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lovemyavatar · 1 year

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Just for the Night

Lo’ak x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Part Two

Warnings: (aged up) nsfw, enemies to lovers, angst, arguing, hate-fucking

part one

The skin on the back of your neck prickles with unease, color tinging your cheeks as frustration mounts with each rushed stride through the forest.

You're practically vibrating with irritation, muscles pulled so taunt a dull ache radiates from between your shoulders. You welcome the sting of short nails biting into your palms, reveling in the distraction for only a moment before the scrutiny at your back becomes too much to bear.

“Will you stop that already?” Your lips purse with a low hiss, head turning just enough to send a steely glare toward the man behind you.

Lo'ak glowers at your quickly retreating figure, lips turning downward in displeasure. Long fingers tighten around the woven basket perched on his hip, the mere sound of your voice putting him further on edge.

“I can feel you plotting my murder back there.” You mutter with a roll of your eyes, attention returning to the path ahead.

The weight of his hard stare is palpable. It settles in your gut, twists your insides uncomfortably. Warmth blankets your skin, a heady mix of anger and...something else, something you haven't dared begin to dissect since the night you both crossed a line it doesn't seem you'll be able to come back from.

“Oh, I don’t have to plot, sweetheart. The whole thing’s already planned out.” His voice is rough, lips twitching into a satisfied smirk at the way your spine stiffens.

You whirl around to face him, fists clenching impossibly tighter, eyes narrowed in a fierce glare. Despite your best efforts, he's continued doing what he's best at: worming his way under your skin.

Whatever this is between you—this stifling tension—it's only gotten worse since that night in his family's tent. The lingering looks, the constant bickering...it's driving you crazy. Not a single day has gone by without some altercation with the youngest Sully brother.

Despite years of this back and forth, you aren't accustomed to the cold, unreadable wall that Lo'ak has built around himself since that night. It makes you uneasy, has you questioning if there may be some deeper issue he has with you, past the point of friendly competition.

“Charming.” Your nose wrinkles with an insincere smile, a scoff falling from your lips as you turn away from him again.

“You always do this." A humorless laugh echoes through the trees as you near your destination. Lo'ak jogs forward, arm extending to brush away a large leaf from the path, allowing you to duck through into the clearing first. “Get all mad as if it's not your fault we're in this position.”

You're already facing him as he steps into the plush grass after you, an expression of exasperated shock etched into your features.

“You're joking, right?” Wide eyes scan his lithe form, taking note of the way strong arms cross so casually over his broad chest.

He can't possibly think this is your fault. You were simply minding your own business, as usual, when he appeared and started bothering you. Kiri was at your side, the two of you helping prepare for the midday meal, chopping various vegetables for the clan.

Less than a minute after Lo'ak plopped down onto the rock only inches from yours, the fighting was unbearable for your best friend. She disappeared with the typical departing insult—calling you both skxawngs (idiots) with a soft sigh.

Truthfully, you don't even know how it started. You never do. Somehow, despite your best efforts, the two of you always end up right here. Harsh words and cold glares exchanged until one of you snaps and stalks off, only for the cycle to repeat the next time you see each other.

“I know you're used to getting away with everything, but you should know by now that I see through the good girl act.” Lo'ak's head tilts to the side, tail swaying with ease at his back.

Despite the volatile nature of your relationship, he's never stopped watching you. He's tried, he really has, to leave you alone—to keep his wandering eyes at bay. But you're always there, always so close yet still out of reach.

It's his own fault, and he knows it, but the fact does little to lessen the sting.

“What are you talking about?” Something ignites in Lo'ak's chest at the flare of heat in your golden eyes. It eggs him on, pushes him closer to the line he's always toeing, between good-natured bickering and actual fighting.

“Oh, please. The clan's precious little angel, used to getting whatever she wants.” His voice drips with mockery, and it makes a wave of embarrassment wash over your cheeks. “And you can't stand that I don't like you.”

Lo'ak's feet move on their own accord, bringing him a step closer with each harsh word. He has no idea what he's doing, doesn't know what's possessed him to take it this far, but he's just so...fed up. He's tired of this push and pull, tired of warring with himself every time you're close.

He can't stand you, and yet, he aches to be near you. His heart yearns for yours in a way he's never experienced with anyone else. In a way he hasn't been able to shake since the very moment he realized his feelings for you breached well past platonic.

It was only a breath later that he decided he would never have you. Decided it would be best to push you away, to protect his fragile heart from the surety of your rejection. Because, even at such a young age, he knew it would never work. He'd long been labeled the trouble child, the rebel, the one who ruins everything he touches...

And how could he bear to bring you down with him?

A surprised laugh bubbles in your chest, and you move back, desperate to put some distance between you. It's clear, what he's insinuating. That you're the instigator, the one to blame for the argument that got you into this mess in the first place.

Regardless of who threw the first verbal punch, Lo'ak's father—your Olo'eyktan—was not the least bit happy. He stormed toward the two of you without hesitation, sternly hissing that you were drawing attention to yourselves. Bringing shame to your families.

His words settled heavily in your heart, made your ears flatten with shame. But he was right. It only took a single glance toward your father, standing just a few feet behind Jake, to notice the disappointment gleaming in his eyes.

As the Olo'eyktan's closest confident, he has an image to uphold. Which, in turn, means that you do too. And typically, you're an exemplary member of the clan. You pull your own weight, help others whenever possible, and keep to yourself otherwise.

But there's just something about Lo'ak that makes you forget all duty and responsibility in the name of defending yourself, of proving that you're not some wallflower. That you're worthy of being noticed.

Jake quietly ushered you both off to collect some fruit for lunch, ordering that you not return until you've figured out how to get along.

“Are you actually that self-absorbed? You really think I'd waste my time trying to get at you?” You peer up at Lo'ak in disbelief, a flash of anger making your heart beat just a fraction faster.

“Drop the innocent act. It's just me, and I've already seen the real you. Can't get much worse than that.” He regrets the words the instant they leave him, jaw clenching at the way your lips part in surprise.

He's taken it too far. That much is clear, if the pained glimmer that washes over your eyes is any indication. It's gone in an instant, replaced with the fiery anger he's used to. Your ears twitch, tail snapping, a clear display of your animosity.

“If I’m the clan's angel, what does that make you? Clan screw up?” Your hands curl into fists and you take a small step forward.

The air between you is sharp, jagged edges of your tattered friendship hanging by a thread. You can't help but lash out, even if the insult has your own heart cinching in your chest.

It was a low blow, and it's obvious you've hit a nerve. Your chest heaves as you watch the words settle over him, watch his expression crumble before turning hard as stone again within seconds.

Lo'ak's tail twitches to attention against his spine, before swishing from side to side harshly. His breath hitches, heart racing with an overwhelming mix of emotion.

It washes over him in wave after wave, an onslaught of anger, frustration, crushing sorrow. Because after all this time, you finally see him for what he truly is.

What he fears he'll always be.

“At least I actually contribute. You can’t do anything without daddy hovering right behind you. How pathetic.” He crowds the remaining space between you, towering over you, chin dipping as his eyes narrow into a harsh glare.

He looks downright menacing, not an ounce of warmth in his expression. A soft gasp falls from your lips, moisture blurring your vision. He's breathing heavily, chest nearly touching yours as he fights to slow the violent thrum of his heart.

You peer up at him, equal parts rage and hurt swirling deep within your belly until you can't take it for even a second longer. One of your hands rears back, but before you can land a hit on his cheek, he snatches your arm out of the air.

Long fingers curl around your wrist, his hold gentle but firm. The feeling of his skin on yours sets you ablaze, fans the flame of desire that's been building within you since that night. This is the first time he's touched you since then, and though it was only in an act of self-defense, the warmth from his palm has you reeling.

“I hate you.” You voice wavers, the proclamation nothing more than a broken whisper.

“Good.” His jaw clenches, your spiteful words only spurring him on.

He pulls you forward roughly, capturing your lips with bruising force. You stumble into him, body responding without hesitation despite the weak internal protests warning against falling into this pattern with him.

The pressure on your wrist disappears, instead moving to your hips as both of his hands circle your waist. A gasp tears your lips from his as rough bark bites into the skin of your back. You hadn't even realized you were moving, too distracted by the burning heat of his lips on yours.

Lo'ak devours you like a man starved. His kiss isn't sweet, it isn't tender. It's all tongue and teeth, a explosion of pent up tension that's been brewing for years. A shiver rolls down your spine, and you arch into him, pressing your chest flush to his.

Your tongues battle for dominance, ragged breath mingling as you both pour every ounce of distain for each other into the kiss. One of your hands lifts, fingertips smoothing over the side of his neck to draw him in.

You hold him there gently, a quiet moan spilling into his mouth despite your best efforts to keep any noises at bay. Warring desires clash in your mind. You want to shove him away, and pull him closer all at once. He's so infuriating, so intoxicating, and you're far too under his spell to escape now.

Within seconds, your loose hold is ripped away as he cages your hand against the tree, holding it above your head. You can't help the way your hips writhe along his, a breathy sound falling from your lips when you feel the stroke of something hard against your soft heat.

You respond by tangling your free hand into his braids, tugging harshly just to see his reaction. His head jerks back at the unexpected sting, a rough growl rumbling his lungs. Your hips rut against his again, the vibration of his chest on yours settling hotly between your legs.

A wave of pleasure washes over him, the color of his cheeks deepening. His eyes snap to yours, narrowed in warning before he leans forward, nipping at your bottom lip lightly. An involuntary whimper escapes you, hold on his hair tightening.

A low moan falls from his lips, a shaky breath fanning your face as he staggers back a step. Your lips chase his, seeking the heat of his touch before your mind has a chance to catch up. The two of you stumble blindly, an uncoordinated dance of passion as you desperately fight to stay connected.

This continues until one of Lo'ak's heels catches on an upturned root, sending him crumpling to the ground. His arms slide around your middle, caging you to his chest as his tailbone takes the brunt of the fall. He grunts against you, lips still ravaging yours without skipping a beat.

The slight ache from the fall is instantly forgotten as you mount him, spreading your legs so his body easily slots between them. His head tilts back at the sensation of your plush skin on either side of his hips, a shudder wracking his chest when your hands begin exploring his skin.

Your fingertips trail along his chest, over trembling abs, all the way down to the hardened length still trapped beneath his loincloth. When your touch ghosts over his cock, he jerks, his hips rutting into your hand. A breathy moan falls from his lips, followed by a shaky gasp when you do it again.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Your lips twitch into a smirk against his, earning you a low growl.

“Shut up.” He hisses, long fingers curling around your throat.

The hold is possessive, and oh so dominant, a show of control even though he's the one beneath you. He pulls you forward, claiming your lips harshly again. A shiver rolls down your spine, and you can't help but drag your soaked core over his cock.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He gasps, lips ripping from yours as his head falls back, eyes fluttering with a surge of pleasure. His hands fall to your hips, his hold tight as he presses you down onto him, guiding your movements.

“Take this off.” Your chest is heaving, breath ragged as you hurriedly tug at the strings of his loincloth.

His lips curve into a lopsided grin, though another moan rumbles his chest when your hips roll along his cock again. “That desperate already?”

“Don't.” Your voice drops in warning as you successfully undo the knot, before practically ripping the material from his body.

It's quickly discarded, leaving you with nothing to do but dissect his cock with heavy-lidded eyes. It's bigger than you imagined, slapping against his stomach as it stands fully erect.

Something warm and unwelcome blooms deep within Lo'ak's chest, as he watches you. Wide eyes, flushed cheeks, plump lips parted with wonder as you take him in for the first time.

He's quick to flip you over, to lay you gently onto the soft grass. His palms press into the earth on either side of your head, supporting his weight as he takes a moment to gaze down at you. He can't help it, the way his eyes lock onto yours, pouring out every last bit of his usually tightly shackled emotions.

