching around you and grabbing the plate straight out of your hands. he placed in in the dishwasher before grabbing the broom and sweeping up the eggs on the floor as he cooed at his daughter.

your heart lurched in your chest at the sight, at the view of him being so gentle and doting. you cleared your throat and dusted your clean hands on your pants to keep them from doing something stupid like pulling mat to you and asking him to hold you like he did last night.

"i hate to rush off," mat started as he placed the broom back in its corner and washed his hands. "but i told tito i'd actually be on time today." he got ella out of her high chair and kissed her chubby cheeks. "dada loves you ella bean," he said before approaching you.

you did your best to prepare for eye contact. but the bottom line was as soon as you met his eyes, you couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

he was the prettiest man you'd ever seen, with an even bigger heart.

you snapped out of it when ella reached for you, focusing on how her downy brown hair was growing longer, instead of how she was a complete carbon copy of her father.

for a second, you almost felt bad for her birth mother, nine months of being pregnant, all that labor, only for ella to look just like mat.

but then you remembered that same woman dropped her daughter off with him with just a note, and any lingering feelings of empathy and pity immediately vanished.

you took ella and scampered off to her room, ready to get out of mat's presence.

the two of you were playing with some of her toys when you heard mat call out a goodbye before the door shut behind him.

it wasn't until the lock clicked that you could finally breathe.

day fifty-five

"are you coming to the game tonight?" sydney asked over the phone.

you had your cellphone tucked between your shoulder and your ear as you prepped ella's lunch for the day. the baby in question was babbling to herself when she wasn't stuffing her face with the cheerios you gave her until you could give her lunch.

"uh..." you hesitated, trying to play it off like you were too focused on mashing up bananas.

"oh come on," sydney said. "i feel like i haven't seen you in forever."

"you saw me last week."

"that was seven days ago. you didn't even come to the game earlier this week. what was that about?"

the words were on the tip of your tongue, the truth dangled in front of you like low hanging fruit, but you couldn't get yourself to say it. not in his home, not when he would be getting home shortly, not in front of ella, even though she would never be able to repeat it.

sydney said your name. "are you there?"

you sighed through the receiver. "i'll be there."

"great! i'll pick you up!" she said before hanging up.

you and ella ate in silence until mat came through the front door. ella immediately squealed and threw her bananas in the air, some of which landed in her hair, other pieces ended up on the floor.

"ella bean!" mat smiled as he dropped his things on the ground.

he walked over and you shot up out of your seat to walk into the kitchen under the guise of grabbing paper towels to clean up her mess.

"how was she?" mat asked, taking over your job in supervising his daughter eating her lunch.

you shrugged even though he couldn't see you. "she's been fine. it's been a normal day."

"are you coming to the game tonight?" he asked. truthfully, he'd asked you earlier that morning, or maybe the word begged was a better word to use. you could tell he was disappointed that you hadn't gone to his game earlier that week, but he was never going to pressure you.

"yeah, we're riding with sydney."

"do you have anything to wear?" he asked.

your back was turned, so you didn't see the hopeful gleam in his eye. so when you shrugged and said "sydney said she would get me a shirt," you didn't see the way his shoulders sagged and how the corners of his mouth turned down.

when you turned back around, he was back to looking happy.

you started cleaning up the banana off the floor while mat handed ella her water cup.

"she takes a nap right after lunch, right?"

you looked up at him to find him already staring at you. his hazel eyes felt like they could see right through you, like they could tell you were pulling away and wanted to know why.

you nodded, rendered speechless by his gaze.

"i'll put her down, i've missed her." he booped her nose which made her immediately shriek and squeal. "i don't have to be at the arena for another two hours, so you're free to do whatever."

you expected as much, after his first long roadie, mat wanted to do everything concerning ella. considering he got back earlier that week before having a home game two days later, he hadn't been as present as he would like.

and the result was always a clingy mat.

"sounds good," you said.

maybe you'd text sydney to hang out at a coffee shop for the time being. or maybe you'd lock yourself in your room under the guise of napping while you stared at the ceiling and wondered how you got into this situation.

as ella finished up, the idea hit you immediately.

erin, the woman who you nannied for first.

when mat put ella down, you snuck out the front door and across the hall, praying she would be home. you knocked and waited, fully expecting to turn around and go back to mat's apartment.

you stood outside for all of five minutes before turning back around and heading back into mat's apartment.

"everything okay?" mat asked when you walked back inside the apartment. he was just coming from putting ella down if having one of the baby monitors in his hand was any indication.

"yeah, i'm fine," you said. "i'm just gonna go lay down for a little while."

"oh," he replied. "thought we could watch one of those reality shows you like. felt like i haven't seen you in awhile."

you gave him a small smile. "rain check? i'm really tired."

mat smiled back, though it wasn't as confident as it usually was. if you looked hard enough, you could see the edges of it shake, like he was doing his best to keep up appearances.

but you headed back to your room before you could do something stupid like apologize for the emotional distance and ask for forgiveness.

you got got into bed and stared at the ceiling, only taking your gaze off of it to turn your baby monitor on. you weren't sure how long you were in that borderline comatose state, just repeating jason's cutting words in your head, when ella woke up.

you got up when she cried, fully expecting mat to be gone by then, considering it had been an hour and a half. but you walked into ella's room to see him pulling her out of her crib in his game day suit.

and it should've been illegal to see him snuggle and kiss her cheeks. to witness him cooing back at her as he changed her diaper. you leaned against the door frame, unable to keep your heart from soaring at the sight. just to think, a month and a half ago, he was terrified, now he was changing a diaper like he'd done it his entire life.

he didn't notice you until he turned around and nearly jumped ten feet in the air at the sight of you standing there. "jesus fucking christ," he said. "you scared me."

you couldn't help yourself. "you don't say," you quipped with a grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

mat closed the distance between the two of you and passed off ella. "i hate to run, but--"

"you don't have to explain yourself to me," you said. "we'll see you later."

he nodded and booked it out of the room, but not before pressing a kiss to the side of ella's head.

you heard the door lock behind you a beat later.

you and ella spent the rest of the afternoon lounging around before it was time to start getting ready for the game. you had her dressed in her barzal jersey and a coat while you slapped on a pair of jeans and a tank top, waiting for sydney to bring you the shirt you'd end up wearing.

it was a quarter to six when sydney knocked on the door. she had her daughters with her. winnie immediately went to see ella, who was sitting in her playpen with one of her toys in her mouth.

"you look cute," sydney commented before tossing the shirt at you. without even thinking about it, you tugged the shirt over your head and threw on the jacket you had laid out on the couch.

"so do you," you replied while slinging the diaper bag over your shoulder. you quickly scooped ella up and looked at sydney. "you ready?"

she nodded as the two of you got three kids out to her suv. you had ella in one arm, her car seat in the other, with her diaper bag weighing heavily on your shoulder.

fifteen minutes had passed by the time you got all the girls in the car and strapped in yourselves. you thought everything was normal until sydney turned the music on a little louder and looked at you from the corner of her eye.

"what's going on with you and m-a-t," she spelled out his name probably as a precaution to prevent winnie from picking up any details.

you froze, but tried to play it off. "what do you mean?"

sydney rolled her eyes. "don't play dumb. you asked me for a shirt to wear tonight instead of raiding his closet like you usually do. you didn't go to the game earlier this week under some flimsy excuse."

you sighed, knowing you had been caught.

but sydney wasn't done.

"not to mention, m-a-t asked me what happened at the bar because you'd been distant ever since and hadn't talked to him about it." sydney sighed. "i'm not mad," she said. "i just want to know what's going on with you, i thought things were going well. you two seemed..."

you looked over at the blonde. "seemed like what?"

she shrugged. "just thought you two were a good fit is all."

you groaned. "syd--"

"but we don't have to talk about it, i just think you need to have a conversation with him sooner rather than later."

whatever you had to say was cut off by winnie screaming out the lyrics of baby shark.

the five of you arrived with an hour left until the puck drop. thankfully, the wags rented a suite which meant you didn't have to contend with a huge crowd and ella didn't have to feel confined to just one seat the entire night.

grace along with the other wags greeted you and ella with grace offering to take ella from you in exchange for a margarita, an offer you couldn't turn down.

when the boys came out for warmups, you went with sydney and her daughters and ella down to the ice. ella fought the headphones on her head, she kept reaching for them but you had to pull her little hands away so she wouldn't hurt her ears.

it took a few seconds for matt martin to spot the five of you before he was skating over and waving at his daughters and wife. he smiled at you and ella, tapping the glass once before continuing his warm ups. it was seconds later when your mat showed up with a big smile on his face. ella shrieked, and though the sound was lost in the ruckus of the arena, mat looked happier.

your eyes met and the noise died down, even if it was for a brief moment.

you okay? he mouthed.

you nodded and gave him your most convincing smile. it seemed to do the trick because he was beaming back at you as he skated away backwards, eyes locked on yours.

you turned away and caught sydney staring with a smirk. and while she didn't say anything, you could almost hear her train of thought.

when the game finally started, you were all back in the suite. ella was clinging to you, refusing even the idea of being held by someone else. you couldn't blame her, it was getting close to her bedtime and she was always clingy around that time.

you did your best to pay attention to the puck, to the other players on the ice, but your eyes kept finding 13 whether he was on the bench or the ice. he kept glancing around the ice, probably following the puck like you should be, and occasionally talking to his teammates.

you turned when someone nudged you. grace was standing there with a cup of ice water in her hands. "do you wanna sit?" she asked. "i know your arm is getting tired." you smiled and nodded thankfully, following her over to a pair of seats.

she let you sit in silence for just a moment before she started talking. "are you okay? you seem lost in thought tonight."

part of you wanted to be annoyed with the constant interrogation. no one had ever asked you this many times if you were alright. but that thought alone had your heart lurching.

no one had ever checked on you this many times like sydney, grace, and mat had. it was an unusual feeling, and one that made your heart beat faster in your chest while also making your stomach turn.

"i've just got a lot on my mind," you said, hoping the answer would suffice.

grace nodded, like she could recognize when it wasn't worth the effort to keep pestering. "if you ever need someone to talk to, i'm here. i know running into an ex is never fun."

you kept a straight face even though grace hit the nail on the head.

the game continued on with the islanders winning 6-2. but you had been so out of it, if anyone asked, you wouldn't be able to tell them who the isles played against.

you made your way down to the locker rooms with ella sleeping against your shoulder and the diaper bag slung over the other shoulder. you would've put her in the car seat, but after an earlier attempt ended in her crying and screaming for ten minutes before she fell back asleep, you decided to just hold her. grace had the car seat in one hand so you wouldn't have to carry it while holding winnie's hand with her other one so sydney could carry her diaper bag and her youngest.

the three of you waited with the other wags, making small talk amongst yourselves like you had all night.

anders came out first and kissed his wife before greeting everyone else. matt came out shortly after with casey. his attention was immediately drawn to winnie who ran into his legs with zero hesitation.

you waited for ten minutes before your mat came out with his game day suit on and wet hair. it felt as familiar as your mother's homemade cooking.

he smiled when he saw you, anything anthony was telling him didn't matter anymore.

"what'd ya think?" he asked.

"you played a good game."

his gaze drifted from your eyes to your lips then to the baby on your shoulder. his brows creased in confusion. "she didn't sleep in the car seat?"

"we tried, but she screamed and wouldn't settle unless i was holding her."

he nodded before adjusting the bag in his hand so he had a free one to scoop the car seat out of grace's grip. he nodded towards the diaper bag on your shoulder. "want me to carry that?"

"you saying i'm not strong enough to carry it by myself?" honestly, you were supposed to be keeping things professional between the two of you, but you just couldn't help but quip back at him. not when he made it so much fun.

mat rolled his eyes and took the bag off your shoulder and slung it over his own. "let's go home."

day sixty-eight

with christmas approaching, you were spending all of ella's nap times, packing your bags and wrapping presents. thankfully, you had the foresight to ship your family's christmas presents to your parents' house.

it was just a matter of wrapping mat and ella's presents.

you might've gone overboard with ella's presents, spending too much money on books and a stuffed animal you thought was cute. mat's present was different.

it was always gonna be different.

originally, you weren't even sure if you were going to get him a present considering you were trying to keep things professional. but sydney let it slip that his present to you was really thoughtful, so you immediately left the apartment as soon as mat got home.

in the end, the tie felt a little impersonal, but you added a note, heartfelt enough to not be insulting, but maintaining an air of professionalism. you kept the presents in your room, knowing mat wouldn't try to guess what you got him if it was out of sight.

mat had roped you into decorating for christmas, a tradition he hadn't honored since moving out to new york, but with it being ella's first christmas, he was going all out.

with ella's first christmas approaching, mat's family made plans to fly in two days before to attend the game. you made plans to leave the city so his family didn't have to get a hotel room and you could miss the christmas eve traffic.

your bags were packed by the door while mat got ella ready.

"who's driving you to the airport?" he asked at the dinner table the other night.

"no one," you said after you'd swallowed your food. "i'm taking an uber."

mat made a noise in the back of his throat. "no you're not. i'll drive you. what time do you have to be at the airport?"

"mat, it's not that serious."

"it is to me. so again, what time do you need to leave?"

mat came walking down the hallway with ella all bundled up against the cold weather that was raging just outside the window. snow flurries were falling down at a rapid rate, something that might've concerned you had mat, a canadian, not been the one to drive you.

he handed ella off to you before scooping your bags up in one hand and opening the front door with the other.

"you don't have to carry my bags, mat."

"well, you're carrying my child, so why would i make you carry bags on top of that?"

"you could've carried ella!"

"not when i was planning on carrying your bags! now let's go, you don't want to miss your flight, now do you?"

the three of you headed out to his car and loaded it up. mat placed your bags in the trunk while you strapped ella in before you both hopped in the front and headed towards the airport.

"you excited to see your family again?"

you nodded. "it'll be good to see everyone again."

"you don't have any relatives you'd rather avoid?"

you couldn't help it, a laugh burst out of your mouth without your permission. "actually not this time around but--"

an alert on your phone cut you off.

flight BA4739 has been cancelled due to a mechanical issue.

"you've gotta be shitting me," you said.

mat glanced at you before quickly turning his eyes back to the road. his attention, though, was still on you. "what happened?"

"my flight's cancelled."

mat eased into the right lane and began the drive to the apartment. "are there any flights you can catch?"

you were a step ahead of him, checking every possible flight out of jfk and shaking your head when you came up empty handed. "it doesn't look like it." you sighed and pressed your head against the head rest. "god, i'm sorry mat. i know your family is coming in tomorrow and this puts a dent in things."

he scoffed. "it's fine, just means they'll have to get a hotel, but i can take care of that easy."

your eyes shot open. "mat, don't put them in a hotel, i can find someone to stay with."

"i'm not kicking you out of our home. that's ridiculous."

you clenched your jaw to keep it from dropping at his statement. mat said it so plainly, it was almost like it wasn't a big deal.

"mat--"

"listen, you're not going to a hotel, that's final. when we get home, we'll check for the next flight out and i'll buy the tickets."

"you don't have to--"

"consider it my christmas present to you," he said like there weren't presents under the tree with your name carefully written on them.

you rolled your eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

when the three of you got back to the apartment, you grabbed ella while mat took the bags. the second you three were settled, you were pulling out your laptop and double checking for flights. when you couldn't find anything, you sighed and resigned yourself to a white christmas in new york.

day sixty-nine

you and ella were dancing to christmas music in the living room when the barzals came in through the door.

"let me see my grandbaby!" nadia said, dropping her purse on the couch.

you handed ella over immediately, though you hung around for a second to see if she would cry. but ella just smiled and stuck a fist in her mouth.

liana came through next, hugging you briefly before turning her attention to her niece.

a man who you'd never met but knew to be mat's father walked in carrying bags of his own with mat following behind him. you fully expected to be bypassed in favor of ella, and you wouldn't even blame him. but he stopped in front of you and placed the bags on the ground at his feet. with a heavy hand he'd placed on your shoulder, mike barzal began to speak.

"thank you," he said. "thank you for taking care of my son and my grandchild. when we heard the news, my wife and i were trying to figure out what to do, but then mat called a few days later and sang your praises." he squeezed your shoulder gently. "i can't tell you how much it means to us knowing that you're here taking care of ella and helping mat."

you managed a smile, not really having the words to communicate how much having mat and ella has changed your life.

mike squeezed your shoulder one more time before walking over to where his wife and daughter stood.

mat approached you next, the bags he carried in were resting by the door.

"i can sleep on the couch, or go out and buy an air mattress and sleep in ella's room," you said. "just say the word."

mat rolled his eyes and elbowed you lightly. "quit it. this is your home too, i'm not kicking you out."

"i hope i didn't hear you offering to vacate your room," nadia turned around and faced you, quirking an eyebrow. "we're not going to make you leave."

"you wouldn't be making me do anything, i'm offering--"

"and we're denying the offer," she said matter of factly. "there's a nice hotel not too far from here."

"i don't want to split up your family for christmas!"

nadia approached and with the arm not holding ella, she reached out and squeezed your hand. "sweetheart, you've been taking care of my babies, you're family to me now."

you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"i'm sorry you don't get to spend christmas with your family," she started. "but i'm glad i get to watch you open the presents we got you in real time."

your jaw dropped. "mrs. barzal you didn't have to--"

she shook her head. "you deserve to be appreciated, sweetheart." then she directed her attention to ella. "isn't that right, baby?"

liana turned her attention to you. "are you going to the game tonight?"

you shook your head. "i'm going to grace's to help with last minute decorations for the team christmas party."

"are you taking ella?"

you shrugged. "i figured i'd leave that up to you. i can take her if you'd rather focus on the game and not a cranky baby.

nadia pressed kisses to ella's cheeks, enough that the little girl shrieked with laughter. "let's play it by ear, if she's cranky before the game, she can go with you, if that's alright."

you smiled and nodded.

as the day went on, ella stayed in pretty high spirits, even when mat left to head to the arena. she took a lengthy nap which gave nadia enough confidence to take her to the game. you ubered to grace's house, a secret that was meant to stay between you and liana, who saw you ordering the ride.

you arrived at grace's house five minutes before the puck dropped. in true hockey wife fashion, she had the game pulled up in the living room so you could watch while you worked. sydney's daughters were camped out in front of an ipad, watching bluey while their mom came in and out of the room with bags of groceries. grace's daughters, you were told, were already in bed.

"where's the baby?" winnie asked when she saw you.

you couldn't help yourself and laughed. "she's at the game."

"why aren't you with her?"

you smiled and squatted down to look her in the eye. "her grandparents are watching her, so i came over here to help."

winnie furrowed her brows, scrutinizing you. "but you're her mom, you're supposed to be with her. my mom is always with me."

"i'm not ella's mom, winnie. i'm her babysitter. like when your parents go out sometimes and they have a babysitter watch you? that's my job."

"then where's her mom?"

you opened and closed your mouth a few times before you realized the words just failed you. there was no way to say the truth other than plainly.

so you shrugged and said "i don't know."

sydney and grace rounded the corner and smiled when they saw you, greeting you with hugs.

"so it shouldn't take too long," grace started. "we're just adding a few decorations, sydney's gonna help me in the kitchen with prepping some of the food for christmas." her attention turned to you. "do you think you can handle the decorations around the house? it should just be the downstairs and the railings up to the second floor. nothing too extravagant."

you looked at the totes of decorations numbering in three total on the floor. "i can do that," you said.

grace smiled wide. "thank you, thank you, thank you!"

you smiled back and immediately got to work. it wouldn't take you long, the house was already pretty decorated, but grace had gone about and beyond and insisted on getting stockings for every player's family still in town, which was more than half the team. there was a table in the front entrance where you put the players' stockings and laid them out in neat rows.

on the stockings, there was the last name of the player with names below it being members of their family. marty's had sydney's, winnie's, and alice's name below his own. sorokin's just had his own name. but you hesitated when you pulled mat's out of the tote.

barzal was in big letters with ella's name underneath.

and then your own.

you blinked over and over, thinking maybe you were hallucinating.

"i hope i didn't overstep!" grace's voice startled you out of your stupor. "when mat told me you were staying in town for the holiday, i went ahead and added your name. do you know if his parents and sister are joining us?"

you shook your head. the plan was you'd be with the barzals christmas eve and christmas morning, but christmas night, when you went to the lee's house, nadia, mike, and liana would stay back. as far as you heard, anders had extended the invitation, but they declined it, not wanting to impose.

grace nodded. "okay, sounds good then!" she made a move to walk away but stopped when she saw the look on your face. you weren't quite sure what she was seeing from her perspective, but your mind was racing and your feet felt like lead. "are you okay? you seem in your head."

you shrugged. "just trying to figure things out."

"is everything okay with mat? you two seemed fine not too long ago."

and you were. but you hadn't told sydney or grace about how you slept in the same bed as mat the night you ran into your ex. and you weren't going to share that now. they'd both read into it, think things were different than they actually were.

"i just miss my family," you said.

it was clear she didn't believe you, but thankfully, grace let it go. she walked back to the kitchen while you continued to lay out the stockings.

you finished with the stockings shortly after, not sparing another glance to the one with your name on it.

it took another thirty minutes to finish the decorating before you joined grace and sydney in the kitchen. you took a seat at the bar and watched them prepare some of the dishes for christmas. it was mostly just chopping and putting things into pans and oven safe dishes.

you were halfway listening to the chatter happening between the wives when your phone buzzed.

liana told me you ubered to anders'?

mat.

you texted back, a small smile on your face. sydney was already here, i didn't have a ride otherwise.

could've asked me to drop you off.

two hours early? no thanks.

well, stay there until the game is over. i'm picking you up.

you rolled your eyes, but still couldn't keep yourself from smiling.

"what's mat saying now?" sydney asked.

"huh?" you asked, head snapping up to see two smirking blondes staring back at you.

"mat," grace said. "what did he say?"

"how did you--"

"you only smile like that with him," sydney explained. "certainly never smiled like that around your ex, the one time i saw him with you."

at the mention of jason, your stomach churned, but you kept up appearances.

you, grace, and sydney were chatting on the couches when the front door opened with matt, anders, and mat walking in. winnie, who was originally dozing off, popped up from laying on the couch to see her father standing there. she smiled and ran over to him.

anders walked in the living room and kissed his wife.

which just left you and mat, staring at each other across the room and not saying a word.

"how was the game?" sydney asked.

all three of the hockey players shrugged in unision. "fine," anders said before collapsing on the couch next to his wife. "how was your night?"

grace looked at you and sydney before smiling and turning to her husband. "i'd say it was productive and fun." you and sydney hummed in response.

matt came and sat next to his wife and a sleeping alice who was in sydney's arms. which just left an empty spot next to you and mat who was still standing in the doorway.

"barzy, you gonna come sit or stand there awkwardly?" anders chirped.

almost like he was snapped out of a daze, mat walked over and took the seat next to you, leaving about four inches between your hips and his. almost immediately, he threw his arm over the back of the couch behind your head.

you turned and looked at him for a moment, forgetting about the other people in the room. "ella with your parents?"

he nodded. "i offered to take her, but my mom insisted on putting her down."

"did you score at all tonight?"

he grinned and nodded yet again, but it was marty who cut him off.

"should've seen him! two goals, one assist."

your jaw dropped as you looked back at mat. "that's insane!" he immediately beamed at your reaction. your eye contact was broken up when his phone vibrated. mat's face twisted into a frown before he stood up and offered you a hand.

"hate to rush off, but my mom just said ella keeps crying and won't go to sleep, so we gotta go."

marty and sydney stood to their feet, each carrying a child. "we should also be heading out," matt said. anders and grace stood up a beat later, offering to walk all of you to the door.

matt and sydney exited first, with you and mat trailing behind them. mat's hand rested lightly on your lower back, something that had your knees trembling.

grace and anders hugged all of you goodbye and promised to see you in two days. they stood on the front porch and watched as all of you got into your respective cars.

mat didn't say anything until he was pulling out of the neighborhood. unlike the times before, the silence wasn't tense or awkward, it was just calm.

"did you have fun?" he asked.

"yeah, it was nice seeing them outside of hockey games and bar meet ups." you yawned.

"missed you at the game, it wasn't quite the same without you there."

"you scored twice and assisted on one goal, i'd say you did fine without me."

"could've gotten a hat trick if you were there."

you furrowed your brows, but there was a small smile playing at the edges of your lips. this felt normal, like nothing had changed, just you and mat. "how do you figure?"

he shrugged. "i always play better when you're there."

you almost did it. you almost asked him why. but you were scared of the answer, scared of what it would change.

scared that it wouldn't change a thing.

he's not gonna fall in love with you.

it was only a matter of minutes before you were back at your apartment. the two of you took the elevator to get to your floor.

you could hear ella's cries through the front door as mat hastened to unlock it. the second the door was open, every head turned towards the two of you. mat shut the door while you walked over to where liana was holding a crying ella.

ella immediately reached out for you, rubbing at her eyes when she finally settled on your hip. "sorry," you apologized to mat's family.

"what're you apologizing for, sweetheart?" nadia asked. she squeezed your arm before ushering her family to the front door. "we need to get to our hotel and get some rest. we'll see you three tomorrow."

"bye mom," mat kissed his mother's cheek and hugged liana and mike before walking them to the door and locking it behind them.

you stared at him, even as he turned around and made eye contact with you. you finally noticed a line on his forehead that you missed earlier.

you gestured to your own forehead. "you have a line right here..." you trailed off.

mat reached up a hand and felt for it before rolling his eyes. "it's from my helmet, dumbass."

you gasped and covered the one ear of ella's that wasn't pressed against your collarbone. "in front of the baby?"

"you said worse two days ago when you hit your hip on the kitchen counter."

you rolled your eyes, which seemed to be a recurring theme between the two of you that night. "i'm gonna try to take the queen to bed, wish me luck."

"i can put her down if you want," he said but you were already walking down the hallway and waving him off.

it took twenty minutes to settle ella down enough to go to sleep, and by the time you hit your mattress, you were out like a light.

day seventy-one

you woke up when the sunlight peeked through the blinds. your heart immediately shot to your throat when you realized you couldn't hear ella's sound machine through the baby monitor. the panic didn't settle when you turned over and realized it was off.

you jumped out of bed, barely remembering to throw on a sweatshirt over your tank top, and threw the door open.

you were immediately greeted with the sound of christmas music coming from the kitchen. it wasn't until you rounded the corner and saw mat making eggs with ella on his hip that you finally relaxed.

mat turned around at the sound of your heavy panicked breathing. his brows were furrowed and he moved the pan off the stove when he saw you were winded. "are you okay?"

"the monitor was off, i'm so sorry i thought i turned it on last night but i forgot--"

"i turned it off this morning," mat said. "figured you deserved a chance to sleep in."

ella smiled at seeing you and reached for you. mat didn't hesitate to walk her over, probably to make it easier to cook breakfast. you took ella and cherished the snuggles she gave you.

"when is your family coming over?"

mat tapped his phone, presumably to check the time or his texts. "fifteen minutes or so?"

you spared a glance outside. "will they be okay in the snow?"

"uh oh, mama bear's coming out," he teased. "we're literally from canada, my family will be fine."

you nodded, feeling heat crawl up your neck at the slight overreaction and concern.

the three of you sat at the table, eating the eggs and sausage mat made. normally, when you were with your family, you'd eat homemade cinnamon rolls, but maybe this year was about changing traditions and embracing them.

you picked up your phone and called your mom, waiting for her to answer. when she didn't pick up, you just shot her a quick "merry christmas" text and telling her to call you back when she gets the chance, that you couldn't wait to see her tomorrow.

by the time the three of you finished breakfast, his family was knocking at the door, greeting the three of you with an excited "merry christmas" when mat opened the door. while they got settled, you took ella out of the high chair and carried her into the living room.

you sat on the floor in front of the recliner and plopped ella in your lap while mike and nadia brought their wrapped presents in. mat and liana were the ones to pass them all out while their parents got situated on one end of the couch.

you were surprised to see some presents for you written in handwriting you knew did not belong to mat, part of you fully expecting nadia to have been bluffing two days ago.

when the presents were passed out, mat took the seat behind you in the recliner, even going as far as to let you lean against his shin for support.

"now, i don't know how you do it in your family, but in the barzal family, we going youngest to oldest, and we record everything," mike said, holding his phone up. "our sweet ella, though, is the first person to take away liana's long standing reign over opening presents first."

mat got out of the recliner, choosing to sit on the floor on your left, seemingly to help ella open her presents. you scooted back to use the recliner as back support now that mat was sitting next to you.

you heard a beep, presumably of mike's camera starting to record.

"let's open this one, ella bean," mat said to his daughter. he started ripping it at the edge, carefully placing the present in front of her and waiting to see if she did anything with it.

ella stared at it, but otherwise seemed uninterested

"look ella," you said, reaching around her and tugging the paper a little more.

she was uninterested until she heard the distinct sound of ripping. then she tried it for herself, laughing and clapping her hands when it made the noise she liked.

her first present was a puzzle made up of the letters of her name from liana. her next present was from nadia and mike, a box of playpen balls. you couldn't wait to open them, to get her settled in her playpen with them and watch her entertain herself.

mat helped her open the books everyone had bought her. he must've told his family she'd gotten into reading lately, because you weren't the only one contributing to her library.

mat's present to ella was a walker. she'd started crawling a few weeks ago, and mat was determined to get her to start walking before the end of the year.

your last present was the last one for her to open. it was just in a gift bag, and ella thoroughly enjoyed taking the tissue paper out once she got a hang of it. but nothing could've prepared you for the shriek that left her mouth when she saw the stuffed hippo.

you didn't think you'd ever seen her smile that big.

she reached for it with grabby hands, bringing it to her chest when she got it.

"guess we know her favorite gift," mat chuckled.

the rest of the morning was filled with the other presents being opened. you ended the morning with cute sweaters and a barzal jersey.

"so you can stop wearing mat's," liana had said. "figured you'd at least want something clean to wear to games."

mat had mumbled something under his breath, but when you asked him to repeat himself, he just pressed a kiss to the top of ella's head and kept his mouth shut.

when it was mat's turn to open gifts, you could feel yourself flush with embarrassment when he opened your gift. you didn't know the platonic way of saying "i got this because it would bring out your eyes," so you settled with "i thought you'd like it."

and he did, he swore it would be the tie he'd wear in the first game of the new year when you got back in town.

nadia made a wonderful christmas lunch. it was light because she knew you were going to the lee's in a matter of hours, but still better than anything mat could've cooked up.

it wasn't long before the three of you were saying your goodbyes with mike, nadia, and liana all promising to come see you soon, and to thank you for taking care of their newest addition.

just like any other time the three of you left the apartment, you carried ella while mat grabbed the diaper bag.

ella sat in her car seat, snuggling her hippo while mat drove.

"you must be pretty proud of yourself for that hippo gift," he said.

you smiled at him, reveling in the way he'd occasionally take his eyes off the road to look at you. "i am. i have an extra one in my closet just in case this one gets messed up."

his jaw dropped. "you're a fucking genius."

you weren't the last ones to get to anders' and grace's house, but you surely weren't the first. there was a line of cars parked on the street, none of which you recognized.

"are we taking the car seat inside?" you asked when mat put the car in park.

his hand paused over the door handle. "do you think we should?"

you shrugged. "we could always come back out and get it if we need it. but i'm willing to bet that she's gonna be passed around like a hot potato tonight."

mat rolled his eyes but sighed anyway. "as long as dobson doesn't hold her, it'll be fine." with that, he got out of the car and opened the back door to grab the bag.

"wait why?" you asked, getting out and unbuckling ella. "what's wrong with dobson?"

"he's like 23!"

you blinked. "am i missing something? why is that a problem?"

"he's too young to hold her, he'd do something dumb like drop her."

you rolled your eyes as you picked ella up, but said nothing.

the three of you were immediately accosted by christmas music and food smells when you walked through the front door of the lee house.

"you made it!" grace exclaimed, coming out of the living room to greet you. "grab your stocking and head to the couches, i think my husband is gonna do a toast and then we'll get started on dinner."

you nodded along and turned to look at mat who hadn't said anything. your heart dropped straight to your toes when you saw him pick up the stocking that made your mind go blank the other night. his fingers traced over his last name, then ella's name, then yours. he hesitated on yours though, fingers running over it like it was something delicate.

it felt weird to watch that moment, like you were intruding on something private, but before you could look away, he looked up at you. "did you see this?" he asked.

you nodded. "saw it the other night. are you mad?"

he quickly shook his head. "nope. just caught off guard." he glanced back down at the stocking before looking up at you and smiling. "let's get on with this, shall we?"

the night started with anders toasting to the team, but more importantly the wives and girlfriends and support behind each member who'd played a large role whether they realized it or not.

mat nudged you at that moment, which earned him an elbow in the side and a wink from anthony who stood next to him.

when they broke off for dinner, mat offered to take ella so you could get your plate first, but you declined, saying you could wait a few more minutes.

while he was gone, sydney approached. "so, how was this morning? get caught up under any mistletoe?" she nudged you. "get any sentimental gifts?"

when you thought about it, you didn't really. the gifts you got, while amazing, weren't tear jerking, which was surprising considering sydney had said mat's gift to you was thoughtful.

but what was thoughtful about a spa gift card and some bath bombs?

"nope, just the typical gifts, you know?"

sydney's face twisted a little before it righted itself when mat came back with a plate of food.

"got you what i thought you'd like," he said, handing the plate to you.

your brows furrowed. "i thought we agreed you'd eat first."

but he smirked. "no, you did."

"mathew. go eat!"

he shook his head. "not before you. now, let's trade, i'll take my child and you take the plate and go eat with sydney and the other wives if you want." mat handed the plate to sydney before taking ella and walking away before you could say anything.

you watched him walk away for a moment before turning to your friend, only to find her already looking at you. "what?"

she had a smirk for reasons you weren't sure you wanted to know about. "oh nothing."

the night continued on without much fanfare, with you and mat leaving around the same time as the martins again because of the children all three of you brought.

you'd made it back home before midnight. mat this time, wanted to put ella to bed, making sure to leave the hippo out of her crib.

you were in your room packing the last bit of your things so you could leave tomorrow and fly home. you were in the zone until you heard a throat being cleared. when you turned around, mat was leaning up against the doorway with a box in his hand.

"i know you're probably tired, but i have one last present for you."

"mat--"

"i didn't want to give it to you in front of my parents and liana, just seemed too personal." he offered no other explanation and just handed you the box.

you took it carefully, going to your bed and sitting down on the edge to open the present. when you pulled the lid off the box, you were staring at tissue paper until you pulled it away to reveal a photo album.

oh god.

it was the thoughtful present sydney had talked about.

you immediately pulled it out of the box and started flipping through it. the photos were some you'd never seen before, but they were all of you and ella. until you got further in, the photos went from just you and ella to you, mat, and ella.

you looked like a proper family.

sydney or grace must've had a hand in it, because half the photos you didn't remember being taken and they were all candids.

you could feel your eyes water, you noticed the pressure. but you kept wiping at your face to prevent them from falling onto the album itself.

you looked up at mat who looked the most unsure of himself since that first night he had ella. "i hope it wasn't over stepped, i just figured you would like to see how important you are to me, to us, me and ella." he gestured at the book. "some of the photos i took, others i got from grace and syd. i hope it's not weird or anything--"

but you were already up and crossing the room towards him.

a beat later you grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled his lips to yours.

he responded not even a split second later, his mouth moving against yours. mat's arms came around your waist while your hands made a home in his hair.

was kissing always supposed to be this charged? to feel this right?

you had no idea how long you stood there, kissing mat, before you both pulled away to breathe. your eyes opened slowly, only to meet his hazel irises almost immediately.

and then reality hit you.

jason's words haunting you at just the right time.

he's not gonna fall in love with you. you're a no good bitch who didn't know what she had when she had it.

you pulled away instantly and stumbled back into your room, dodging mat's hold when he tried to reach out for you.

"what's going on?" he asked. "what just happened?"

you shook your head and grabbed your bag, moving past him without making contact. "this was a mistake," you said. "i have to go."

god you felt sick to your stomach.

mat was calling your name, but you kept walking, out the front door, down the stairs, and onto the street where you hailed a taxi.

it wasn't until you got in that you exhaled.

what the fuck had you done?

taglist:

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#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl blurb #mat barzal blurb

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine proposing to Shanks

At a bar

You: [brooding over a drink by yourself]

Benn: [comes over and sits next to you, like a concerned papa bear] You've seemed really down lately, what's going on up there in that head of yours?

You: Shanks and I have been together for years, and ... I don't quite know what I was expecting, but I am not happy at the idea of being only his dating partner forever.

Benn: Is this because of the wedding we saw yesterday, down at the Chapple?

You: Sort of, now I know that I'm never going to get a traditional wedding like that, but I would like for him to wife me up.

Benn: You should tell him that because he's never going to come to that conclusion on his own.

You: I know, but I can already picture what his proposal would be like, improvised, sloppy, and probably involving alcohol.

Benn: [mutters to himself] Well, at least you know what you're getting into with him before you marry him.

You: what was that?

Benn: nothing. Can I offer you a piece of advice?

You: [nods]

Benn: Don't wait around for others to do something for you when you could do it a million times better yourself.

You: hmm, thank you for the food for thought.

Two weeks later

Shanks: [tugging on the white collar of his button-up like it's choking him,] Why the hell are they making such a big fuss? Insisting I dress up, just to go on a picnic.

Benn: [straightening his captain's tie] Because they love your dumb ass, for some fucking reason, and they went through the trouble of planning a special night for you two. So you're going to dress up, look nice, stay sober, try to behave, do whatever they say,

Shanks: [mutters] I already do whatever they say

Benn: [gives him the side eye as a warning] And you're going to bring them flowers and this cake.

Shanks: yeah, yeah, it's just it's been ages since we've had time to do something special, we're out of the honeymoon phase, you know? We're like an old married couple, we only have sex once a week and everything.

Benn: Oh, I know, we can hear you two in the crew's quarters, we appreciate that it's the same day every week too. [puts the flowers and box of cake in Shanks's hands] Now get going, if you're late I'll kill you myself.

Shanks: Alright, don't shove.

At the docks

You: wow, you made it on time.

Shanks: I wouldn't be late for our first date in over a year.

You: [winces at the reminder]

Shanks: [realizes he's made things awkward, he holds out his gifts] Uh, these are for you.

You: [can see Benn's meddling] Thank you, but we're actually going to have to wait for the boat to get here. I took your habit of arriving late into account when I made the plans, and the time I told you to come was forty-five minutes before you actually needed to be here.

Shanks: [puts his arm over your shoulder and presses a kiss to your head] You know me so well, and no worries if we have to wait, just means that I get more time with you, my love.

On the boat

Shanks: [looks around the glass bottom boat in amazement] Whoa! Look look! There's a tiger shark.

You: I knew you'd like it, we have it all to ourselves tonight. We'll sail around the reefs, and have dinner.

Shanks: we get to eat.

You: yes, they have your favorite, you can even pick out which lobster you'd like to eat.

After dinner

the boat captain: excuse me, we've landed on Firefly Island, you'll have two hours before we raise anchor and head back to the port.

You: thank you, [turns to Shanks, grabs his hand, and leads him to the heart of the island where all the fireflies are]

Shanks: [visibly resisting the urge to run around and chase them]

You: [rolls your eyes playfully] Go ahead, I know you wanna run, go get your energy out. Why don't you run around the edge of the clearing and herd them this way? [sits on a stone bench beside the pond in the center of the meadow]

Shanks: [kisses your cheek] aye aye

You: [waits until he's tuckered himself out, and has collapsed on the bench next to you] Sweetheart, are you having fun?

Shanks: the most fun I have had in a while, look at this jar of fireflies I caught. [holds up a large mason jar, packed with the luminescent insects] I know if I leave them in there too long, they'll die, but I wanted you to get to open it.

You: [gets down on one knee, positions the ring box on the side of the jar and unscrews the lid to let critters free]

Shanks: Isn't it pretty? [looks down at the jar to see the box on the other side of the jar] What'cha got there?

You: [sets the jar aside and opens the box to reveal the ring inside]

Shanks: [freezes]

You: ... I know I'm not going to get a fancy wedding in a place of worship or even a marriage certificate, but I would still like you to marry me. For us to be marriage partners, even if it's only in name.

Shanks: wh-... how ... [pulls out the ring and slides it onto his finger] it fits and everything.

You: [waiting for an answer]

Shanks: [notices your staring] what?

You: will you marry me?

Shanks: [pulls you into his lap, and kisses you] Of course I'll marry you, and no you're probably not going to get a fancy wedding, and you're definitely not going to get a marriage certificate. But I promise you, you'll get one hell of a wedding.

You: Thank you, love. [peers over to see Benn sopping wet in the bushes, taking pictures with a camera snail] Benn, what are you doing?

Benn: getting engagement photos, obviously.

Shanks: how did you get here?

Benn: I swam, now you two stop moving, so I can take a picture before these fireflies can eat the camera.

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #akagami no shanks #red haired shanks #red hair shanks #red hair shanks x reader #akagami no shanks x reader #shanks x reader #benn beckman #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #4/25/24 #no beta we die like men

[bunnyhugs77]

Tokyo Drift

Pairing: Street Racer! Jungkook x CEO Daughter! Reader 

Word Count: 2.1k

Content Warning: street racing, sneaking out (even though oc is 21), jungkook is secretly whipped, secret relationship, sexual themes, talks about getting a tattoo, speeding, oc wears pretty skirts, victory lap.

Other Content: size kink, manhandling, oral sex (f! receiving), just porn without plot tbh, oc has big titties, oc squirts, wall sex, strength kink, teasing, crying, fingering, sloppy makeout sesh on the hood of jungkook’s car ;) 

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"I’m serious, Y/n. I want you staying home tonight, I don’t want you anywhere near all that reckless street racing.” Your father instructs but it was going in one ear and right out the other. 

“Daddy, they’re not reckless, they know what they’re doing--” He rolls his eyes as you tried to reason with him.

“Bullshit, Y/n. If they really knew what they were doing, putting their lives in danger just for some cash, they would have realized by now it's idiotic and pointless.” He shakes his head as he approaches your bedroom door, “Do not leave this house.” That’s the the last thing he says to you before shutting your door behind him. 

You could not believe him, you’re twenty one for god’s sake, twenty-two in a few weeks actually, he couldn’t boss you around like you were still a kid. Despite his words, you waited up like you usually did, this was not the first time you had this argument after all. 

You waited until all the house lights were turned off and you made your way down the grand staircase that posed as an inconvenience to you in the dark while you headed for the front door; assuring the alarm was silent for your escape. 

Finally free, you took a breath of fresh air as you got into your custom porsche parked right outside the house. You’re unable to deny yourself of the bubbling excitement that grew in your stomach as you got closer to the parking lot of the diner where the cars typically met up on race night. 

Your car was practically nothing compared to the others on the lot; you took note of this as you stepped through the array of cars until you found who you were looking for, leaned up against the hood of his sleek black and blue corvette. 

You failed to contain the smile that spread across your face the moment you saw him, “hey princess,” he gently cups your face in his hand, straightening his posture before leaning down to peck your lips. 

A cool night breeze flew past the both of you causing you to shiver slightly, his eyes analyzed your clothing, mini skirt and an off-the-shoulder top. His face immediately washed over in concern as he took your hand in his, loving how small and warm yours felt in his much larger one. 

“baby, it’s chilly tonight. I don’t want you to get cold.” You couldn’t believe he was real. He was always putting your needs first which is how you found yourselves in the diner’s bathroom, door locked, skirt pushed up and your ass on the edge of the sink with his hands on your hips as he kissed you deeply. 

Your hands roaming over each other’s bodies radiating with more desperation and need for one another the longer you were in each other’s presence. “j-jungkook-- your race,” you had to pull yourself back out of his hold in order to look at him straight, your hair was already a little disheveled and eyes hazy as you looked at him. 

he takes a look at his watch, a mischievous smile spreading across his red and abused lips, “we’ve got 15 minutes,” he clarifies which still doesn’t have you convinced, “but that’s not--” if only you knew what you were getting yourself into with those words. 

“I can make you cum in forty-five seconds if i wanted to. we have time.” his voice so brash and deep as if it was a growl as he worked at raising your top over your bra before pulling the latter down to let your full tits spill over, 00revealing themselves to him. 

a strangled groan was caught in the back of his throat before he began marking your chest, lips puckering around the buds of your nipples as his tongue lapped over them, sending chills down your spine.

“mmm, feels so good,” you moaned your legs spreading to make more room for him as your hands crawled their way to his hair, tightening their grip as he nipped lightly at your sensitive buds. “you’re so fucking stunning, you know that?” he hums as he kissed down your abdomen where he made sure to leave a trail of hickeys behind. 

he slowly crouched lower to his knees, the sink being the perfect height for his intentions with you. You helped to raise your hips making it easier for him to pull down the soaked fabric of your underwear down your legs. another shiver running down your spine as you watched him pocket them.

“so so pretty, hmm-- my pretty girl.” the vibration of his voice against your bare and exposed cunt sent your legs flying shut to which he kept pried open with one hand. 

“keep your fucking legs open or I won’t let you cum.” the thought of not being able to release the burning heat that built within your core shook you to the bone. you shook your head fearfully, that being the last thing you wanted but you couldn’t seem to move at the sensation of his wet, warm tongue working against you. “i’ll be good, p-promise,”

“i know you’ll be good, you’re always such a good girl for me,” he coos before continuing his sinful attack on your pussy with his mouth. your vocabulary was failing you as you his tongue flicked over your bud, lapping up at your folds, he was so fucking filthy with his tongue it had your eyes rolling back.

 Your eyes tightened in his hair eliciting a deep groan to erupt from him which felt like it was bouncing off the walls of your cunt. “fuck- jungkook-” 

“feels so good,” you say breathlessly, feeling as though he was eating you out within an inch of your life. he chuckled darkly, looking up only to be met with the sight of your head hanging back, with one hand in his hair and the other gripping the edge of the sink for dear life. 

the feeling of his tongue prodding at your entrance had your legs shaking, welcoming an indescribable feeling to consume you before you could even identify it, “s-stop stop-- gonna” you weren’t the only one caught off guard by your orgasm, you’re sure jungkook would’ve liked more time to prepare before you squirted on his face. 

He pulls away from you slowly, not breaking the eye contact he had with your sopping cunt. “holy shit, y/n. did you just--” your face was red in embarrassment, “i’m sorry--” before your apology could even fully leave your lips jungkook had risen to his feet, manhandling to get you off the sink and against the nearest wall. 

you’ve never seen this look before, as if he wanted to consume you whole. “don’t fucking apologize. that was so hot-- shit, do you feel what you do to me?” With one hand holding your leg up by his waist he used his other to guide your free hand to feel his rock hard cock from beneath his jeans. 

your face returned to its previous shade of red. he checked his watch, he was running out of time but he would much rather be balls deep in you than speeding down the street. 

“does your daddy know you’re out here at this time, princess?” he was teasing you, he knows how much your father hates you coming to his races but something about you breaking the rules to support him just makes him strive to see you fucked out all the more. 

the second your mouth opened to respond you feel two fingers plunge into you knowing you were more than wet enough to take it, “hmm? what was that? I didn’t quite catch that?” He laughs wickedly, seeing those familiar tears pool in your eyes, the same ones that drove him insane. “n-no, he doesn’t know-- ah.” you yell at the stretch of his third finger joining the other two. 

“such a bad girl i have here, how disobedient of you.” his teasing was only adding to heat that was burning inside you, bringing you closer and closer to your high before it was ripped away from you along with his fingers.

you whined loudly in protest, “you didn’t think i wasn’t going to fuck you, did you?” he questions you, letting you down for just a moment to pull his jeans down along with his boxers, letting his cock stand tall and proud as it his toned abdomen after he discarded his shirt. 

you watched with a hungry gaze as he pumped himself a few times, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth before lining himself up with your soaked cunt.  he didn’t have the time to tease but he wished he did. ‘next time’  he thinks to himself. 

it’s a breathtaking stroke, quite literally as it seems to have sucked the air from both of your lungs the moment he bottoms out. your nails leaving intricate details on his back, sure to leave slight welts by tomorrow morning. “fuck y/n, this pussy is a dream.” he groans, his pace picking up significantly, hips jackhammering against you as he holds you up against the wall with both hands under your thighs, gripping them tight enough to leave bruises. 

Sometimes when you don’t get the chance to see each other what really gets him off is the thought of you tattooing his name onto your inner thigh. subconsciously gripping them tighter at the idea. For you, it was thinking about how big and strong he was, the way he could hold you in this position for hours with absolutely no struggle, the thought alone made you clench around him.

“jungkook! slow down,” your words sounded more of a question than an order making him laugh as he knows you’re already feeling a little sensitive after your previous orgasm, “yeah? that’s what you want? want me to move like this?” he slows down, rolling his hips to the pace that it was slow but deep. 

initially he only did it thinking it would piss you off but the way it made you spasm around his length made him reconsider the pace until he remembered how little time he had. leaving you winded as he suddenly resumed his inhumane pace, your tits bouncing like the girls in his wildly explicit animes. 

“j-jungkook, i’m gonna--” in the end it was jungkook’s vocality that brought you to the edge and pushed you over, this time somehow feeling even more powerful than the first with the added sensitivity leaving you screaming.

with your hair all over the place, tits out, and wet cheeks jungkook couldn’t hold himself back from blowing his load, “shit shit shit,” a string of profanities slip past his lips as he reaches his high before coating your velvet walls with his hot cum.

your foreheads rest against each other for just a moment as you catch your breath, coming down from your highs with a few small kisses here and there until reality settles in that jungkook has no more than 2 minutes to get to the starting line.

the two of you had never moved with such speed, you did your best with your slightly altered walk credit to jungkook’s energetic thrusts to your poor pussy.

he made it in the knick of time, you watched from the sidelines in the large crowd as jungkook and his competitor drove up to the line until they were side by side.

there was a girl who stood in the middle of the two cars with her hands high in the air, by the time she brought them back down the two cars had completely vanished, speeding down the strip far out of view.

It was no more than 5 minutes before the high maintenance vehicles came racing back into view, it looked almost as if it was a tie but anyone could see jungkook had crossed the line mere milliseconds before. the cheers roared to fill the street, the people behind you celebrated loudly, music suddenly beginning to play from speakers that others had brought. 

Just as jungkook pulled into the parking lot once again you hardly gave him enough time to park before running towards the vehicle, he stepped out, picking you up from the back of your thighs, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as he spun you around. 

“Congratulations!” you cheered, letting out a small puff of air as you felt him place you on the warm hood of his car, his large hands snaking back down around your waist as he kissed you passionately. It was all adrenaline and tongue, your hands swinging over his shoulders while he deepened the kiss before he pulled away.

“wanna go for a victory lap? let me take you for a ride.” he grins. 

#jungkook #jungkook smut #bts #btssmuts #bts oneshot #jungkook oneshot #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jungkook ff #jungkook fic recs #jungkook fluff #BTS jungkook #jeon jungkook

[lieslab]

Skz finds you struggling with self-harm

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Og8 X gn reader

Genre: Angst & comfort/hurt

Word Count: 10.8k

A/N: This was a request and each member deals with a different type of behavior that can be considered a form of self-harm. To whoever requested this, I'm sorry for taking about a week. In a word document, this is about forty-five pages, so thank you for being patient while waiting. I hope you can find some comfort here <3

_ _ _

Bang Chan:

TW: Cigarettes and brief mention of cancer.

"What is this?" Chan gestured towards you. 

"What does it look like?" You grumbled with the end of the cigarette in the corner of your mouth. 

You ignored your boyfriend and kept glancing off into the darkened sky. You thought he was asleep as you stepped out onto your balcony, but apparently not. Either he wasn't asleep or you accidentally woke him up when you snuck out of your shared bed. 

He stayed quiet while he observed you. You ignored his heavy gaze and pretended he wasn't there. You adjusted the cigarette back to the middle of your mouth. The end glowed a warm orange while you inhaled another mouthful of the smoke. 

The oversized hoodie hung off your body. You threw it on hoping it'd catch the scent of nicotine instead of your pajamas. Silence hung over the two of you along with the stars. You didn't utter a word. Quite frankly, you didn't want to tell your boyfriend why you were outside on your balcony smoking a cigarette at 4am. 

It was almost like he could read your mind. You exhaled and the tendrils of smoke drifted off into the distance. Realizing this was his chance, Chan broke the silence.

"Do you wanna talk abo-" 

"Nope," you cut him off. 

He pressed his lips together trying to figure out what to say to you. He knew whatever you were going through was bad. You only turn to cigarettes when life seems unbearable. Too caught up in his own life, he hadn't realized you were struggling so much. Worry and guilt began to nip at him. 

He had shifted to wrap his arm around you in the bed, but you weren't there. When he opened his eyes, he was met with a barren bed and your silhouette outside on the balcony. He knew what you were doing the moment he opened the balcony door. He was instantly engulfed by the scent of tobacco. 

No wonder you tasted so much like peppermint lately. Chewing peppermint gum, one piece after the next. Showing up to his studio tasting like mouthwash. You brushed your teeth after you smoked. Swishing around mouthwash and chasing the mouth-burning liquid with more minty gum hoping it'd block out the scent. 

"Bad day?" He finally offered. 

You snickered, "more like a bad life." 

His heart squeezed in his chest at your remark. Surely, you didn't associate him with the bad part of your life, did you? Yeah, he was busy a lot because of his job, but what about the times you shared? Was it all bad? 

Sensing his worry, you changed your wording. 

"It's not a bad life, but things seem to be piling up lately. It's one thing after the next after the next. I purchase a pack of cigarettes and then the nicotine releases dopamine. I know it's bad, but it brings me a state of peace. Is it terrible to just want to relax for a while?" 

"No," he admitted after a few silent seconds. "It's not bad, but it's dangerous." 

You let out a sigh and closed your eyes. In the brazen moonlight, Chan could see everything. The full moon lit up every feature of your face. Seeing you like this beneath the soft glow, he wanted to smile, but your words twisted him with trepidation. 

"I know I should care," you reopened your eyes. You blinked trying to hide the tears building up. "But honestly, I really don't give a shit. It says right on the box that it can cause lung cancer. I already feel rotten enough on the inside, so maybe it's what I deserve." 

"Nobody deserves that." 

You stared down at the burning cigarette in your hand. Embers drifted into the darkness while others scattered onto the ground below. The rolled paper around the cigarette continued to burn. Your brain begged for you to take another hit of the nicotine, but now your heart was in turmoil. 

"You are an adult, you know. You're free to live your life as you wish. No matter what you choose to do, I can't stop you. However, as your significant other, I don't want to see you hurt." 

"I know," your voice came out weak. All those emotions you had been suppressing were coming up again. "Can I be honest?" 

"Of course, you can." 

"I hate the taste of them," you chuckled and dropped the cigarette. The heel of your shoe crushed it into the ground. Your fingers gripped the metal ledge of the fence around the balcony. 

Chan didn't utter a sound. 

"It's been going on for a while, unfortunately. For a month, at least, and I'm not sure if I can easily stop." You hung your hands together over the edge of the railing. 

"That's alright, you don't have to quit cold turkey. Maybe try to wean yourself off of them, okay?" 

"Okay." 

Tobacco stained your teeth. The soured flavor clung to your tongue. The scent draped over you like a heavy curtain.  You bit down on the inside of your cheek wondering how you were going to pull yourself away from the thing you spent the past month finding comfort in. 

"You don't have to do it alone," Chan spoke up again. "I'll be right here if you need me. You can talk to me whenever you need to." 

You nodded your head. 

"Do you want to discuss what made you turn to them in the first place?" 

"Not really." 

"Then we don't have to do that." He turned back to the moon and changed the topic. "The full moon is beautiful tonight. I don't remember the last time I've been able to stare at the moon like this." 

"It's nice." 

"Peaceful and quiet." 

You mumbled an agreement as a yawn left your mouth. 

"You wanna go back inside and get some more sleep?" 

"That sounds good." 

Not bothered by the scent, Chan walked over and put an arm around your shoulders. The two of you walked back into your bedroom. He locked the balcony door while you pulled off the hoodie you were wearing. You headed to the bathroom to brush your teeth. 

After climbing into the bed, you curled yourself up against your boyfriend, happy that you were able to find someone as patient and understanding as him. 

_ _ _

Lee Know:

TW: Using alcohol to cope with problems, depression, and self-hatred.

Lee Know was used to you occasionally drinking. You did it, he did it, and your friends did it. However, when he came home on the third day in a row to find you with a bottle of wine, his eyebrows furrowed. 

There you were curled up on your favorite spot on the couch. The large TV sat in front of you and you grinned while watching some raunchy romance show. His eyes scanned the area. A bowl of popcorn sat in your lap. A glass of wine was tucked into your hand. Too enthralled in your show, you didn't hear him come in. 

The bright screen lit up the transparent bottle to show that it was nearly gone. You just opened that bottle yesterday, so how was it gone already? He blinked in shock and stepped closer towards you. 

He snuck up behind you, without meaning to startle you, and stuck his hands on your shoulders. You let out a yelp and jumped. The popcorn bowl upturned and kernels and popcorn pieces scattered across the carpet. 

"Sorry, baby, I didn't mean to scare you." 

"Well, you did," you frowned and stared at the mess. You sighed, placed your glass on the coffee table in front of you, and began to stand up. The world seemed to tilt and you fell forward. 

"Woah!" Lee Know jerked forward, grabbed the back of your shirt from over the couch, and yanked you back to safety. 

You laughed as you plopped back down on the couch. Your boyfriend frowned at your reaction. If he wouldn't have caught you, you would have hit the coffee table. He kicked off his shoes and climbed over the edge of the couch. You giggled while he pulled you into his grasp. 

He leaned back comfortably against the arm of the couch. With you in his arms, he tugged you back against his chest. Your ear was pressed up against his heart. The gentle thrum soothed your soul. 

"How much alcohol have you had to drink today?" He began to run a hand through your hair. 

You half-shrugged on top of him. 

"One glass?" 

"More." 

"Two?"

"More." 

"Three?" 

"I don't know." 

"Four?" 

"Mmh, maybe." 

He paused and glanced back over to the bottle of the wine. Last night, it was nearly full, so you drank more than half of it. You were upping your alcohol content steadily. He frowned and stared back at you. You seemed okay the past few days, but clearly something was bothering you. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

"Do you ever hate yourself?" 

"Huh?" He was caught off-guard by your comment. 

"Do you ever hate yourself?" You repeated. "Lately, I've been feeling like I'm not a very good person." 

Lee Know kept watching you. You were pronouncing your words properly, so you must not have been too drunk. He glanced up at the analog clock stuck to the side wall. You were home before him in the early evenings. You had, at least, five hours to drink before he got home. 

"Why do you think that you're not a good person?" 

"I don't know." 

"There must be some reason." 

"I feel ugly!" You blurted out. "I feel gross and disgusting about myself. I look at myself in the mirror and I hate what I see. I've been sad and I haven't wanted to get out of bed. I have zero motivation to get out of bed or brush my teeth or do anything." 

"Oh?" 

"I feel icky inside and out. You tell me all the time that I'm beautiful. You're always there, but I'm not able to see myself like you are. Maybe I feel so gross because it's a struggle to get out of bed. I don't know, but the other day I had a glass of wine and it felt nice and then I had another and I felt okay again." 

"So you're using alcohol to attempt to cope?" There was a sadness in Lee Know's voice. 

"Uh-huh and you know what?" 

"What?" 

"It's working very well. I am so light and I feel so good. I feel like I can laugh again. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside." 

Lee Know tilted himself closer towards your face. He leaned over you and cupped your cheeks gently. You peeled open your eyes and met his. A goofy grin filled your face at the sudden closeness. 

"Whatcha doing?" 

"Don't I make you feel warm and fuzzy? Do I have to remind you?" 

"Of course, you make me feel that way! You give me butterflies. I love you so much, you don't even know. I can't put it into words how you make me feel." 

"So you're feeling bad about yourself?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"What if I gave you a kiss every time your brain said something bad about you? You stop drinking the wine and I'll replace it with kisses." 

His boba eyes stared intently into yours. You blinked in shock. It wasn't often that Lee Know was so touchy with you. He patiently waited for your answer and squished your cheeks a little more. A grin began to stretch across his face. He cooed and squished your cheeks more. You began to giggle at his antics. 

"Is that a yes?" 

"Uh-huh." 

He bent down and gave you a quick upside down kiss. Still tipsy, you squealed in delight. He puckered his lips and did it again. Pulling away, he rubbed your cheeks. "So how was it?" 

"I think I need another one." 

"Already?" He threw his head back and let out a dramatic groan. 

"You said if my brain was saying something bad!" 

"That's right, I did say that. So I must prevail in my efforts to comfort the love of my life. Pucker up and get ready for a love bombing." 

"A love wh-" 

Before you could finish, he leaned down and began placing kisses all over your face. Your laughter only added fuel to his fire. He kept going and going and going until he ran out of air panting. He threw himself back over the arm of the couch gasping for breath. 

"More!" You cried out. 

"More?" He threw his hands up. "You're just taking advantage of my love!" 

"Nuh-uh!" 

"Yeah-huh!" 

"Nuh-uh!" 

He leaned forward, wrapped his arms around you tightly, and squeezed your body. You wiggled, but your arms were pinned to your sides. You whined and squirmed, but you were no match for him. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Prison of love." He planted a soft kiss on the top of your head. "You're here until further notice." 

_ _ _

Changbin:

TW: Razors/razor blades, cutting, and self-hatred.

“They couldn’t have grown legs and walked away,” Changbin grumbled. He climbed further into the cabinet, beneath the bathroom sink, and pushed products aside. Dropped down on all fours, his torso was completely inside the darken and confined space. 

He was attempting to try and find a pack of his disposable razors, but he couldn’t find any of them. He swore he just bought another pack last week, but they were missing. He pushed aside backup bottles of body wash and shampoo. Diving further into conditioner and cotton balls, he dug back further, but to no avail. 

He pushed himself backwards and whacked his head on the top of the cabinet in the process. A loud groan left his mouth and it woke you up. In the room next door, you had fallen asleep early. Exhausted from another day at work, you were defeated by the time you came home. Within seconds of your body hitting the pillow, you were out. 

You blinked your bleary eyes and rubbed them wondering what was going on. Through the thin bathroom door, Changbin was mumbling. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he seemed to be upset about something. 

As you pushed yourself away from the tangled blankets, Changbin dived back beneath the cabinet to look again. He shoved the small basket of product to the side and when his razors weren’t in the very back, he jerked himself out again. A hand went to the porcelain sink to propel himself up. 

Crash! 

You stumbled over your feet worried that your boyfriend might have fallen. Picking up your pace, you knocked when you arrived at the door and called out to make sure Changbin was alright. Not hearing a response, you panicked even more. 

“I’m coming in,” you called out. 

When you stepped inside, you found a teary eyed Changbin staring at the floor. You stepped up beside him quickly wondering what was wrong. On the tile floor, lay the scattered remnants of the bathroom trash can. A shampoo bottle laid beside it. 

Right there on top? One of Changbin’s disposable razors was completely dismantled. Twisted blue plastic with a missing razor blade. You made sure to hide it deep within the trash can beneath the snotty tissues and makeup remover wipes. You didn’t take into consideration that the trash can might fall over. 

The pieces began to click together in your brain. You had been using Changbin’s razors for a while now. Prying apart the plastic and so desperate to feel something again. You found a friend in the cold metal blade. The stinging sensation somehow seemed to mend your internal wounds. 

Humiliation filled you and the guilt of it all crept in. You swallowed the lump in your throat as your own tears filled your eyes. You remained cemented to the floor unable to speak and unable to explain. There was nothing to explain anyways, Changbin knew what you were doing instantly. 

The two of you stayed silent. Changbin ran through your behavior the past few days in his head. You stopped wearing pajama shorts to bed, but fall had turned into winter. He didn’t question why you switched your clothes. When you didn’t want to be touched as much, he hadn’t questioned it. 