Having you beneath him like this is something he's fantasized about for years, and even now, he's not quite sure that it's real. He's tried so hard to push you away, to wedge so much distance between you that this could never be a possibility. And yet, here you are, more beautiful than ever...and all his.

He rips his gaze away, warmth blanketing his face. He deftly unties your loincloth with one hand, slipping it down your legs smoothly. His palm skims along the outside of your calf, sending a shiver down your spine.

When he reaches your thigh, he gives it a firm squeeze before hooking his fingers behind your knee and urging your legs apart. A deep moan rumbles his chest at the sight of your glistening pussy, fingers moving to drag along the trail of slick coating your inner thighs.

“Goddamn, you always get this wet when we fight?” He rasps, only half joking. The mere idea of you so hot and bothered by him, by your frequent disagreements, has his cock throbbing in anticipation.

“Stop. Talking.” You hiss, the color of your cheeks deepening with arousal and embarrassment alike.

Lo'ak gives his cock a few strokes as he aligns himself with your entrance, dragging his swollen tip along your soft folds. You arch into him, a quiet moan falling from your lips. The sound has his gaze snapping to yours again, breath lodging in his throat.

Suddenly, this position feels too intimate. It tightens his chest, makes his stomach flip with conflicting emotion. A deeply seeded desire within his heart urges him to take care of you, to allow whatever this is between you blossom into something real. Something warm and soft, unlike the cold bitterness that's been festering for years.

It's all too much. Too good to be true.

So, instead, he grips your waist and roughly flips you over, hauling you onto your hands and knees before him.

“Lo'ak—” You gasp, surprised at the unexpected movement.

“Thought you said no talking?" His teeth clench so hard he fears they may shatter, but he welcomes the ache as he easily slides into your waiting pussy.

You cry out, arms already trembling, nearly collapsing onto the grass at the burst of pleasure. Lo'ak's eyes pinch closed, hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he slams his entire length into your sopping pussy. He groans when he bottoms out, tip pressing firmly into your womb.

You're a mess before him, reduced to a string of moans and whimpers as he drills into you mercilessly. Your back bows, head dropping between your arms when your lower belly tightens. His head falls back, a low growl echoing through the clearing as your silky walls flutter around him.

He doesn't give you even a second to rest, maintaining a brutal pace as he chases his high. One of his hands smooths over your lower back, pressing into it to force a deeper arch. It continues trailing upward, until his fingers tangle in your braids, jerking your head back firmly.

Sharp teeth catch his lower lip, restraint tightening his chest as he fights to hold back mounting pleasure. All you can do is whimper meekly, the sting in your scalp pushing you closer to a quickly approaching orgasm. Moisture pools in the corners of your eyes, his roughness too much and not enough all at once.

This is what you expected from him, and yet, it's better than you could've imagined. The way he handles you, bends you to his whim, it has your pussy spasming around his cock all over again.

“Fuck.” Lo'ak rumbles, his free hand snaking around your stomach, fingers expertly finding your clit.

You jolt at the sudden explosion of pleasure, the mere swirl of his fingers over your overworked pussy throwing you into an intense release. A series of sharp moans echo through the trees, every muscle in your body tensing before you shatter around him.

Lo'ak suddenly jerks his cock free, the abrupt emptiness jostling your trembling form as he pumps his cock, riding out his orgasm with an arm still firmly wrapped around your middle.

Silence falls between you, thick and uncomfortable as the weight of what you've just done settles over you both. You fight to catch your breath, pushing yourself up and out of his hold with shaky limbs. You avoid the sharp glare you can feel prickling against the side of your head, eyes scanning the area for your loincloth.

“That's never happening again.” The words aren't nearly as strong as you would've hoped, the slight quiver in your voice betraying the turmoil raging within.

Being with him like that, it was...good. Too good. It felt right, like the two of you should've been doing this for years, rather than pushing each other away at every opportunity. It's planted a seed of doubt in your mind, made you wonder what it could be like to let him in, to explore the possibility of being more.

It's a dangerous thing, hoping for something like that.

“Obviously.” Lo'ak is quick to agree, averting his eyes as you shakily stand to your full height and pull your loincloth back on.

By the time he's retrieved his own clothing, you're gone. A rough sigh caves his chest, disappointment lodging deeply within his gut. Some part of him, however small, thought maybe things would be different after what you just did.

He runs a hand down his face, replacing his practiced mask of indifference before he'll have to face you again.

The walk back to Home Tree is silent. He doesn't approach you, instead he maintains a wide birth between you, trailing your tense silhouette from a distance. When he breaks through the tree line a few seconds after you, his irritated groan has your head whipping around.

Your eyes widen, silently asking him to corroborate whatever story you've just told before your attention returns to his father.

“Lo'ak.” Jake's arms are crossed tightly over his chest, a signature look of disapproval etched into his strong features. “Did you two work it out?”

“Uh…yeah.” He winces, rubbing at the back of his neck as a wave of uncertainty makes his stomach twist.

Had you? Or did he only make things worse, like he always does?

Jake's eyes narrow, flicking between the two of you for several seconds. He notes the absence of any fruit, which is the entire reason he sent the two of you into the forest in the first place. That, coupled with your disheveled hair and Lo'ak's crooked loincloth, tells him everything he needs to know.

“Alright. Dismissed.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, a sigh of exasperation filling the space between you.

You're quick to scurry off, practically running away the very second you're given permission. Lo'ak's gaze remains locked on your retreating figure until it disappears into the center of Home Tree. His head drops, eyes closing as he considers the consequences of what you've just done.

He only makes it one step before Jake grips his arm, gently pulling him back.

“Not you, boy. We need to have a talk.”

@youcantseem3 @neyetams @pandorxxx @daiyuu27 @taleiak @neyetams @mrslandryy @superiorbyfar

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sunniskyies · 3 months

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𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You've been missing with no trace, run away from Finnick in an effort to protect him. After years of searching, he unexpectedly finds you again 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Finnick Odair x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Talk about the Victor Trade and all that nasty Capitol stuff, cursing, argument 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Angst with a fluffy wee ending („• ֊ •„) 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k 𝐀/𝐍: Writing all this self-loathing in the 2nd person feels like I’m just bullying you I’M SORRY FSFBWEVGJ

At the edge the pulsating beats and vivid neon lights of the club, you sit at the end of the bar, trying to stick to the shadows. The air hums with bassy music, all around you patrons clink glasses and laughter weaves through the crowded space. The bartender, expertly bustling around the various taps and counters, slides a colourful concoction across the polished counter to you.

“Thank you. Who’s it from?” You ask over the loud din, examining the drink. Definitely spiked.

“A man called up, sent it forward to you. A Mr. Harrington-Smythe.” The man says, already wandering off to squeeze money out of a group of tipsy, underaged girls. You sigh to yourself. Mr. Harrington-Smythe, your client for that evening.

You scoff. Of course the pompous git thinks you won’t be able to tell the presence of substances in the drink, the man thinks higher of dog shit on his shoe than he does a woman. You’ve had him before, and this isn’t the first time he’s tried to drug you in advance. In the past, you’ve just pretended to be high so he wouldn’t complain to Snow.

You slide off the stool you are perched on, about to go to the bathroom to tip the vile stuff down the drain, when your eyes catch on someone across the crowded room.

You know he’s staring straight at you, even through the flickering lights and writhing bodies. How could you not, you can basically feel his waves of surprise and anguish rolling over you. There’s something else there too, another emotion that you can’t place, one that makes your stomach churn and your heart skip a beat.

You quickly rip your eyes away from his, setting the cold drink back down on the bar with shaking hands, and then disappearing into the dancefloor. He’s no doubt already walking after you, hopefully you can lose him in the crowd.

Once at the other side of the room, you slip through a side door that will take you up to the roof. You can stay up there for a while, lay low until you have to make your way back down for your appointment. You’re almost through when you realise you’ve made a mistake.

Finnick hadn’t lost sight of you in the crowd like you'd counted on, and now he’s headed straight for you. You’re cornered, with only the roof to go to now. So as quickly as possible, you hurry up the stairs with a pounding heart, behind you you hear that voice you never thought you’d hear again.

“Y/N! Wait, stop. Hang on.” He calls up the stairs, following after you.

You burst into the cold night air, and stumble around looking for a place to hide, but you’ve had a few drinks and are blinded by the raw emotion coursing through you. You haven’t prepared for this! Still reeling, you’re completely caught off guard when Finnick appears in the door after you.

“You don’t have to run away, Y/N. I just want to talk.” He says cautiously, a nervous hand running through his golden curls.

Even after all this time, he still takes your breath away. You wish you could forget knowing every freckle on his body, every scar that dots his skin. You wish you could lock away the memories you have, the knowledge of where he blushes and what he laughs at, the feeling of his warm hands on your hips, your face, your lips…

You must look like a frightened animal, cowering and shivering before the man, because he takes a hasty step back, unwilling to scare you off. Of course he’s still a gentleman to you, even after all you’ve done.

That somehow makes this harder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just can’t let you leave again, not without talking to you. Not when you’re right here.” He says, his voice edged with shock. You can’t blame him, you’re feeling the same exact way, the man you never thought you’d see again standing here before you.

“Finnick,” You say hoarsely. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got an appointment.”

Hurt and anguish flash through those green eyes of his, but it hardens into something more. “So that’s it? That’s all you have to say to me? After all of this? Don’t you realise how much I’ve been worrying about you?” He says incredulously, his voice raised to a cry.

You open your mouth wordlessly. You haven’t planned for this. You haven’t planned for this.

“I have to go. I’ve got an appointment,” Is all you can muster.

Finnick’s eyes widen, shock and anger now all you feel radiating off him and it makes you wince at its abrasive touch.

“Y/N, you’ve been gone for four years! I haven’t seen you in four years! I woke up one day, and you were gone, no warning!” His voice catches, whether it’s from grief or anger, you can’t tell. “The only secret I have been asking from my clients all this time is if they know anything about where you are. Where I can find you again.” He laughs, cold and hard-edged. “Apparently you’ve been moving around a lot.”

You have been, it’s true. You move house every few months, living in small towns across District 4. When you're in the Capitol, you've had your manager scheduling all your appointments on weeks when Finnick wouldn’t be in town, and in establishments where you wouldn’t run the risk of bumping into any of the other Victors.

You take a shaky breath. The shock of seeing Finnick has subsided slightly, and you're managing to formulate full sentences now

“I’m sorry I’ve worried you, Finnick. But I’m not sorry I left,” You croak. The hurt in his gaze is strong, but it doesn’t rival the 4 years worth of dark shadows that sit under his eyes. Has he not been sleeping well since you left?

“You’re not sorry,” He repeats, disbelief rolling each word around in his mouth, trying it out. His face goes stony again.

“Right. Well, who is he then? This guy you’ve left me for?” He’s out of the doorway now, standing just a few feet away. You can just about feel the heat rolling off him. He still runs hot, you whisper to yourself.

“Do you love him? Does he love you?” He steps closer, but not menacingly. He could throw a stone at you and you would still feel safe around him, you think you always will.

“Does he kiss you how I used to?” He murmurs, his voice has gone deep and gravelly.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “There is no guy, Finnick. There’s no one.” You breathe shakily. No matter what, you cannot let him see you cry. You can’t let him think you were wrong about all of this. “There’s only Snow.”

“Snow?” Finnick repeats again. You nod slightly.

“Snow. The Trade. Being a Victor. That’s all there is for me.” You feel the familiar wave of disgust roll over you, but instead of pushing it away, you hold it close. That’s what you do. You coat your mind in these feelings, never wanting to forget what you are. Who you’ve killed, what you’ve done. “It’s destroyed me, Finnick. The only thing left to take away is those I love. So I removed it.” Your voice has gone quiet again. Finnick’s staring at you like you just shot him.

“So that’s why you’ve done this to me? You’re frightened of Snow? Y/N, I’ve never been scared of Snow, I’ve been scared for you. I thought we’d talked about this, that we would face this together! But you've just been trying to deal with this yourself? Y/N that's completely ridiculous, do you hear how ridiculous you sound right now?" He’s shouting now, and even you feel anger stirring in your chest. Why isn’t he getting it?