Boundaries and communication were so important to him. He knew not to cross them. The two of you were honest with each other constantly. It helped your relationship flow smoothly, it helped prevent arguments, and it left the two of you satisfied; but this? How long had you been keeping this a secret? 

“Why?” He finally got out. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was shaky as you spoke. You felt so small. So helpless. Rather, you let down one of the most important people in your life. Would he see you through the lens that you saw yourself? 

He turned around to face you. There was no hint of anger. His face wasn’t twisted and there wasn’t a scowl. Hurt was in his eyes. He reached out and cupped your face again. “Why are you doing this?” 

“I’ll replace your razors and I won’t do it again.” 

“But why?” His thumbs brushed against your cheeks to wipe away tears. “Why are you hurting yourself?” You blurred in his vision. 

You blinked rapidly trying to get the tears to stop. You didn’t want to admit you hated yourself. You didn’t admit you found comfort in the pain. You didn’t want to admit any of it. You were stuck at a crossroad. 

“Please talk to me.” He waited patiently for you to speak. When you didn’t, he pulled you into his burly arms. Warmth cocooned your body and cradled your soul. 

“I didn’t mean to start. I’ve struggled with it before, you already know that.” You sniffled and sucked in a deep breath. “It got bad again and I just wanted to self-soothe. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry for disappointing you.” 

He rubbed your back gently. Your head was tucked beneath his chin. His heartbeat walloped in his chest. “You didn’t disappoint me, you’re hurting inside. You have to learn how to be gentle with yourself, baby. You could never disappoint me.” 

More tears filled your eyes. They began to trickle down and soak his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. You let yourself be held by him. 

“You’re allowed to hurt and you’re allowed to be sad, but how about we try to do something else that doesn’t harm you? I don’t want you to hurt yourself. You don’t understand how precious your existence is to me. You mean everything to me.” 

A strangled sob came from the back of your throat. You broke down completely in his arms. He treated you with such tenderness and love, it made you cry harder. He soothed you quietly while he began listing some of your best qualities. 

You cried and cried and cried until you were completely defeated. Everything you had been holding back came up. Beneath your pajama pants, your thighs stung from the fabric brushing up against them. You tried to hide them. You forced yourself into your jeans. 

The fabric rubbed and created irritation. The water in the shower hurt. They always hurt. Just as old wounds began to itch and heal, you created new ones to remind yourself just how worthless you were. The cycle had started again and it’d continue until you stopped. 

Changbin spoke to you how a mother spoke to her newborn baby. Praising you for the smallest things. Dotting on you and gently rocking you side to side. They say a mother’s heartbeat comforts a baby in the wound. With you pressed up against and hearing Changbin’s heart through your sobs, maybe that’s why you felt comfortable enough to fall apart. 

When you finally finished sobbing, you were left breathless and exhausted. Changbin’s heartbeat continued to thrum. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you and Changbin planted a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” 

You didn’t object as he picked you up and carried you back to your shared room. Concerned about your well-being still laced him. No matter how much he wanted to continue talking about it, you needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow, he’d help you come up with a better plan to cope, but for now, he’d be by your side until you woke up again. 

_ _ _

Hyunjin:

TW: Skin picking, hair pulling, anxiety, and blood.

You didn’t realize Hyunjin moved from his spot until you felt his hand gently cup your wrist. You glanced down with confusion etched onto your face. He gave you a reassuring smile before he spoke. “You’re doing it again.” 

You glanced down with a frown. Sure enough, you were doing it again without realizing it. Lost in your overwhelming thoughts, you began to pick at the scratch on your arm. Your sharpened nails plucked at the skin. The darkened red bits of healing wounds were reopened. A fresh trail of trickling blood steadily streaked down your arm. 

“Ah, shit.” 

You stood up and mumbled an apology. In the bathroom, you began washing your hands in the bathroom sink, so you could address the problem. Out in the kitchen, Hyunjin was doing the same thing. With hands still damp from hastily drying them with the kitchen towel, he walked into the bathroom and gently tugged your wrist again. 

The uncomfortable feeling of humiliation crept inside as Hyunjin observed your bleeding arm. Lately, you found yourself doing things without even realizing it. Digging your nails along your skin and creating scratches. Gnawing at the sides of your nails and ripping off perfectly healthy skin. 

A few days ago, you began to pluck at the end of your eyebrow. You didn’t realize it until Hyunjin came home and pointed it out. On the side of your head, beneath a top layer of hair, there was a bald patch growing back. It never really registered what you were doing until it was too late. 

Wound tight with anxiety, you floated away from reality and let yourself meander a river of worry. Your fingers moved without realizing it. Your body was desperate to soothe itself even when you were consciously away from the driver’s seat of your brain. 

Hyunjin didn’t mind pointing it out. He knew how you could be and if anything, he was happy he could get you to stop. Pulling you out of that cloudy blank daze and helping bring you back to reality. He was careful with every movement. He didn’t want to startle or injure you more. 

“You really don’t have to do this,” you mumbled. 

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” 

You stayed silent and let him rinse the blood off your arm. You watched him clean up, disinfect, and bandage the scratch on your forearm. It had been healing for the past few days. The other day, you dug your nails into the delicate skin. When you scraped your nails down, your skin came with it. Pulled from your thoughts by the feeling of warm blood beneath your fingers, you realized you had injured yourself yet again.

You knew it was nothing to be ashamed of. Hyunjin was a constant reminder of that. There was no judgment from him whatsoever. However, every time he caught you doing it, you felt like a child upsetting a parent. He hadn’t made it known that he was annoyed with your behavior, but you were sure he felt that way deep down. 

The thought nagged at you while he threw the last bits of band-aid paper into the trash can. He hummed softly beneath his breath and washed his hands like it wasn’t a big deal. Suds filled his hands and the scent of citrus hit your nose. 

“Why are you never mad at me?” You finally snapped. You didn’t mean for it to come off so snarky, but you didn’t understand why he was so cool, calm, and collected about your behavior. In your head, it was inexcusable. 

“Why would I be?” He asked cooly. His face remained neutral and he dried his hands on a hand towel. 

“Aren’t you annoyed or angry or, I don’t know, upset maybe? Sometimes I’m aware I do it, but I continue doing it. I don’t care if it hurts. It just….I don’t know!” You threw up your hands exasperated. “Why are you so okay with it?” 

Hyunjin eyed you for a moment. You still couldn’t read his thoughts. He kept his face neutral until he cocked his head to the side. “What if it was me?” 

“Huh?” 

“If I did what you did. If I picked and plucked and tore and scraped and scratched; would you be annoyed or upset?” 

“No!” Your head shook frantically. “Of course, I wouldn’t be like that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you’re you. I love you and you deserve compassion. I’d never want you to feel like you were doing something wrong and I-” You paused for a moment. “Oh.” 

The side of Hyunjin’s lips tugged into the start of a smile. “Yeah, exactly. Do I think you should do it? No, but I understand why you’re doing it.” 

“I don’t know how to stop,” you finally admitted. 

“I was doing some research the other day and they said it helps if you wear gloves. However, I know that’s not always a possibility because you hate gloves. There was another article I found about keeping your hands busy.” 

“So like a stress ball?” 

“That’s one option, but I was thinking of something else.” He laced his fingers through yours and began to pull you away from the bathroom. “You know how you always like my art? You’re always wishing you could create art as well as I do?” 

“Yeah.” 

He pulled you into your bedroom and retrieved a plastic bag from beneath the bed. He handed it to you and let you open it. You stared at it cautiously and then glanced up at him. 

“Go ahead and open it. It’s not going to hurt you or anything. Come on,” he grinned, “you’ll love it.” 

You stuck your hand inside and began to pull out objects. A sketchpad was followed by a bright pink eraser and a pack of fancy pencils Hyunjin always used to create sketches. He beamed when a smile appeared on your face. 

“You got these for me?” 

“You’ve been wanting to do art for a while now. I can help teach you and I created a YouTube video playlist of videos I first watched when I created art. When I’m not around, you’ll be able to watch them and learn.” 

You opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off. 

“I know it might not help entirely, but it’s a good distraction. If you start this and don’t like it, I’ve been talking to Felix. He sent over some of the recipes he makes a lot. Maybe you could give baking a shot?” He offered. 

Tears began to fill your eyes from the warmth that fluttered through your heart. 

“What?” His face fell. “Do you not like this? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” He rushed towards you and began to wipe away your tears. “I don’t want to seem overbearing and like I’m trying to fix you. That’s not what I’m trying to do, I swear! I-I just want to help you.” 

You laughed at his distress. He paused upon seeing your reaction. You sniffled and shook your head. Pulling away, you began to speak. 

“I’m not crying because I’m sad. I’m not sad, I’m so happy. You didn’t have to do all this for me. I’m so grateful and I feel so overwhelmed.” 

“So they’re happy tears?” 

You nodded and laughed again. More tears streamed down your cheeks. A smile began to grow on Hyunjin’s face again. 

“Thank you for caring about me.” 

“I’ll always care about you.” He leaned over and wrapped his arms around you. “I’ll do anything to see you happy. I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

_ _ _

Han:

TW: Gambling and gambling addiction.

The question sat unspoken on your tongue. You knew what you were doing was wrong and yet you couldn’t stop yourself. You shifted in your spot on the couch for a fourth time trying to gather up the courage to ask. 

Your boyfriend’s eyes were glued to the latest anime the two of you had been watching. He was clueless about your antics. You sucked in a deep breath and called out his name. When he didn’t respond, you called his name a little louder. 

He snapped his head towards you with his big eyes and round cheeks. Even without meaning to, your boyfriend was attractive. You pushed away the thought and focused back on the task at hand. 

“Can I ask for a favor?” 

“What kind of favor?” 

In the background, the characters in the anime continued fighting each other. Brightly colored hair flung around and over dramatic sound effects whirled. Fists flew and bodies bucked. Screams of despair from the hero and bouts of anger from the villain continued.

The anime reminded you of yourself. You were the hero and you were the villain. Always flipping back and forth between the two, a switch toggled, but it never flipped fully. You were reckless with life decisions. Messy without thinking things through. Acting in the heat of the moment without thinking about the effects. 

“Can I borrow five-hundred dollars?” 

“Huh?” Han’s eyes widened in shock. “Five…hundred? What? Why?” 

Your eyes met the ground. You felt pathetic. Your form of self-harm wasn’t physically damaging your body. You didn’t turn to substances to cope with things. You threw yourself into gambling instead. Every paycheck, you went through money like water. You were a pro at self-sabotaging.  

You managed to keep just enough to make ends meet and then you’d blow the rest of it. Chasing the high of winning, you didn’t know how to stop. The worst part? You were pretty decent at it. Whether it was making bets with your friends about small things or feeding freshly dispensed ATM cash into slot machines at the casino, you were good. 

Lately, you had been on a winning streak. The cash was pooling in. Over and over again you won and each time, the dopamine rush was more intense than the last. You were seeing green, at least, until greed brought you to your knees. 

You bet everything in the heat of the moment. You bet it all and within a few seconds, you lost everything. It was there and then it was gone. Even worse, you realized you hadn’t put the money aside for your half of the rent. You were royally fucked and with no more money to bet to try and make some of it back, you were screwed. 

You didn’t leave the casino giddy with excitement. You didn’t sprint to the front desk to redeem your money from the ticket in your hand happily. You didn’t relish the fresh air outside with loaded pockets feeling unstoppable. You left with tears in your eyes and humiliation coursing through your veins. 

“Five-hundred?” Han repeated again, completely baffled. He reached over, paused the show, and sat up. “Baby, why do you need five-hundred dollars? Did something happen?” 

You could have lied. You could have said something went wrong with the payroll at work. You could have said the system broke and your paycheck would be delayed. You could have pretended your bank account was hacked. As you ran through the lies in your head, they made you feel even more grimy and worthless. 

Heart taught with distress, you squeezed your eyes shut and balled your hands into fists. Your nails dug into your palms. This was your fault. You did this. You made your bed and now you’d have to lie in it. 

“I really fucked up,” you finally admitted. You stayed silent for a few moments. You weren’t sure how Han would react to your admission of guilt. You let out a sigh before you opened your eyes and spoke again. “I think I have a problem.” 

“What kind of problem?” Han stretched forward. He laid down on his stomach and tucked his palms beneath his head. He tilted his head up to stare at you from his position. “Anything I can help with?” 

“I might have gambled all my money away.” 

“You what?” 

“I know it sounds bad.” You were sheepish to speak. “I forgot to set aside rent money. I know it’s no excuse, but it left my mind.” 

Han stared at you without a word. You were too afraid to glance over at him. Your eyes never left the floor. 

“So the five-hundred dollars is to cover my half of the rent. I promise I’ll pay you back!” You peeked over at him. Eyes filled with desperation, you hoped he’d understand. “I don’t like asking you for assistance, but our landlord won’t budge on the rent being due at the end of this week and I don’t get paid until next week.” 

“Did you just start this or…” He trailed off. 

“It’s been happening for a few months. When I hang out with my friends, we go to the casinos and stuff. It was really fun and before I knew it, I was hooked on it. I couldn’t stop it no matter how hard I tried.” 

“Of course, I’ll cover your part of the rent.” 

Relief filled your veins. 

“But.” 

“But?” 

“But it sounds like this is a big issue. This was a pretty big incident that happened to you. What would happen if this occurs again and there’s nobody there to help you?” 

You frowned and shifted once more uncomfortably beneath the weight of his gaze. “Honestly, I never really thought about it. I think I might be obsessed with it. I live for the feeling of being a winner.” 

“Don’t you think you should stop before you become a loser?” 

Your face fell at his words. He scooted closer to you and scooped you up to his chest. You could barely breathe as his arms constricted around you. 

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, but this is concerning. I care about you and I don’t want to see you lose everything. Do you understand where I’m coming from?” 

You weakly nodded your head. He clutched to you tightly in the silence. The anime was still paused in the background. A fist froze in mid-air as it was ready to slam into the villain who stood with wide eyes of terror. His fingers found the ends of your hair and he began to twirl his fingers around it. 

“Han?” 

“Yes, baby?” 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. I’ve been doing it for a while now. I thought I’d be able to give it up, but it’s like an itch that won’t go away.” 

He paused for a moment before he hummed. His tongue clicked while he thought about the situation. His fingers lazily tapped along your spine. You laid with your head on his chest. He sat sideways on the couch while he held you. 

“I’ve heard that there are some therapists that specialize in therapy for gambling addicts.” 

The air was knocked from your lungs. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You stiffened in his arms at the words. Shame filled you once more. That’s exactly what you were, you were an addict. This whole time you were afraid to label it, but that’s what it was. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I feel pathetic.” 

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.” Han clutched you tighter. “A lot of people struggle with addictions. It doesn’t mean you’re worth any less to me. If anything, I’m proud of you for coming to me with this problem. They say the first step is admitting you have a problem and you’re right there.” 

“Your addiction doesn’t define you,” he continued. “We all struggle with a lot of different things. It can come in different varieties and all shapes and sizes. You don’t have to be ashamed of something that’s so normal.” 

“I don’t think this is normal.” 

“Not for everyone, no. However, I’m sure there’s thousands of people out there just like you. Some people are in denial and don’t want to admit it. Others are afraid and some feel like they have nobody to turn to. Everyone has their reasons and I’m sure you have yours.” 

His words wrapped around you like a safety net. They eased some of your anxiety about the whole situation. You mumbled an apology for everything and he reassured you that it’d be okay. He stared at you with such love and admiration, even when you weren’t paying attention to it. 

“So how about we finish our anime and we can figure everything out after this episode?” 

“You want to see who wins the battle, don’t you?” A smirk began to appear on your face. 

“Maybe just a little.” 

“You might want to watch, at least, the next two episodes.” 

“You already know what happens?” 

“Nope, I’m just betting on the fight being cut early and something dramatic happening.” 

He stared at you unamused and despite the situation that had bloomed due to your actions, all you could do was laugh at your own word-play. 

_ _ _

Felix:

TW: Overworking, caffeine addiction, and anxiety.

A frown filled Felix’s face when he laid his eyes upon you. He arrived home late tonight due to a few extra late dance practices. He expected to find you asleep in your bed, but instead you were hunched over your desk in the pitch black. 

The bright light of your laptop illuminated your face while your fingers moved over the keys. Your eyes were narrowed and you were stuck in a trance. Beside you, three empty energy drinks sat. A fourth was directly beside you and half drank. 

This morning, there weren’t any on the desk. He made sure of that because he removed them and tossed them into the recycling bin after you left for work. He ventured further into the room, let his bag fall towards the ground, and began to speak. 

“Baby, what are you doing?” 

He was met by the sound of you typing. The white light from your laptop highlighted the deep bags from beneath your eyes. You felt like your brain was melting, but the high caffeine content kept you going. You weren’t behind on work, in fact, you were ahead of everything. 

You worked a normal nine to five and then came home and worked some more. Sometimes your line of work required you to do extra work at home and sometimes you just wanted to work ahead. Felix often tried to get you to lay off overworking yourself, but you never listened. 

You had been like this for the past two weeks. You barely ate and slept. You were always hunched over your laptop. Emailing coworkers and upper management. Passing and trading reports back and forth. Filing and submitting different claims. Making phone calls, so on, and so forth. 

Felix’s shoulders slumped when you didn’t respond. Just looking at the purple bags looming beneath your eyes made him tired. He let out a yawn and rubbed his eyes. 

“Baby, come on. You can finish this in the morning. You’ve been working all day and you need to get some sleep.” 

You blinked upon hearing the voice and briefly glanced over at your boyfriend. His eyes were half closed with sleepiness. It was past one in the morning. You gazed down at the clock on your screen. 

“Go ahead and get in bed. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just let me finish up this report real quick.” You went back to your screen and continued to type. 

Felix let out a sigh, but went about his evening routine. He slipped into pajamas, completed his skincare routine, brushed his teeth, and slipped into the bed. It was cold without the warmth of your body. His head slumped against the pillow defeatedly and he waited for you. 

And he waited and he waited and then he waited some more. He tossed to one side and then the other. He tried to lay on his back and then he tried to sleep on his stomach. Haunted by the quick pecking of your laptop keyboard, he couldn’t get himself to sleep. 

He huffed slightly annoyed, shoved the blankets away from his legs, and he sat up. “Baby, are you coming to bed? You said you’d only take a few more minutes.” He glanced over at the clock beside him. “It’s been nearly a half hour since then.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there soon,” you responded absentmindedly. Your eyes were bloodshot and your spine ached. You tilted your neck to the side and small pops sounded. Ignoring them, you took another sip of your energy drink, and went back to typing. 

Felix’s eyes narrowed and daggers hit your back. His arms crossed over his chest. You were unaware as you continued typing on your laptop. After nearly another minute of silence, he finally shoved himself up. 

Unbeknownst to you, he left your bedroom and headed for the living room. He wasted no time shutting off the internet router box and slipped back into your bedroom without a sound. It didn’t take long until you frantically clicked your mouse and let out a groan. 

“Something wrong?” 

“The internet went out in the middle of my report!” 

“That sucks.” His voice held no sympathy. “We’ll figure it out in the morning. Come on, let’s go to bed.” 

You grumbled, but eventually shut your laptop and climbed into the bed. Happily, he curled up into the bed beside you and buried his head into your chest. It didn’t take long before he fell asleep due to exhaustion, but you couldn’t. 

The caffeine had you wired. You were wound up and didn’t want to sit still. You laid there for a while to make sure Felix was fully asleep. Once you were sure he was out, you slipped out of bed and ventured out into the living room. You reset the router and within minutes, you were back online. 

Nearly an hour later, Felix was well aware that you weren’t there. He woke up and reached out to cuddle you, but you were gone. He sat up wondering where you were. Upon realizing you weren’t in the bedroom, he went out to look for you. 

That’s when he found you in the living room with two more energy drinks beside you. You were sipping a third one. Felix was flabbergasted at your behavior. How much caffeine was cruising through your veins? 

“Baby?” 

You stopped typing and glanced up to face your boyfriend. You paused and meekly smiled at his sudden appearance. “Hi?” 

His arms crossed over his chest and your heart sunk. He stared at you without a word. You slowly put down the energy drink on the coffee table. 

“Do you have a death wish?” 

“What?” 

“Do you have a death wish?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“How many energy drinks have you had today?” 

“I-” You paused to think about his question. “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” 

“Felix, it’s not that big of a deal. I always drink energy drinks. Calm down and go back to bed. I’ll be there soon, I promise.” 

“No. Put your laptop down and let’s go. You’re going to bed. Do you know how many days this has happened? Multiple.” 

“You’re being irrational!” Your voice started to rise. “Stop being so fucking dramatic! God, they’re just energy drinks, Felix! It’s not like they’re going to kill me!” 

“Are you hearing yourself?” 

You rubbed your sleepy eyes and let out an annoyed groan. “Can’t you just leave me alone? Why do you care so much? I’m doing my job!” 

“Part of your job is to take care of yourself as a person! When was the last time you got eight hours of sleep? When was the last time you had a decent meal?” His voice began to crack. Tears started to fill his eyes. “When was the last time you were happy and not slung over your computer?” 

You felt like you had been slapped in the face by his words. Your mouth went dry, almost like you inhaled a mouthful of sand. You wanted to say something back, but there was nothing you could use to justify yourself. 

“Why don’t you care about yourself the way I care about you?” His bottom lip quivered. “You’re always telling me to take care of myself. You’re always making sure I’m not overworking myself, but what about you? I don’t want you to die.” 

Tears trickled down his freckled cheeks. He hadn’t meant to cry, but he was frustrated. Why couldn’t you see yourself like he could? Why didn’t you care? Why weren’t you listening to him? 

“Felix,” your voice came out softer. 

He shook his head and blinked rapidly to get rid of the tears. “I’m going back to bed. You can just stay here sipping your energy drinks and overworking yourself. When you collapse with a heart attack, don’t come crying to me.” He stormed back towards your room upset with your behavior. 

The slam of your bedroom door caused you to jump. You looked down at the energy drinks you were consuming and guilt began to fill you. He was right. He was right about all of it. You were absolutely miserable. 

The caffeine made you shaky and it spiked your anxiety. You were so dependent on it, if you didn’t have any, you started to develop a throbbing headache. You became aware of your heart rapidly beating in your chest. How much longer could you keep up this behavior before it burst? 

With a sigh, you shut your laptop and pushed it onto the coffee table. You walked back to the room you shared with Felix. Shame filled you once more. Quietly, you opened the bedroom door and stepped inside. 

Felix was turned away from your side of the bed. He was facing the wall with his arms still crossed over his chest. Silent tears flooded down his cheeks still. You weren’t sure if he was awake or not, so you softly called his name. 

“What?” His voice wasn’t angry anymore. He was completely defeated. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I didn’t realize my behavior was upsetting you so much. I didn’t think it was making you worry. I’m sorry for yelling at you. You didn’t deserve that at all.”  

There was silence for a while until he spoke again. “I’ll always worry about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Part of our relationship is to look out for one another.” 

You padded over and slipped beneath the covers. Once he felt the bed stop shifting, he spun around so he could face you. The dim light from a nearby lamp caused a soft yellow glow to overcast. There were tears still in his eyes. They were smeared along his cheeks. 

Your heart hurt at the sight of him. He moved closer to you and wrapped his arms around you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck. He mumbled into your skin and the vibrations caused tingles to run through you.

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, I swear. I sent an email to my boss and told her I wouldn’t be there tomorrow. You have the day off, right?”

“Mmhm.” 

“Let’s spend the day together, yeah?” 

He pulled away from you. His eyes sparkled as they met yours. “Really?” 

You nodded your head before you leaned over and kissed his cheek. A rosy blush dusted the tops of them. “You wanna help me get rid of my energy drink stash tomorrow?” 

“You have a stash?” 

“I always have a stash.” 

“You’re not gonna get mad?” 

“No. You’re right, I need to stop. I kinda feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest. It’s beating so fast right now.” 

“Or maybe that’s just because I’m here.” A cheesy grin filled his face. He leaned up and kissed your cheek this time. 

“Yeah, maybe it’s just because you’re here.” 

He snuggled back down into the crook of your neck. You let out a soft sigh at his warmth. It didn’t take long until you both fell asleep tangled around each other. 

_ _ _

Seungmin:

TW: Starvation, disordered eating, binging, and poor self esteem/body image.

Seungmin chewed his instant noodles peacefully across from you. With a fork in one hand and his phone in the other, he was content while scrolling through social media. On the other side of the table, you sipped your glass of ice water and did the same. 

The only difference was that you did not have instant noodles in front of you. You sat up straight at the kitchen table with your fingers digging into your plastic cup. Condensation pooled against your fingers and left a ring along the wood. You scrolled through your social media too. 

The scent of beef broth filled your nostrils. Your empty stomach twisted and contorted. It rumbled for the third time. You shifted in your chair and continued scrolling through your phone. Your fingers paled as you dug them into your cup tighter. 

You silently salivated in your seat. The things you’d do to have a single bite of your boyfriend’s noodles; the warmth of flavorful sodium filled broth lining your stomach. Your teeth bit down onto your bottom lip once again. 

The feeling of hunger was sharp and dull. Your stomach searched for food, but it had nothing. The feeling of cold water pooling in the bottom of your stomach filled you with a sense of pride. You were starving, yeah, but you had self control. In your brain, this was a win. 

When your stomach roared again, Seungmin glanced over the top of his phone. He eyed you suspiciously. Lately, you seemed to be pushing away food. He didn’t talk about it much because he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. 

After all, he had been on his own fair share of diets. He knew they could be difficult, but you never mentioned a diet. In fact, he hadn’t seen you eat anything recently. Realizing this, a frown filled his face. 

You glanced up at the feeling of eyes on you. When your eyes met Seungmin’s, you raised an eyebrow. He copied your expression without a word. 

“Are you hungry?” He asked. 

Your eyes went back down to the instant noodles. He picked up another forkful of them. Noodles snaked through the fork prongs and dripped with broth. You pulled your eyes away and shook your head. Your eyes went back to your phone and you swallowed another mouthful of cold water. 

He glanced at his noodles and then back to you. Down to his noodles and back to you. When your stomach cried out again, his eyes went back to you for a final time. This time he blurted it out without warning. 

“Why aren’t you eating?” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“Bullshit. Your stomach has been roaring like a lion for the past five minutes. You’re starving, so why aren’t you eating?” You kept your eyes secured to your phone. “Talk to me, babe.” 

You didn’t dare take your eyes off the phone. You didn’t put it down because you were too afraid you’d spill and that’d ruin everything. You gave a slight head shake and went back to scrolling. 

Seungmin sighed, got up, and began rummaging through the cupboards. You watched with curious eyes while he pulled out another cup of instant ramen. You tried to ignore him, but when he added hot water, the smell of beef broth caused your stomach to rumble once more. 

You cursed beneath your breath and set your phone down. As you pushed yourself back, the wooden legs of your chair scraped against the ground. Seungmin turned around, alerted by the noise, to find you leaving the room. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

“To the bedroom.” 

“No you’re not. Get back here and sit down. We’re going to have a conversation about why you’re not eating. Sit your ass in the chair.” 

“But I-” 

“No. Sit down and shut up.” He placed the cup of noodles in the spot where you were sitting. His eyes narrowed while he stared at you. 

You wanted to turn around and ignore him. When Seungmin made up his mind, he made up his mind. There was no use in running away from the problem. He’d hunt you down and figure out the root of the problem anyway. 

You sighed and sat back down. He pushed a fork over to you and plopped down in his own seat. You stared down at the cup of noodles and your mind began to wander. 

How many calories were in it? How much sodium? What if this single cup of noodles caused you to lose control? What if this single meal caused you to spiral into a binge? On and on your internal thoughts went and Seungmin had no idea. 

“Why aren’t you eating?” 

“I’m not hungry,” you repeated. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited in silence for your real answer. You bit down on the inside of your cheek. You shifted beneath his eyes again. He knew exactly how to make you squirm. 

“I don’t feel like I deserve to eat,” you meekly admitted. You didn’t meet his eyes. You kept staring at the steam rising from the cup of noodles. 

“Why not?” 

You shrugged, but then continued anyway. “I feel like I deserved to be punished for not being good enough.” Your fingers played with the ends of your hoodie sleeves. 

“Not good enough? What do you mean you’re not good enough? What are you talking about?” 

“I could be better. My body isn’t in the best shape right now. It’s a simple way to lose weight. Honestly, I kind of like the feeling of starving. It makes me feel strangely powerful.” 

“But you have to eat.” He leaned forward and reached his hand out. He was gentle as he cupped his hand over yours. “How are you going to have the strength to get through your days without food?”

You shrugged your shoulders again. It felt pathetic when you said it out loud. Your stomach continued rumbling. The scent of beef broth was overwhelming now that it was closer. 

“How long has this been going on?” 

“It just started this week.” 

Seungmin stared at you wondering how he could help you. He knew about eating disorders, but he didn’t know how to help you. The answer seemed so simple to him, but your brain wasn’t wired like his was. 

Food was not fuel for you, it was a daily challenge; a struggle. A battle of binging and starvation. Something you loved and loathed at the exact same time. It was gluttony, but perfection; a twisted combination of the two. You never seemed to find middle ground. 

“That notebook that you’ve been writing in recently in our bedroom. You’ve been counting calories, haven’t you?” 

You didn’t have to respond. Seungmin already knew the answer. A frown filled his face. The noodles were beginning to lose their warmth. 

“Do you trust me?” He suddenly asked. 

“Of course, I trust you. What kind of question is that? I’m dating you, obviously I trust you.” 

“Can I make you food from now on? Not every meal, but just one a day, so I know you’re eating something. It’d make me feel better.” 

Your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t want to agree, but you also didn’t want this to spiral out of control and funnel into something you lost yourself completely to. The question weighed heavily on your mind. He was asking you to give up control to the one thing that you could control.

“Can we try it for one day?” His voice softened. “One day and if you don’t like it, we can figure out something else.” 

You finally nodded your head slowly. Your eyes wandered down to the fork beside you. You let out a soft sigh before you picked it up, twisted it into the cup of noodles, and took a bite. Flavor exploded on your tongue. You relished the taste with closed eyes. 

“How is it?” 

“It’s really good.” 

“I’m glad I didn’t decide to poison it then.” 

“Seungmin!” 

He let out a laugh and sat back. A small smile appeared on your face. He kept you busy with conversation, so your mind couldn’t go back to focusing on your food. Eventually, you managed to eat half of them before you pushed them away. Seungmin allowed it without complaint. 

“Whoops, I think you got something here.” He leaned across the table and began to reach for your shirt. 

You looked down to see what it was, but before you could see, he reached up and flicked the end of your nose. 

You let out a yelp and pulled away. Shooting him a glare, he could only laugh in amusement. He always knew how to keep you on your toes. 

_ _ _

I.N:

TW: Doom scrolling and self-isolation.

The world was on fire. Maybe not physically, but that’s what it felt like. You had fallen into the toxic cycle of doom scrolling again. Climate change, war, protests, violence, politics, upcoming elections, riots, and death. You flipped through your TikTok page and soaked it up like a sponge. 

Swipe. Like. Swipe. Like. Swipe. Like. Swipe. Like. 

The algorithm was a little too good at its job. The moment you began liking content about one issue, more videos appeared. Soon there was another and another and another until your TikTok page was a manifesto of doom and gloom. 

The memes went away. The animal videos went away. The videos about your hobbies and interests went away. The videos from your favorite creators went away. Even videos about your boyfriend’s band disappeared. 

The more you scrolled, the worse you felt. How could you live at a time like this? A time when the world was flooded with such chaos. Man made disasters, disease outbreaks, deadly weather events, and crime. Murders, shootings, stabbings, kidnappings, and so on. Another child dead, another place shot up, and another country suffering. 

How could you not be sad? How could you not live with depression? How were you supposed to go on living with the realization that there was so much suffering? Why weren’t people nicer? Why are humans cruel to one another? When did humans lose their humanity? 

Eventually, you turned off your phone and let it fall onto the side of the bed. Tears filled your eyes when you rethought about it. So many stories about higher powers out there. Ancient gods and goddesses, magnificent unearthly creators passed down from generation to generation, and yet suffering still existed. Why? 