"But it worked, you’re still safe,” You scowl. "Everyone else is buying it, I don't see the problem."

"Buying it? Y/N there's nothing to buy, you've been completely absent all these years!" Finnick cries, hands once again tearing through his curls.

You scoff. "Whatever, Finnick. I can't do this right now. Just, go back to that stupid party" Push him away. Push him away.

"Stop trying to escape this situation, Y/N. You're still doing it, even now. Running away." He’s gotten even closer, his voice simmering with anger, a scalding quality that leaves painful brands on your heart. Hold it close, you tell yourself.

"No Finnick, I'm not running away. That implies I've got a place to run to. I don't. I have a house in Four, and a room in the Capitol. That's it, that's all they are. Buildings. I don't have a home." You seethe.

Finnick closes the gap between you and grasps your wrist firmly, but not painfully. "You had a home. With me."

Though it makes your heart clench, you pull your wrist from his hold. "So go home. Get married, have kids. Live your life. That's what I wanted for you."

The angry waters in his ocean eyes have sunk into a dull swell. "It doesn't feel like a home anymore. Not without you." Your throat tightens.

"You have to let me go, Finnick,” You whisper. He straightens up fully, taking a step back. His hand is back in his hair, and the way he grasps threatens to pull it out completely.

"I can't! Don't you know how it eats me up inside? The abruptness of it all?" He cries. The dull ripples in his eyes have grown again to a crashing shoreline of emotion, waves of unsaid words finally breaking on the sand.

“If I knew that peck would be our last kiss, I would've never pulled my lips from yours. If I had known that time I held you would be the last, I would've wrapped you up in every bit of myself, show you the enormity I feel for you inside. But there was no closure with you, there was just the end.” His voice is heavy. “I would do anything for you, Dove. Did I not show that? Did I not make it clear?" His voice cracks.

It feels like every breath you’ve ever taken has left your body. "You did,” You murmur thickly.

"But you still left. Was it not enough?" He croaks. "Was I not enough?" Hurt flares in your chest. "You were more than enough, Finnick." Your voice is shaky but resolute. "You were everything."

But Finnick isn’t satisfied. He scoffs.

"If I was your everything, how could you leave me like that? You're my everything too, and I couldn't ever bring myself to do that to you. So one of us is lying, and it sure as hell isn't me." He growls.

He continues, filling the silence left in the wake of his harsh words. "But that's the pathetic thing about me, isn't it? I would still have you even if you didn't love me the same. I would choose you every time, even if you left me again and again. I'd still love you. I still love you."

The knowledge that you made him feel this pain- the feeling you get is indescribable. "You mistake my actions for unloving, Finnick. They come from a place of love.” You choke.

"It fucking felt unloving, Y/N.”

The ache worsens. You make a mental note to tattoo it to your brain later. "I did it for you. You just... don't understand."

"So make me understand, Dove. I used to understand you, at least I thought I did. It kills me to not know what you’re thinking anymore." He sighs, the fight left from his eyes. All that remains is a sheen of… grief.

"What I'm thinking? I’m thinking about how I couldn't live with myself if Snow hurt you to punish me, if he knew how I feel about you. I've spent my whole life loving you, Finnick. And I'll spend the rest of it loving you. I wake every morning to find my lips mourning yours, my heartbeat grieving its other half.” The tears are really threatening to fall now. “But I live with it, live with that debilitating ache in my chest because it would hurt more for you to grow to see me as the monster I am. For us to live together, and to one day know for sure you don't love me. I deserve that ache, a reminder every second I spend apart from your touch that I deserve it, for all I've done."

"So I leave, and I leave, and I leave. Because trust me, Finnick, I am not the one you deserve. A murderer, yes. A Capitol tool, yes. But someone deserving of your affections?" You close your watery eyes and shake your head.

His hands unexpectedly seize your face, sending a shockwave through you. His mouth collides with yours, the kiss that ensues is desperate and fervent, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that rolls through you like a storm. Soon, you're lost in the familiar feeling of his touch and the way he knows your body so well. Your heart races as he traces clumsy fingertips along your spine, his lips remembering the sensitive spot on your mouth that always makes you shiver.

"You claim to know me," He speaks against your lips, fiercely kissing you over and over again. "But you’re blind to anyone’s faults but your own. You forget I am those things too-"

"You’re nothing like me! I killed that boy in the arena!-" Your protest is cut off by another kiss.

"You did what you had to to get yourself back to me. How could I ask for more? I still love you." He murmurs with that smooth voice that makes you melt.

"I'm evil,” You whisper.

He just kisses you again. "So be it. I still love you"

"The Capitol, they've ruined me." You breathe, the wind knocked out of you.

"Then let me pick up the pieces; I still love you,” You see his eyes between bouts of him trailing kisses across your skin. The oceans within them have finally settled for the first time in years.

You’re not fighting him anymore, letting your body move where his hands move you, letting you lips chase his and your breathing sync. He has this unique ability to wipe clean the coating of pain on your heart and mind that you’ve spent 4 years building up with one touch.

“We have appointments.” You murmur to him. He doesn’t stop his exploration of you, too long has he been unable to show his affections.

“Who cares? If we both don’t go, there’s no one for him to hurt. We only have each other.” He replies. You smile softly, relishing his heat and his touch. You were wrong earlier, home isn’t the bed you left that day. It’s him, his touch and his love. Home is where Finnick is, in the space where his lips touch your skin.

"Stay this time." He whispers, so quiet you could’ve lost it in the wind.

"But would you still want me?" You ask. He pulls back at that, eyes syrupy and intently focused on you.

"I can't imagine a universe where I wouldn't want you."

#ph☆ebe's scribbles #finnick odair x reader #hunger games fic #one shot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick x y/n #finnick odair #the hunger games #blurb #fanfic #fanfiction

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changisworld · 2 months

Note

For changbin: you decide to start your fitness journey and call your experienced boyfriend to help you training, but apparently he has other plans (i was totally inspired by the skz yoga class, that man fixing hyunjin's position got me to places lol)

OMG what a good ask for me to respond to for my FIRST EVER BINNIE FIC!! I hope you enjoy <3

Word count:2.319

Obvious MDNI,18+ smut warnings under the cut

Any reblogs & comments are deeply appreciated!

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

PSA FOR ANY ASKS/REQUESTS: i WILL get around to posting everyone's requests, I'm sorry if it takes a bit of time but whatever you request i'll get around to posting it! IM ALSO MAKING AN ANON LIST!! just send me anything & tell me what emoji you wanna be!

main masterlist here

SMUT WARNINGS; slightly jealous binnie, coke can cock binnie, confident reader, pet names such as pretty,jagi, baby, public sex, creampie, quickie, slight teasing

You have finally decided to join the gym after saying it was your new years revolution for thee longest time & who better to help with your journey than your long term boyfriend, Changbin!

You put on a pair of sport leggings & a matching sports bra & you put Changbins shirt over it. You admire how you look in the mirror, trying to make sure you look as good as you can without looking like you're putting in effort & then you put on the gym shoes Changbin bought for you to encourage you to go to the gym & you then decide to walk to the gym & meet Changbin there. Since its 1am on a tuesday it's a safe & quick 15 minute walk to the gym.

You walk into the changing room & lock your bag off & you take off the baggy shirt you're wearing & shut the locker, putting the key around your wrist.

You step into the gym & unsurprisingly it's completely empty, other for a random guy & of course, Changbin himself.

You walk over to Changbin who is currently on his phone & taking a drink, of course sitting on the edge of the bench presss.

"Hey Binnie!" you say, waving your hand in front of his phone to get his attention over his music playing in his headphones. "Oh hey y/n! when did you get that set? you look so good" he says smirking at you as you giggle & roll your eyes as he stands up & gives you a quick hug. "I'm happy you're here jagi, trust me you'll loooove the gym once i teach you!" He says, nothing but enthusiasm in his voice. "Yeah well i better hope so seeing since i want to look a bit better & fit for summer" you say, looking at the huge mirror that stretches from one end of the gym all the way to the other. "Your body is already perfect y/n, the gym can just be a healthy hobby for you! Anyways, lets start with some stretches." He says, taking a hold of your wrist & guides you over to the matted open area.

"Okay so to start off, lets sit on the ground & put your legs straight out in front of you & set your hands out as far as you can." Changbin says, already getting into position. You copy him & you do what he asks as he gets up & pushes your back slightly to get that extra stretch. You hold it for 30 seconds before he helps you stand back up.

"Do i really need to stretch? my back is still pretty stretched out along with my legs from when you had my feet up past my head earlier when you had folded me in half, probably not the only thing that's still a bit stetched still hm?" you flirt with him, he playfully hits your shoulder. "yaaah! not.. here, i won't be able to handle it" he whispers back, trailing his fingers along your stomach as he kisses the sweet spot behind you ears. You let out a small hum then pull away. "I was being serious! but fine, what should i do now?" You ask, putting your arms above your head & just stretching normally, scrunching your eyes together, Changbin licks his lips subconsciously. "ehhh, lets have you just simply touch your toes hm? try hold it." he says, coming up behind you to help you with keeping you as folded as possible but as he is doing this, his covered cock is now against your ass & your cheeks blush.

You hold it, quite liking the burn in the back of your legs but liking the feeling of binnie pressed against your ass more. You let out a small huff & a second later you're pulled up abruptly by Changbins calloused hands around your waist. "You said 30 seconds didn't you?" you ask, slightly confused. "yeah but that guy over there kept staring at you & i didn't appreciate it." He says, glancing over at the guy who was in the gym when you arrived is now slightly closer, 'on his phone'. "ooo my jealous baby" you smile at him, kissing his cheek & scratching under his chin like a catplayfully. "anyways, let's just go on the treadmill or something for now hm?" you ask, holding his hand in your & nods, still got a bit of a frown on his face.

~TIME SKIP~

It's been an hour & you & changbin have been on multiple areas, he helped you get used to a lot of leg strength machines just to show you how they worked but mainly helped you train arms. The other guy has since now left & its just you two left in the gym. "Okay so to finish up, why not we do some squats hm? it helps arms & obviously your glutes too. I'll help your form so don't worry jagi." He says, picking up two 20lb weights & giving them to you. You sigh loudly as you take them & Changbin helps you get into position. You squat down, looking into the same mirror as earlier & hold it, changbin holding your hips. "your ass looks good like this, i could get used to helping you" he says, giving it a playful slap. You wince at the slap & drop the weights before standing up right. "stop the teasing binnie! I need to take this seriously if i want results." you giggle back before grabbing his hands & putting them back on your waist as you pick up the weights again & continuing.

"y/n you need to put your legs slightly further apart." He says & you try to slightly split them, still in your position. "wait, a little bit less jagi, wait i'ma try something" He says & before you get to respond, you see changbin lying down & starting to slide underneath your legs. "They should be as far apart as how wide the bottom of my ribs are, mkay? I know you know that much so try think about it that way." You giggle as you look down & see his cute, pretty smile & face looking up at you. You nod as you breathe through your mouth & he starts so slide back out from underneath you but he notices something... a small wet spot right where your crotch is. "jagi, drop the weights for a second." You don't need to think twice since your arms are burning along with your legs at this point, dropping them to the sides.

You stand up as changbin finishes sliding out from under you & is behind you again & he wraps his huge arms around your chest & waist as he kisses your neck back. He nibbles your earlobe & whispers; "meet me in the changing rooms in a minute, cameras are watching us & they might come find us if we leave at the same time" He kisses your cheek before leaving, leaving you excited & also confused.

You put the weights away & try look busy for a few minutes before you head into the boys changing rooms & you are immediately ambushed by changbins lips. You moan into it with surprise before he leans you against the wall, large hand resting on it right next to your head as he has the other hand loosely wrapped around your neck. "Wheres this suddenly came from hm? Couldn't wait until we got home, no?" You tease, your own hand coming own to play with his sweatpants drawstrings. " suddenly? Hope you know you have a literal wet patch on your leggings baby, you sure you weren't just waiting for me to do this hm?" he teases back, fingers from your neck trailing under your sports bra to begin pinching your nipples, you whine in response. "Well how can you expect me to not be wet when your hands were basically touching me more than my own clothes hmm? grinding against me?" You say, pawing his joggers & boxers down just enough to free his cock.

You kiss his lips again before slouching down to your knees & taking a hold of his thick dick in your hand, fingers just barely wrapping fully around it. You begin kitten licking the tip & along the sides, paying extra attention to the sweet spot right under the bottom of his tip, he lets out a low groan in response. "Jagi please, don't tease.. Can i just put it in you? i'm desperate baby" he whines, thrusting his dick in your hands, tip hitting your tongue & lips. "I would say no & suck your soul out but my jaw is still sore from earlier when you fucked my face." you smirk up at hiss blushed cheeks & damp sweaty hair as you stand up & he helps pull your leggings just below your ass as your face is pressed against the wall.

"your ass is so perfect gorgeous, to die for." changbin hums, giving it a light smack & caress. "you sure you can take it baby hm? want me to open you with my tongue or something first? you know i'm big." He asks in a sweet tone as his fingers are spreading your folds, teasing you further. You whine & squirm at the contact as he plays with your pussy open, trying to get more contact. "I can take it Bin' i should be able to since you fucked me so good earlier, please put it in" you whine, moving your head so you can make eye contact with him. He nods as he grabs his cock again & pumps it twice before lining it up at your entrance & then pushes just the tip in, you let out a breathy gasp.

"H-holy fuck.. s-so big oh my" you whimper out, feeling his heavy tip splitting you open.

"Told you baby, i'm gonna push in more now mkay?" he asks as he leans & kisses your shoulder as he starts paving his way into your velvet walls, him holding his breath subconsciously as you let out a long whine at the feeling, eyes scrunched together as you finally feel his balls hit the bottom of your cunt.

"so wet for me baby, letting me into you like this, so good for me hunny, can i move now hmm?" he asks in a higher pitched voice, stroking your hair as he does so. "yes.. j-just move.. p-please Binnie please" you reply, fingers trying to dig into the walls with how much you're trying to grip the walls. He hums before letting go of your hair & starts a slow but strong stroke movement. You start letting out raspy whines as you hear skin clapping around the room as his cock quite literally splits you in half.

"F-f-uck Bi-binnie already gon' cum, holy shi" you moan, clenching around his cock unintentionally. Changbin lets out a satisfied whine as his hand slithers down to start rubbing your clit which makes you start squirming even more, moans getting louder. Changbin smacks your pussy lightly "Shhh we need to be quiet baby mkay? we are in a gym remember." he whispers in your ears as your eyes roll to the back of your head, being reduced to a melted pile against the wall he's fucking you into.

His hand resumes its movement on your clit as you cum around his dick, walls not being able to clench too much due to the genuine thickness of his cock in you. "good girl, cumming around me like this, so hot for me." He gives you a moment rest from the abuse on your clit before he starts resuming his movements, making you thrash but it's no use as he wraps his hand in your hair as he lifts you so you're now positioned back to chest as his thick, muscly arm wraps around your waist & stomach as he continues pounding your now red & swollen cunt.

His hips start to stutter & you know he's close but you're in too much of your own world to propely mention it. "Bin' s-so f-ffull.. fuck" you say but comes out as a raspy whisper at this point due to the amount of moaning you've been letting through your lips, your voice is now starting to leave. "awk yeah? so full in you hm? why not you have a better feel?" he asks as he grabs you hand & presses it into your own lower tummy & you let out an even bigger groan at feeling his dick quite literally fucking into you.

You throw your head back into his shoulder as you feel it, moving the angle of your head just enough so you can reach changbins lips & you kiss him full of tongue as you feel his hot release painting your walls as his hips stutter. His eyebrows furrow as he lets out a high pitched groan into your lips, hair stuck to his face.

You break the kiss to let you both catch your breath back. " that's definitely in one of the top 3 best quickies we've ever had & definitely the hotttest, i love you pretty pretty." he says to you in deep breaths, smiling at you as you lean your arms against the wall again. You go to reply when someone knocks on the changing room door... it is an employee. You both shoot a glance at eachother with wide eyes, trying not to laugh, You mouth the words 'I love you too & i agree' & you go to hide in one of the cubicles as changbin quickly pulls his sweatpants back up before unlocking the changing room door. "uh yeah? anything wrong?" he asks through the door, voice tinged with embarrassment.

#changbin #changbin x reader #changbin smut #changbin stray kids #binnie #stray kids #skz smut #skz asks #anon ask #request #bang chan #han jisung #hyunjin #jeongin #lee know #seungmin #felix #skz scenarios #skz x reader

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kitmon · 11 months

Text

Oh Yeah, That's Right | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Newly graduated, you and Eddie take a trip to Lover's Lake to celebrate.

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things, 2022) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 9.3k

Tags: smut (18+ only), porn with a lot of plot but I promise it's worth it, drug use (weed), skinny dipping, swimming while intoxicated (don't do this, you will die), sex out in the open, Eddie is kinda a perv but that's just his way of flirting with reader, unprotected sex, Eddie refers to reader as "Pigeon" or "Pidge," it's just a nickname

Author’s Note: I've had this fic in mind since last June and omg I'm so excited to share this! It definitely is a labor of love and something that I wanted to be really good, especially since it is my first smut piece for Eddie (which is wild considering I've loved him for an entire year already) but I am very very proud and I hope that you enjoy it just as much as I do. Also, a big thanks to my bestie @queenimmadolla for beta reading and leaving me the most hilarious notes ever, I love you! And with all that said, enjoy!

The crunch of gravel under your boots is ambient bliss to your ears. Accompanied by the soft ebb and flow of the lake’s tide, the sound of untouched nature; the crickets and the cicadas, the skittering of small paws and the flustered flutter of birds and nocturnal creatures of the night frightened by the stuttering of your breath, taken by the glittering sight of Lover’s Lake at twilight, all glowing with the beams of the moon. Water striders glide across the liquid black mirror, the ripples in the water look like they carry diamonds on the crests of their waves before simmering into smaller crystals that turn fluid and slip between the gaps in the pebbles to return to their home.

Eddie cuts through the silence of your appreciation with the harsh slam of his door, causing your shoulders to tense and your head to turn to look over the hood at him, his lithe frame strutting towards you as the corner of his lips reach for the dips in his cheeks.

His voice is deep and lilting as he speaks to you, “Told you I knew a spot.”

“Lover’s Lake isn’t a ‘spot,’ anyone over 16 and horny knows about Lover’s Lake,” you retort, eyes remaining unimpressed as he sidles up beside you.

“Well, would you look at that?” He teases as he spreads his arms out and studies himself in front of you.

You giggle, pushing your fingers into his chest and sending him back a step as you ignore him, walking towards the edge of the water. Your boots give way under the clacking stones before you shift your weight, crouching down with your arm around your knees as you pick at what the tide brings in; the forgotten shell homes of gastropods, the algae that grounds itself to the heaviest rocks and sways with the movement of the water like blades of grass in the gusts of April. You submerge your hand into the water and wrap your fingers around the flattest stone you can find, the water teasing the hem of your sweater.

As Eddie’s heavy, less than subtle steps approach you from behind, you stand with a bit of effort as your unpracticed joints groan, examining the grey, marbled layers of the rock before leaning back and launching it over the water before it plops once, twice, three times before sinking on its fourth splash. Eddie whistles low and your head turns to watch him, all haughty hip-jut and sass-laced hands over sides.

“Not bad, Pidge.” He leans down and doesn’t even study hard before snatching a rock. “Not bad at all,” he mumbles before tossing it with an imperceptible flick of his wrist. The soft-edged stone sails over the water, jumping in six skips, effortlessly beating out your measly three.

“Show off,” you chastise with an unbothered smile as you stock off to where the grit of the shore is lessened by the flatness of the rocks, sitting gracefully before falling to your back to watch the unperturbed night sky glisten with smatterings of light that twinkle and wink down at you. Eddie falls beside you, grunting as he attempts to make himself comfortable over the uneven terrain. You sigh through your nose and turn to look at him.

“Now what?” You question.

He looks down the length of himself, pursing his lips as he takes a minute to inspect the journey from his chest down to his crotch, before turning to meet your eyes, a playful glint in the dark abyss of his own, “Wasn’t kidding when I said I was horny.”

“Not gonna happen,” you smile, matching his mischief as you place your arms behind your head.

He pouts in faux disappointment before brightening again, “Well, darn, then it’s a good thing I brought this to pass the time.”

He reaches his hand into the denim of his pocket, struggling against the tight fit before brandishing a crumpled joint that had been stuffed away inside. You sit up with him and laugh in your throat as you watch him clumsily try to straighten it back out. The pink muscle of his tongue peeks out past the seam of his lips as he rolls the joint over the meat of his thigh like he’s thinning out pasta. Once it’s decent enough to smoke he brings it to his lips and mumbles out around it, “Would you do me the honor?”

“Why, of course I could, Sir Dumbass-ington,” you tease with a jaunty shake of your head before reaching into your pocket, digging through your miscellaneous trinkets of gum wrappers, a pocket knife, and chapstick, silver flashing with the white light of the moon once you procure the boxy Zippo. There are vulgar engravings along the side, a relic of your father’s time in Vietnam now used to light Edward’s crinkly joint. You flip open the lighter with a satisfying clink, your faces suddenly shrouded in yellow, carving out the hollows and defining the angles of your faces as you lean it towards him. He dips the end of it into the flame, tutting at it while the stark light draws your attention to the soft slant of his nose, the whetted cut of his cheekbones, the hollow of his cupid's bow all puckered out as he sucks at the cigarette. He huffs in a good breath and, with voice strained, he declares, “Fuck, that’s some good shit,” coughing at the end of it as he hits at his chest.

“Well, don’t go hogging it all,” you laugh, reaching for the jay which he passes to you without complaint. Pinched between soft-tipped fingers, eyes closed, you sip at it and let the warmth of oncoming inebriation roam without restraint, the smooth burn of your throat oddly soothing and a relaxant that tames the tense energy within your muscles. You release it, hiccuping a puff of smoke before pushing it out past your lips where it floats up in waves of nihonga-like wisps, curling and uncurling before being swept up by the breeze where it sprints through the needles of pine trees and over the unbothered surface of the lake.

He watches the way the tendrils float past your puckered lips, puffed out in a sensual ‘o’ before they’re consumed by a stupid grin that pushes against the fat of your cheeks and causes your eyes to squint, all too endearing as the last dregs of smoke seep from where they can through the gaps of your teeth. You giggle as you pass it back to him, trying but uncaring of your failure to hide it behind grunts of fake throat clearing. He smiles at you, your incompetent subtlety comical, childish amusement infectious.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, eyeing the joint for a moment before bringing it to his lips for another deep hit.

“It’s just,” you cut yourself off with another stunted giggle, “I could be eating mushroom risotto in a clean, crimson booth, sipping on champagne while my good ol’ Papa raises his glass and nods his head at me and says,” you deepen your voice and make your features stony, squaring your shoulders and puffing your chest, “‘we’re so proud of you, sweetie’ before tipping his glass back to three ‘hip, hip, hoo-rah’s.”

As you finish, you gently take the joint from him, savoring the image of the thick appendages cradling it between deft fingers as you bring it to your mouth and inhale, your shoulders rising with the movement, gathering like a frozen rubber band before slackening as the hashish thaws you free. You simper on the exhale, jolting with a few coughs through your nose as you try to cover your smile with your hand, the other examining the unironed creases in the rolling paper, “Instead, I’m smoking a squished joint in the dark, sitting on warm-ish gravel, with you.”