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it wasn’t working. You reached a hand from beneath your warm blanket and wiped away your tears. You felt guilty for feeling so upset about everything. You should have been thankful that you were able to live the life you lived, but you still felt conflicted about the extent of suffering. None of it was fair. 

I.N let himself into the apartment he shared with you. He kicked off his shoes and let out a sigh of relief glad to be home. He knew you weren’t home tonight and you probably wouldn’t be home for a while. You told him you were going out with friends earlier. 

Lately, you seemed a little down, so he was happy you were finally getting back out there. You loved your friends dearly and they loved you. Besides, you could use a bit of cheering up. 

He hummed to himself and moved throughout the house. He walked directly into the bedroom ready to shower and dress in comfortable pajamas. All of his plans crashed when he heard sniffling as he opened the door. He flipped on the light and there you were curled into a ball in your bed. You squeezed your eyes shut at the bright lights.

“Sorry about that, baby.” He flipped the main switch back off and flipped on the closet light instead. The too bright white light disappeared and was replaced with a softer lighting. “I thought you were going out to hang out with your friends.” 

“I was going to, but I called off.” Your voice wobbled slightly. You sniffled again and pawed at your eyes. 

Upon seeing your teary eyes, he walked over and slipped into the bed beside you. He pulled the covers away from you and tucked himself right beside you. You wanted to cry at his actions, but you managed to keep your tears back. 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen at work or something? Did one of your friends say something?” He studied your face with concern. 

You shook your head and sniffled again. “Do you ever just realize how bad everything is in the world? There’s so much death and destruction.” Tears filled your eyes once more. “How are we supposed to deal with it?” 

He knew what you were talking about instantly. You did this sometimes. Sometimes he caught you doom scrolling and stopped you. He often distracted you from it with things like your Nintendo Switches or TV shows. You must have started doom scrolling when he was away. 

“The ice is melting in Antarctica and the polar bears…” You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence, as your bottom lip quivered. 

You wore your heart on your sleeve. Empathy was a bittersweet thing for you. You were born with too much of it and you didn’t know how to turn it off. Your heart went out to everyone and everything. Even in the cruelest people, you were able to find empathy in them. 

I.N pulled you into his arms and wrapped them around your torso. You buried your head into his chest. He gently rubbed a hand along your back. 

“You know, animals are very good at adapting to a variety of situations. A lot of them are more intelligent than we realize. I’m sure the polar bears are the same way.” 

That was the thing about Jeongin. He never belittled you for being empathetic. He never called you too sensitive or a crybaby. He didn’t brush away your concerns about things. He listened to your rambles patiently and tried his best to help alter and adjust the way you viewed things. 

You didn’t like your empathy, but he thought it was a gift. You thought about things that he didn’t. You looked at the world with such kindness and compassion. You could easily befriend a stranger if you wanted to. You provided him with a different outlook on life. 

“It’s all so sad. Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Why are we letting people suffer?” 

“I wish I knew why, but I don’t know. Unfortunately, life isn’t fair to everyone. It really sucks, huh?” 

“I hate it,” you grumbled. “I hate being stuck here and not being able to do anything about it.” A sigh escaped your lips. 

“What happened with your friends?” 

“I called off. I felt worthless, so I told them I wasn’t feeling good. I didn’t want to tell them what was really bothering me.” 

“Why don’t you go hang out with them? I’m sure they want to see you. You said they’ve been texting you about how much they miss you recently. I’m sure it’d be a good distraction for you.” 

“You’re right, but I don’t know. They’re already hanging out and they think I’m sick. I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“You could tell them you’re feeling better.” His fingers found your hair and began playing with it. He enjoyed the feathery feeling between his fingers. 

“Can you come with me?” 

“Do you want that?” 

“Honestly, yeah. We haven’t been anywhere recently. They’ve been asking about you too.” 

“I’d be happy to tag along. Where are they? Dinner or something?” 

You pushed yourself up off his lap. “They’re actually bowling right now.” Feeling a bit better, you stood up from the bed. The previous thoughts of earlier were in the back of your head now. 

“Have you ever bowled before?” 

“Maybe.” 

“You’re not going to tell me?” 

“If I say yes, you’ll know I’ve had an advantage. If I say no, then you’ll know I haven’t, so the answer is maybe.” 

“I’m gonna beat you.” 

“No, you’re not!” 

“The loser gets to let the other person pick out their outfits for a week, deal?” I.N asked. 

“You’re on!” You rushed out the bedroom door. You sprinted towards the hall to grab your shoes from the sneaker shelf. “Let’s go!” 

I.N smiled to himself as he went after you. He might not have done much, but, at least, he could help distract you from everything on your mind. He put on his shoes and hurried to follow you out the door. 

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Taglist: @fairytaleskiess

Masterlist

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #stray kids angst #stray kids comfort #kpop fanfic #bang chan #lee know #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #skz fanfic #fanfic writing

[shadowkoo]

Ten out of Ten

→ Summary: For the past three years, Kim Taehyung has made it his mission to annoy you relentlessly on campus, finding every possible way to drive you up the wall during your shared classes. However, as you both enter your senior year, something strange happens. Taehyung begins to sense a shift in his energy, realizing he might just have some secret feelings for you. What unfolds when you make this earth-shattering discovery too?

↠ kth x f.reader | 8.6k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, humor, college au, enemies to lovers, fratboy!bangtan

→ Warnings: explicit & unprotected sex, consensual drunk sex, shower sex, ‘revenge’ sex (all fun and games), alcohol consumption, party crashed by police, dirty talk, soft kissing, rough kissing, hard dom!taehyung, soft dom!taehyung, grinding, fingering, sloppy oral sex, cock swallowing, choking on tae’s cock, throat fucking, slight praising, begging, sense of ownership, size kink, taehyung has a huge dong, belly bulge, reader gets dicked down almost too good (if that’s a thing), breast & nipple play, riding, reversal, biting, teasing, cockwarming, creampie, cum play, cum eating, cum stuffing, spanking, choking ft. tae’s beautiful hands, pussy slapping, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, multiple sex scenes

→ Author note: Inspired by this popular post!! If you’d like to read this on ao3 instead it’s been crossposted here! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

“This is wrong. This is so wrong.” He moans after pushing you up against his closed bedroom door, “Are you sure? Are you drunk?” You roll your eyes.

“Stop trying to talk me out of this,” you whisper while leaving wet kisses along his jawline. You’ve waited too long. There’s no way in hell you’re stopping now. Lifting your head up and looking into his eyes, you continue, “I didn’t drink that much. I want this. I want you.”

He groans and presses his lips into yours yet again. “I swear this wasn’t my intention,” he says after pulling back.

You kiss him hard, but your quick attempt to shut him up doesn’t work.

“I promise it wasn’t,” he blurts, “I was just being honest, you know the rules of the game.” He pulls you close again as his lips flutter around your neck, causing an airy sigh to escape from your parted ones.

“No more talking. Please.” You pull his face back up and let his lips harshly reattach to yours. He proceeds to kiss you, slowing down when you try to speed things up.

“I just need you to know that I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he repeats.

“Taehyung!” You whine as your eyes tell him to stop worrying about it, “Shut up and kiss me.”

“I need to hear you say it. I need to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

You pull back slightly from his embrace to tug your shirt off, “Tae please,“ you beg between kisses, the slick from your heat seeping through your thin underwear, "Just fuck me already.”

Earlier that day…

“Taehyung! You asshole!” you holler while chasing after the guy who’s currently running along the sidewalk with your history paper in hand.

You finally catch up to him by the fountain that sits at the campus’s center, watching him nervously as he jokes around, holding the most important five thousand words you’ve ever written.

“I will kill you if you get a single drop of water on that! It’s due in ten minutes!” you threaten as he tosses the stapled paper between his hands. “Taehyung, please. I was up all night writing this. It’s worth forty percent of my grade,” you beg, really hoping he’ll take a step down before anything bad happens.

“Quit freaking out, I’m not going-” his words are short-lived as a gust of wind steals the paper from his loose grip. You both watch, completely horrified, as it flutters through the air in slow motion and falls directly down into the clear water.

“Oh no. No no no. Oh my god. I swear to god that wasn’t supposed to happen! I was just teasing!” Taehyung panics as he jumps through the fountain, slipping and thoroughly soaking himself further as rushes over to your sunken assignment. He wipes away the water on his face and retrieves the soggy paper lying on the vibrant tile below. Drops of ink run off the paper, smearing the barely legible words even more.

You feel as though you've momentarily forgotten how to breathe.

“Okay. It’s okay,” you say to yourself, trying to calm down, “Everything’s fine. It’s fine. I can just head back to the library and reprint it, I’d rather be a few minutes late for class than get a zero on this.”

“Uh, hmmm, yeah…” Taehyung clears his throat nervously, scratching the back of his neck while doing so. “About that…”

“Don’t say it,” you threaten anxiously. You internally beg that what you assume he’s going to say next is not true. It can’t be. You will it not to be.

“The library closed twenty minutes ago. It always closes early on Thursdays and Fridays,” He says sheepishly with a face full of remorse, though you doubt he actually feels it.

“Great,” you huff, “That’s just fucking great.” The calmness dissipates as rage takes over your body. “I honestly cannot believe you sometimes. Will you ever grow the fuck up? We’re not freshmen anymore! You can’t just dick around like this. Wrecking each others’ projects was funny three years ago when our grades didn’t matter but we can’t keep doing this. Just-” you take a deep breath to regain some of your calmness, “Get. The fuck. Away from me.” You rip your destroyed paper out of his hands and storm off in the direction of the building where your class is held.

Maybe that was a little rude. Actually, no, it wasn’t. He deserved it. He ruined your history paper. Intentionally, too.

“I’m coming with you, I’ll explain what happened,” Taehyung persists, somehow keeping up with your angry stomps as you head to class.

“Quit following me, I’m screwed enough as it is,” you grumble, knowing that he’s trudging along behind you even without turning around to confirm it.

His footsteps slow once you reach the outside of the history department.

Maybe he finally got the message.

“Ahhh, Miss Y/N. You’re late,” your professor says as you enter the quiet classroom and try to make your way to your empty assigned seat. He stops you before you can sit, “Do you have your paper ready to turn in?”

You shamefully drop what’s left of your paper into your professors’ hands.

“Is this your submission?” he asks, holding it up with his fingers, watching as the remaining water droplets fall to the floor. Your classmates snicker as they watch the scene in front of them unfold.

Yet, just as you're about to respond, the classroom door violently swings open, instantly capturing everyone's attention in unison.

“It’s my fault,” Taehyung pants after barging in.

“Excuse me, sir, who are you? And why are you dripping in my lecture?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” you quietly seethe.

“I considered heading to my class but I just felt too bad,” he says to you before turning to your professor. “It’s my fault her paper is soaked, I mean look at me. I am too. After an unfortunate turn of events - events that neither of us anticipated - it fell in the fountain and so did I. But you can see that…because I’m wet. Wet like water wet, not like the other kind of wet. That would be weird, considering… But probably more awkward than anything though. If I’m being honest. You know, my mother taught me that honesty is the best policy. So that’s what I’m doing here. Being honest…about me…and her paper, being, uh, you know, wet…”

It's unclear who is more astonished, you or your professor. Is this really happening right now? You’ve never heard Taehyung ramble like this. If you weren’t so stunned or feeling secondhand embarrassment for him, you would’ve probably laughed hysterically.

The older man gives Taehyung a once over, his eyes peering over his reading glasses as they travel up and down the damp clothes stuck to the twenty-something’s figure. Displeased, he turns to look at the disintegrating mess of your so-called paper that’s stuck between his fingers.

“Haha, yeah…so uh, I’m gonna go now,” Taehyung says as he finger guns to the door before anyone else can get a word in, “I hope this is resolved. And um, I’m going to make sure I never sign up for one of your classes, Mr. uh, I don’t know your name. But that doesn’t matter. Trust me when I say you won’t ever have to see me again.” And with that, he exits the class with the same amount of speed as he entered.

Your professor shakes his head in disbelief. “Email me your paper once you get seated and I’ll only dock you ten percent off from your original grade, as long as you promise that won’t ever happen again.”

“Deal.”

“He did what?” your roommate’s voice echoes from inside her bedroom as she makes her way into the kitchen where you’re reheating leftovers for dinner.

“I know! I could’ve killed him. I don’t know what it is lately, but he’s been irritating me more than usual. The way he just went on and on, rambling like a complete idiot. Ugh!” you mutter while waiting for the microwave to beep. The whole situation still has you mildly irate.

Sana gives you a pointed look.

“What?” you squint your eyes at her, “What does that face mean?”

“When are you two going to realize that you’re like, in love with each other? It’s always Taehyung did this or you did that. FYI, we’re all tired of hearing about it. Girl, I adore you and your little rants most of the time, but it’s exhausting listening to you two complain about each other literally all the time. We’re in the same friend group and it’s just so obvious to us all that you guys like each other, but are just stubbornly ignoring the facts that are so obviously right in front of you.”

“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say that. Dinner is done,” you say, brushing aside what you just heard. It’s too crazy to even think about.

You liking Taehyung? Taehyung liking you? Absolutely not. No way! That’s ridiculous, that’s just…almost crazy enough to be true.

The thought surprises you.

Sure, Taehyung is nice to look at. You’ve never questioned his attractiveness. But you drew the line a long time ago, knowing better than to allow yourself to grow any form of attachment to the guy who prefers to drive you batshit crazy.

It’s just easier that way. Yeah, sure, playing around and pissing each other off gives you some kind of satisfaction, but you don’t need him in your life. He isn’t that significant.

Or is he?

The more you think about it, the harder a time you have imagining your life without the messy-haired asshole who you’ve somehow grown to…love?

“Whatever, give me a bowl,” Sana says, pulling you from your thoughts before you’re able to dwell on the ‘L’ word very much. “I’m starving. And we need to eat quickly so we have enough time to get ready.”

“Oh, fuck me sideways,” you moan, annoyed with yourself for forgetting, “It’s Thursday.”

Sana’s boyfriend’s fraternity hosts a party every other Thursday night. There’s no way you’re getting out of it either, seeing as you promised her two weekends ago you’d go to the next since you bailed.

“Uh-uh! Don’t even start,” Sana warns. “You’re coming tonight whether you want to or not!”

A frat party is the worst kind of party in your opinion. Memories of the last one you attended float around your mind; wannabee rappers holding their phones by your ear so you can hear their ‘latest diss track’, girls arguing over a guy who doesn’t deserve either in your opinion, drunk couples practically fucking on the couch.

Oh, don’t forget about the pick me girl begging for attention or that guy who gets so fucking obnoxious and is willing to start a fistfight with anyone within an arm's distance. And lastly, the typical fuckboy that will say anything to get you into his bed. Yeah, frat parties are so not your thing.

But you promised Sana, and she’d hold it against you until the end of time if you didn’t go tonight.

You made a plan anyway. Show up, say hi to a few friends, have a few drinks, and disappear before anyone can notice you’ve made a run for it. Fingers crossed that you can pull it off.

The party is in full swing when you arrive, or so you are assuming since you had to step over someone passed out on the lawn on your way toward the front steps. The door is wide open, and Sana immediately spots her boyfriend Joon from across the room. His face lights up when he notices her waving dramatically and makes his way over to you two.

“She actually came? In the flesh? Y/N, is that really you?” Namjoon teases, obviously not expecting you to make an appearance.

“Hi, Joon. Good to see you too.”

“I was surprised, she didn’t even put up a fight about it tonight.” Sana giggles as soon as Joon pulls her into his arms for a sloppy kiss. You look away and scan the room, searching through the crowd of familiar yet vague faces.

“Sana! Get a room, girl!” one of them hollers, cheering her on as she shoves her tongue down her boyfriend’s throat.

She pulls back and flips off Yoongi, the culprit and one of Joon’s frat brothers, and walks further into the house, scanning the audience for tonight.

“Hey, think you could bring some of your single friends over? Preferably a random group of them with one specific person we all have in our mind. She needs to go home with a guy tonight,” she says to Yoongi as he walks over with drinks in hand for you and Sana.

Everyone seems to understand what she’s saying, other than you, who of course is oblivious yet again as to who they’re referencing.

“I heard you had a rough day,” Yoongi says, handing you one of the plastic cups with a sideways grin as you give Sana an agitated look after smacking her on the arm. But she doesn’t seem to acknowledge either and instead, smirks at Yoongi’s remark. “I have a certain person in mind. Let me see if I can find where he ran off too.”

Joon laughs knowing all too well what happened, "We’ll do our best, see you in a few.”

"Oh my god, Sana! I can’t believe you sometimes,” you whine after the guys are out of earshot.

"What? It’s not like I’m wrong! You need a good time tonight just to relax. You don’t have any Friday classes anyway so have some fun.” She shrugs her shoulders and walks away to say hi to some of her other girlfriends.

While she’s gone and the guys are hunting, you spot Taehyung leaning up against a bookshelf filled with novels you bet haven’t been touched in decades. You try your hardest to weave your way through the crowded area before he can notice you, but unfortunately, your eyes lock with his just as you’re squeezing through a group of girls you’ve never seen before. Freshmen, probably.

“What are you doing here?” you question, not even attempting to hide the annoyed tone in your voice when you feel his presence behind you.

“What do you mean, ’What am I doing here?’ I live here. What are you doing here? I thought you hated these sorts of things.”

"You live here?” you ask, ignoring his question as your head whips around. “I didn’t know you were in the same fraternity as Namjoon.”

“I didn’t know you didn’t know. Sorry?” He laughs as you take the last sip of your mystery drink. “Need another? I’m heading to the kitchen.”

“Uh, whatever you’re having,” you say. Alcohol is alcohol.

“Sure thing. Oh hey, Sana! Where’s Joon?” Taehyung asks, acknowledging that your sidekick returned, but without her significant other.

“Hey Tae, he’s in the Blue Room. Which is where I must drag you to,” she smiles devilishly, grabbing your arm to pull you away. Though unbeknownst to her, you would gladly go anywhere that’s away from Taehyung right now.

“Ahhh, is it already time?” he wonders out loud. “I’ll meet you there,” he says and leaves for the kitchen to grab drinks.

As you’re being pulled away, the only thought parading through your mind is how much you want to rip his head off for the stunt he pulled earlier, but also the multiple ways you can get your revenge on him for costing you ten percent on a paper that would have otherwise been an A+.

Sana pulls you into the second living room, the Blue Room as it’s ‘famously’ known for its somewhat derogatory, yet exclusive, activities. If you could call them that.

Only those invited are allowed to enter. You’re not sure why, but the guys take their rule pretty seriously.

You recognize nearly all of the people already in here, the majority being Namjoon’s frat brothers;

Seokjin; the one that’s always surrounded by both girls and guys. His presence easily fills the room and even without saying a single word he demands their attention.

Yoongi; the one that loves to start shit and can smell drama and sexual tension from a mile away. He knows how to push the right buttons to hear precisely what he wants.

Hoseok; the one who is always smirking about something that no one else seems to know. Not really a gossiper, but definitely knows everything about everyone.

Namjoon; the guy who everyone respects but still teases for being totally whipped for Sana. He’s a softie but can still kick anyone’s ass in mere seconds.

Jimin; the sweet one with a dark side you never want to get on. You’ve heard stories that will haunt you for a while.

And finally, Jungkook; the one who never knows what’s going on but is having a great time regardless. A happy dork who can make you laugh no matter what.

Somehow Taehyung fits into this group too, but you don’t know exactly where he stands yet.

The rest of the room consists of girls you’ve seen around campus and guys attempting to gain Seokjin’s total attention but would probably never get it. Although there are a handful of faces you haven’t seen before, which is refreshing.

It looks like everyone is getting ready to play Ten out of Ten, which is basically a drinking game to initiate party hookups, a ‘how much do you like me’ sort of thing.

To play, everyone in the room writes their name on a little piece of paper and it gets thrown into a bowl. The bowl then gets passed around and each person draws a name out of the bowl, but can’t look at the name until it’s their turn. One person starts and says the name on the paper they pulled and then rates the person a number out of ten if they would sleep with them or not. So then the person whose name was called would go next, and say who they have and rate them. Like a chain game, and you just have to say a number out of ten if you would bang them or not. It’s not really supposed to be a drinking game but somehow it’s become a tradition to take a shot after you say your rating, and especially if someone says ten out of ten - then everyone takes a shot.

Sana grabs two slips of paper and hands one to you. You write your name and hand the pen to her. ‘So much for a couple of drinks and dipping,’ you say internally, realizing that the game will last a while with this many participants. Hopefully, Taehyung remembers your drink. You’re going to need it.

You sigh and sit on the arm of the chair Sana is in as you wait for the game to start.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Taehyung walking towards you with, thank god, a rather large cup in his hand.

“I hope this satisfies your alcoholic needs,” he jokes, “I made it the same way as mine, but with a little less alcohol since I didn’t want to fuck you up a lot."

You take it from him and raise the cup to your mouth. The scent is strong, and your eyes twitch after taking a small sip. He laughs at your quiet sputtering.

“I’ll be good after it hits me. Thanks.”

"Yeah, sure. No problem. And sorry about earlier, again. I know you’ll get me back soon enough and it will be well deserved,” He grins before walking over to sit next to Jungkook.

“Alright, alright.” Jimin starts as he walks around the room with the bowl in his hands, letting everyone grab a piece of paper while he goes over the rules for the newbies invited. The bowl makes its way around the room, and everyone tosses in theirs before Jimin shakes it up and starts letting people pull out a folded piece of paper.

Once everyone has one, he sets the bowl aside, “Everyone ready?”

“Wait, I didn’t get one,” Taehyung says looking around, somewhat confused and a little suspicious. Something’s going on. He just doesn’t know what exactly.

“Oh I didn’t know you were back already, this is the last one,” Jimin says, handing him a name slip, failing to hide the evil grin on his face. “Okay, let’s get this started!”

About ten minutes into the game, you are already feeling the buzz. Whatever Taehyung gave you is pretty damn good now that you’re drunk enough to not taste the alcohol. Meaning, you’re drinking more than you’re paying attention to the game.

Needless to say, you’re a little spaced out until you hear someone say your name. You look up and make eye contact with Taehyung from across the room.

He chuckles awkwardly and sits up. “Of course,” he mutters under his breath, not-so-silently cursing Jimin at the same time.

Taehyung has my name?

“Oh, please go on. We can’t wait to hear what you have to share,” Joon grins as Taehyung responds with a death glare.

The room goes silent in anticipation of what he’s going to say, especially your shared friends. They’re watching very intently as Taehyung takes a swig of his drink and curses again.

“Ten out of ten would bang,” he announces, pausing for a quick moment to take a shot along with everyone else, but you. You’re too awe and unable to do anything but gawk at him as he continues.

“But also ten out of ten would care for you afterward, ten out of ten would let you stay over, ten out of ten would tuck you in, ten out of ten would cuddle the shit outta you in bed, ten out of ten would make sure you fall asleep okay, and ten out of ten would make you breakfast in the morning.”

You’re sure you look crazy with your eyes popping out and your jaw nearly on the floor. Everyone else’s reaction pretty much mirrors yours. Everyone except Sana who is squealing like crazy next to you. A few of the girls glare at you as the guys whoop and holler.

You’re unsure how you feel about what just happened. If it even happened. Or if you somehow hallucinated the whole thing.

Did Taehyung just confess? Does that even count as a confession? Or was he just playing along with the game? Did the room get smaller? Why the hell is it so hot in here?

You take a deep breath, remembering that everyone’s eyes are still on you since it’s your turn, and yet you’re frozen in your spot.

Do they expect you to say something before you take your turn? Do you even want to say anything? Maybe he was joking, maybe you could laugh it off. Or maybe he meant it… What if he meant it?

You fiddle with the piece of paper between your fingers before deciding to unfold it and get on with it so you can get the hell out of this small room.

“Um. Woojin, six out of ten,” you spit out as quickly as you can and immediately get up to leave. You don’t even know where you are going, just following where your feet are taking you.

You have two options; you can either leave and face the wrath of Sana when she comes home - if she comes home - or you can hide somewhere until you can come up with a better plan while you attempt to sober up. The latter is what your subconscious goes with as your body stumbles upstairs to find an unoccupied bedroom to hide out in.

The first one was not locked but definitely should have been. Thankfully you didn’t see too much of the two who you found in a compromising position, and thankfully they probably won’t remember the incident in the morning either.

Fortunately, the next room you barge into is free. After shutting the door, you lean up against it and close your eyes while you focus on your breathing. Your heart is still racing as you try to not think about what happened downstairs.

Feeling calmed down enough, you open your eyes and look around. The first thing that catches your eye is the band posters that cover the wall. Everything from Sinatra and Dean Martin, to The Doors and The Rolling Stones, to Bad Omens and Bring Me The Horizon.

Whoever this room belongs to has good taste. For being a boy's room, it’s pretty clean too. Yeah, there are clothes spewn here and there, but it isn’t any worse than the state that you left your own room in.

Sighing, you sit on the edge of the bed and cover your face with your hands.

What now?

"Yeah, sorry to ruin your moment or whatever, but my room is off-limits. If you’re gonna puke or pass out I’d rather you find somewhere else to do it.”

You lift your head to see the one and only person you did not expect to see in your current confused state standing in the doorway. “Taehyung.”

“Oh,” he says, “It’s you. How did you know this was my room?”

“I didn’t. I was hiding.” Shit, you weren’t supposed to say that.

“Oh…” he says again, shutting his door so the noise of the party lessens. He walks over to sit next to you on the bed, "I was looking for you. After you, uh, ran out.” He hesitates to see if you say anything. You don’t.

“Look,” he begins, “I don’t want to make things awkward. I know we’re friends. Sort of. When we’re not trying to murder each other and all that. But I’ve been into you for a while now and I just can’t hide it any longer. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take you out sometime."

Once again, you’re gawking.

"Oh god, are you gonna puke or something?” His eyes are panicky as he looks around the room for something you can use in case you do.

“No! No, I just, ahh…” It’s now or never, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I am.”

"And did you mean what you said earlier?” You say, referring to his confession in The Blue Room. You try to hide how hard your heart is pounding inside your chest. Just as you would have to hide how hurt you’re going to be when he says the inevitable.

“Well…” He trails off, and you prepare for the worst.

He wasn’t serious, it was some kind of joke, you misheard him, there was another person with your name in the room-

“Hello? Are you sure you’re not going to puke? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine, was it a lie, just for the game?” you say leaning towards his body, his inevitably doing the same. “Or were you being honest?”

“I was being one hundred percent honest. And I still am. I like you, a lot. As hard as that is for me to admit.” His hand grazes yours and rests on top of it. He was half expecting you to pull away and run out of the room but is more than happy to realize that isn’t the case. Maybe you feel something too. His eyes burn into yours as he awaits your response.

It’s hard for you to admit your feelings as well. If you weren’t both so perfectly stubborn and bull-headed, you might have made this conclusion a long time ago.

You hate to admit that. You hate being wrong.

But Taehyung doesn’t feel wrong to you. His hand on yours feels so…right.

"Good,” you sigh in relief, finally giving in to your heart. You lean in closer and lightly brush your lips against his, pulling back to gauge his reaction.

Taehyung’s breath hitches. The moment you pull away he hastily stands up and moves to his door, his back pressed flat against the wooden surface while the angel and devil on his shoulders argue.

Fuck, he wants you. But he knows you’ve been drinking. And he would never put you in this position and knows how much he would hate himself if you woke up the next day regretting your drunk self’s impulsive decision.

“Don’t do that to me, fuck. I won’t be able to resist. I want to take you out first. You deserve to be taken out on a date first,” he says, running his hands through his hair. You get up and walk towards him. “Several dates. Shit.”

“You still can. But, you know, after you fuck me*.*” Feeling confident, you take another step closer to him. And then another. Until you are pressed up against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as your lips hover over his neck. Finally, his hand grabs the side of your face, pulling you in before he unleashes his lips onto yours. Teeth, tongue, and all.

“This is wrong. This is so wrong.” He moans after pushing you up against his closed bedroom door, “Are you sure? Are you drunk?” You roll your eyes.

“Stop trying to talk me out of this,” you whisper while leaving wet kisses along his jawline. You’ve waited too long. There’s no way in hell you’re stopping now. Lifting your head and looking into his eyes, you continue, “I didn’t drink that much. I want this. I want you.”

He groans and presses his lips into yours yet again. “I swear this wasn’t my intention,” he says after pulling back.

You kiss him hard, but your quick attempt to shut him up doesn’t work.

“I promise it wasn’t,” he blurts, “I was just being honest, you know the rules of the game.” He pulls you close again as his lips flutter around your neck, causing an airy sigh to escape from your parted ones.

“No more talking. Please.” You pull his face back up and let his lips harshly reattach to yours. He proceeds to kiss you, slowing down when you try to speed things up.

“I just need you to know that I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he repeats.

“Taehyung!” You whine as your eyes tell him to stop worrying about it, “Shut up and kiss me.”

“I need to hear you say it. I need to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

You pull back slightly from his embrace to tug your shirt off, “Tae please,“ you beg between kisses, the slick from your heat seeping through your thin underwear, "Just fuck me already.”

And just like that, the switch in his mind flips.

Taehyung wastes no time lifting you, bringing your clothed center up against his. You moan into his mouth feeling his hardness pressing into you through his jeans.

Your senses tingle, from the way his hands are holding your jaw, how his scent encompasses you, the roughness of hips grinding against yours, and finally - from the way his kisses deepen with urgency as he carries you back over to his unmade bed.

Once there, he leans you down gently before hovering over your body, letting his hands run along your hips as they make their way to the front of your pants. His fingers tease the skin alongside the waistline of your checkered jeans as he frantically works to undo them, pulling them and your panties off simultaneously.

Your eyes meet as his hand slides slowly up the inside of your legs, right up to your center. One of your hands covers your mouth as his fingers weave their way through your dewy folds, and dive deep into your core.

He grins wolfishly as they curl with each small thrust into you, and soft mewls pour out from your parted mouth. “That’s it, let me hear you,” he praises as his fingers continue their divine torture.

“Oh my god, Tae,” you cry out, reaching for him as his fingers quicken. “Closer. I need you closer to me,” you pant, grabbing his shirt in the process and ripping it open, giggling unapologetically as you hear the small buttons hit the floor.

His lips close around your earlobe, sucking slightly as his fingers continue gliding in and out of you, “You owe me a new shirt.”

“Consider it payback for the fountain.”

“Payback, shmayback,” he grins while pressing his thumb up against your clit, pulling a gasp from you.

“Oh shut up already and put your mouth somewhere it matters,” you say slyly while non-so-subtly pushing his head down your torso until he understands your intention.

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes before tasting you. His tongue sliding between your folds is nearly enough to send you spiraling. And as if it isn’t enough already, Taehyung reinserts two fingers into your heat as he laps at your delicate clit, bringing you closer and closer with each lick.

The taste of your sweet center has his rock-hard member twitching in anticipation, but he refuses to rush this. He wants nothing more than for you to come all over his face.

He deserves it.

You deserve it.

Soon enough you’re shaking from your very core as the waves rip through your body. Taehyung presses your hips down as he takes all your body has to offer him.

“Holy shit,” you pant, that was undeniably one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

He releases your center with a loud smacking sound and leaves delicate kisses on the inside of each of your thighs, admiring the goosebumps he causes on your velvety soft skin, before moving upward to reattach his lips to yours in a sweet, yet needy, embrace.

Taehyung wraps his arms around you to unclasp your bra while you catch your breath, giving special attention to the soft mounds now held in his hands. Your fingers twist through his hair as his tongue decides to flick one of your nipples before covering it entirely with his mouth. He swirls his tongue around them slowly and gently biting down just enough to hold the hardened nub between his teeth.

“Mmm, I want you,” he whispers, working to undo his own pants this time.

You breathe heavily, “I want-,” the rest of the words caught in your throat as you take in his length. You never expected him to be lacking in that area, but he definitely is larger than what you had anticipated.

“Like what you see?” he smirks, rather enjoying how you gape at him.

“Yes.”