You bring your legs into you, tying your ankles together with the weight of your palm in your criss-crossed position as he settles the heels of his hands back into the rocks to prop himself up. You move into his space, leaning over him as you tilt your head to reach his level and emphasize your question, “Why is that?”

His lips are barely curled in a tempered smile as he takes his turn with the doobie, rolling his lips in to lick at them before clarifying for you, “‘Cause you love me,” a breath of hemp-tainted air, “duh.”

It’s laced with boyish charm, a sort of supercilious confidence that floats along the shreds of his exhaled fumes, the jab washing over him like dribbles of water gliding down the waxy feathers of a duck’s back, flicking his head and sending the droplets flying like diving hawks back into the water. It’s the kind of breezy personality that only draws you closer, impressed by his ability to pick up on the minute insinuations between each line of dialogue, enough to know that all you could ever want is to be near him.

“Oh yeah.” It's spoken as if you really did need the reminder as you smile that dopey smile, the fuzzy, assuaged feeling of the drug settling into that saturated calm in your chest as you finish with grin-impaired words, “that’s right.”

The roach is all but a barely-there nub anymore, leached at until the brown-grey paper and bud are dispersed in speckles of crumbly ash across the lake-beach. Your muddled mind, though preoccupied with your earlier thought of Eddie’s ringed fingers, registers the minimal amount left and compels you to pick it up between index and thumb. Eddie, just as stoned as you, gives easily, the joint falling into your dainty fingers just the same as you mumble, decisively, “I get the last hit.”

Despite having the joint in your hand, you move forward, one hand bracing you as you lean over his torso. His fingers hover around yours, not protective but seemingly as a product of his dazedness. He watches you, taking in the way your lashes brush the hill of your cheek as you close them, the slow-motion way your plush lips wrap around the paper, your cheeks hollowing as you suck. The embers at the end glow a violent crimson before crumbling to the rocks where they burn out into white ash. You hold the smoke in your mouth, your throat burning with the prolonged presence of the joint’s exhaust as you turn to face Eddie, eyes half lidded and mind running on autopilot. You don’t need to ask, he already understands, parting his lips for you as you close in, tilting your head before releasing the smoke into his mouth. You can feel the heat of his face radiating against your cheeks and lips, the tip of your nose brushing along the side of his own. Your lips are less than a centimeter apart, a hair’s width away from brushing as the smoke curls through the space left between you, catching in Eddie’s mouth.

Once it all leaves you in a hot exhale, you flick the charred butt into the rocks and turn to flop onto your back, the rubble, though dense, cushions you with rounded edges and eroded stone faces, soft to the touch. You relax beside Eddie who does the same, laying back with his arms cushioning his head, having closed his mouth, exhaling the smoke through his nose like Smaug perched above his mountain of treasures.

He hums, satisfied and made to feel all warm inside, the gentle sound of your exhale accompanying him before he asks, “Wanna play a game?”

That makes you smile; he couldn’t just enjoy the silence, it had to be filled with banter or grandiose speeches or ‘games’ but you decide to bite, amused by him always.

“Depends,” you sigh, “what game?”

There’s an impish pause where, through the lapse in conversation, you can hear the smirk playing on his lips.

“Truth or strip?” He turns his head towards you, and you follow, admiring the way his smile seems so uninhibited, roguish with his insinuation. You know it’s in poor taste to tease but you go on anyway.

“Mm,” you pretend to deliberate, pursing your lips from side to side, before giving in. “Okay.”

His eyes light up with perverted hope, or more so astonishment at your agreement, mouth morphing from an awed slacken jaw to a lopsided grin. He moves to speak but you’re quick in intercepting him, “What do I get when I win?”

It’s back to astonishment, turning to lean on his forearm and gaze down at you, his eyebrows shooting up as he releases a disbelieving chuckle, “When you win?”

“Mm-hmm.” Undeterred, you go on, trying on his haughty nature for a change, “What do I get?”

“Well, in the incredibly unlikely occurrence that you do win, I’ll…”

He trails off, huffing a breath up that rouses his bangs, looking towards the sky for an answer strung somewhere in midnight thread, spelling it out for him behind the stars. He must find one there as he turns, benign grin aimed down at you that scrambles your chest with tender feelings that you force yourself to swallow down with a subtle bob of your throat and the added issue of a suddenly dry mouth.

“I’ll buy you that Cure album you’ve been wanting since August, even though the lead singer is a whiny little—”

You press your thumb over his lips, preventing him from finishing.

“I refuse to allow anymore of this Robert Smith slander,” you protest, removing your hand to tuck it back under your head. “You’re just jealous that he’s so attractive without even having to try,” you swoon.

“Careful,” he rolls his eyes at you, teasing, “don’t want any of that lipstick to ruin that pretty face of makeup you’ve got on.” He says this while trailing his index finger over the contour of your jaw, tickling your skin before you squinch up your face and rub your cheek to your shoulder to shoo him away.

“Ya know,” you roll over with a grunt to prop your head up on your hand while you lie on your side, “there’s something sexy about a man confident enough in his masculinity to wear lipstick.”

“Got any on you right now?” He asks, leaning closer, “Wanna test that theory?” He puckers his lips up and makes towards you. You waste no time in intercepting his tirade with your palm, lips connecting with gravel-roughened skin before you push his face away.

Dismissing the way he falls back to the ground dramatically, arms spread, and tongue lolled out as if your push was enough to seriously injure him, you redirect the conversation back to the initial topic.

“Okay, truth or strip,” you remind, mostly speaking to yourself and ruminating on the raunchiness of the idea, puffing a laugh out your nose as you wonder just what may have influenced it. “Seems like someone’s been taking a few too many trips behind the velvet curtain at Family Video but I’ll humor this,” you point a finger at him, raising your brows and lowering your chin as you eye him, “you’re lucky I’m stoned enough to play along.”

You start to hum out your first question before Eddie halts you, “Woah, woah, woah! We didn’t discuss what I’d be getting if I won.”

“Well, the reason we didn’t bring it up is because that’ll never happen,” you say, cheeky grin pushing against your cheeks as you press your finger to his chest where he glances down only to be met with your pointer finger flicking up against his nose.

He wrinkles his nose before bringing his hand up to rub at it, sniffing when his thumb swipes at it, going on to insist with a nasally filter.

“Well, since you’re in a pandering mood, indulge me.”

“Okay, fine, I guess we can play pretend for a second,” you say with a minx-ish smile before flopping on your back again with an ‘oomph’ rattling up from your throat, dissolving into a hum as you play with your lips. You pull the puffy bottom one down with the tip of your finger before releasing it, the fat bouncing back into place before you speak.

“If you win, I’ll buy you a new pair of Reeboks.”

“What’s wrong with my Reeboks?” He asks incredulously, looking down the length of his body towards his scuffed, dirt-stained sneakers, the stitching all but frayed and loose, the soles uneven with wear.

“You’ve needed new shoes since March, God knows what you got up to during spring break that you fucked ‘em up so bad.”

He ignores your suggestion and offers up his own, “That just won’t do, how about, instead...”

He’s tilting his head to look down the length of your body, not lecherously though that wouldn’t be out of the question for Eddie, but almost as an excuse to hide the bashful tinge in his features.

“You let me take you out on a date? A real date. Not movie night but, like, dinner in that crimson booth you wanted with that fucking mushroom rice or whatever.”

“Risotto,” you correct him with an endeared smile.

“Risotto,” he nods.

The words don’t read as pushy, never pushy. Never entitled or expectant, just gleaming with that curious lift in the eyebrows and a hopeful shimmer in his smile. You mirror a similar girlish crinkle in the corner of your eyes, lips pulled at the edges as you speak, kind and gilded with the softest tone.

“Okay.” It’s so merciful that the vowels get swallowed by the click of the consonants.

Coming to an agreement, you sit up, shuffling a bit to sit with your knees brought up and secured with the linking of your hand over your wrist, Eddie following in the silent shift of bodies rattling grey and brown stones.

You sigh a breath through your nose that untenses your shoulders and relieves the pressure in your head a bit, bringing a lazy twitch of your lips as you ask, “Alright, who goes first?”

He flicks at a pebble on the ground, pouting out his bottom lip in thought as it skips in ‘tick, tick, ticks.’

“Rock, paper, scissors?” You nod and offer your fist, settled over the platter of your palm, Eddie doing the same before the barely audible pat of your hand against the other indicates a ‘one, two, three, shoot.’ He settles on rock, your gentle palm hovering in paper. You smile and gently drape it over his curled hand before he says, “Alright, fair and square, go ahead.”

You remove your hand as you tuck both under your bum before continuing in an unsure buzz, “Hmm, okay, the grossest place you’ve ever hooked up.”

He blows out a raspberry that trills his lips. “Easy! the men’s bathroom at The Hideout, second to last stall,” he gives easily, no hesitance, “Gotta try harder than that to win.”

It’s his turn and he squints down at the ground as he thinks before shooting his question, “Alright, most recent porn rental.”

You worry your lip, chewing at the corners and tearing at the chapped skin there. It feels too early to cave and for such an inconsequential question no less, but you know that if Eddie found out about the George Michael lookalike tape hidden between your box spring and your mattress right now, he would never, in a million years, ever let it go, so you figure you can spare a layer in favor of the never-ending humiliation you’d suffer.

You huff as you lean down to begin tugging at the laces of your boots but he tuts, “Shoes don’t count.”

You scoff, “Since when?”

“We’ll be here forever if every unimportant article of clothing counts!” He explains with his arms spread at his side, dramatics on full display.

“You got a hot date sometime soon?” You counter with a lifted brow.

“Look, I’ll take mine off too so it’s fair,” he concedes, pulling at the laces of his ruined shoes. You sigh before continuing to pull your boots off, tossing them aside. You roll your socks off as well, tucking them inside your shoes so they don’t get lost in the dark.

Your toes flex, curling and extending without being encumbered, taking a moment to embrace the feeling under the pads of your feet, savoring the warmth that emanates from the erosion-softened stones. The rocks have been baked by the rays of the midday sun, cooling now that she’s hidden behind the jagged horizon of pine trees. Your fingers tease the hem of your sweater, ticking over the threads before you grip it and pull it over your head. Your modesty remains intact, though, by the white underlayer you wear. You spit your next question out with hardly any hesitation, “Last thing you masturbated to.”

He blanches under the white light of the moon, lips splitting apart. The momentary surprise on his face is colored by the flushing of his features and the attempted diversion of his throat clearing where he points his finger and eyes you with a look that reads ‘well, just you listen here…’ before it fizzles out as he decides against it. He compresses his lips, shaking his head and sighing as he starts to shrug both his vest and his leather jacket off, laying them over the rocks, the water creeping close to one of the splayed sleeves, teasing the faded and worn-out leather. Your lips curl, impressed for having got to him.

It goes on like this for 20 minutes, invasive question after invasive question while garments continue to be strewn across the lakeside— belts undone with clinking clasps, buttons popped, shirts tossed to the side— until you’re both dressed only in your underwear. You’d think you’d both have the idea to be embarrassed being so exposed to the other but the both of you find it no different than when you go to the public pool dressed in bikini and swim shorts, though, to be fair, the fabric is much thinner than the nylon of your stringy swimwear and the way his milky skin glows under the celestial curtain of May is much different than when it burns in June.

It’s Eddie’s turn as soon as he shucks off his black jeans, pale white chest and slender legs displayed with each clumsy wiggle of his feet. After nearly tripping twice over the denim, he grabs the garment and yanks them off from where they’re tangled with his toes, aggressively attempting to chuck them away but, with all his exertion, they flop to the floor with a pitiful ‘plop.’ You snort at his exaggerated display, laughing as he sits back down, leaning over on his elbow like a French muse lazed out on a chaise sofa; sultry, alluring, calling out like a siren with the way he exhibits the entire length of his body unabashedly. His breaths are heavy— that’s what draws your attention back to the present— mixed with his shared laughter as he trains his challenging gaze on you, all suppressed titterings hidden behind loose lips, aiming to get you on the same level as him; one item left.