Taehyung swallows hard; your honesty turns him on even more, if that’s possible.

“First things first,” he says, pulling away to grab a condom from his nightstand. You stop him.

“No, I want to feel you. All of you.”

He looks at you quizzically.

“I have an IUD, there’s nothing to worry about. Unless this is your way of telling me you’ve got…something?”

His eyes burn into yours, and he growls “No condom then,” quickly shutting down your question.

Grabbing your hips and holding them in place, Taehyung runs the head of his cock through your damp folds, then slaps your center with his throbbing tip, teasing you once more before he sinks deep into you without another thought.

Watching the way your lower stomach fills out as he pushes all the way into you only adds fuel to his fire. Right now, in this single instant, he owns you. And he’s going to make sure you know it.

Your fingernails dig into his biceps while he stretches you out in the most perfect way, gasping when he quickly removes himself and slams back into you.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, “You feel so good baby, so much better than I could have ever dreamed.”

You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him in deeper if it’s even possible. Taehyung shifts his weights and thrusts into you at a new angle, one that practically makes you see stars.

“Right there, yes. Yes!”

Biting into his shoulder when it becomes almost too much, you use your legs and push on his chest to flip him over so you’re on top, riding him at your own naughty pace.

Taehyung’s hands rest on your hips as you glide on top of him. His thrown-back head and mouthful of colorful words should be enough to prove how much he’s loving this, how much he’s loving you.

But as much as he adores watching your beautiful face twisting and turning with pleasure from below, and your perfect tits bouncing with each swift movement of your hips, he needs to be in charge right now before he loses his mind this early into the long night that awaits you both.

Whipping you around, he hovers over top of your backside and pulls your ass up against him. “Tell me you’ve never had better,” he demands while wrapping an arm around your waist as he pounds into you again from the new position. “Tell me how much you’ve needed me and my cock,” he growls into your ear with one hand moving up towards your neck.

Words are impossible at this point, your head is spinning with too many thoughts of how wonderful you feel and how hot he is in bed.

“Tell me!” he says again, gripping your neck tighter, his long fingers wrapping around your jawline.

“N-no one’s cock is better than yours,” you gasp, his pace picking with your obedience to answer just how he wanted. “No one’s,” you repeat, your eyes rolling back into your head as your insides start to coil.

He releases his hand from your neck and you forget about its whereabouts until there’s a sharp sting on your ass, that’s when you realize the sound that echoes through the room is from his hand cracking against your cheeks. “Mmm, again,” you beg, loving the after effects his spanks have on your body.

Taehyung doesn’t have to be told twice and marks you again, softly massaging the area where his red handprint remains afterward.

Your heated breaths blend as your bodies dance together on the edge, waiting to fall into perfect bliss. He flips you over one last time, wanting to face you as you come undone around him.

Taehyung leans over and nuzzles into your neck, letting his senses take over his body as he pulls you closer and closer toward white, hot pleasure.

“Oh my god!” you scream as the coil deep inside you finally snaps, sending electric sparks through your body.

Taehyung could have died and gone to heaven feeling your insides spasm and clench around him. He grits his teeth as he pumps his seed deep inside you.

His body weight falls on top of yours, energy totally spent.

You find yourself drifting off to the sound of his breathing that matches yours, and fall into a light slumber with your bodies still entwined.

The sound of sirens abruptly awakens you. Rubbing your heavy eyelids, the room flashes between red and blue as the police car lights shine through Taehyung’s second-story windows. You try to sit up but are pulled down by a heavy arm.

“Mmmm,” Taehyung mutters beside you, “Party’s crashed, it’ll quiet down again in a sec once everyone’s out.” His raspy voice tickles your neck and his hand slides down your side, resting on your hip.

A loud crashing sound followed by mumbling voices and footsteps moving outside his door wakes Taehyung up more.

“Everyone out besides residents. Time to go home!” an officer yells in the distance, and more footsteps echo as the house empties.

He sits up and listens, falling back down into bed next to you when he hears the familiar sound of the squad car door closing and driving off to find the next college party to bust.

Thinking it’s probably time to leave yourself, you reach for your shirt that’s hanging from the desk chair near his bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it time for me to go?”

“No.” He leans on a bent arm, the other reaching for you to pull you back into his warm embrace. “Do you want to go?”

“No,” you breathe.

“Then stay,” he whispers before kissing you again.

The rest of your late night together is soft and sensual, filled with loving gazes, slow movements, and shallow panting as you lay together as one.

You find yourself getting lost in his touch, every nerve in your body blazes with pure passion this time.

Taehyung whispers your name and wraps your hands in his, pulling them up above your head.

Each roll of his hips draws silky moans from your parted lips. Heat radiates from where hands gently grip your thighs as you writhe beneath him.

You claw at his back, completely and utterly lost in the pleasure as you take the plunge into another mind-blowing orgasm.

He loves how your body reacts to his touch. He loves how you squeeze around his cock, quivering uncontrollably around him as he finds his own wonderful release.

He pushes into you once more before letting himself go. Your head swirls as he fills you with his seed, while your heart pounds to the same rhythm as his.

Taehyung’s pace slows as you tremble around him, he finds it hard to quit thrusting. He doesn’t want to forget this, doesn’t want to waste a moment where he’s not buried deep inside you.

You feel the same way, feeling full in more ways than one, and your heart flutters when you make this realization. Taehyung completes you.

Once his breath returns to its normal rate, he pulls out slowly and watches in admiration as his seed leaks out from your center, dripping between your folds.

He freezes with his eyes glued to the mess he created inside of you, wanting to burn this image into his memory forever.

Taehyung gives in to his sudden urge and uses the pad of his thumb to massage your sensitive heat. Sensually, he pushes the remaining cream back into you, wanting it to stay inside you forever.

He eventually lays back down and pulls you on top of him, the exhaustion starting to set in. His lips leave precious kisses along your cheeks, jawline, and neck before attaching to yours. He sighs contently and rests his hands on the curve of your lower back, satisfied with the way your body conforms perfectly against his.

You lay there, enjoying the blissful moment until you take in what just happened. You have no regrets, Taehyung was everything. But your head is still spinning as thoughts like ‘what does this mean’ and ‘where do we stand now’ float through your brain.

Your heart rate picks up as you start to feel a small sense of panic take over. You need to clear your head and clean yourself properly. A shower. That’ll help.

You’re sweaty, sticky, and still covered in a combination of yours and his cum, yet Taehyung refused to let you roll off of him, "Stay, you’re warm.”

“I’m gross, and I could use a shower,” you say, glancing at him, “if that’s okay…”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he nods as you move off of him. He gets up, presumably grabbing you some clothes. He digs around in his dresser before pulling out a pair of clean sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Here, and there’s the bathroom.” He says pointing to the door that’s to the left of the bed, “Make sure you lock the other door, it’s attached to Yoongi’s room. I’ll join you in a few.” There’s a sudden skip in your heart as you watch him slip his jeans back on and lean down to kiss your cheek. Biting down a creeping smile, you give him one final wave before leaving his room.

Taehyung heads downstairs to grab a glass of water. The party is long over now after the bust and he steps around empty cups scattered down the steps.

As he makes the turn into the kitchen and reaches for a glass, to say that he was surprised to be greeted by Jimin and his know-it-all face would be a straight-faced lie. Exhaling, he closes the cabinet door.

“Don’t even say it,” Taehyung warns. He has more important things to listen to than Jimin’s ‘I told you so’s’.

"Say what? I have no idea what you mean…” he smirks. “Okay I lied, I told you! I totally told you she was into you. You’re welcome by the way.”

It takes Taehyung a few seconds to comprehend where his friend is going with that.

“Oh my god! I should have known. You purposely gave me her piece of paper during the game!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t you have someone waiting?”

“You think you’re so sneaky, don’t you?”

He grins coyly, “Maybe just a little bit.”

Feeling the sunshine’s warmth on your skin wakes you up at daybreak. You stretch and snuggle back into the cozy bed. Taehyung is still snoring softly beside you, unbothered by the sound of the birds awakening.

You admire his face as he sleeps, while memories of your steamy shower late last night drift through your mind. He took extra care of you, washing your body head to toe, massaging your scalp as he shampooed your hair, and leaving warm kissing on your skin after drying you off. Of course, that was all after he held you against the glass wall of his shower and did more sinful things to your writhing body. Shuddering as you remember the filthy things he whispered to you while doing those things.

You ignore the heat pooling between your legs from the recollections of Taehyung’s long fingers and where he put them, among other things, and internally groan instead realizing you need to make your escape now before the rest of the house wakes. Before you’re caught.

And if Sana stayed over too, you’ll never hear the end of it.

The walk of shame is not something people typically look forward to, especially when you’re leaving a frat house of all places. It’s a double-shame kind of moment.

You have one leg over him and are almost able to touch the floor to make your great escape.

Taehyung peeks between his barely parted eyelashes and smiles slyly at how unaware you are. His arms close around you quickly just as your foot skims the floor, immediately pulling you against him so your face is only a mere couple of inches away from his.

“And where, pray tell, do you think you’re going?” he says with a gruff morning voice that sends another wave of heat to your center. Your cheeks flush pink as you squirm, feeling his morning wood along your thigh.

"Oh, um. Hi-”

“Oh don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you ask as you try to wiggle out of his arms, but his iron grip doesn’t allow for that.

“Acting all shy. Nuh-uh. Not allowed. Not after last night,” he announces, tugging you in for a quick kiss while his fingers tickle your side, which causes you to wriggle against him even more.

He lets out a groan and his hips involuntarily buck up into yours. That’s when you really feel him.

It’s your turn to grin wolfishly. “Oh, sorry about that,” you taunt as you press your center down onto him again and circle slowly before sitting up on your knees, leaving him between your legs wanting more contact, needing more of you.

“Fuck, you can’t just grind on me and then stop, baby. Please keep going,” he begs as he juts his hips up looking for some kind of friction.

Taehyung stills and moans uncontrollably as you palm his hardening length through the fabric of his sweatpants, and it’s nearly enough to make him see stars when you reach inside to feel him.

His voice shudders when you pull him out from the waistband of his pants. Your pointer finger glides along his satiny skin, across the vein popped out from your touch, and up to his tip to wipe the small, white dribble away.

“Ready so soon? Thought you’d be spent after last night,” you tease, knowing very well he’ll pounce on you at any moment once given the okay. He watches in awe as you bring your finger up to your lips to lick it clean.

“Mmmm,” you hum, “maybe I should take another taste first…” You bend down to lick along his length this time.

“Oh god,” he grunts, his husky voice full of desire.

Taehyung thanks the universe for not coming undone the second your sweet mouth encompasses his length. He pushes the hair out of your face so he can watch you bob up and down, your hands covering the lower part of his shaft that won’t fit in your mouth.

You press down into him as far as your body lets you, swallowing his hugeness with pride.

His hand grips your hair to your head still as he moves inside you. Slowly at first, not wanting to hurt you, but picking up the pace nonetheless, loving how you choke around him.

He pulls out of your mouth and you gasp for air, drool dripping uncontrollably from your swollen lips.

“Open,” he rasps, holding back until he’s able to place his throbbing head on your tongue and shoots his release into your throat with a loud moan.

His body trembles as the tip of your tongue dances along the underside of his head. He gasps when your lips close around him and you work to suck the rest out of him.

His whole body shudders when you release him, the pain of being overstimulated mixing deliciously with the pleasure you make him feel. He lets out one last breath before collapsing beside you, totally drained.

You lay in bed as the sun rises up high in the sky, holding each other as you talk quietly about whatever crosses your minds, laughing every so often when one of you disagrees with the other, all while you wait to regain the energy to start your day officially.

Meaning it’s nearly noon by the time you crawl out of bed.

“C’mon, I’ll make us something to eat. You like french toast?”

The boys on the sofa ignore you as you walk behind them on your way to the kitchen with Taehyung, or so you think they do.

“Oh yeah, just like that Tae. Oooh,” Yoongi teases once you’re out of the living room, using a girly voice that is supposed to mock yours.

“Fuck, keep going, baby.” Jimin tries to imitate Taehyung but does so very poorly. Still, the overly smug look on his face taunts you childishly.

Taehyung grabs something out of the fruit bowl and whips it at them. “Go fuck yourself with that damn banana Jimin,” he hollers, muttering curses under his breath.

Awkwardly, Jimin picks up the banana that hits him in the back of the head and frowns, “Way to ruin bananas for me. Thanks.”

“As if that’s gonna stop you,” Seokjin laughs as he comes down the steps, joining the conversation. Jimin scowls. Namjoon loses it on the recliner, laughing so hard he’s not making a single sound, which in turn causes everyone to laugh with him.

“Don’t mind them, they’ve clearly lost too many brain cells,” he tells you after lifting you onto the counter next to his workstation. He turns to grab the ingredients he needs out of the fridge, and you realize with a sense of adoration, you could get used to this.

©shadowkoo 2023. All rights reserved.

#kvanity #kim taehyung #taehyung #taehyung x reader #kth x reader #taehyung x you #kth x you #fratboy!taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung e2l #taehyung au #taehyung oneshot #kth oneshot #kth fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fic #kth fic #v oneshot #v fic #v fanfic #v smut #bts oneshot #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic

[sweatervest-obsessed]

You

pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.8k

cw: oh death babes, depression, mentions of drugs, mentions of ODs, gun violence, blood, four out of the five stages of grief (there’s no acceptance here)

a/n: Guys, I was feeling something, and spewed this out. Enjoy the pure grief and pain I just poured out onto a page. Also spot the little references throughout hehe. 

Spencer Reid Masterlist

“Spence, you did everything you could. It’s not your fault.” 

He shook his head and pressed you up against his chest, ignoring the blood seeping into his pants, his vest, his hands. 

“You can’t—hey, hey, hey, look at me. Y/n, please.” His voice cracked on his plea as the two of you crumpled to the ground. He screamed out for a medic as he cradled your body against him. 

Your eyes floated in and out of consciousness, focusing on him when they could. “We knew this was going to happen eventually.”

“N-No.”

“I-I…I love you…” Your chest heaved up and down. 

“Stop it. Stop.” 

“So….much….” 

Spencer just shook his head and yelled at his team to do something, but they all stood back, none of them wanting to ruin the goodbye he never got to say. 

Spencer snapped into focus, realizing he was sitting on the jet, staring out the window. There was no one sitting next to him, they had all taken the physical seats, leaving him to the couch. And while this was nothing out of the norm, the only difference was that you weren’t sitting on the couch facing back at him. 

Spencer was alone, in his head, and on the couch. 

Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n passed away on May 17th, at the young age of thirty. She had been an agent of the FBI for over seven years, and a member of the BAU for almost five. She had become an integral part of the team and was a valued member of the team. She was survived by her fiancé Doctor Spencer Reid, her Mother and Father, her younger brother and sister, as well as two nieces and one nephew. 

Spencer thought about you every single day. 

He would think about you when he went to make his coffee, adding a scoop of sugar since that’s how you took yours. He thought about you when he took the train into work, listening to songs that you loved, over and over and over. He thought about you when he would sit alone on the jet, trying to ignore all of the pitiful stares as everyone tried not to take your spot on the couch. 

He liked to replay your death over and over and over, making it so that he was in the other car, he was onsight to say goodbye to you. 

Derek told him that you waited for as long as you could. 

Spencer didn’t know if that was comforting, knowing you willingly suffered longer than you needed to, just to see him one last time. But it was in vain since you died two minutes and forty-seven seconds before the car arrived. 

In his head, he was the one who held you, who told you how much you were loved and adored, and maybe that could’ve made you stay. 

It wasn’t Derek holding you as you choked on your own blood, watching you struggle to survive long enough. It wasn’t Derek holding you telling you to breathe and just let go. It wasn’t Derek being the last person to hear your voice. 

Tell him that I’m so sorry, and I love him. So. Much.

Spencer realized about a month after the funeral, that he never saw your wedding dress. You were about seven months away from your wedding when you died, but you had been engaged for over a year. 

Emily, Penelope, and JJ have the pictures, but he column’t bring himself to see you in something that was supposed to signify your forever, when instead it was cut short by an ambush and the carelessness of the local cops. 

Apparently, it was perfect. But Spencer didn’t have perfect. He wasn’t lucky enough to have perfect. He wasn’t privileged enough to even be allowed to think about perfection. 

The anger would take over after thinking about it for too long. He always found himself angry with you for leaving him—abandoning him. How selfish could you be? Spencer believed he wasn’t worthy of you, he never had. You’d always take your lunch breaks with him, so he always had someone to sit with since he told you about how he would eat alone when he was younger. Every Time he’d come in with his tie crooked or his hair a mess, you would casually let him know. Eventually, when you worked up the courage to kiss him one night, you just started fixing it for him. Every morning you’d make him coffee as you both got ready for the day. You’d leave him little notes hidden in his desk, in his pillowcase, in his wallet, in his pockets.

It didn't take anything to make him think about you, but when he reached into the pocket of his jacket to find his phone as he got onto the plane, he found one. 

Hello Darling,          I hope today is a good day for you. You deserve         good things Spence. I hope you one day believe        it as much as I know it to be true &lt;3.      With all the love in my heart,             Future Mrs Doctor Spencer Reid P.S. you owe me the dishes tonight…

It shattered what little resolve he had left this morning, causing him to sit alone, on the couch, the note pressed against his lips as he stared out the windows of the plane. 

It was ironic that the one good thing he had left in the world was suddenly gone, and how you leaving made him feel as though he deserved nothing. The Bureau gave him a maximum of six months off, Grief Leave, they called it. But he ended up getting restless around month four, asking Hotch if he could come back periodically. That was how JJ found out that Spencer had been sleeping on the couch, unable to bring himself to sleep in a bed made for the two of you when there was only one left. 

It’s also how JJ found out that Spencer had relapsed. 

She had been the one to find him on the bathroom floor, a few days after your funeral. And spencer fucking hated her for it. He kept asking himself why she would keep the two of you apart? Two souls that were meant to forever be intertwined suddenly ripped apart. It felt like some sort of cruel joke. 

But he didn’t use it after that. One and Done, as he stated to Garcia over the phone one night while at a rehab. They let him out a week later since they couldn’t prove he was a harm to himself. 

The team would take their turns, feeling like he was twenty-three again, watching as they felt obligated to babysit him, watch out for him. Made him feel more like his friendships were chores than acts of love. Spencer didn’t feel much love anymore, only pity. 

Spencer looked over as Derek cleared his throat, silently asking if he could sit down, in your spot. He nodded once, an invitation he wasn’t really in the mood to repeat. 

The plane ride was going to be a long one, six hours. And Spencer had only been overthinking everything for one of them. 

“You found another one.” Not a question, an observation. 

Reid nodded, his gaze had shifted back to the window, the clouds, the slight rain streaking horizontally across the sky as they flew. 

 You loved the rain. It was refreshing, something cleansing. Rebirth, as you would say. 

It gives you a new beginning everytime it rains, which is extremely kind of the universe considering how many times we manage to fuck up. 

Spencer had once laughed at that, listening to you rant on about the perks and importance of rain. But now? He fucked hated it. He saw glimpses of you in every rain drop, reflecting you millions of times, and he would hear your laugh every time it thundered, taking up sas much space as deserved and echoing through your empty house. 

It rained for a week straight after you died. The world weeped at the loss of your soul. Spencer couldn’t tell if it was a cruel joke from the universe, or if it was you trying to tell him to try out that whole “rebirth thing”. 

Either way, he didn’t enjoy it as much as you would have. 

“Even when she’s not…” Spencer closed his eyes and swallowed the words, still unable to say them outloud. “She still manages to, uh, render me speechless.” 

Your favorite pastime was getting Doctor Spencer Reid to become speechless. You learned how to play chess, without his knowledge, and managed to beat him the first time you played. At somepoint, you had learned enough Russian to go and see one fo those movies he enjoyed so much, even though he knew that deep down the whole thing was not remotely in your wheelhouse. The team had never heard Spencer go as quiet as often as he did when you were around. 

Except for now. Spencer would state a fact, make an observation, point out something the team was missing, and that was it. He never spoke more than a few sentences at a time. Gone were the days of rants and backstory and additional context, that you always argued were important. No one listened to Spencer like you did. Instead, now, the world settled into an uncomfortable silence where laughter and rambling and teasing should have been. 

“She’s good like that.” Derek looked down at his hands. The two of them barely spoke because it was ahrd, for both of them. Spencer knew that Derek could still see your breath stop when he closed his eyes. Derek once drunkenly told him that sometimes, he could still see your blood over his hands–He couldn’t wash it out with water, so some nights he’d wash it out with whiskey, or bourbon, or scotch, anything to make the stains go away. 

The two of them looked at one another before opting to not say anything further, at risk of causing them both even more grief at the subject of you. 

I swear Spence, it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. I know you will.

It was funny to him that in his day dream, you always ended up comforting him. You always ended up being the one to make sure he was okay before you died. 

I love you so much Spence. 

And he would just whisper how much he loved you back, hoping to god that somewhere, somehow, you could hear him. You could hear his misery and come back, having pranked him. He’d forgive you, if you came back. 

But instead, while he thought about you at 43,894 feet above the earth, you lay six feet under, permanently grounded. 

#x reader #sorry guys #sad ending #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #Spencer reid x y/n angst #Dr Spencer reid x dr!reader #spencer reid x reader angst #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid masterlist #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #crimnal minds x reader #angst fanfic #Spencer Reid x reader death #x reader fanfiction #x reader angst

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙞𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙙𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 • alpha!eddie munson x reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 • eddie's chances of being an alpha are quite small. your chances of presenting as an omega, especially while still in high school, are almost none. almost.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 • 10k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 • SMUT (18+ only, technically dubcon due to heat, omegaverse, unprotected sex), knotting, possessiveness and protectiveness, mentions of pregnancy/slight breeding kink, size kink (alpha!eddie is Large in every way), brief trypanophobia warning, mentions of/implied deceased parent (not reader's they're fine),

“The official term is enhanced sexual dimorphism, sometimes abbreviated as ‘ESD’,” Mrs. Mittelman explained, “but, you’re probably all more familiar with the names for the two enhanced sexes: Alpha, and omega.”

You sighed as you rested your chin on your fist.  Health class was always boring, and awkward.  Most of all, it didn’t seem very useful.  In all of Hawkins, you knew of six omegas and eleven Alphas.  Why did the curriculum need to dedicate a whole month to this when you, and everyone you knew, were going to end up not presenting at all and just be betas?

“Due to modern fertility advancements, these sexes are becoming more and more rare,” she continued to explain.  “Alphas and omegas, when in a mated pair, are significantly more fertile than a beta pair.  However, times are changing: after all, I think all of you have beta parents, don’t you?”

You didn’t even know anyone had raised their hand, until Mrs. Mittelman pointed behind you to someone in the back.

“Yes?” she prompted, and you turned around.  You were pretty sure his name was… Freddie?  No, wait— Eddie.  You’d seen him around, and he was sort of hard to forget with his… ostentatious styling, but you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him talk in class before.

“Uh, actually,” he cleared his throat, “my mom was an omega.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Mittelman nodded, looking a little wide-eyed.  “I didn’t realize that.  Well, then maybe some of what we’re talking about today will be more familiar to you.  I hope you’ll bear with us.”

Was.  There’s no going back after presenting, of course, so she must not be around anymore.  You saw him look down, and wondered if he regretted bringing it up at all, before you returned your focus to the board where the teacher was pointing to some particularly uninteresting charts.

“The window of development for Alphas and omegas is actually very narrow: about ninety percent of enhanced sexual presentations take place at age twenty-one,” she continued.  “The odds of presenting after age twenty-two are so astronomically low, that anyone who turns twenty-three without presenting is immediately registered as a beta.  Can anyone remember from this week’s assigned reading—”

Everyone groaned, realizing she was about to spring a pop quiz on the class.

“— what an individual’s odds are of presentation if their parents are an Alpha and an omega?”

A girl in the front row raised her hand, and the teacher pointed to her.  “Um, eighty-two percent?”

“Correct!” Mrs. Mittelman smiled.  “Okay, what about the odds of presentation if one’s parents were one Alpha and one beta?”

The boy that sat next to you on the right— James Richey, which you wouldn’t know if you hadn’t been paired with him on far too many assignments— raised his hand.  “Forty-five percent,” he answered.

“Ohh, a little lower,” she winced with her gentle correction, “anyone else wanna give that a try?”

Intimidated by James’ folly, it took an awkward pause for someone else to take a guess.  It was your closest friend in class, and likely in the whole school, Helen.  “Thirty?” she proposed.

“Well, twenty-nine, but yes,” Mrs. Mittelman.  “What about if the pair is one beta and one omega?  Mr. Munson, you should know this one— since it applies to you.”

The whole class turned back to look at Eddie, who was awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.  “You see,” he began, “I agree with you that I should know that but, uh, I didn’t exactly… read the chapter.”

Mrs. Mittelman sighed slowly.  “Right, um, well… maybe someone else who did can tell us?”

“Twelve percent,” somebody behind you, from the other side, announced, and the teacher smiled.

“Yes!  That’s right,” she replied.  “Okay, last one: how likely is one to present if their parents are both betas?”

You raised your hand, because this one was the easiest to remember.  When you were called on, you answered: “The odds are less than one percent.”

“Yes, good job,” she smiled.  “Congratulations!  You all passed today’s pop quiz.  Your prize is… not having a pop quiz tomorrow.”

The bell rang; everyone reached for their backpacks and sighed with relief.  

“Tomorrow, we’ll be covering the rest of the chapter, so if you forgot to read it,” she said pointedly, “now’s the time to do so!”

You didn’t know a lot about the guy— hell, you’d forgotten his name— but you figured Eddie Munson was not going to read the chapter, even when given a second chance.  You don’t end up on your third senior year by reading the assigned material.  I wonder if it bothers him, being twenty years old and still in high school, you wondered, it would sure bother me.

But that was the last time you thought about Eddie Munson for about two weeks.  You didn’t plan on thinking about him again until maybe graduation, which you did hope to see him at, but you were forced to wonder about him when he was absent from class for an entire week.  Frankly, you were pretty sure he couldn’t afford a vacation.  A rumor had spread that he was in jail for dealing marijuana, but that was all you had to work with.  Helen thought maybe he was gone for good, moved back in with some other family— you hadn’t even known before this that he lived with his uncle, so maybe his dad was somewhere out there and he was spending time with him.

All the rumors were dispelled in an instant when Eddie returned.  As near-impossible as it seemed, it was even more impossible to deny when you saw it for yourself.

You were ten minutes into the midterm exam for Mrs. Mittelman’s health class when the door opened; in a silent room, it was instinctive to look up, but you choked when you saw him come in.  It was Eddie, for sure— that hair and Hellfire Club tee were unmistakable— but he was… different.

Completely different.

He was taller, to the point that Mrs. Mittelman was craning her neck to look up at him (though to be fair, she was already pretty short).  He was… bigger, specifically more muscular— his body was straining against his clothes, the half-sleeve of his shirt exposed the prominent veins of his forearm, even his ripped jeans struggled to hold him in anymore.  

“Sorry I’m late,” he said quietly to the bewildered teacher, and even when he deliberately spoke softly, his voice was clearly deeper.  She handed him a blank exam and he attempted to slip through the rows of desks to find his own seat.  You certainly weren’t the only pair of eyes following him across the classroom, or the only one noticing the way he struggled to fit back behind his own desk due to his radical change in size.  He cleared his throat and shifted in the chair, starting to take his test— and either not noticing, or successfully ignoring, the stares he was receiving.

At the same time, you and Helen looked at each other with wide eyes, and she mouthed something to you: What the fuck?!

Your entire class was specifically prepared to appreciate the anomaly of probability that this was.  Still, statistics be damned, it was clear that in the time Eddie Munson had disappeared, he’d become an Alpha.

Three months later…

“Oh come on,” you rolled your eyes, “that’s bull and you know it.”

“I’m not sure if you really believe that that attitude is going to help you in any way,” Principal Higgins frowned, “but to be completely clear: it will not.  Three dress code violations add up to an after-school detention.”

“But these are stupid violations!” you insisted.  “It’s not like I was walking around in a mini-skirt— look, this one says my sneakers were untied!  That’s ridiculous.”

“Arguing with me is considered disrespect of authority,” Higgins reminded you, leaning in closer, “which is also punishable by after-school detention.  I’d recommend that you stop now before you end up with two dates with me this week.”

You shut your eyes to stop yourself from rolling them, but relented.  That said, you were playing the interaction over and over in your mind as you sat at that desk in detention, arms crossed and lips curled in a sneer as you imagined really telling him off instead of laying down at taking it.

You jumped when the opening of the door startled you out of your fantasy, and there was Eddie— wow, he was even late to detention.

You looked down sheepishly as he crossed the room and took his seat, but once he was settled in front of you and off to the side, you had your first chance to get a good look at him after his… transformation.

It was a good thing his jacket was sleeveless, because it didn’t look like his arms would’ve fit through the sleeves if it had them.  It wasn’t that he was just outrageously ripped now or something, or that he was specifically some outrageous height… he was just big.  Alphas were built that way.  He towered over nearly everyone in school now; he stopped getting bullied immediately after he came back, that must’ve been a nice perk.  Still, for a guy who got so massive and so well-known practically overnight (or in this case, overweek), he didn’t seem that… happy?  

You looked down into your lap again.  Who were you to judge his emotions?  You didn’t know anything about him.  It was just that, well, he’d had a reputation for his antics and dramatic behavior before, but lately he was uncharacteristically quiet.  He never made a scene in the cafeteria anymore, he never talked back to teachers (which he’d apparently done plenty before, you’d seen it once or twice and Helen said it happened near-daily with Ms. O’Donnell), he was just… existing.  Maybe he was finally being normal.  The only problem with that theory is that, while you didn’t like to buy into stereotypes, you were confident that Eddie Munson would’ve been among the first to become better behaved after presenting as an Alpha.

You weren’t trying to be sexist, really!  Alphas were hormonally predisposed to aggression and impulsiveness, it was just a fact of the matter, especially when omegas or other Alphas were involved.  To be fair, that wasn’t really an issue in his case, in a school where literally no other students had ESD.  Technically, there was one other Alpha here, but he was a teacher… he was not only mated, but mature, and no one was exactly worried that he and Eddie were going to end up brawling on the lawn or something.  Alphas were always fighting over unmated omegas anyways, of which there weren’t any in Hawkins.

It made you wonder why Eddie stayed, if he had no chance of finding a true mate here.  Alphas and betas didn't get together very often, for reasons that weren’t explained in much detail in your health textbook.

Torn from your thoughts by the Principal clearing his throat and addressing the room, you looked up quickly.  “Now,” he began sternly, “all my regulars know I believe in working detention— labor is good for the soul!  And there’s lots of work to do on campus today so you three,” he gestured at some boys in the front, “you’re gonna be in the garden out front with our landscapers.  And you four in the back, you’re sweeping up the wood shop before you give our gymnasium a good mop.”

The other students stood, and you glanced at Eddie as you realized he was the only other person left sitting.

“Uhh, you two,” Higgins noticed, “you can go clean the cafeteria.  But we’re all out of mops, so, just grab some rags.”

“Rags?” Eddie noticed.  “We’re cleaning the entire cafeteria floor with rags?”

“Oh, not just the floor.  Table and chairs too.”

“Hopefully not in that order,” you breathed.

“Get to it,” he snapped, and Eddie gave you a quick look over his massive, hard shoulder before shrugging— god, his neck just seemed thicker when he did that.

Your eyes still found themselves lingering on the hulking mass of his body as the two of you were on your hands and knees wiping the laminate cafeteria floor.

"So," Eddie broke the silence, "you, uh… I haven't seen you in detention before."

"No," you agreed, "this is actually my first time."

"Oh wow," he smiled, "a detention virgin!  Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

You snorted, shaking your head as you looked at the floor again, but the off-color joke made you feel a little strange.  You blinked quickly and tried to get the image of Eddie being gentle out of your head.

"What are you in for?" he asked.

"Dress code," you nodded.

"Woah!  Something skimpy?"

"Not at all," you chuckled, "just, like, ripped jeans and a visible bra strap?  Apparently?"

"Aw, that's a shame," he smirked.  "I was thinking I missed you showing up in some sweet little number."

You raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing, mainly because your throat was suddenly a little dry.

"A-anyways," he mumbled, "I'm sorry you're here."

"Ditto," you offered, "but I know you're here kind of a lot."

"Yeah," he sighed, focusing harder on one spot that he rubbed with the rag intensely, "not as much as I used to be, but yeah…"

"Used to be… before…" you pressed.

"Before I… got big, yeah," he nodded.

An interesting way of describing it.  Certainly an accurate way.

"Um," he cleared his throat, "I skipped class, that's what they popped me for this time."

"Which class?"

"Shop."

"Oh god, I don't blame you, that's my least favorite class," you hummed.

"Really?  People always say they like it cause it's easy," he shrugged, "thought I was the only one that hated it."

"No, it's so annoying!" you assured.  "First of all, most people aren't being safe and I'm always on edge thinking somebody's about to lose a finger— and the assignments are so stupid!  Building birdhouses and clocks?  Like, isn't the whole point of a high school education to be able to get a job so I can afford to just buy a birdhouse for a dollar?"

"I don't mind the part where we build stuff," he admitted, "I just don't like that we have to build it exactly like he says.  Why can't there be some room for creativity?"

You nodded in agreement, clearing your throat quietly but not quite getting the catch in it; you were looking at the floor, and noticed that you were seeing spots, but simply tried to blink them away.

"I hate it even more now that I keep accidentally breaking stuff…" he continued, trailing off.

"Accidentally?"

"I'm still getting used to it… I'm stronger, you know."

Was it warm in here all of a sudden?  When you first came in, it was a little chilly— normally this room was filled with warm bodies to heat it up, so it was pretty cold when it was empty… or, it had been.  Now you were starting to feel your clothes cling to you, face beginning to flush. 

"I broke a hammer.  Splintered the handle— I guess I was holding it too hard…"

That was when you lost your balance and had to sit on the floor, leaning back against the leg of a table.  The orange light of dusk, coming in through the blinds in stripes, was blurry and disorienting.  A numb heat started to rush through your body, and the quick shallow breaths that filled your lungs did little to keep you from getting dizzy.

“Hey,” you heard Eddie’s voice— his hand was hesitantly holding your shoulder now, and just that made you soothe slightly.  “You okay?”

"I…" you began, but you didn't know what to say.  “Eddie,” you said softly, “I don’t… I feel weird.”

His hand moved up to your forehead, and you sighed and shut your eyes to savor every moment of his touch.  “Christ, you’re burning up.”

Your hands reached out blindly, grabbing onto his thick thigh through his jeans.  You heard him cough slightly.  “Something’s wrong, just… just need you to stay with me,” you breathed.

"Um, o-okay," he agreed hesitantly, kneeling in front of you.  

It was like a sharp pain— a tightness that twisted inside you— and you hissed in a breath through your teeth as your sneakers slid on the tile.

"Do you need some water?" he wondered, and when his hand cradled your face for a second, you shuddered and relaxed against the table leg behind you.

"No, I just need… I…" you panted.  Just touch me more, you thought, though you didn't understand why.  Another pang hit your gut and you clutched your stomach, hunching forward with a wince.

"I-I'm gonna get the nurse," he promised, but you suddenly grabbed onto his arms tightly, stopping him from getting up.

"No, don't go," you panted, "don't leave— you can't leave me here, Eddie!"

"Okay, okay!  I'm not gonna leave!" he promised, frustrated at first but softening up when he saw how scared you were.  "I'm not gonna leave, I swear."

"I don't know what's happening," you whispered under your breath.  "God— what's happening to me?"

"You're just…" he began, trailing off, "you're— fuck, I don't know.  But I think it's… I don't know how, but I think you might be—"

"Just tell me!" you sobbed.

You were clawing at his jacket, desperate to touch his skin, desperate for anything he would give you.  That was when you first felt the heat gather between your legs, a pulse inside you just before a gush of wetness that almost made you worry you were wetting yourself— until you felt it, felt that need arch your back and throb in your channel.  It felt like being turned on, it wasn’t like you’d never felt that before, but it was so much more intense that it almost felt like a new sensation entirely.  Even though your mind didn't understand what was going on, your body was calling out for him: Alpha, Alpha, Alpha—

Something changed in the air then.

"What did you call me?"

His voice was just as dark as his eyes, and suddenly you stilled.  Oh god, you'd said it out loud.

"Say it again," he ordered; for what little you knew about all this, you knew why your body gave into his demand like it couldn't do anything else but obey. 

"Alpha," you whimpered, looking up at him.  But you knew what he was already— right then, you were realizing what you were.  Only omegas were susceptible to an Alpha's voice like that.  This isn't possible, this is not possible… I'm too young, my parents are betas, how is this happening to me?

"You're going to be okay," he promised, "I know… I know it hurts.  But I can make it better, I can help you."

You nodded, panting, going along with it because you just needed him, needed the help he was promising.  You felt dizzy and delirious, but somehow the feeling was sort of addictive— like you craved the cure as much as the sickness.  With Eddie here, it was tolerable, even though the waves of pain made you shudder and whine through your teeth.

“I’m gonna help you,” he whispered, again.

You blinked at him, trying to clear the haze from your eyes, and saw the dark shimmer in his own— his pupils had blown out wide, his nostrils were flaring; he kept shaking his head, like he was trying to clear his thoughts, and it made his fluffy hair rustle.  “How?” you finally asked.

His hands tightened as they gripped your shoulders, and you clutched at his chest, whimpering under your breath as you felt the strong muscle under his thin shirt and hot skin.  “Do you trust me?” he replied instead of answering.

You nodded.  “Anything, Alpha, please—”

“Fuck,” he choked, and you gasped as his face buried in the crook of your neck.  His nose brushed against your jaw, his mouth was right up against your pulse as he spoke.  “I can smell you, you know— I can smell what you are.  It’s… I read about it, but I never knew…”

Your eyes had already fluttered shut as you hung off of him, and you could smell him too; you were so overstimulated that it was hard to focus on it, but it was sort of musky and warm and smoky— and sweet.  Like a Christmas fireplace with roasted chestnuts and caramel just starting to toast on the stove; it was like a memory you hadn’t lived yet, nostalgia for a home you never had.

You whimpered slightly as he pulled away, reaching out for more of his touch, but he just looked at you with his mouth open a bit to let his heavy breathing pass through.  “I— I can help you, I’m gonna help you,” he kept insisting, speaking hurriedly as he opened his belt and jeans.  It was slightly disconcerting, but your need was growing and you were in no place to reject his help— not when searing pain bloomed from your gut, crawled up your back and into your mind where it demanded the touch of an Alpha.

Still, you had some sense left in you.  As well as plenty of fear; your eyes nearly popped out of your head when they caught a glimpse of his cock.  "No— no way," you shook your head, trying to scoot away, "it won't… it can't—"

"It'll fit," he insisted, his grip tightening for a moment on his concerningly-massive erection, "you're an omega.  You're made to take it."

Even as terror clawed at your mind, arousal was coursing through your veins; hearing him talk like that, seeing his body, it all called to something incredibly primal inside you.  Something you didn't even know you had… technically, maybe you didn't until just now.  Or maybe it was always there, waiting for Eddie— after all, you'd presented after being around him for the longest (and closest) you ever had.  

"I won't hurt you, I swear," he breathed, but you could hear his desperation, too.  It must be hard, presenting young in a town like Hawkins where all the omegas are already long-since mated and married— and maybe a little mature for a twenty-year-old anyways, if that mattered.  And as for betas, well, you'd heard that it was… difficult, for Alphas and betas to mate.  Now you saw directly why: it could kill them, trying to take this.  You were still afraid it would kill you.  "It won't hurt, it's… it's going to feel good.  It's natural."

"Okay," you nodded, "okay, just… talk me through this, please— Alpha, I'm scared…"

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace.  It should've been awkward, hugging a relative stranger, but it was so comforting… you sighed and held him, too, a bit of the ache inside you stilling.  And yet, your anticipation was growing: you felt another wave of slick start to leak out of you, and you whimpered slightly.

"Please," you whispered, "help me… I want you to."

"Shit," he blurted out, letting you go just long enough to peel his jacket off quickly.  "Just lay down, okay?" he offered as he put the jacket down on the floor behind you, not much padding from the hard tile but at least some protection from the coldness of it.  

You laid back, shivering as he climbed on top of you.  "Have you ever done this before?" you asked suddenly.  "Not just sex— helping an omega, specifically…"

It was kind of a stupid question, because where the fuck were these hypothetical omegas Eddie might have been with?  But you weren’t exactly thinking straight at the moment, understandably.  "Well, uh, no," he mumbled, "but I think I know how to do it.  I mean, I think I've always known— I couldn't tell you how, but… I can feel it."

You swallowed nervously.

"Trust me," he insisted.  "I know how much it hurts, I… just trust me.”

He was alone when he presented, after all; you finally put that together, and the thought of it inexplicably made your heart twist.  You knew nothing of the perils of presentation for an Alpha, but if anything like this… and he didn’t have anyone to hold him like he held you, to tell him it would be okay, to take the pain away… god, how did he survive it?

When he started to lift up your shirt, you did your best to help him— the wave of cool air on your overheated skin was almost a relief, until suddenly you were freezing.  You pulled him down close to you, feeling the warmth of him even through his shirt, and sighed happily.

He helped you out of your pants next, and you should've felt incredibly strange being completely naked in your fucking cafeteria.  But you didn't, you felt better even, you felt more natural than ever as his eyes drank you in and his hands carefully parted your thighs.

"See, all this— this is your slick," he explained, dragging two fingers through your swollen folds until you jolted from his touch.  

There was so much, you'd nearly soaked through your jeans, and just one swipe had soaked his thick fingers with clear, shiny arousal.

"It's gonna help you," he continued, panting slightly as he stared at his glistening hand.  "Fuck, you can smell it, right?  It smells so good."

You could smell something, but you wouldn't necessarily call it good… it was sort of earthy and sour, not like a perfume or candy or something.  Maybe it smelled different to him, or maybe he was just attracted to it anyway.  

"I think if Mr. Maxwell was here, he'd be able to smell it— from anywhere in the building," Eddie explained.  Mr. Maxwell was the only Alpha teacher at Hawkins High… you were suddenly very thankful he wasn't here.  He certainly didn't seem like the type to go after his own student for being a brand-new omega, but what did you know?

"What would happen, if he did?" you mumbled.  "If he smelled me?"

Eddie considered that for a second.  "I… I don't know.  I think he's able to control himself."

Well, that response begged a new question: "Can you?"

You saw his throat bob as he swallowed, his gaze still trained on where your thighs glistened with your need.  "I don't know," he admitted.  "If you asked me to go now…"

He tensed his jaw, and met your gaze.

"I don't know if I could stop," he informed you sternly.  "So don't ask me to, and we won't have to find out."

You shuddered and nodded; you wouldn’t ask him to stop, not when you needed him this badly.  Not when the idea of being alone, of being away from him, made your gut sink.

Still, your heart was racing— you wondered if he could hear it, too, since it was deafening inside your own head— as he reached for you, that intimidating cock still curling up from his opened jeans.

He gripped it with one hand, petting your thigh with the other, guiding himself right up against you; your quivering cunt flexed against itself, another wave of slick leaking down to the floor under you— coating him, before he was even inside.

“Trust me,” he breathed, “trust me— please, let me do this.  Tell me I can fuck you.”

“Y-you can fuck me, Alpha, please,” you whined.

Holding on tight to your hip, he pushed his thick head inside; you were crooning and gasping already, trying to push down for more even though it was already almost too much, but his strong grip kept you still and perfectly helpless.

“More,” you begged under your breath, “god, please?  Wan’ everything, need all of you— Alpha, my Alpha…”

His tongue and lips were all over your neck, hair tickling your chest and face.  “So good, omega, you’re doing s’good, just stay still.”

It didn’t hurt until he was halfway in, and you whined loudly as you grabbed at his thigh under your own, hoping to slow him down.  He was breathing just as hard as you, hot air spreading over your skin that was wet with his spit now, sensitive from the assault of his lips and teeth.

He didn’t warn you that he was going to give you the rest, he just pushed it in all at once and groaned as you choked out your sob.

"Fuck," he said with a gasp, "I— ah, god— I didn't know it would be like this…"

And neither did you, you didn't know how quickly your pain would fade and your body would give in to him.  He was right, it didn't hurt much… there was a sting, yes, and a stretch, but it was good pain.  It was pain you were made to take, like he said.

"Are you okay?" he asked breathlessly.  You could only nod; words had abandoned you.  Well, except one.

"Alpha," you moaned, and you heard him growl beside your neck.

"I'm here, omega," he promised.  "I'm gonna give you what you need… you're gonna be okay, you're safe."

You held on tighter to his shoulders, hiding your face in his neck, and he started to move.  The stretch was so intense that your legs were shaking with every movement, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything, you wouldn’t give up this friction inside you for the world right now— it was a salve for the pain that had been clawing you open from the inside out, but just as intense as the pain had been, now you had this hunger instead.  This… need.

“Feels so good,” you heard him whisper against your ear, “fuck, omega, you feel so good inside, you were made for me.  You were made for this, I know— I know you’re mine.”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip.  As he held you close and moved inside you, time moved differently— slower, but all at once, like you were stuck in a dream.

Everything else faded away— the fear that someone would walk in, the awareness of where you were and how this happened, anxiety and confusion and pain— and you were just drowning in every sensation: his tongue laving at your neck, his fingers holding your waist tightly, his cock inside you and stretching you.  He didn’t say much at first, he didn’t need to, but when you shuddered and another wave of slick leaked out around him, you felt him smirk.  “So wet,” he praised, “so good for your Alpha.  Do it again.”

You were almost self-conscious about how wet you were, maybe you would've been if it wasn't for Eddie being enraptured by it— he was looking down at where your bodies were joined, amazed as he watched you soak his cock over and over with more of your arousal.  You could hear it, the filthy wet sounds somewhat distant and fuzzy in your ringing ears, and your face was hot— your whole head was feverish, really, and your eyes were teary just from how overwhelmingly wonderful it felt.

"Fuck," you heard him grunt under his breath, "it's so— god, how do you feel?  Are you okay?"

You opened your mouth to try to tell him that it was perfect, he was perfect, but only a pathetic moan came out; you nodded quickly instead.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.  "You look beautiful like this— so pretty for me."

A pained whine jumped out through your teeth— even though you felt good, his words brought back some of that ache from before, and your back arched up off the floor dramatically.

You were about to relax a bit and lay flat again, until you felt his hand move up your thigh, over your mound where his palm rested while his thumb brushed over your clit.  Your body jolted; you were confident you'd never been that sensitive there before.

"Alpha!" you whimpered.

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed, "you need to come— it's gonna help you.  You trust me, right?  Let me help you."

But the feeling inside you was already pushing you to your limits— his cock was already so deep that it felt like it was going to hit the back of your brain or something.  

He rubbed your clit as fast as he could, holding your hips steady with his other hand so you couldn't try to buck away from his touch.  You convulsed and moaned, holding onto him with all your fading strength.

“Alpha, Alpha, please!” you sobbed.  “It’s— too much!”

“No, you can take it,” he promised roughly under his breath.  “Just come for me, let go, little omega— please, let go for your Alpha, this is what you need.  You need to come for me— come, right now.”

Shivering and crying loudly, your body went limp— except for inside, where you were pulsing uncontrollably, bearing down on his thick length.  It was so intense, it almost hurt, and yet it was your favorite pain you ever felt.

You hadn’t noticed that your hands were grabbing his arm until they let go, leaving just a bit of moisture on his sleeve from the clamminess.  “Did you…?” he began to ask.  “I mean, is it better now?  It hurts less?”

You tried to process his questions, but you were still coming down from it, still catching your breath.  “It’s… it’s a little better.”

“You need more?” he asked, and fuck, it was a totally genuine question, but the way he said it…

Nodding, you pulled him down on top of you and buried your face in his neck.  “Just don’t stop,” you pleaded, “Alpha— don’t stop, m’gonna be good for you…”

It was impossible to define what compelled you to say that, but it didn’t really matter.  Your first orgasm had numbed your body and mind enough to let you just submit to your instincts, to trust not only your Alpha, but your own body and its ability to do what it was made to do.  It felt better, when you stopped worrying and accepted your place.

And no, despite what some sexists might say, your place was not beneath.  Your place was not serving, pleasing, obeying.  Your place was simply in his arms.  Your place was with your Alpha.

“I— fuck, I don’t know how much longer I can last,” he admitted lowly.  “You just… you feel so good, omega, you’re my omega, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you promised.

“Loved feeling you come on me,” he grunted through his teeth, “can you do it again?  If I tell you to?”

“I’ll do— I’ll do a-anything you tell me to,” you stuttered as you tried to swallow past the dryness in your throat from panting so hard.

“Then come,” he demanded again, renewing the movements of his thumb on your clit— but honestly, you didn’t even need it.  Just his voice, just an Alpha’s voice ordering you (as well as the overly-sensitive feeling your last orgasm had left behind) was enough to send you over the edge in just a few moments.  He praised you all the way through it, every kind word like another shock of ecstasy through your body.  “So good,” he said again, rough and deep as he rested his head on your shoulder, “so good for me, omega— feels so good when I make you come.”

You smiled through your exhaustion because it felt so good to make him feel good— to know you were pleasing him.  

"You know what's gonna happen, don't you?" he whispered.  "I'm gonna… knot you."

"Fuck, please," you choked.

"It might hurt a little," he warned, "but it's gonna— fuck, s'gonna be so good, if you just trust me."

"I trust you, Alpha," you promised.  "Want your knot, please…"

“Beautiful,” he grunted as he fucked you harder and faster, “my beautiful omega— mine.”

You whined through your teeth, clutching his shoulders tighter.  “Alpha!”

“Whose omega are you?”

“Y-yours,” you choked, “yours, Alpha, Alpha…”

“Tell me again,” he demanded.

“I’m yours!  Yours, Eddie—”

He cut you off with a rough kiss right away; you didn’t even question it.  You felt him coming inside you and your mind went blank, your body went crazy, your senses went haywire.  He was coming inside you, and nothing had ever felt so good.  You sobbed with joy, holding onto him tighter as you felt the base of his cock swelling— you already thought you were at your limits, and yet his knot kept growing inside you and you just kept taking it.

“Alpha,” you whispered with the last of your breath.

He couldn't move as much with the knot growing, keeping him buried inside you, but he still ever-so-slightly rocked your body, grinding his hips against yours.

You fell back onto his jacket on the floor with a sigh, panting so hard you thought your chest might not fit all the air you were gasping for.  Finally you felt almost like yourself again, almost lucid, though still sort of numb all over; which, considering the incredible fullness inside you, was a good thing.

You tried to adjust your hips, wincing as it disturbed the delicate balance within you.  Your bodies were interlocked now, and your returning logical mind remembered that this part might last for a while— that was the whole point, evolutionarily speaking.

“Fuck,” Eddie grunted, finally stilling completely and propping himself up on his arms above you.  You watched him catch his breath, admiring the shape of his jaw, the way his lashes looked extra long when his eyes were shut and they fell over his cheeks; you reached up and brushed some hair away from his face, and that seemed to get his attention.  “I-I’m sorry,” he blurted out.

“What?  Eddie, no— thank you, thank you so much,” you sighed, “the pain’s gone.”

“For now,” he warned.  “It’ll come back— if it’s anything like mine was.  You’ll need more… a lot more.”

You worried, for a moment, that he was telling you that you needed more than he could give.  You couldn’t imagine anyone or anything else helping you now— you needed him, that much was clear.  You grabbed a handful of his shirt, and he looked down at that hand on him before he looked at your face again.

“I’ll take you home,” he said.

“Like this?” you panted.   “What am I gonna tell my parents?”

“N-no, my home,” he corrected, and you were surprised, yet somehow you soothed at the same time.  “I-it’s not much, just a trailer, but you can nest there and I can… I can take care of you.”

Your heart was singing; you’d never been cared for before.  You never wanted to admit that you needed it.

~

You were sort of on autopilot; you’d been gathering random linens and clothes of Eddie’s and piling them on the corner of the bed.  You couldn’t say exactly… why, but Eddie explained it was natural.  At least when you were doing this, you weren’t so needy that he had to stay and hold you— he could actually go out and get some provisions for the both of you.  

He told you that this whole thing could take up to a week, but you could stay here and Wayne was going to find somewhere to crash until you were done; he told you it was going to get worse before it got better, and come and go in waves.  Most importantly, he told you that he would do whatever he could to help you.

You could hardly believe he was a near-total stranger to you this morning.  There was still an awkwardness there, especially on his part, but you felt this impossible connection with him now— you felt so safe with him, in fact you never felt safe without him.  Which was why you smiled with excitement the moment you heard his van pull up outside.

By the time he was at the door, you were already opening it for him.  “Hi,” you beamed.

“Hey,” he smiled back, a bit more hesitant.

You reached for the grocery bags.  “L-lemme help you with those—”

“Nooo way,” he denied as he lifted them over your head while he stepped past you, “let the big strong Alpha do it, sweetheart.”

The door swung shut and you thought you could swoon.  Sweetheart.  This kind of shit would’ve made you roll your eyes yesterday.  Now you were such a sucker for it, and he was just being friendly.

“Plenty of food for the next few days,” he explained as he sorted the contents of his bag into either the pantry or fridge.  “Nothing, you know, fancy, but… it’ll keep your energy up.  And mine.”

You watched him, clutching your hands together in front of you, though you weren’t sure what exactly you were waiting on.  You just liked watching him, really.

“Oh!  I got some ice packs too,” he remembered.  “You might get really hot, o-or crampy, so those can help a lot.”

“Okay,” you nodded, smiling.  He shut the pantry door that he’d been leaning behind and looked over at you.  After a quick moment, he stepped up in front of you, and you tilted your head back to look up at him; he smiled, and reached up to hold your face in his hand.

Looking straight forward, you were right at eye-level with his Hellfire Club shirt.  You reached to where it ended, just beside his black faux-leather belt, and you started to lift it up off of him.  Smirking a bit, he helped you take it off of him— you immediately held the ball of fabric up to your face, inhaling his scent.  You hardly even noticed his toned chest dotted with hair and tattoos, you were too busy realizing you’d just found the perfect final piece for your nest.

You ran to the bedroom and pounced onto the bed, stuffing the shirt in with the other clothes and things, smiling contentedly as you buried yourself in them.  A long, deep inhale filled your lungs with the smell of Alpha, and it made everything feel alright.

You felt the bed dip as Eddie climbed onto the mattress with you, and you poked your head out from your little cave.  “Doin’ alright in there?” he asked, and you bit your lip as you nodded.  “I’ll just leave you be until you need—”

“No,” you interjected quickly, grabbing his guitar pick necklace and tugging him closer.  “No, stay here… you were just gone for so long…”

“Yeah, we needed food,” he reminded you.

“But I didn’t like you being gone,” you breathed.

“I thought you were okay with it!  You said I could go,” he remembered.

“Y-yeah, but then, you know…” you trailed off.  Your eyes wandered over his bare torso, over his arms and shoulders…

When you looked at his face again, he was smiling a little, and he reached up to push his hair out of his face.  “But then?” he prompted.

“I just missed you more than I thought I would,” you sighed.

“Yeah?” he hummed, scooting up on the bed to be even closer to you.  “I missed you more than I thought I would, too.  I probably still reek of you— and your slick.”

You whimpered.  “Do I smell like you?”

“You fucking better,” he said plainly, like it wasn’t so hot that your thighs quivered briefly.

He pulled you close to him, pressing your face against his chest; when you breathed in, you got a big whiff of his skin, of the heady scent of your Alpha.  It silenced every anxiety in your mind and body, and you realized you’d never felt this comfortable— this safe— in your life.  Something instinctive told you that you were going to be protected and loved; you felt whole.

You snuggled into his arms, nuzzling at his chest, and he sighed as he kissed your head.  “You’re cute,” he informed you quietly, and you smiled as you looked up at him.

“Really?” you hummed, and he nodded.  “You’re… big.”

He laughed.  “I’m still getting used to it,” he admitted.  “All of it.”

Your eyes drifted to his chest in front of you, and your fingers drew random shapes in his thin body hair— then moved to trace his tattoos.  “What’s it like?” you asked.  “Going through all this…”

"It's… honestly, it sucks," he laughed lightly.  "It's like puberty all over again."

"Fuck."

"But worse."

"God," you whined, letting your head fall onto his chest.  "Tell me I'm not gonna have to do this alone."

His hand reached up and pet your head.  "You're not gonna have to do this alone."

Your heart hurt as you imagined him doing this alone— of course, presenting is different for Alphas and omegas, they have ruts while you have heats, but it must be similar compared to everything else.

"Are we gonna… do we need to talk about it?" he asked.

"About what?"

"About how we woke up this morning as basically total strangers," he replied.  "About how I wasn't even sure if you knew my name.  And now we… now I…"

You nodded against him.  “It’s weird how right it feels.  Like, I know I should be questioning it.”  You tilted your head up to put your temple on his shoulder, so you could look at his face.  “I know it shouldn’t make any sense.  But it does.”

“Maybe it’s always like that,” he wondered.

“Maybe,” you offered.

He kissed your forehead.  “Or,” he breathed, “maybe it’s just that you really were always supposed to be mine.”

You didn’t reply to that with words, just a shiver and an arm slipping around his torso to hold onto him tighter.  As much as it was far too romantic for anything you were willing to believe, there was a growing mountain of evidence that implied he was right— that you were his from the start.  First of all, you presented early, and suddenly, when you were close to him for a while.

His gentle kisses moved in a path down your face, finding your neck and teasing you there carefully.  “Do you like being mine?” he asked softly.  You nodded as you held onto him tighter, moaning when he dragged his teeth over your skin.  “I’m so fuckin’ lucky, got this pretty omega all to myself.  Every Alpha’s dream— sweet little cunt in heat to breed.”

He rolled you onto your back and descended on you, pressing his body weight into you, and you spread your legs without even thinking about it.  

It wasn’t as bad as the first wave, but it still made you hot and needy, it still robbed you of logical thinking and turned you into a desperate, mewling little thing beneath him.  You were too caught up in the dreamy fog of it all to even be embarrassed, to care about begging for him so pathetically— he didn’t even have to make you beg, he never teased you, he gave you everything you wanted.  Still, you were a broken record: please, Alpha, fuck me— need you, Alpha, please, please—

“Knot me,” you begged, too, and he groaned as he held you tighter.  “Please, s’the only thing that makes the pain go away, please?  Alpha, give me your knot, wanna be full—”

“Shh,” he soothed, “I know, I know, baby… but maybe— fuck, maybe I should pull out this time.”

“No, please!” you sobbed.  “Feels so good when your knot’s inside me, Alpha.”

“You could… you can get pregnant,” he reminded you thinly, even though it was sort of obvious— that’s the point of all this, biologically.  “It’s not as likely your first heat, you’re still just presenting, but… you could.”

“I don’t care,” you breathed, “just please, Alpha, come in me again, please please—”

“Okay,” he promised with kisses all over your face, “it’s okay, I will, m’gonna help you.  Just need you to come one more time first.”

“Can’t,” you shook your head, but then again, you’d said that last time and he still made you do it.

“C’mon, omega, just wanna feel one more?  You can do it,” he cooed, “you can leak a little more slick with that pretty hole, I know you can, I know— it’s gonna hurt but it’s worth it, just one more…”

You were about to tell him you really couldn't do it, that three was your official limit, even though your heat-brain hated the idea of saying no to Alpha.

"Just one more," he pleaded, "for me, sweetheart?"

And before you knew it, you were nodding and bracing yourself, letting every sensation wash over you even though you might explode from being so overwhelmed.  You didn't explode in a literal sense, but you almost felt like you did— it hit you like a train and you sobbed out his name pathetically as you tried to take it all.

His knot swelled inside you a moment later, bringing the only real relief you got from this.  Eddie seemed to think that your orgasms were the key to staving off your heat-induced delirium, but it was his that soothed your body and mind the most.

Those moments you spent forced to be near him as you both waited for the swelling to go down enough for him to pull out… those were the moments you could think clearest, but your sanity was wasted on simply laying there letting him coo at you gently, praising you, kissing your face and neck.  Those were the moments you really remembered that this was Eddie Munson, that guy in health class, a relative stranger— and everything you needed.

"Oh, it’s all messed up,” you mumbled as you looked up at the pile of clothes you’d carefully arranged on the bed, seeing it had toppled over in the heat of the moment.  You tried to reach for it to fiddle with it, but Eddie laughed softly as he guided your face to look at him again.

“Welcome back,” he greeted, pecking the end of your nose with a kiss.  “The nest can wait— just talk to me for a minute, please?”

You smiled and kissed him back on the lips— just for a second, until he held your face tighter with both hands and kissed you harder and longer.  You hummed into it, feeling him smile against you, and he finally let go to nuzzle his face into your neck.  “Your hair is tickling me,” you complained as you tried to sputter enough to get one wayward wavy strand out of your mouth, but he shook his head just to make it even worse; you giggled and turned your face away, still getting pelted with hair as you laughed harder.  “Stop!” you whined, feeling his hands hold you at either side to keep you pinned under him.

He only stopped when he suddenly rolled onto his back, holding you tight and pulling you with him— you still couldn’t separate from each other, and so you were laying on his chest and straddling his hips with your weak legs.  “I can feel it when you laugh, you know,” he told you, still smiling.  “Inside.”

You shivered, holding him tighter.  Why was that so hot?  You clenched, intentionally, to see if he’d react, and he hissed in a little breath.  “You can feel that?” you realized, and he nodded.

You did it again, and he hissed and gripped your hips.  “Don’t do that,” he warned, “unless you want me to fuck you again.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, he grinned back at you.  

“Okay, wait,” he breathed, “that was basically asking you to do it.  Just… wait until the knot goes down, okay?  I don’t recover as fast as you.”

You nodded, resting your chin on his chest and blinking up at him as he sighed and relaxed under you.  His hands stroked your back, mostly mindlessly, while you found yourself reaching up to play with his hair.  

“Are you still gonna want me around?” he asked suddenly, looking down at you again.  “When the heat’s over.”

You hesitated, opening your mouth and then shutting it again.

“I shouldn’t ask that now,” he sighed, shaking his head slightly as if frustrated with himself.  “You can’t know yet.  I guess what I’m trying to say is… if you just want this to be… this, that’s okay.  I can help you out and then we can go our separate ways.”

You swallowed thickly; he made it sound easy, but imagining it was impossible.  You couldn’t be separate from him, it would be excruciating.

“But, you know, if you wanna… go out sometime,” he stumbled over his words, “a-after this is all over, and we can leave the house again—”

“Are you asking me out?” you realized, eyes widening.

“Um,” he stalled, laughing slightly, “yeah.  Trying to, at least.”

“You’re literally inside me right now,” you reminded him, “and you’re hesitating to ask me to be your girlfriend.”

“Woah, woah,” he scoffed as he raised his hands, “I just said a date, let’s not rush things—”

You laughed and shoved his face away in punishment, but he held you by your wrists and sat up, keeping you perched in his lap as he kissed you— both of you still giggling a bit as you moved your lips together.

One week later…

"You understand why your case is so important to us," the doctor explained, smiling politely as he looked at you.  "Presenting at eighteen is rare enough, even for someone with a much higher likelihood of having ESD.  But with two beta parents… those odds make winning the lottery seem likely."

Eddie had already joked about buying some Powerball tickets, but you still weren't sure if this was all incredible luck or misfortune.  That said, you did feel better with his arm around your shoulders; he'd insisted on coming into the exam room with you, despite the exasperated nurse explaining you were meant to come in alone.  You were impressed she stood up to an Alpha for as long as she did, but she gave in eventually, and you were thankful for it.

"If you don't mind, we'd like to run some tests," the doctor continued.  "If we understand your unique case, we may understand the entire concept of dimorphism better.  Would you give your consent for our research?"