“Thought you were clever with that last one, hmm? Alright, what sounds do you make when you’re doing it?”

You laugh a choked, disbelieving noise at the audacity of the question, “You think you’re gonna pull a fast one on me, you perv?”

“Answer the question, why don’t you,” he implores, voice unconcerned with your accusation, that obnoxiously cocksure grin backing you into a corner.

You narrow your eyes at him, scrunching your nose in petulant defiance before you falter in a histrionic groan of peevishness, rocking back while your legs are crisscross before leaning back forward to tell him, “I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction.”

What’s supposed to be stern becomes watered down with the way a smile is twisting your attempted snarl and Eddie remains just as calm as before, eyes becoming thin with the joy he gets from seeing you like this, all frisky and playfully mad at him. Oh, and half-naked, that makes him very happy.

You sigh, giving in to his hair-brained ploy as you reach back to undo the hook of your bra, fingers gliding over scratchy lace trimming and the creamy texture of the satin as you release the bond. The underwear falls limp over your chest, no longer supported and, as Eddie watches on, eyes vacantly focusing on the expanse of silken flesh beneath your collarbones as his tongue tempts the chapped skin of his lips, you stop yourself from sliding it the rest of the way over your arms.

“Turn around,” you order, eyes stern.

“What?” He exclaims like someone has just committed a heinous wrong against him. “Come on! It’s just getting good.

“We never said anything about exposing ourselves,” you defend, maintaining your resolve. “Now turn around!” He grumbles but complies, scooting over the gravel until his back is to you and his hands are covering his eyes for good measure. He can hear the way the article flops to the floor as you toss it away, the atmospheric noise of your fidgeting and shifting is euphoric white sound to his ears as he imagines the way your ungainly arms and legs move with your undress. It’s a few more moments of shuffling before silence is restored.

“Okay,” it’s spoken with an underlying quiver, “You can look.”

He turns back to you with some awkward swiveling and finds you with your arms crossed over your chest, your knees brought up for extra coverage as your ankles cross over each other to protect his eyes from your area below. Your face is sheepish, lips twitching in anxious occupation as your eyes focus on your lacquered toenails to keep from finding his own stare.

His face morphs into, what was originally a giddied smile into a sympathetic gaze, features concerned with your sudden timidity. “We don’t have to keep playing, you know?” He tells you, more occupied with your comfort than any boyish fantasy.

“No, no, I’m okay, I swear.” You look up at him wide eyed before shaking your head to convey your fortitude. You straighten your back and take a breath to steady yourself, your once skittish expression softening as you lean closer to him and confide, “I trust you, Eddie.”

He beams at you, touched by your credence in him. “Not to mention, I totally need to smoke you in this game and crush that ego of yours.”

That amorous radiance at the center of his chest is smothered by your taunt and he rolls his eyes as he urges you to continue, “Yeah, yeah, now are you going to ask me a question or are you going to keep being a big sap?”

You giggle with your next query, “Okay, how big are you? Down there?”

He grins at the question and raises his brows, “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that curiosity killed the cat?”

You match his overdone eye roll before pressing him, “Just answer the question.”

He maintains his Cheshire-ish impression as he thinks on it before admitting, “A bit over six inches. Something like that.”

“Mmm,” you hum, a moderate expression relaxing over your features as you shoot him a level headed grin, “‘something like that?’”

“Don’t believe me?” He challenges, eyebrows shooting up in his bluff.

“Oh, I believe you,” you giggle at the tail end of your words before caving to your levity, laughing through your punchline, “believe that you’re full of shit!”

He acts mock-offended, choking on his words as he scoffs and sputters, placing a hand over his bare chest, “I have just about the right mind to lose on purpose and wipe that so-sure smile off your face.”

“Please do, that record will look absolutely lovely with the rest of my collection.”

“Hmm,” he twists his lips as he eyes you with a squinted stare, “unluckily for you, I’m of the least sound mind right now so the game’s still on, sweetheart.” It’s a dare spoken as he invades your space, so close that you can feel the heat of his words over your cheeks, his eyes darting to your lips with the endearment. Your smug exterior hardly falters as you counter, “And I still plan on winning.”

He leans back, licking the enamel of his canine as he lets his eyes rove over your nearly exposed figure before asking, “Your biggest insecurity.”

Your pleased act falls away at the question as you roll your lips in, scrunching up the side of your face in displeasure before you figure that the vulnerability of the answer is less of an expense than being fully exposed in the dead of night with your best friend.

“Maybe how much I need the attention and validation of others.” It looks like admitting that causes you physical pain as your face is contorted into all sorts of wincing motifs.

“It’s embarrassing to have to say that out loud,” you whisper into your knees as you lean forward into them, the joints obstructing your lips as you go on. “Especially to you, ‘cause, like, nothing gets to you.”

“Hey, woah,” he stops you in your tracks at the inaccurate perception of him, “Who said nothing ever gets to me?”

You cock your head at him as you send him a look that asks ‘really?’

“C’mon, Pigeon, you know me better than that,” he encourages as he gently knocks your leg with his fist, rocking you with the impact. “That whole standing on tables and dungeon master shit, it’s just a front.”

You bite your lip at the admission, suddenly feeling inadequate with your assumption.

“I mean, yeah, most of it’s like one ear out the other but when it’s something real, that’s the kinda shit that hits deep.”

“You just seem so,” you struggle for the words, twisting your hands about before you find it, “Unbothered.”

“Yeah, well, I just do that to impress you,” he laughs at the ground, watching as his pointer finger twiddles with one of his discarded rings over the lining of his jacket.

You smile at his sudden demureness, leaning forward as best as you can with your legs folded up against you to capture his cheek in your hand and lift his gaze to you. He’s got that sudden starstruck look in his eyes, where they go all big and glassy and his beautifully full lips part as he stares up at you like you’ve emerged from the sky, twinkling in moondust and star particles.

“If you shed a tear once and a while when around me, I’d be even more impressed.” You rub your thumb over the thin, discolored skin under his eye, purple and green from lack of rest. The corner of his mouth ticks up as he moves to look down again at his set of jewelry, lengthy lashes kissing the very tops of his cheeks as a warm hue spottily decorates his skin. The movement displaces your hand before you bring it back around your legs, happy with your effect on him; capable of shutting up the biggest attention whore this side of the Mississippi.

You disrupt the silence with your next question, “If you knew you were to go to sleep tonight and not wake up in the morning, what’s one thing you’d regret not saying?”

His eyes glow as they flit up to you, taking away from his fiddling before that same reticent smile takes over and you’ve stupefied him once more. He laughs a breathy sound, a bit embarrassed, before he stands up and clears his throat.

“Alright, you know the deal,” his hands are on his hips, still maintaining that underlying sass, “turn around.”

A giant grin overhauls your features, “I won?”

“Yeah, you won.” His stare is soft and enamored as he gazes down at you, looking almost delighted to have lost if it meant he was able to see that precious stretch of your lips over your teeth and the choice twinkle in your eyes. “Now turn around.”

You giggle as you tuck your head into your knees, the sound carrying, though muffled, from where you’re burrowed. You can hear the way he balances from one foot to the other while he extricates himself from his final article of clothing, the rocks under his feet clicking with his distributed weight. You shriek as you feel him shoot his boxers at you, scrambling to toss them off of you while he tells you, “Open your eyes, butthead.”

Your tee-heeing filters off into throaty huffs once you’ve gotten the offending item off before looking back at him and falling into a fit all over again. You roll onto your back once you’ve seen him: both hands cupped over his groin to shield your eyes while he fosters a sheepish look over his face, lips curled in.

You straighten, eyes squinted and smile beaming as you ask him through a mirth-induced rasp, “Can we get a little spin?” You twirl your finger with your request, leaning back on one arm while the other stays wrapped around your chest. He kisses his teeth, huffing through his nose before obliging you, shuffling on his feet to do a full round. That only serves in starting you up again, the sight of his protectively clenched ass sending you into another frenzy of uncontrolled witch-like cackles.

“Oh, this is rich,” you sigh, wiping an imaginary tear of gaiety away before you settle back into relative calmness. “Well, now that you’ve been thoroughly humiliated, what now? I’ve still got a buzz going.”

His dismayed pout is replaced by a mischievous grin as he looks out to the dock, not all that far from where you’ve planted yourselves, looking back to you with an expression that nearly worries you with how wickedly no-good it is. Before you can even make out the first syllable of your interrogation, he’s booking it, sprinting along the shoreline, twisting his ankles with the way he slides over the insecure beach front. He’s whooping and hollering, screaming ‘aye, aye, aye, aye’ as his feet clomp over the landing before he jumps off the dock in a gangly flurry of limbs, hitting the surface in a crashing splash that manipulates the water that reaches out for your form, so near the waterside.

You gasp in your throat, hurrying to your feet and chasing after him, tripping once or twice over the rocks before you’re planting yourself at the edge of the dock. Leaning over on your hands and knees, you call for him in a voice that tries to maintain still, “Eddie?”

You give him a moment to reappear, eyes flicking over the water to catch sign of him. He doesn’t respond and an unrelenting tension tightens within your stomach as you grow worried, continuing to scan the water in attempts of deciphering his figure through the murky darkness of the lake.

“Eddie!”

The water opens in front of you with his reappearance, but you barely have any time to feel relief as he leaps up, the feeling taken over by a looming dread as he grabs you by your biceps and pulls you over the edge. You squeal as you tumble to the water before the sound is swallowed whole once you’ve collided with the surface. It’s dark and near unnavigable and the only way you find the bottom is by flailing your legs, shooting yourself up once your feet are able to catch a boulder. You scramble to the surface, sputtering a choked breath between a brief coughing fit. Through the waterlogged fuzziness of your hearing, you can make out Eddie’s booming laugh. You push your sopping hair out of your eyes to regain your sight, though it’s also distorted by water droplets that cling to your lashes, and lunge at him with angry fists and a peeved growl. He’s too swift for you, though, as he snatches your wrists before they can make impact, but what you can’t do with your body you’ll do with your words.

“You ass! I thought you’d gotten hurt and– and you– urgh!” He’s still snickering at the way your cheeks puff out with your labored breathing and how your dampened hair has turned you into what resembles an unhappily drenched cat, but he tries to damper them at the sight of your flaming temper.

“I’m sorry,” he attempts to apologize through the laughter, but you have none of it as you try to pull yourself from his hold, grunting as you yank your arms away from him, but he just ensnares you as he wraps his arms around your waist to keep you nearby. He tries to reason with you, his voice falling into a softer, more understanding tone once he acknowledges your distress, “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

He’s still smiling, looking down at your tetchy expression while a hand emerges from the water to brush your hair away from your face, petting you before coming back to hold your cheek in his massive hand. You ease with his touch and quit your huffing, though your eyes are still shadowed by the knitting of your brows, darting all across his face, so near and framed by brown, matted strands, made ebony by the lack of light, that stick in tangled swirls across the planes of his face. His bangs drip, disturbing his eyes as he blinks to keep the water out, the droplets landing over his nose and lips.

It’s then that you register the warmth of his hand between your shoulder blades, the heat of his sturdy chest against the plushness of your breasts, nipples pert and skin pebbled from the chill that ran through you from being dunked under. Even further, below that, where you’re still covered by now sopping cotton, you can feel the thick prod of something neat the junction where your vulva meets your thigh and your heart stutters, breath hitching and, suddenly, all you can do is look at Eddie with the same desperate expression he's giving you. His lips are parted, eyes clouded with lust as you take in the clumped length of his eyelashes that flutter with troubling water, the darkness of his brown irises, consumed by want and arousal, the beautiful slope of his nose as it catches the light of the moon, and the glossy plump pink of his lips that draws you closer. It’s all you can do to lean in at the same time he does and press your lips against his and, fuck, if this isn’t what they talk about in John Hughes movies then you don’t know what is.