You were swinging your legs as they hung off the exam table, watching your bare feet brush against Eddie's shoes; the hospital gown wasn't enough to shield you from the coldness and sterility of the air, and you leaned harder into Eddie for warmth.  Looking up at the man in the white coat, you only hesitated a second before nodding.

"We'll need a few blood samples," the doctor enumerated as you sighed through another understanding nod, "and a cervical sample."

"Cervical?" Eddie repeated.

"Yes, from the cervix?  It's—"

"I know what the cervix is," Eddie frowned.  "How would this sample be collected?"

"Um, well, I would insert a brush up the—"

"Nope," Eddie interrupted firmly, "no, no way."

"I—" the doctor started.

"Nothing's going up anything, okay?  Nothing's going… in her."

"I understand that you're feeling protective at the moment," the doctor sighed.  "That's a normal hormonal reaction."

You blinked and stared down into your lap, where Eddie's hand was holding yours tightly, just under the plastic bracelet that had your information on it.  Name, birthday, patient ID number, and of course, sex.  You expected to see an F there, like you always had on any form or ID or paperwork.  You were still getting used to what you saw instead: O.

A normal hormonal reaction.  Does that mean it's not really real?  That it's a phase that passes, and you'll just be strangers again?

You squeezed Eddie's hand, feeling him squeeze yours back; it felt so real now, though.  You couldn't imagine life without this, even though that's exactly what your life had been until just a week ago.

"That said," the doctor continued, "she needs to make her own medical decisions.  If we feel that your presence is putting her under any duress, and therefore interfering with her right to informed consent and medical privacy, we will have you removed from the premises."

You almost wanted to see them try, three beta security guards versus one Alpha running on mating instincts.  But you shook your head and spoke up instead.  "It's alright," you interjected, "I— I don't want an internal exam, please.  But you can take as much blood as you need."

Even that seemed to frustrate Eddie, who huffed a little and gently squeezed your shoulder, but kept his mouth shut.  The doctor smiled.  "It won't be that much," he assured, "just a few vials.  And a cheek swab, if that doesn't count as internal."

“That’s fine,” you nodded.

When the doctor left to get the tools needed to draw your blood, you laid your head on Eddie's shoulder as he gently played with your hair.

"I don't think that guy likes me too much," Eddie whispered, making you smile and tilt your face into the crook of his neck.

"He's just trying to make sure you're not controlling me," you assured.

"But compared to your parents he's, like, my biggest fan," Eddie added, and you smacked him lightly on the chest as you laughed.

"Shut up," you mumbled, "they don't hate you… they're just trying to understand all this.  So am I, honestly."

One of his strong hands came up to hold your face, thumb petting your temple, as he kissed the top of your head.  Wayne had been the first to deliver the news to your parents, and you would never have enough money in your life to repay him for being the one to knock on their door and say hey, funny story, your daughter's an omega and she's currently getting her brains fucked out by my nephew, anyways see you in a week when she gets her logical reasoning back and also might be pregnant, toodaloo.

(You figured he found a better way to say it than that, but still, that was probably what they heard.)

It was a couple days before you were stable long enough to go over there yourself, Eddie close by your side the whole time, trying to explain it as best you could in a way they would understand.  They, too, had made Eddie leave to speak with you alone— even though it made you feel like you had to leave your heart in the other room— and asked you if somehow he was making you do this.  It seemed like no matter what you said, people had trouble believing that Eddie saved you, that you needed him now and that he needed you, too.

Not that you could really blame them, because it wasn't something you could put into words, either.  You just felt it.  It was basic, natural instinct.  It's like trying to explain why you eat multiple times a day or why you have to get up and walk to be able to cross the room.

You were snuggled up in Eddie's arms when a nurse came in, rolling a cart with the essentials for a blood draw on top.  You bit your lip when you saw four vials, knowing how those were going to get filled.

"Are you afraid of needles?" she asked.

"I… have a healthy respect for them," you replied, making her laugh a bit.

"That's fair," she nodded, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling your arm so she could wipe down the area she was going to prick.

You turned your face into his chest, closing your eyes, since you figured looking would only make it worse.

As she tied your arm and searched for the vein, Eddie held your head to his shoulder tightly, soothing you gently.  "It's okay," he whispered against your head, "you're okay…"

He winced almost as hard as you did when she finally did it, and you knew that this was hurting him, too.  You felt the same way when he accidentally cut his finger, or when he told you about some of the more difficult stories from his past; his pain was your pain.

"All done!" the nurse announced with a little too much chipperness as she untied the tight rubber from your arm and taped down a cotton ball to the small dot of a wound.

You exhaled slowly, and Eddie kissed your cheek.  "You did so good, sweetheart," he praised.

"That's sweet," the nurse cooed, sweetness quickly slipping into condescension.  "I guess you two are mates, huh?"

You wished you had the guts to blurt out the first snarky thing you thought of: No, he's my tax attorney.  Of course he's my mate, are you blind?

"Yeah," you offered shyly instead.

"How long have you been going out?" she asked, making conversation half-heartedly as she cleaned up the rolling cart and threw away what she didn't need.

"We haven't actually, uh, had a chance to go on a real date yet," Eddie interjected, making you wince and look down.  "Unless this counts— but I was thinking something a little more traditional for our first date than a drive to the hospital and a blood draw."

The nurse made a little face, like she was trying to be nice, not even looking at you.  "Well, that's… sweet… I'm surprised they let you back here together."

"Doctor Ali knew it was important to me," you explained quickly.

She nodded.  "You're young… everything feels important when you're that age."

"What does that mean?" Eddie snapped.

"Well, it's just that… you know, first love and all," she shrugged.

"You don't get it," Eddie laughed coldly.  "You're a beta, you could never understand.  It's different for us— we mate for life."

Your throat caught.  If that was true, it never came up in health class…

You waited until Eddie was driving you home to bring it up— but you’d been imagining asking about it ever since he said it.

"Do we really…?" you asked, looking down at your hands in your lap as you sat still in the passenger seat.  "Are we mates for life now?"

He swallowed, glancing down.  "We don't have to be.  It's not like every omega stays with the first Alpha they meet— actually, maybe most of them don’t.  But that’s how it used to be, back in the day— mates stayed together, always.”

That sounded nice; your heart beat a little faster just imagining it.

“I just…” he began, trailing off and starting over.  “I'm starting to wonder if it wasn't a coincidence.  Even if it seems pretty random— we didn't know each other at all, before— I think it happened for a reason."

You shivered, but nodded in agreement.  “I think so, too.”

"I think you're supposed to be mine."

You smiled, looking down into your lap shyly once again.  “I don’t know about supposed to, but… I know that I want to be.”

“Let me remind you, one more time,” he smirked, “that we barely know each other.”

But you knew everything that mattered about each other, and so you smiled to yourself.  “I don’t care,” you insisted.

You blinked quickly, looking at him and out the window, when you realized he was pulling the van over.  When you were parked on the side of the road, he leaned over the console and held your cheek in one hand as you looked up at him.  His face was determined, yet soft; his eyes were even bigger than you remembered.  “Do you wanna be my mate?  Really?”

“Eddie,” you sighed, “of course— can’t you tell?”

“No, I know,” he shook his head, “I just mean that if we do this— if we really do this, the whole mated pair thing— it’s just you and me, for the long haul.  Together.”

You reached up and put your own hand on top of his.  “That’s what I want.”

“And I should warn you now,” he added, “that if you let me… I’m gonna breed you.”

You shivered.  “I… I want that, too.”

He growled, quiet but enough for you to hear and gasp as it seemed to rattle through your body, as he pulled you into a kiss.  You whimpered into it, clutching at his jacket needily until he smiled at you.  “Sweetheart,” he whispered, and you shivered again.

“F-fuck, Eddie, can we…?  Now?” you asked.

“Here?” he smirked.  “In the van?”

You glanced at the back for just a split second, but he noticed, and laughed lowly in that way that made your thighs clench together.  

“You wanna get in the back?” he noticed, and you nodded, looking at him again with half-lidded eyes.  “I really don’t deserve you— it’s not fair, you know, me having the sweetest omega in the world all to myself.”

“Just take me,” you pleaded, sick of the teasing, desperate for him to make good on that promise to breed you— logic be damned.  “Alpha…”

“Shh,” he soothed, kissing your neck instead as you melted into his arms, “m’right here, sweetheart.”

#alpha!eddie munson x omega!reader #alpha!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson a/b/o #stranger things a/b/o #stranger things omegaverse

[ghostlychief]

I gasped really loudly when I saw your post, can I request a thing with our baby girl, Master Chief? Like something cute with him reuniting with his s/o, or just something with him getting all the love?

i'm so glad we are on the same page about master chief being baby girl <3

--

goodnight n go

(you should listen to the slow version of goodnight n go by ariana)

master chief, John 117 x gen!reader

wc: 1473

warnings: none, just excruciating fluff

~*~*~*~

You were used to the wait.

You were used to the constant pining and apprehension that would seep through you every time you watched John walk into those battle ships, never knowing if the glimmer of his armor would be the last thing you would see of him.

Every time he left, you would just hope that he would return, and that you would be in his arms sooner rather than later. You could say that it has gotten slightly easier over the years, since John seemed to be made of luck. He always came back in one piece. Maybe a couple of scratches here or there, but he always came back to you.

Typically, when John was on his missions, you would keep yourself busy by overworking yourself in order to keep your rambling thoughts at bay. At first, your supervisors were wary about how much you were working yourself. But over time, they either gave up trying to convince you to go home, or realized how much it helped you to stay busy, to stay moving. You had to, otherwise you would go crazy just thinking about all of the danger John puts himself in every day. It didn’t matter if he was gone a few days, a week, or even a month. The time he spent away from you always felt like an eternity.

You were now standing in the loading dock, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, hands clasped behind your back, looking out at the runway.

Homecoming days were always your favorite, and you always arrived at the dock much earlier than needed in order to greet the Blue team just as they arrived back on Reach. You’re pretty sure the other Spartans poke fun at John for it, but you couldn’t care less.  

You’ve probably been waiting for a little over forty-five minutes when you finally see that familiar pelican flying towards you. You know it’s him and his team because of the bright red Firebird painted on the nose of the ship.

The ship starts to land and gusts of wind make your hair ruffle, ruining all of the time and effort you put into it to look presentable. You quickly forget about your hair state when the door of the pelican slides open and those familiar Mjolnir shoes peak out, and begin descending the ramp.

John is always the last to exit, so as the other Spartan start to pass you, you briefly acknowledge them with a slight nod, but your eyes never leave the ship. They’re only looking for him.

Finally, finally you see the gold tint of his helmet’s visor and the infamous green glint of his armor.

Your feet have a mind of their own when they start moving towards him, breaking into a light job. Your face breaks into a breathtaking smile and when you finally reach John, you basically crash into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. You hear him slightly laugh through the comms from his helmet, and he returns your hug, lifting you off the ground with ease as he holds you tight.

“Hey, bug.” He sets you down gently, and runs a gloved hand down your head, cupping your cheek. His thumb softly moving back and forth on your warm skin.

You bring your hand up to his, and grasp it as you smile up at him, “Hey, you.”

~*~*~*~

A few hours later you find yourself in front of John’s door, waiting for him to let you in. It’s been a few hours since he touched down on Reach. You gave him some time to un-suit from his armor, debrief HQ, among other things. He’s a busy man, and there’s always at least one official that needs to talk to him.

Luckily for you, the mission he was just on wasn’t super long, and also not as critical as his past missions. Therefore, the debriefs didn’t take up the whole day like they usually do, and he was back at his apartment at a reasonable time (for once).

Which leads you to now, standing at his door, once again rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet.

The door finally swings open, revealing a smiling John, and he ushers you inside. He places his hand on the small of your back as you walk into his living room, making small talk about your walk over to his place.

It’s evening now, and John has the low lights turned on in his living room, giving the impression that his home is glowing. The comforting atmosphere wraps around you like a blanket as you go to sit down on his couch.

“So, what do you want to do? I have dinner made for us, but afterwards is completely up to you.” You run your hand down his arm, touched that he thought to make dinner for you. He was surprisingly a great chef, something you weren’t expecting when you first started dating.

“That’s an after-dinner worry, let’s eat then figure it out.” John lightly laughs and agrees.

You spend most of dinner asking him about his mission and he tells you all that he can (seeing that most of his missions are classified). It’s one of your favorite pastimes. He’s been all over the galaxy, to so many different planets and places and you love to hear all about these adventures through his eyes. You sometimes wish he would take you with him to these far-off places, no matter how unrealistic that is.

You guys decide to keep it simple and watch a movie after dinner, so you wrap yourselves under two big blankets, and John tucks you under his arm, your head resting on his chest. You can feel the rhythm of his breathing as his chest moves up and down. His steady heartbeat thrums through his chest, once again reminding you that he’s real and not a figment of your imagination. The laundry detergent that lingers on his clothes makes a feeling of ease wash over you because it always reminds you that you’re safe and that he’s here with you and that he’s okay, alive.

Your hand rests on his upper abdomen, and you can feel the taught ridges of his abs underneath his black t-shirt. You absentmindedly trace circles on him with your fingers and you feel his hand do the same on your shoulder. Your leg is thrown over his lap, and there is no inch of you that is not pressed up against John. You are completely and utterly wrapped up in each other, not even a piece of paper could fit between you guys. His hand comes up to rub your hair, and you feel him kiss the crown of your head.

“I missed you a lot, you know.” His chest rumbles as he confesses this and your heart warms at the sentiment, a slight smile pulls at your lips.

You squeeze him, and feel his arm tighten around you. You move to sit up straighter so you can look at him and your hand cups his face, your thumb brushing over the slight stubble that’s grown since he’s been gone.

You confess, “Me too,” then lean in to kiss him.

He deepens the kiss as his hand gently cups the back of your head. You and John exist in this diminutive pocket of time where it’s just you two, and nothing else. You find yourself slipping into this space whenever you’re with him, and never wanting your time here to end. Never wanting to enter the reality in which he leaves again. You push those thoughts away for now though, and just continue to exist as you are with him.

You finally break away from each other, and you smile at him, taking in every detail of his face. Your thumb traces over the scar that starts above his left eye, and continues down the side of his temple. You leave a kiss there.

Next, your eyes flit over to the jagged scar in the hollow of his cheek. Your lips softly press down there, tracing the line of the wound he got many years ago. When you reach the end of it, your lips are at the corner of his, and you place one last kiss there.

You break away, and quietly say, “I’m glad you’re here.” He gives you a longing look, his eyes flitting to yours and his hand smooths down your hair as he replies, “Me too.”

~*~*~*

You and John spend the remainder of the night wrapped up in each other, getting lost in each other’s touches and confessions, finding simple pleasure in just being able to be close to one another.

You think to yourself, the wait is always worth it for moments like these.

#master chief x reader #john 117 x reader #master chief x you #john 117 x you #halo master chief x reader #halo master chief x you #master chief fanfiction #john 117 fanfiction #halo master chief fanfiction #halo master chief request #master chief request #john 117 request #halo master chief fluff #master chief fluff #john 117 fluff #halo fanfiction #halo fanfiction fluff #halo request #halo #master chief #halo master chief

[theminecraftbee]

After forty-five minutes of no word, the three of them finally decide that someone should go check on Tango. Normally, Xisuma would have reluctantly advocated for just starting without him—it’s Tango, he’d probably gotten caught up in Decked Out work, he’d apologize and laugh it off later and wouldn’t change—but he’d seemed so genuinely excited this time. He’d rambled back at them the moment Etho had invited him to join in on the wither-mining. He’d promised he’d try to show up. He’d checked the time more than once.

It’s been a while since most of the hermits had seen Tango outside of his fortress. Or spoken to him for more than about twenty minutes if their name wasn’t “Zedaph”. Or—it’s been a while. That man is working himself to death, Xisuma swears.

(It’s… not Tango’s fault, Xisuma tells himself. He’d meant to have more done by now. The whole Empires fiasco had put a damper on that. Tango’s always been the sort to fixate a little on his latest project. Besides, all of the Hermits get caught up. It’s normal to occasionally go a week or two without talking to anyone else. It’s just that it’s starting to hurt a little, to reach out and get...)

(Xisuma will make up a better excuse. It’s why he volunteered to go check on him. Save Tango and Etho a little heartache.)

(Tango had been really excited—but so had Etho.)

It’s a short enough elytra flight to the Deep Frost Citadel. Xisuma takes a deep breath. He’ll probably have to locate Tango and convince him to come up from the outside. That place is a death trap already to half the server, and Tango’s normally in the maintenance tunnels instead of the main body of the cave, which are a death trap in a unique “largely unfit for habitation by anything breathing” way that Tango seems to be the only one who knows how to navigate. He’ll make sure he’s okay, and then…

Xisuma‘a thoughts come to a pause as he approaches. There’s someone else at the Citadel, standing near the base of the hill, just past where the borders of Tango’s snowy base fade into the grassland.

A few minutes of approach later, and it becomes clear it’s Tango. He’s standing oddly, his feet braced and arms unsteadily placed forward like he’s worried he might fall. When Xisuma lights another rocket, he looks up in Xisuma’s direction, but before really catching sight of Xisuma, he turns around and winces, rubbing his eyes repeatedly.

“Hello,” Xisuma says as he lands. Tango turns to—not quite look at him? Tango is looking in the direction of Xisuma, certainly, but isn’t quite looking at Xisuma’s face. Maybe there’s too much glare in Xisuma’s visor today?

“Oh, hey X! How’s it hangin’?” Tango says.

“Oh, you know, I was just here to check on you. You’re a bit late to our demonstration.”

“What?” Tango says. “It’s—of course it has.”

“Did you get caught up?” Xisuma asks. He tries very hard not to sound disappointed.

“I—yeah,” Tango says. “Sorry, I swear I set an alarm, but if you’re here I must be later than I thought.”

“Probably nearly an hour by now.”

“I’ve been—a whole hour? Feels like longer,” mumbles Tango.

“The others agreed to wait if you’re coming, and you’re already outside,” Xisuma says. “We can get over there in a few minutes. It’s not too late. Put on your elytra and—“

“No!” yelps Tango, stepping back, stumbling, and then, eyes wide, looking around like he’s trying to find something. “I mean, uh. Not used to open-air flying right now. I was planning on taking the nether but I ran out of fireproof potions and don’t have the blaze rods to make more, so here I am. I promise I didn’t mean to be late, I just…”

Xisuma has no idea where to start. But. “Tango, you built the nether hub? You know you don’t need fireproof potions to get to the Ancient City we’re using.”

“Haha, yeah,” Tango says, and doesn’t elaborate.

“So I guess you were going to the shopping district, to get more blaze rods and their portal?” Xisuma says.

“Yeah, uh, then I realized I, uh, don’t. Remember how to get there,” Tango says. “And, well, you know how it is. Even when you have permission to leave it’s still kind of daunting!”

His voice goes high and a little squeaky. His eyes, Xisuma realizes, have had a sort of wild fear to them since Xisuma first suggested stepping further than where he’s standing. If Tango had pupils, Xisuma imagines they’d probably be darting. The rest of his facial expression does the work well enough.

Xisuma really doesn’t know where to start.

“And you’ve been stuck here for… nearly an hour?” Xisuma says.

“Yeah. Man, I got permission to leave and everything,” Tango says again, which, okay, very concerning phrasing, Xisuma’s just going to put that away for the time being though, because there are a lot of other things to unpack here. “And like, I wanted to see the Withers and a Warden fight! Who would win, right?”

He still hasn’t moved. As Xisuma’s talked, he’s gotten closer to looking Xisuma in the eyes, but it’s more like he’s very confidently looking at Xisuma’s chin. He keeps squinting and blinking when his eyes aren’t wide with a wild, lost sort of panic.

He’s also still rambling.

“Probably for the best I don’t leave, though. I mean, I held you all up, I’d hate to hold it up further because I got caught up. I can just go back; best to keep doing my duty after all. Sorry about that!”

Tango turns back towards his base, as though making that excuse was the excuse he needed to go back towards safer ground. Maybe another time, Xisuma would have let that be, but the thing is, Tango and Etho had both been so excited, and Xisuma can hear the disappointment in Tango’s voice. He doesn’t want to be making this excuse either. Xisuma has no idea what, but something’s wrong.

(Well, Xisuma has some idea, but while he may be a derp, he’s pretty sure it’s rude to ask someone whether they’ve gone blind, developed agoraphobia, gotten possessed, or multiple of those things at the same time. If someone doesn’t bring it up it’s not Xisuma’s business, right? Right.)

(He’ll just…)

“…no, we want to do this with you,” Xisuma says. “Do you need help getting to the cave we’re doing it in?”

Xisuma can see Tango warring between the pride that stops him from asking for help and whatever it is that had paralyzed him the moment he’d tried to step past his base’s borders. He can see Tango war between how easy it would be to claim he didn’t have time and how much he’d wanted to see the wither mining.

“It’s all going to be underground?” he says.

Weird question. File that away. “Yep! Inside an ancient city!”

“And I got permission to leave,” mutters Tango. “So it’s going to be fine once I actually get there.”

“I can even grab some fireproof potions from Cub’s shop when we’re done,” wheedles Xisuma.

“…fine. Lead the way. Uh, and, if you could hold my hand. It’s… very hard to know where I am outside of my base when it’s so bright,” Tango says, voice a little small, and okay, so a mix of all three. Xisuma really should pry, but he’s got what he came here for, and it’s not really his business, is it? He’s sure Tango’ll work it out in the end. He’s a smart guy.

“Gladly, my friend. Let’s go die to withers sixty times.”

Tango laughs shakily. “Yes, let’s!”

Xisuma laces his fingers around Tango’s hand and, suddenly aware of just how many things there are to trip on, starts walking towards the Ancient City.

Gosh, but this is going to take an hour, isn’t it? He sighs and pulls out his messenger to tell the other two. A thought strikes him.

“You know, next time you have this problem, you should text ahead. You can use text-to-speech, you know.”

Tango barks a laugh, louder this time. “Yeah, sure, that’s going to be on my mind. Yeah. I’ll do that.”

Well, good enough for Xisuma!

They make their way to the Ancient City together.

#hermitcraft #tango tek #xisumavoid #a bee fic #had this idea stuck in my head since I watched this episode yesterday #anyway Xisuma’s right it’s a mix of ‘base is eating him so he normally can’t leave’ #’no longer has effective daylight vision and it’s kind of painful’ #and yeah a bit of agoraphobia #once he’s in the ancient city for the record he’s fine and has a grand old time and the other two don’t even know somethings wrong #xisuma meanwhile (king of minding his own business) just Says Nothing At All #and tango gets home through the nether with heat resistance for his little ice problem #sure THAT won’t continue to be a problem or anything! #also for the record zed is aware tango’s weird but also has No Room To Talk so is just being a supportive friend #anyway once again. At SOME POINT I go into more detail on ‘the base is eating him’ #but not today!

[nininikki]

some help — c. springer

content warnings: sfw! fluff, suggestive (allusions to sex), math, tired/horny drug dealer!connie

author’s note: save me hazel-eyed drug dealer…hazel-eyed drug dealer save me…😔

“are you gonna come to bed? like, at all?” you droned, letting the silky fabric of your robe droop off your shoulders and down to the crooks of your arms in half-exhaustion. “you’ve been counting that money for, like, two fuckin’ hours.”

your boyfriend, sat on your guys’ couch with a notepad in one hand and a wad of cash lazed haphazardly in the other, looked up from the seemingly trigonometric equations scrawled against the paper. the concentration that once burdened his brow softened at the sight of you, clad in lingerie that had been rendered almost useless by the amount of time he’d kept you waiting. “i know, i know. just a lotta numbers tonight.”

connie was usually an ace with numbers, something you came to realize (and greatly appreciate) when he’d actually completed an unfinished page of your trigonometry homework after you’d fallen asleep amid the eleventh question. “would a fresh set of eyes help?” you asked, heading for a spot on the couch, but connie’s legs immediately parted to make space for you on his lap.

the pretty hazel tone of his eyes fogged with tiredness, and all it took was a, “shittt, i mean, you can try.” before you were plopping onto his lap and retracting his mechanical pencil from behind his ear.

“okay, okay. let me see…” you murmured, “forty percent of ten thousand four hundred and twenty-two…” avoiding a math-induced headache, you skimmed over the calculation he did to find the percentage and skipped right down to the part covered in hastily scrawled question marks: ten thousand four hundred and twenty-two minus four thousand one hundred and sixty-eight.

it didn’t seem to be anything more than simple subtraction, and for a moment you thought he was pulling your leg, but a quick glance over to his visibly stumped face told you the complete opposite. “see, the paper says four thousand one-twenty, but i counted one-forty.”

upon further examination, which only took about five seconds, the root of connie’s issue seemed to be staring right in your face. “babe, you forgot to carry your one.”

his frown deepened, and then relaxed in understanding. “…oh,”

you felt his arm snuggle you closer into his body, and with that, makeshift contentment running through his chest in the form of a low grunt. “you know what you need?”

at the feeling of your acrylic nails gliding down the nape of his neck, his eyes off the notepad and onto you for a refreshing five seconds. “what?”

“some help.”

“help?” your face, contorted with puzzlement, morphed into one of playful realization when connie’s fingertips breached the hem of your robe.

“yeah,” connie softly groaned, punctuating it with a kiss to the corner of your lips. “gettin’ up outta this.”

#nikki writes ✶ #connie springer x black reader #connie springer #attack on titan #attack on titan x black reader #attack on titan x you #aot x reader #aot x black reader #aot #aot connie #snk connie #snk fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan fluff

[itsjusthockey]

45 Days Later - Jack Hughes

Summer Series Open Now

Here is the official beginning of the Summer Lakehouse Series.

Send in requests

I’m ready to rumble.

w.c: 1,571 (dont steal my work)(credit to gif maker)

Part 1

You slightly want to kill someone when you awake to your iPhone ringing incessantly. It's early. Way too early. Too early even for your very specific set of alarms.

Groggily, you sigh, accepting defeat and fumbling around for the device on your bedside table, cursing under your breath when you see who has woken you up much earlier than needed.

“What?” You groan, rubbing your eyes to chase away some sleep as you answer the FaceTime call.

“Hello to you too, sunshine,” Jack smirks at your screen, obviously incredibly pleased with himself.

You let out an exasperated sigh, looking at the time. "It’s 4:30, Jack. What do you want?”

Jack is practically beaming as you continue to squint at your phone's brightness.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I decided that if I’m awake, you’re awake.”

“Well, mission accomplished," you hiss at him, sitting up in bed, stretching your arms. "I'm awake now. Happy?"

“Ecstatic," Jack retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "How are you even able to sleep? I’ve been up since Tuesday counting down every second.”

You roll your eyes playfully, knowing exactly how Jack gets when he's excited. "Well, some of us need our beauty sleep before we have to face the public.”

Jacks snorts. "Oh, believe me, baby, you don't need any more beauty sleep. You're already perfect."

You roll your eyes as far back as possible.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Hughes.”

He lets out another laugh as you crack a few muscles.

“Well, now you’re already awake-“

“Thanks to you.”

“You can get up and get ready because you have a very important flight to catch in 2 hours.”

You glance at the clock again, realizing that trying to sleep again is pointless, and now, despite the early hour, a surge of excitement fills your veins as the reality of the day ahead sinks in.

“You’re so annoying,” you say, sliding out of bed. “But I suppose it would be tragic if I did miss this flight“

You see Jacks's face drop a bit. “Don’t even joke. I think I’d die.”

You can't help but smile at his eagerness.

“J, it’s been forty-five days. You can wait a few more hours.”

He rapidly shakes his head. “Really don’t think I can“

The words melt your heart, and you can't help but feel another surge of excitement. "I miss you too, loser. Five hours, give or take.”

With a little more back and forth, you finally hang up the phone, the grogginess finally leaving you, and start your morning routine. Though you’re a little upset about the early wake-up, now you don’t have to rush, which is slightly lovely.

You shower, get dressed in comfortable travel attire, and double-check your bags to ensure you haven't forgotten anything important. As you go through the motions, your mind can't help but wander to the fact that in just a few hours, you’ll be at the lake house. The thought of surfing on the water, laughter-filled late bonfires, and being with your boyfriend again makes you giddy.

Time moves quickly, and soon enough, you're ready. You grab your suitcase and head out the door, heading to the airport and praying the day runs smoothly.

The airport is busy, but you navigate through check-in and security easily, and the excitement in the air is contagious. You find yourself grinning as you walk to your gate, and the many hours of separation are dwindling. Soon, you'll be reunited with the idiot you’ve missed so dearly.

You get coffee, and some snacks, find a comfortable spot, and less than an hour later, you board the plane. You find your seat, shoot off a text to Jack and turn on your shared playlist.

Minutes later, you’re in the clouds, and you feel yourself at peace for the first time in a while, so with a slight smile, you close your eyes and try to sleep just a little more.

————————————-

A shortish flight later, you barely step ten feet in the Delta terminal baggage claim when you get a text that immediately sends you into panic mode.

-I see u-

You snap your head to survey your surroundings and try your best to prepare yourself for the attack, but you know it’s futile. You’re proven correct when, within five seconds of seeing the text, you’re thrown to the ground, a hand coming to cover your mouth to silence your scream.

To onlookers, this may seem like a kidnapping attempt but not one single person even bats an eye as you’re wrestled to the dirty airport floor.

Jack makes quick work of laying his entire body weight on you and crushing you between his body and the floor. You struggle to breathe between your laughter and all the extra weight that is being dramatically laid out on your chest.

You both stay this way for a second and finally, you smack him in an attempt to push him off of you. He does, jumping up quickly and pulling you into a hug that crushes every bone in your body.

When he lets you pull back a little bit, you finally take in his face for the first time in over a month. His eyes are filled with happiness, and he smiles so hard you’re afraid his face might break open. You notice he hasn’t shaved; growing slightly along his jaw and upper lip is a little hair that has you immediately wanting to pull out the razor you know is somewhere in your checked bag.

“God, you hate it, don’t you?”

You realize you must have been staring a bit too long at his face, and laughter bursts from your lips.

“No, it’s um,” you pause, a teasing smile crossing your face. “It’s fine.”

Jack lets out a groan, pulling you into him and dropping his head into your neck.

“It’s coming off immediately,” he mutters, the light vibrations sending a chill down your spine.

After several seconds of sulking, Jack pulls back, looking deeply into your eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but his soft smile somehow grows even more, and he leans back to kiss your forehead.

You try your best not to melt, pulling him back for another hug. His grip is so tight, as if he thinks you might slip away.

You stay there for another few moments before he pulls back slightly, and both of his hands remove themselves from your waist and go to cup your face. He stares hard for a second, his beautiful green eyes scanning over every inch of your face until they stop at your lips, and after a moment, he connects yours together, and fireworks explode in your entire body.

You kiss him for a few seconds, then remember you’re in the middle of a crowded airport and pull back from his firm embrace. When you part, you see he’s got a slight smirk on his face that makes your heart stutter. He always is a little cocky and a whole lot clingy when you first see each other after a long time apart, but you love the combination. 

With a playful grin, you nudge Jack's side and motion toward the exit. "Come on, Romeo. Let's get out of here, and let's save the rest of this reunion for the privacy of the Lakehouse, shall we?"

Jack chuckles and nods, intertwining his fingers with yours. Together, you find your checked bag and make your way through the bustling airport. You let him lead you to his parked car, and he opens the door for you, and you slide into the passenger seat of the Range Rover.

As Jack pulls out of the airport parking lot, you lean back in your seat, taking in the familiar sights of the city passing by. His hand rests on your thigh, and the drive to the lake house is filled with laughter, catching up on missed stories and stealing stolen glances at each other whenever the traffic allows.

You drive for a while, but you soon turn onto the familiar road leading to the Lakehouse. You’re practically bouncing in your seat when Jack pulls into the driveway, and before the car has even come to a complete stop, you're unbuckling your seatbelt when Jack quickly grabs you before you can rush out.

“Wait, (Y/N).”

You meet his eyes, and you can see all the love and longing in the world in his gaze. Without a word, he captures your lips in a tender, passionate kiss, sealing the moment and igniting a fire that had been smoldering within both of you during the time apart.

As you break the kiss, you can't help but smile, knowing that this is just the beginning of an epic summer. You feel yourself leaning back in, and your lips barely brush when what you assume is a ball hits the windshield in front of you. You both are a little shocked, but a smile breaks on your face when you see Luke standing about ten feet away, with his arms crossed, looking less than impressed.

“You guys wanna stop making out and come see everyone who’s been waiting just as long as Jack to see you?”

You laugh at his annoyed tone and move to get out of the car when Jack grabs you once more, stealing a quick peck and whispering in your ear.

“We’ll finish this later.”

#hockey #hockey boys #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #hockey fic #nhl hockey #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #luke hughes #summer #summerlakehouseseries #new jersey devils #nj devils #original story #hockey blurbs #nhl fic #original writing #series #devils hockey #hockey blurb

[fernandoswarcrimes]

You’re Losing Me x Carlos Sainz

“Stop.. you’re losing me..”

Taglist: @morgan108 @diary-of-jj @shea-theodore @pitchandgrid @wifemase @hal3ynicol3 @alicerubyfloyd @nicanicksnica @formulafootballfan

Word count: 3.3k

To be added to the rest of the series click here -> 🌌

You say, "I don't understand" and I say, "I know you don't"

We thought a cure would come through in time, now, I fear it won't

Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light

Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time

“I don’t understand what the problem is.” Carlos sighed, rubbing at his face in frustration. You’d been at each other’s throats for forty five minutes now, and over something so trivial. What had begun as him (forgetting to do the dishes? Change the laundry?) had spiraled into an outright argument over him not helping around the house, to him being out so late all the time now. “I know you don’t.” You had muttered, shaking your head with a sigh of your own.

“I can’t do this right now, I told Lando I’d meet him for dinner.” Carlos spoke, his curt reply signaling he was done with the argument, with the entire conversation. He grabbed his keys and walked out of the kitchen without another word as you stood there watching him go.

This is how things always went as of late—at least, that’s what it feels like. It’s always just another small bump in the road, one that you would get over. Always something that wouldn’t stop you from being happy again. Now, though, it seemed like nothing was going to fix things between the two of you. Small bumps are fine until you look back and realize there’s so many, the road is no longer driveable.

As you shut the kitchen light off and walk into the living room, you pause. It was one of yours and Carlos’s favorite rooms in the house because of how the light shone through the windows, illuminating the room in a soft glow when the sun set. Dusk was setting in now as you took a seat on the couch, the room falling into darkness as you sat there by yourself wondering if it was finally time to end it or not.

Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

I'm getting tired even for a phoenix

Always risin' from the ashes

Mendin' all her gashes

You might just have dealt the final blow

It wasn’t even the big things that made you wonder. No, it was the stupid stuff. The small things you wished so badly you could convince yourself to put up with. You knew what the two of you had was special, could feel it in your very being, but it was beginning to not be love anymore. It was tiring, you were tired. Your mother always told you that you reminded her of a phoenix, always picking yourself up and mending your own wounds, never letting anyone help you because you could do it yourself. Times like these, you wish she was wrong.

You didn’t know why Carlos would rather sneak around and lie than just be honest with you. Maybe it was a pride thing. Charles, bless him, had been the one to accidently fill you in on what Carlos has been doing behind your back. He didn’t even mean to, but when he asked if you were at the club with Carlos last week because he thought he’d seen you with his teammate, it was the final blow. You weren’t at the club. You had been at home. You had been waiting on him because he told you he was stopping by his parents house. He had told you not to wait up for him. It started making you wonder what else he’s been lying about and how long he’s gotten away with it.

Every mornin' I glared at you with storms in my eyes

How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?

I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick

My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick

It was five am when Carlos’s alarm went off, making you roll over and glare at him as he slept. Lately, it’s like you aren't even in a relationship anymore. You sighed as you got up, moving to the kitchen and knowing he’d get up in a minute to get ready for his morning run.

As you cooked yourself something to eat you heard him moving around in your room. The footsteps you’d once longed for around the house had become ghostly, the antithesis of what it once was. You dread the sound of them approaching.

It wasn’t like this came out of nowhere, you had sent him signals and tried talking to him to let him know that things between you needed fixing or changing but, he always brushed them off, brushed you off. You were starting to turn into a shell of yourself the longer you stayed in this relationship and dealt with everything alone.

“Love you.” He mumbled, nothing more than a force of habit, grabbing a water bottle and leaving. He knew that things weren’t okay. You knew he knew, and he knew you knew he knew, and on and on and on until the end of time. It didn’t matter what you both knew, though, because he wasn’t ready to admit that out loud that the love you two had was long gone now. The both of you were just going through the motions and with how shitty the season was going he wasn’t ready to lose the one semi good thing he had left going for him.

And the air is thick with loss and indecision

I know my pain is such an imposition

Now, you're running down the hallway

And you know what they all say

"You don't know what you got until it's gone"

The house was heavy sad and you were running out of options. The confusion and grief that came along with the thought of having to leave the man you loved for the last seven years was hard. Harder than hard. Some kind of word that hasn’t been invented yet, hard. You know that your pain and problems weren't easy to deal with, but hell—he isn’t exactly Mr. Emotionally Intelligent, either. It just made you feel guilty that you were feeling this way and maybe that was the reason Carlos was pulling away.

So you did what any normal person would do, you called your mom and asked if you could come stay for the weekend. You needed to get away for a while, clear your head and figure out what you needed to do for yourself and there was no better place to do that than home. You packed a weekend bag and left after Carlos headed to Baku. The time you spent with your mother was eye opening. She had given you advice that you oh so badly needed to hear.

“Why do you keep letting him treat you this way?” she asked you, nudged a cup of tea an inch closer to you. “This is not the way someone who loves you should treat you.”

She was right, it wasn't how you were supposed to be treated. So it was no surprise to hear from Carlos when he got back and noticed you were gone, you’d left him a note on the fridge but apparently that wasn’t good enough. He didn’t realize all the things you usually did for him until you weren’t there to do them. Like help with laundry, cooking dinner and cleaning. Of course his mother raised him right but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t a guy who got comfortable with how things were.

My heart won't start anymore (Stop 'cause you're losing me)

My heart won't start anymore (Stop 'cause you're losing me)

You didn’t go to a lot of races, had your own career and your own life that was more than the title of girlfriend, but Barcelona was one you always attended. Things hadn’t gotten any better, but you still wanted to be there to support him—even if you knew it was going to be the last time. You stood next to Blanca, listened to her gush about her upcoming wedding, about the flowers and the dress and the table runners. You didn’t have the heart to tell her you’d have to miss it.

“Have you two got your outfits together yet? I know my brother can be pretty forgetful sometimes” Blanca asked, looking over at you with a happy smile. You did your best to give her a smile back, Carlos hadn’t mentioned it, but you didn’t want to burst her bubble. “I’ll remind him tonight, I’m sure you’re going to look absolutely beautiful.” You meant that, even if you aren’t going to be there to see her in person.

As Carlos pulled the car back into the garage after the race it was almost routine, he’d get out, take his helmet and stuff off before walking over and giving you a hug. You hang on a beat longer than normal, soak it all up—his hair and his smell and his skin and his arms. “I’m going to go grab my things,” you mumbled, motioning him to his waiting family before moving off to go grab your things. You didn’t plan on standing around for any longer than necessary. Each passing moment is nothing more than another opportunity for your heart to break.

How long could we be a sad song

'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy

And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier

Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me

I'm the best thing at this party (You're losing me)

And I wouldn't marry me either

A pathological people pleaser

Who only wanted you to see her

Your relationship, if it can still be called that, seems to long outlive its expiration. You don’t know how much longer it can go on like this, all the uncertainty. It felt like nothing but a sad song stuck on repeat, something that you couldn’t come back from. There had been times where the both of you got this way in the past but you were able to bring the relationship back to life but this time?

This time things were too far gone.

You had given him nothing but endless empathy everytime Ferrari screwed him over, everytime the media pulled quotes from their ass, everytime someone twitter blamed him for someone else’s mistakes. It was always you there for him. You were the only one fighting for him, right front and center when he had a bad race or when strategies didn’t work out, everything.

Yet, it was for nothing.

“Don’t ignore me Carlos, please,” you said softly, but the crack in your voice is clear. You’re at a party—Lando’s, drug here against your will, against your better judgment. You knew he needed to let loose, but all you wanted was to talk to him. You knew you had to instigate, that he’d ignore you all evening if you didn’t.

He was still losing you.

Everybody talks about the seven year curse. You never saw it coming, even if it was staring you square in the face.

1. You stop being curious about each other

First, it was the little things. No more questions, no more answers. You didn’t spend your time telling him about your favorite breakfast foods and he didn’t spend his time asking. Years came and went, and you thought it was endearing that there weren’t questions, that it was proof your relationship was strong. He knew you like the back of his hand, you’d told yourself.

2. You start keeping secrets from each other

The secrets, though, that’s a new development. A few months ago, he never would’ve sat at the table with his phone face down, never would’ve leaned away from you when he typed or managed to spend time with Lando even when Lando wasn’t in town.

3. You’re spending less meaningful time together

It’s hard to spend time with someone who’s never around, who never wants to be around. That’s all there is to say about that.

4. You start taking each other for granted

It was no secret Carlos had taken you for granted. Everyone knew it, they could see it anytime the two were together. You were at his beck and call, his personal chef, his maid and his housekeeper and his butler. His trainer and his assistant and whatever else he might possibly need.

5. You don’t discuss your goals anymore

You stopped wondering if he would ever propose two years ago. Well, you told yourself you stopped wondering. Everytime he asked you to go out or suggested you dress up nice or acted even the slightest bit weird, you were bouncy at the idea of him on one knee.

6. You’re drowning in criticism

What was harder than accepting you were never going to be his wife, maybe, was coming to terms with the fact that everyone else wanted it more than you. Seven years is a long time. It hung over both of your heads like a storm cloud of implication. You wondered if he ever planned on marrying you, or if the last seven years have been nothing but fun to him.

And lastly

7. You have no fight left

If you still had any fight left in you, you wouldn’t be googling the seven year curse while he silently sat at the other end of the sofa. You remember the moment you lost it, that last little bit of fight and fire. You remember it easier than you remember what it felt like to be in love with him.

You had shaken your head as Carmen sent another article of some “close friend” talking about how the media was portraying you as a pathological people pleaser. It hurt. Sure, you knew marriage wouldn’t fix everything but it was the fact you didn’t feel wanted or appreciated anymore that finally broke the walls down like a wrecking ball.

Carlos looked over at you watching you shake your head and pocketed your phone. “What’s that about?” He asked, he could tell something was bothering you and he had an inkling of what it could be, but, he wasn’t going to bring it up. If he did, that would make things real.

“Nothing, just… just Carmen sending me another article. I wouldn’t marry me either, you know? Since I’m such a pathological people pleaser,” you looked at him, waiting to see what he’d say. But when the room fell into heavy silence and he just continued to look at you, all you could do was give a curt nod and purse your lips as you got up off the couch and walked upstairs. You couldn’t stand looking at him anymore if he wasn’t going to fight for the relationship you two had.

Sure, you may have been a people pleaser, but that’s just who you were. You liked helping, liked making people happy. But the one thing you wanted most of all? You only wanted Carlos to see you, to see that you’ve been there for him through everything. Not as a complacent stand-in girlfriend, but to mean something to him like you used to back when.

And I'm fading, thinkin'

"Do something, babe, say something" (Say something)

"Lose something, babe, risk something" (You're losing me)

"Choose something, babe, I got nothing" (I got nothing)

"To believe, unless you're choosing me"

Two weeks had gone by and all you could think about was begging him to do something, to say something, anything, to you about how he was feeling. Give up his pride to show he still cared and loved you like you had loved him. It was his choice to make, you couldn’t force him to love you. He had to choose, all he had to do was choose.

But when he didn’t, you took it as a sign. Stop kicking a dead horse, pick yourself up and get on with your life. If he won’t then someone else will. Slowly but surely, every time he left for a race you’d pack up more things and ship them to your parents house. It took a bit longer than you figured it would but when you’ve spent seven years living with someone you realize just how much of your life is grounded in one place.

Once you had gotten all that you had, you stood in front of the dresser mirror looking at the necklace that you had on, remembering the memory of Carlos giving it to you when you both were teenagers. Your fingers play with it and it brings tears to your eyes to reach behind your neck and unclasp it. This would be the first and last time you ever took it off since being gifted it. As you held it in your hand, all crumpled and ready to be tangled, it made you realize that this was real, you were taking the step and finally walking away like you should have when all of this first started. You grabbed your bag off the bed and sat the necklace down on his nightstand knowing he’d find it whenever he got home. Taking one last look around the room you walked out and closed the door behind you, leaving the house key on the kitchen counter as you passed.

A necklace and a house key. The only implication that you were ever here, that you never would be again.

You're losing me

Stop (Stop, stop), you're losing me

Stop (Stop, stop), you're losing me

I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore

Carlos didn’t realize it until it was too late. He had unlocked the front door and the house was eerily quiet and cold. He frowned, set his bags down and realized you must’ve gone out. He checked his phone to make sure he didn’t miss a text from you letting him know, but there was nothing. No text, no call, nothing. It confused him even more as he shut the door and walked further into the house.

He paused when he entered the living room, everything looked normal until he sat his hands on the back of the couch making him pull his hands back in confusion, the fluffy blanket you always had laid there was gone. That made him look around the room even closer, quickly noticing the books and candles you had on the coffee table were no longer there. The pictures above the fireplace were gone, every single trace of you ever being in the house was no longer there.

He skipped half the steps on the way up the staircase, through the hallway and into your room; empty and cold, like the rest of the place. He moved over to the closet swinging the door open, his breath catching in his throat when he saw your side totally bare and empty. The dresser drawers matched.

But he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, laying on his nightstand. As he walked over the tears started pooling in his eyes as he picked the item up, it was the necklace he had given you when you both were sixteen. He had gotten it for you, wanting to show how much he loved and appreciated you. Holding it now just signified how much he had fucked up. You had never taken it off, no matter how many fights you two had gone through over the years. Never. Not until now.

You had given him so many signs that he blatantly ignored or brushed off thinking you would always continue to be there for him despite him acting the way he was.

And now?

The relationship that was so full of love had died and he couldn’t find any way to bring it back to life.

He finally lost you and it was completely his own undoing.

#imagine #formula 1 #series #midnightsseries #midnights song drabbles #you’re losing me #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #formula one x reader

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3658

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains background themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

3. Cream filled Sponge Cakes (with chemicals)

Bucky

They plan out what they’re going to do when they get to the hospital on the car ride over.

“I think it’s best if you wait outside at first,” Bucky says, glancing away from the road for a second to try and gauge Steve’s reaction to this. He looks neutral. “Just because she’s already pissed,” he adds. “And it’ll probably be overwhelming having one person telling her they’re taking custody, let alone two.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “That makes sense.”

Bucky holds his hand out over the center console, waiting for Steve to take it. He does, and Bucky grips his hand tight. “I’ll get the initial stuff out of the way. I’m sure there’s gonna be a ton of paperwork.”

“What if she refuses?” Steve worries. “She can, right?”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah. I don’t have any legal hold on her. Yet. I’ll just have to try and talk sense into her, get her to see that we’re better than the alternative.”

Steve gives his hand a squeeze back. “You can do it.”

Bucky sighs. “I hope so. I really do.” Inside though, he’s already not so sure.

They get to the hospital about forty-five minutes after Bucky’d hung up from the phone call with the police officer. He spots a cruiser parked outside when they approach the emergency room, and it rankles his nerves to think of Mary being forcibly shoved into the back seat of said car.

He goes to the check in desk with Steve and asks for Officer Santiago. “I got a call about an involuntary hold. My submissive,” he says. 

The woman at the desk does a double take at that, looking up and down Bucky where he stands like she’s just realized he’s a different species. “Oh,” she says. “You're one of those?” 

Bucky ignores it, but he can sense Steve tensing up by his side, indignant on his behalf. “Yes,” he says. “I am.” He’s not going to waste time getting on his spiel about mental illness and stigmatization. They’ve got bigger problems right now. “I’m going to need her records,” he says, injecting authority into his tone. “And any paperwork for transfer of custody. The cops brought her in. Name’s Mary.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to look self-assured while he waits, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if the woman demands a last name.

It takes her several minutes to gather everything up for Bucky. She hands it all over to him and says, “That’s the paperwork for custody. The attending physician should be able to provide you with her medical workup.” She points to a set of double doors. “You go down that hallway and to the left. Bed number four.”

Bucky nods and thanks her, then turns to Steve.

“I know,” Steve says, putting on a brave smile. “I’ll wait here.”

“Baby.” Bucky steps close, pulling him into his arms. Steve’s physically just a little bigger than him, and Bucky has always liked the novelty of that. He kisses him gently and then rests their foreheads together for a moment, letting Steve feel their connection. “I love you,” he says quietly. “You’re the best thing I could ever hope for, you know that?”

Steve’s smile is more natural, now. “Yeah I know it.” He gives Bucky another kiss and stands back. “Hey, what about this?” He knocks on Bucky’s shoulder—the metal one. “She know about that?”

Bucky realizes that he’s not wearing his glove, and tries to remember if he’d had it on at the café. He frowns. “Oh well. I don’t think that’s going to be her main focus, not after I explain everything to her.”

“Yeah.” Steve gives him a light push. “I Love you. Now on and get the hard part over with. I’ll be here when you need me.” 

Bucky nods. He knows he will. He goes back to the check in desk, one last question on his mind. “Is there a food court or something around here?”

Mary

Mary’s taken a break from saying pissy things to the cop who’s guarding her. She’s been so angry, she’s felt like her skin’s boiling. But now she’s starting to get tired, too. She hadn’t slept last night, just stayed up and gabbed on the phone to that crisis counselor. 

She grits her teeth as she fumes about that, feeling betrayed all over again. That bitch had called the cops on her!

“You can tell me anything you want to. I’m here to listen, remember?”

Liar!

“I hope you know I don’t have insurance,” Mary snaps at the officer. He’s sitting in a chair in her little curtained off area. He regards her coolly, saying nothing, and she jerks her head to indicate the emergency room. “And I’m not paying a single red cent for any of this.” So far, they’ve taken her blood, her pulse, an EKG, and sent in nurses, a resident, and several shrinks. They’d tried to put an IV in her but she’d ripped it out as soon as nobody was looking. “I’m suing the hospital,” she adds. “And you. I’m suing the whole police department.”

“Okay,” Santiago says, annoyingly calm.

Mary growls, rattling her hand where it’s cuffed to the bed rail. “This is unconstitutional!”

There’s the sound of a throat clearing, and then the curtain to their area is being pulled aside. Mary’s eyes go wide when she sees who it is. “You?!”

Bucky smiles politely at her. “Me.” He steps into the curtained room, a little snack bag in his hand. He holds it up to show her, and she sees the Hostess logo. It’s a bag of little … sponge cake pastries. “Best I could do on such short notice. They’re for you, if you behave,” he says, talking to her like a pet being offered a treat.

Mary wrinkles her nose. “Pass. D’you even know all the chemicals they put in those things?”

Bucky shrugs and turns to offer them to officer Santiago, who more than happily accepts. Mary pouts as she watches him rip open the bag and stuff one in his mouth.

“How are you doing, Mary?”

She turns her attention to Bucky and scowls at the way he uses her name like he knows her. “Awful,” she says. She jerks her head at Santiago. “Officer Dickwad over here won’t let me have my phone.”

“Language,” Santiago says dispassionately, through a mouthful of cake. 

“Shut up and eat your fucking donut, Rent’a’cop.”

Bucky

He puts his foot down once she starts flinging curses and insults at the officer. As a paramedic, Steve is always in and out of emergency rooms, often working in coordination with law enforcement to deal with uncooperative patients. So Bucky knows just how much drama and belligerence these guys have to deal with on the regular. 

“Hey,” he says sternly. “Don’t disrespect him. He’s just doing his job.” He’s not mean about it, but it’s verging on what Steve likes to call his “Dom” voice, and Bucky can see how it affects Mary. She freezes up, all of her focus on him. For a few seconds, she even forgets to be angry. Bucky takes the opportunity to step close to the bed. He eyes where she’s cuffed to the rail. “Mary,” he says gently. “I know you don’t want to be here. I know you’re angry.”

“You’re damn right I am,” she growls. “They just showed up and threw me in a cop car! Didn’t even give me a choice!”

Bucky reaches out and places his hand atop her cuffed wrist. It’s his metal hand. Her eyes widen when she sees it, but she doesn’t pull away. “I know,” Bucky says. “And I’m sorry it happened that way. But do you understand why people were concerned for your safety?”

Her face tenses up as she tries to hold back some emotion (something tells Bucky it isn’t anger, this time). “They called the cops,” she pouts. “They lied to me.”

“They did,” Bucky agrees, wanting to placate her. “But you were hurting yourself, honey. And you were talking about doing worse, weren’t you?”

She can’t meet his eyes, instead staring at where he’s holding her wrist. “I … I talked about a lot of things,” she mumbles. “It was just talk. I don't even remember half of it. I didn’t … I wasn’t really gonna do anything.”

“Can you show me where you hurt yourself?” Bucky asks, careful to keep his voice gentle. “I want to see how bad it is.”

Mary shivers, shaking her head sadly. Her hair is loose and hanging messy around her face, so Bucky reaches up to tuck it behind her ear. He hears her give a quiet, shaky inhale. “Come on now,” he coaxes. “Let me see.”

For a long moment, it seems like she won’t obey, but then her shoulders sink down and she takes a deep breath and lets it out, whispering a tiny little. “... kay,” as her hands creep down to take hold of the tee shirt she’s wearing. It’s extra large, going all the way to her knees, and it’s all she’s wearing. Bucky doesn’t know if the police brought her in that way, or if it’s something the hospital gave her to put on after being examined, but either way, he schools his expression as she edges the tee shirt up her leg, higher and higher, until it becomes apparent that she is wearing underwear, and she’s bared her hip to him.

Cutting, then.

Bucky looks her over, not as upset by the fresh cuts so much as the old ones. They litter the skin of her upper thigh and hip—some so old they’re scars, some still in various stages of healing. Bucky forces himself not to touch, even though his brain is screaming at him to fix fix fix! There’s nothing here that can be fixed easily—certainly not with a bandaid. Bucky takes a moment to calm himself down before he asks, “How long have you been doing this, honey?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispers. She shoves the tee shirt back down and meets his eyes. “Why are you here?”

Moment of truth, Bucky thinks. “The police called me. They got my number from your phone. They wanted to call your Dom to come get you.”

She frowns, looking confused. “But … you’re not—”

“Officer Santiago,” Bucky says quickly, cutting her off. “Could you give us a moment alone please?”

“Sure.” Santiago gets up and takes his bag of cakes with him. “Just a couple’a minutes,” he warns, then steps outside the curtain and pulls it shut. Bucky can see as his shoes walk away.

“You told them you were my Dom?!” Mary hisses.

Bucky looks at her sternly. “No. They assumed I was. You had me in your phone.”

“I … I did?”

Bucky’s mouth quirks. “Yeah, you did.”

“Well that doesn’t mean anything,” she huffs. “I’m not even submissive.”

“I think you know that’s not true,” Bucky says. He reaches up and gathers her hair back in one fist and pulls—gently, just enough to put the barest of pressure on her scalp—forcing her to raise her chin. She visibly reacts to it, softening into his grip, eyes slipping closed and features going slack. “You like that,” Bucky says, making it a statement rather than a question, because it’s obvious she does.

Her eyes open slowly. “S’nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He releases her hair, cupping the back of her neck instead. He grips her firmly in his hand, and this time she nearly moans, lips parting and the sound coming out before she can fully stifle it. Bucky’s mouth curls and he hums. “And that? Is that ‘nothing’ too?”

“Please.” She’s having a hard time maintaining eye contact, which is typical. There’s a little pinch between her eyebrows that’s so sweet and needy, Bucky wants to kiss it. It makes her look like she might cry, and that thrills him too. “Please,” she whispers. “I just wanna go home.”

“You’re not going home, Honey,” he tells her, keeping the grip on her neck steady and petting at her hair with his other hand. She’s going down a little, likely so easily because of the alcohol in her system, because of how deprived she’s been until now. She whines a little at his words and he shushes her. “They won’t let you. You’re either gonna have to let me take you, or else stay here in the hospital, in the psych ward.”

Mary whimpers. “No.”

“Shhh,” he soothes. “I know. I don’t want that for you either, but you have to make the choice. If you want to leave here, then you have to sign the paperwork that gives me custody of you.” He tilts her chin up. “Look at me now, Honey.” She’s sluggish, so it takes a second, but her eyes come up as she obeys. They’re a little glossy, pupils blown wide, and Bucky gives her neck an encouraging squeeze. “Good girl,” he praises.

She practically melts at hearing that. “Please …” she says again. 

Bucky would bet money that she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. He does, though. He knows down to the marrow of his bones what a ‘please’ like that means. “Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll take care of you. I will.” He bends and pecks a kiss to her forehead, then steps away. She makes a weak noise of protest and he shushes her. 

“I’m just gonna go get officer Santiago back. … And my husband, Steve.”

She blinks at the word ‘husband’. “Steve?” she repeats, shoulders shrinking as she pulls into herself. “But—”

“It’s okay,” Bucky promises. “He’s a very nice man. You’ll like him.”

Mary looks unsure. Bucky’s glad she’s down, otherwise he’s fairly certain she’d be arguing by now, maybe even pitching a fit and cursing. Instead, what comes out of her mouth is a hesitant little, “... He’s like you?” 

“No. No he’s not designated. He’s—”

“Normal.” She says it so sadly, sounds so demoralized. Bucky has to fight the urge to correct her, to give her a speech about how, ‘just because they’re designated, it doesn’t make them abnormal’. He bites his tongue. What’s more important right now is that she’s making progress in accepting the reality that she’s almost certainly submissive.

“Yeah,” he says. “Steve’s not like us. But I wanted him to come in here and meet you. Do you think you can do that for me, Sweetie?” The pet names come naturally, are a part of his dynamic as a Dom, and Bucky can tell that she responds favorably to them. “Hm? Answer me, Mary.”

(And of course, the use of her name gets instant attention and obedience.)

“Okay,” she says. “Yes.”

He smiles and gives her a heartfelt, “Good girl,” wanting to show her that he’s pleased, that she’s doing well. “I’m gonna go get him, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Steve

Steve is equal parts excited and nervous to meet the woman Bucky has found, the woman they’re going to be taking care of. … Maybe more, if things work out. 

He holds Bucky’s hand as he’s led back to where the emergency room beds are. Bucky draws back the curtain and Steve sees the cop sitting there, looking bored, … and her.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Hey.”

She’s pretty—which is saying a lot, because that’s Steve’s first thought, despite the state of her. She’s got goo gobs of dark eye makeup that it looks like she put on once she was already drunk, and by now it’s been smeared to kingdom come by tears and her own hands. Her hair sits messy and unbrushed around her shoulders, and her eyes are glazed and tired from a high that’s probably going to wear off soon and leave her looking even more exhausted than she already does. 

“Hey,” Steve says, eyes flicking up and down her body where she’s sitting on the bed. She’s wearing nothing but a big tee shirt, and Steve allows himself one glance down at her shapely legs, then resolutely keeps his eyes trained upwards. She’s a disheveled mess, but even like that, Steve can see how she drew Bucky’s attention, that day in the café.

“Hi,” Mary says.

Steve smiles hopefully. By his side, Bucky squeezes his hand in encouragement, and offers, “Mary, this is Steve, my husband.”

Steve watches her face, curious to know what she thinks of Bucky being married. He’s expecting displeasure maybe, imagining that a submissive would feel jealous or upset, if their prospective Dom was already attached to someone else.

But she seems to stay calm, sitting there and taking Steve in with slow blinks, even looking a little bit shy herself. “... You’re big,” she eventually says. “I thought you’d be smaller than him.”

Steve grins and he hears Bucky’s scoffed, “Size has nothing to do with our dynamic.”

Steve knows he’s got half an inch on Bucky, more muscle mass too, but he’s never felt bigger than his husband. Bucky’s personality, his dominance, is larger than Steve.

Mary’s still staring at him, a thoughtful little pinch between her eyebrows. Steve waits in expectation of a question, but none comes. “What?” he asks. He pulls up the room’s extra plastic chair and sits close to the bed, offering her his hand. He’s surprised when she takes it. Steve stares thoughtfully at his hand as she drags her fingers over his fingers, his palm, still not saying anything. He looks over at Bucky, concerned. “Did they give her drugs?”

Thankfully, Bucky chuckles and shakes his head. “She’s down,” he explains.

Oh. Okay. That’d explain her calm affect. Steve had come in here halfway expecting a screaming hellcat. He hadn’t expected this. He turns back to Mary, giving her a friendly look. “Did you have questions you wanted to ask me?”

She bites her lip, clearly working something out in her head. “Bucky said you two have a ‘dynamic’.”

“He did.”

“But he said you’re normal.”

Steve’s lips thin once he figures out what she means. “We’re all normal,” he scolds. “But no, I don’t have ‘Dominant or Submissive Personality Disorder’, if that’s what you mean.” He puts sarcastic quotes around words to clearly convey his distaste for the classification. He wants her to know how ridiculous he finds it.

“Babe,” Bucky warns quietly from behind. “We’re not getting political right now, okay? Just focus on her, on what we have to do.”

“Right, sorry.” He knows that Bucky’s right, so he tries again, telling Mary, “I’m ‘normal’, but Bucky and I still have a very intimate relationship together. We’re husbands. So yeah, we’ve developed our own dynamic. When I’m with him I tend to follow his lead, so to speak.” He smiles and shrugs. “It works for us.”

Mary looks like she’s thinking this new information over. There’s a slowness to her, a dreaminess in her expressions and her reactions.Steve figures it’s a combination of her being down, and not being sober. In fact, he can smell the vodka leaking out of her pores. It’s actually pretty horrible. “So does that make sense?” he prods her gently. “Mary?”

“… Yeah, I think so.” She eyes him up and down, looking back and forth between him and Bucky. “What will you do?” she asks Steve. She blushes a little from asking the question, so he deduces that she’s asking what he’ll do with her; what their dynamic together will be, outside of her and Bucky.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, because that’s all he knows for sure, and he wants her to feel safe. Steve knows that it’s absolutely crucial for this woman to feel safe right now, if they’re going to take her home with them. “Bucky and I both will.” He holds her hand—the one that isn’t cuffed to the bed—enveloping it between his. “It’ll be much better than staying here,” he promises. “You’ll be so safe. And much happier.”

Mary’s body draws in, seems to actually get smaller as she pulls back into herself. “I’m never happy,” she says mournfully. It hurts Steve’s heart to see it, so he knows it must be killing Bucky, given his overly protective instincts. Steve glances over at him. “Babe?”

Bucky has a clipboard full of papers, which Steve knows must be the custody orders. “Here, Honey,” he tells Mary, handing her the clipboard and the pen. “This is what you have to sign to be able to come home with us.”

It kind of bothers Steve that Bucky doesn’t encourage her to read through the documents more thoroughly, but he doesn’t say anything because he knows they have only the best intentions for her. She’ll be safe with them. He watches as she signs her signature in the places Bucky points out, trying to scan some of the fine print as she goes. Anxiety is written across her face and she starts to bite at the chapped skin on her bottom lip. “But, um … what if I’m not what you think?” she worried, not looking at either of them. 

Bucky pets her hair and reassures her. “You are, sweetheart. Trust me. And we’re gonna take you to a therapist anyway, to get an official diagnosis.”

Normally Steve would be scoffing at the word “diagnosis,” but he’s too busy watching the two of them together. There’s a strange feeling in his gut, at seeing his husband touch Mary like that, at hearing him call her pet names and calmly take control of her. Steve’s never seen Bucky dom another person before, and he … he kind of doesn’t hate it. In fact, it’s actually making him feel all the more attracted to Bucky, and curious about Mary. Like he wants to help, wants to get to know her.

She signs the rest of the documents without making a fuss, so Steve figures he’ll be getting that chance.

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