It just feels… right. Like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into place or the final cassette needed to complete your favorite artist’s discography sliding against all the others on the shelf, leaving no gaps, slotting so perfectly together. You hum into his mouth, dragging your hands up to wrap around his neck, pulling away, not to exchange any words but to tilt your heads to the other side, deepening the smush of your lips. He can hardly contain his yearning as he does his best to bring himself as close to you as possible, nose digging into the softness of your cheek, teeth clipping the gummy flesh of your lips. His tongue begs your approval as it glides against the seam of your lips and you waste no time in allowing him entry, your muscles meeting in the middle, sliding against each other as you taste the herbal tang of weed on him though you’re unsure if there's any delineation between your taste and his as you suck at his bottom lip.

Eddie detaches from the mess of your kiss, saliva stringing between the two of you before it breaks, falling into the mix of water. He connects to the height of your cheek, placing a romantic kiss there that lasts what feels like forever as you sigh, closing your eyes as you take the wrist of the hand that he uses to hold you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever been lucky enough to touch. He starts trailing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw and neck, nipping at the delicate skin occasionally between his love-pecks, laving his tongue over them when you shiver against him.

“Eddie,” you keen in a needy cry, the syllables soft and aching as he holds you to him tight, never letting you dip below the surface as his fingers dimple your skin with his relentless grip as he grows excited. He separates from where he was lavishing your skin in kisses and soothing licks to mutter, “Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long.” It sounds lost, like he’s not speaking entirely to you, almost talking to himself, like he can hardly believe he’s got you, right here, wanting him back.

“Eddie.” You draw his attention as you thread your fingers into his dripping head of hair, begging, “I need you, Eddie.”

“Fuck, I got you, Pidge,” he pacifies, connecting your lips again, murmuring into your mouth, “‘M always gonna take care of you.”

You cry against him as his hands drift lower to your thighs where he urges you up, hiking your body higher and dragging you against his chest as he carries you, beginning to find purchase on the algae-slick rocks to bring the two of you to shore. He lays you down over his jacket and vest, supporting your head as he rests you there, protecting your back from the gravel, unconcerned with the safety of the treated hide as your more than damp skin connects with the lining and soaks it through.

He’s clumsy, all adolescent vigor and enthusiasm, swallowing every sound you give him, complimenting every curve of your body with the hollow of his palm, tracing the contours of your figure with the calloused pads of his fingers. You’re no better, dragging him closer by the roots of his mane, scratching along the muscle and bone of his back, breathing wanton noises and arching into the divots of his form. When he leaves your mouth, you breathily whimper, feeling his amused chuckle rumble against the tender skin of your neck as he pays the planes of your body all the attention they could ever hope for.

He licks the protrusion of your clavicle, kisses the notch between the bones before lifting himself with his arms and takes in the luscious sight of you; skin dewy, gathered droplets glowing pearly like the diamond stars above, lips swollen and spit-shined thanks to him, breasts heaving with the exertion of your lungs. His hand lifts to bring it over your stomach, dragging his thumb from your navel up between the line made by your ribs before he takes your breast into his palm and massages it. His eyes are foggy, unable to focus on anything other than the way the fat and tissue bulge through the gaps in his fingers. He’s brought back by the touch of your fingers ghosting over his cheek and brushing back a clump of hair, tucking it behind his ear.

His eyes lift to yours, catching sight of your adoring smile made real by the way he worships you, touching you like you’re art. The corners of his lips lift in a sheepish grin, made embarrassed by the way he's been caught.

“So much for looking away.”

That has you throwing your head back, releasing such a sweet peel of laughter that forces Eddie to lay a kiss between the valley of your breasts, chuckling along with you, before taking you by surprise when he latches his mouth to your nipple. It makes your laughter blend with an approving gasp and a resulting groan, your fingers encouraging him with scratches to his scalp, the sensation making him moan over the skin, providing delicious vibrations that have you releasing gorgeous sounds, encouraging you to roll your still-clothed hips against his thick, hot, hard-on. You’re glad he bestows you with enough mercy as to not have you eat your words because he definitely is something like that.

With a particular flick of your pelvis, the cushy head of his cock catches on your folds through the scratchy material of your underwear and he releases you with a pop, head tipping up as his eyes snap shut and he releases a stuttering breath.

You bring his head down for a kiss, soothing the scrunched nature of his expression before he separates with a huff, burying his head into the crook of your neck while he hugs your body close to him, asking, begging, “I need to be inside you.”

The desperation is enough to have you responding, just as wrecked, “Please, Eddie.”

He untangles himself at your go-ahead, leaning back on his haunches as he takes your legs and admires the way the soaked fabric of your underwear clings to your puffy lips, the white of the material leaving nothing to be imagined. He traces over the hem of the leg opening with his thumb, your coarse hair peeking out and tickling the pad of his finger before he brings it to slide through your folds over the cotton. You jolt and whine as he travels from your seeping hole up to your aching clit, rubbing it in caressing circles before he takes your legs and lifts them, closing them together and placing them over his shoulder so he can drag the garment over the length of your legs. He savors the way it guides his eyes over your perfect skin, all that’s been exposed and what hasn’t before he drags them over your feet, where you kick them off. He chuckles at your fervor before taking the item and tossing it away. He kisses the muscle of your calf, eyes still locked on yours before he takes your legs and spreads them once more. At the sight of your exposed cunt, all glittery and soaked, he releases a low groan, leaning down to lay a kiss just above your thatch of hair.

You arch your lower back to present yourself to him and remind him of what you’ve been begging for, mewling in an insistent, pettish way. He straightens a bit, leaning forward on his left arm as he gathers his ruddy and leaking length into his hand and pumps it once and then twice before rubbing the weeping head through your slick.

“Don’t worry, baby, m’gonna treat you so good,” he assures.

With his promise made, the head of his cock presses into you and you squeak. The sound falls into a satisfied groan, melding with the heavy grunt Eddie releases at the breach. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight," he rushes out, "and damn warm, too, holy shit.”

He leans over you again, elbows supporting his weight, and with his shift, his cock buries deeper within you, making you cry out as he nudges against your sensitive velvet walls, the thick veins catching against your nerves and making your body sing.

Given a moment for both of you to catch your breath, Eddie starts to rock into your wet heat, slow gentle thrusts matching the rhythm of the lake as the incoming waves lick at his knees. They’re yawning and slow, pitching both of your bodies with each snap of his hips against yours. Your arousal coats him and leaks out with each retreat of his hips, your creamy release raveling your mess of hair and squelching with each kiss of your pelvic bones.

Your noises mingle together in high pitched keens and deep, gravelly groans and curses. You hug him tight, bodies mashed together as your arms hug him from under, nails fighting to keep him close to you as they scrape along his skin and leave glowing irritated markings where they pass while your legs lock at the ankles over his ass to keep his hips from venturing too far from your own.

His head hangs low above your chest, watching as he exits and enters in and out of you, listening to the wet slap that disappears with the gentle crash and retreat of the waves. His bangs, still clumped with moisture, tease the skin of your breasts, dragging up and down with each of his thrusts, the chill droplets of water that dangle like crystal beads from the ends causing a rash of goosebumps to spread. His breathing is heavy, panting and gulping thick as he moves with you, fucked out on your pussy and the salt of your skin on his tongue when he kisses your chest. You watch as the muscles of his shoulders sway with him, his pale, near translucent skin, speckled with beads of water that you can't help but lean down and lick, kissing, biting every inch of skin you can reach, falling back once he ruts forward and prods at that spot that has your belly tightening and your cunt clamping over him.

“Shit, Eddie,” you gasp, the sound muffled to your own ears, taken over by the chirp of crickets and cooing owls, the croak of sleeping frogs that burrow in muddied soil and fall to rest, their heartbeats slowing with the chill of the earth. The head of his cock keeps tapping against that patch of nerves that has your body shaking and you plead with him, through the way you tighten your legs around his slender hips, to move faster and to hit harder. He understands your subtle request and delivers you firmer, quickened thrusts that have each one of your nerve endings chiming like a silver bell, feeling surrounded by his adoration of you with each kick of his hips that has you ringing in ‘ah, ah, ah’s.

He falls over you, unable to hold himself up anymore while also craving the complete touch of your skin as he winds his arms around your waist and presses his cheek to yours. His hold on you forces you still against him and intensifies the reach of his cock, his dick ramming into you and making your voice jump with each of his pounding thrusts.

The sound of him leaving and then sliding right back home, the clapping of skin on skin is lost to the night while your ramblings of how good he feels and how much you care for him, every word is captured just as every peck against your skin is memorized in a fizzing prickle against your flesh and every sigh and grunt is cataloged in the back of your mind; this is how he sounds, this is the rate of his breathing, this is how he loves.

The thought overwhelms you in a way that excites your senses, suddenly hyper aware of all of the little details: the smell of his cheap cologne invading your nostrils in an intoxicating burn, the feel of his hair, coated in product, made crunchy with hairspray and tickling your cheeks and your lips, the way he fucks into you in the softest, most adoring way. It’s the way he holds you and the way that he protects you, the way that he breaths your name like they’re the most essential set of syllables he’ll ever utter that makes you feel so good that you think you can cry and it’s the prick of your tear ducts and the sniffle caught in your throat that ensures it.

The way he’s moving inside you, you’re tumbling to that glowing end, breathing growing tighter, and Eddie can feel it. He can feel it in the way your skin is hot to the touch despite the late spring temperature and the way your cunt squeezes and chokes his cock every time he drives it back into you.

“I’m so close,” you whisper into his ear, voice trembling, and he growls, the aggressive noise dissolving into a whimper as he lifts his head to look down at you. His eyes are lidded and the weight of his bottom lip hangs as he readies a strained response that gets caught in his throat.

He notices, then, the streaks along your cheeks, illuminated like liquid silver against your skin and his eyebrows grow taut as he reaches to hold your face and wipe at the water there. “You okay, Pidge?”

His thrusts begin to slow, afraid he may have hurt you, but you refuse to allow that, tightening your legs and securing your arms over his shoulders as you call for him to continue.

“No, no, don’t stop, please.” He returns to his set pace, and you moan for him in a blissed-out haze, turning to kiss his palm over every line, pecking the swirled pads of his fingertips and loving the feel of the grooves against your lips.

“I’m okay, swear, Eddie," you gasp, head tilting back as you get lost in the heavenly sensation of his cockhead snatching against your walls. "Just feels so good.” You look up at him with sultry eyes that implore him to keep fucking into you and the sight of you all puppy-eyed has his abdomen clenching and his breath catching.

“Fuck,” he chokes.

You whine at the wrecked crack and desperation that laces his voice, reaching your hand up to pull his head down and kiss him, muffling your cries into his mouth as his groans echo within yours. His thrusts grow erratic and unmeasured, and you thrill at his increased speed, breath hitching with the way his thumb travels down your body to rub speedy circles into your clit, each flick causing fireworks to erupt behind your eyelids.

You flinch as you cum, the warmth in your stomach releasing in a white-hot wave of pleasure that has you shaking with the force of it, crying Eddie’s name as it springs like a bound coil finally allowed to relax. With the spasming of your pussy he has to pry himself away from you and pull out, fisting his cock in hurried tugs until he spills all over your stomach, painting your soft skin in streaks of his release.

You hum at the feeling of his warm cum coating you, finding it comforting as you draw him closer, cooing at him and holding his face in your hands as he finishes in stuttering waves before he falls over you, careful not to crush you under his weight. You find the smear of his finish between you not unpleasant and neither does he it seems as he negates it and releases a contented sigh with his head buried into the furnace of your neck, wrapping his arms under you to hug you tight.

You smile at his affection, nuzzling your nose into the side of his head, sighing with him before he admits, slightly slurred, “Fuck, you’re so fucking good.”

His profession has you cradling his head closer and squishing your nose deeper into his forest of hair, smiling like an idiot as you only chuckle in return.

You smile, kissing his head, before murmuring into his locks, “Not so bad yourself.”

You can feel his smile against your neck before he kisses it, and you giggle at his tranquil display of satisfaction.

“But don’t think I’ve forgotten; you still owe me Head on the Door,” you remind while sniffing up the leftover snot in your nose and wiping at your eyes with the heels of your palms. He extricates his face out of his little hovel and looks down at you with that troublesome glimmer in his eyes.

“I mean, may be a little hard, I’ll have to take down the whole door, but I’ll give it a try.”

“Eddie!” You chastise as he barks a booming laugh that has his stomach rumbling against your own.

“Aw, c’mon, I thought my overpowering sex appeal would wipe that weirdo from your thoughts completely!” He groans in faux disappointment.

You giggle at his theatrics, “Nope, you better count your days because as soon as Robert Smith accepts me as his second wife, your bags are packed.”

He whines as he lays his head beside yours, cheek pressed to the scratchy denim as he moans, “You’re so mean to me.”

You pet his drying hair over his shoulder before pecking a kiss to his mouth, “It’s only ‘cause I love you.”

He hums a brief laugh, “Oh yeah, that’s right.”

839 notes · View notes

eupheme · 2 years

Text

Sweet Summer Lemonade

Jim Hopper x F!Reader

Rated E - 7.8k

Tags: dub-con (because of sex pollen) (but with very mutual attraction), use of alcohol and cigarettes, age gap, mentions of death, fingering, oral sex (f rec.), size kink, PiV, mult. orgasms, grump + sunshine, mutual pining, loose pov

Summary:

“So… you and the chief, huh?”

“Oh!” You clear your throat, fingers covering your mouth, “No, not really. I don’t think he sees me that way.”

“Uh huh.” Murray answers dryly, his legs crossing neatly at the ankles as he leans next to you, “Are you sure about that?”

(Or - when you go to Murray’s for some help, you end up with a little more than you bargained for)

Your nose crinkles as the truck finally slows to a halt on the packed-dirt path, just outside the industrial-sized garage door. Debris lines the concrete building, a busted office chair, turned on its side - mechanical parts cushioned against the tall, barbed-wire fence by overgrown tufts of knee-high grass.

“You sure this is the right place?” Your words are directed slowly at Hopper, throwing your shoulder into the door as you open it - the old hinges creaking with the effort.

He’s already out of the truck, the piece of paper crumpled in his hand, shoving it into the back pocket of his light jeans, “This is it.”

Here goes, you think, making for the door, but a hand is catching your elbow, dragging you back. Glancing back at the frown on Hopper’s face, as he leans down to your level, letting you go so his hands can brace on his thick thighs.

“You stick close to me,” His voice is low and hushed, a rough edge to it, “And don’t touch anything inside unless I say so. Got that?”

Annoyance prickles at you - you were in the tunnels last year, same as the rest, and you had come out just fine. Whoever this man was had to be a cakewalk in comparison. He didn’t need to pull the macho-cop act, you weren’t a teenager like the others.

“Nancy said he was nice.” You counter, lifting your sunglasses, perching them on top of your head as you fix him with a look.

The crease between his forehead deepens, the edges of his lips turning down, “Just do what I tell you, okay?”

Your head tilts, his eyebrow raises in response. And fuck - the way he’s seeming to loom over you, big and broad, prickles at you in a different kind of way.

“Fine.” You blink, averting your eyes.

“Good.” He straightens, giving you one last weary look before heading to the front door.

Secretly, you had been hoping this trip would be a little more... interesting. For weeks now, the two of you have been exchanging lingering looks, finding half-hearted excuses to move just a little bit closer.

And when this short trip had come up, you had jumped at the opportunity. Because of the reason it was being taken, of course - and selfishly, for the chance to spend a little more time with him.

But so far today... nothing.

Unless you count the brush of an elbow against yours as it sat on the armrest. Not exactly the steamy encounter you had daydreamed about.

His fist raps a pattern on the rusted metal door, once - twice. Finally, a face peeking out as it cracks open, the room behind dim, curtains pulled tight.

The man’s face pulling downward when he sees who it is, eyes narrowing behind glasses, mouth twisting, "Oh, not you.”

Hopper's foot quickly jamming in the space, preventing it from shutting all the way, “We need to talk to you. It’s about what happened.”

There’s a long pause before the man nods - Hopper’s foot pulling back so the door can shut, the chain latch undone before it opens again.

You follow behind into the house, the inside not a far cry from the outside. But it’s fascinating in a way, the wall of televisions, the man himself - an old robe worn open like a cardigan over a tight white tank, grey sweats.

“Thank you, Mr. Bauman.” You step around Hopper, your hand extended, “We’re hoping you might be able to help us, please.”

Murray’s eyebrows lift when he sees you, the downturned edge of his lip kicking up, “And who is this?”

His handshake is firm, and you smile as you give your name, explaining, “One of Hopper’s friends.”

“Hm. Didn’t think the old grump had any friends,” He gives Hopper a sidelong look, Hopper’s hands jamming in his pockets as he scowls back.

“Just in case you were wondering, that is how you ask for help,” Murray tells him, amusing himself, before he turns back to you, “What can I do for you, sunshine?”

Throwing a look at Hopper for confirmation, you start, “Well, we wanted to see if you still had the original copy of the tape Nancy and Jonathan brought you.”

“Something is happening again,” Hopper cuts in, easing himself into the circle of conversation, arms crossed over his chest. “Maybe with the gate, maybe with El. We wanted to see exactly what they said.”

Murray shoots both of you a puzzled look, “Why’d you come out this way? Can’t you just ask them?”

You fidget, the same thing already discussed in the car. Hopper handles this one again, ”We don’t want to cause any… unnecessary panic. If we ask either, it’s going to spread. We want to do our own digging first.”

Murray thinks about that, plucking the glasses from his face, polishing them slowly on the edge of his robe.

“Please Mr. Bauman?” You ask, your hands clasped in front of you, the sound of your words drowning out Hopper’s annoyed grunt.

“God, please - Mr. Bauman was my father. It’s just Murray.” He looks back up after a long pause, slowly nodding, “But, fine. I can make you a copy. Have to find it first, but I will.”

Your answering smile is relieved - how long could that possibly take?

———

The three of you have been searching for hours now, sifting through beat-up boxes of hastily-labeled tapes in one of the side rooms, taking turns checking possibilities.

It’s slow going - you were quickly relieved of checking duty after you found a tape that leaned towards the illicit. Gasping as Hopper moved in front of you to shut off the high-pitched, recorded moans as he growled out a “Jesus Christ Bauman, she doesn’t need to hear that.”

“It was research for a story!” Murray had insisted, rolling his eyes, hands spread wide.

Now, you were on sorting duty, making stacks for Hopper to check, sweat beading on your brow as you dug through the piles. Even with the drapes drawn, hiding the summer sun, it was warm in the stuffy house - the nearest fan just out of reach as it rotates slowly.

Finally giving up, your arms stretching over your head as you rise, winding your way over to where Murray was working on his own stack.

“Murray, is it okay if I grab something to drink?” Your palm fans your face, the slight gust of air barely soothing the heat.

“Sure, sunshine. Help yourself,” He wipes his own brow, glancing up from his place on the floor. “I’m almost done. Grab a glass for me, too.”

The single bulb flickers in the kitchen, an ancient fridge tucked between two countertops. You revel in the blast of cool air as you open the door, stooping to peer inside.

It’s relatively clean, the shelves clear on one side, jars and condiments lining the other. There’s some beer cans half-way back and you reach for one, dragging it out. When you go to grab another, your fingers knock against a rounded glass bottle, the label curled and worn.

It wobbles dangerously, the cap loose on the narrow neck. The liquid inside - a thick, viscous pink - sloshes onto your knuckles as you catch it with the back of your hand. Trapping it between another container before you carefully nudge it upright.

Your hand withdraws, setting the second can on the counter before you bring it to your nose. The bright residue smells like summer, fresh fruit. Sticky sweet and cloying.

Without thinking, you taste it, licking up the drop that tracked across your knuckles. It seems to soak into your tongue, the taste almost familiar. Reminding you vaguely of the prickly pear lemonade you had on vacation a couple years ago.

Bright and sweet as bubblegum, the tart bite tickling your throat as you swallowed. No worries back then - just summer and sunshine ahead.

You blink, a funny tingling on your tongue, the rest rinsed off in the sink - dried on the dingy dishtowel.

The crisp crack of the can opening is music to your ears. The beer is cheap but you’re not complaining, it’s cool going down your throat - the can pressed against your forehead after you swallow.

Murray joins you a minute later, and you offer him the second can, but he shakes his head.

“Should have specified,” He tells you, dragging a bottle from the freezer, filling the bottom third of a glass.

Drinking the vodka like it’s water, nose scrunching as he swallows. You side-eye him, as you against the counter, elbows pressing against the stained laminate.

Taking your own sip much more slowly, his head turning to look at you.

“Helps me think.” Murray offers, though you weren’t about to ask. There’s a long pause, before his head tilts, “So… you and the chief, huh?”

You choke on the mouthful, coughing as you swallow. Hopper had warned you that he was blunt - a good guy, but not one to mince words.

But it’s almost refreshing, after the passive aggressive tip-toeing around you so often get at work. Right to the point, nice and neat.

“Oh!” You clear your throat, fingers covering your mouth, “No, not really. I don’t think he sees me that way.”

Facing him, you miss the way Hopper’s head tilts in your direction as he listens to a new tape, eyes dragging slow over the cocked curve of your hips - but Murray does not.

“Uh huh.” He answers dryly, his legs crossing neatly at the ankles as he leans next to you, “Are you sure about that?”

You wonder if he’s teasing you, or if he knows something you don’t.

The prospect makes your heart thud, a wishful anticipation in your chest as you answer, “Well, I don’t really know. Sometimes I think there’s something, and then other times he doesn’t notice me at all.”

Not telling him that a part of you thinks he’s hung up on someone else. And the worst part is you get it, it makes sense - they have all that history. And you’re just tripping after him like a lost little puppy.

“Jim’s a pretty direct guy.” Murray interrupts your thoughts, and your answering nod is slow, a little unsure of his meaning.

A pause - before he pats your shoulder, draining the rest of his glass, “Just something to think about.”

Okay, I guess, you think - finishing the remnants of your own drink, finding what looked like a recycling bin for the empty can. After a moment, taking the extra beer you had grabbed over to Hopper. Offering it to him wordlessly as you lean over the back of the couch, next to his shoulder.

He takes it, a thankful curve to his lips, fingers overlapping yours as his hand wraps around the can. For a second, you almost forget to let go - too focused on the way your skin seems to buzz under the brush of his fingertips.

“Thought you forgot about me.” He nods towards the kitchen, cracking it open with a hiss.

You watch the bob of his throat as he swallows, a curl of heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks. Trying to keep your voice from sounding too much like a sigh when you reply, “Never.”

Clearing your throat, trying to keep on track, “Any luck?”

“Not sure. Think we’re getting close though, these are from the same time.” He sighs, leaning back against the cushion, arm trailing along the back - swapping the tape out for another.

The voice that plays from this one is familiar - the recoding caught mid-sentence.

“-you mean without shutting us up?-”

You’re grabbing at his arm, swinging around the edge of the couch to take the seat next to him. Leaning into him to listen, “Wait, wait, that’s it!”

His eyes flash to yours, the recording playing just long enough to confirm it. A relieved smile flashing across his face, before his arm drops to curl around you - a squeezing half-hug of victory.

The tape is handed off to Murray to make a copy, and you stay selfishly seated on the couch. Nothing to do but wait until the copy is made, the edge of his arm still brushing your shoulders.

But the more you sit - the denser the air feels, humid and sticky hot. Your pulse seems to thud in your ears, a steady, dull pattern.

“Is it warm in here?” You ask idly, fingers plucking at the neck of your sundress, peeling it back to get some air against your skin, “Like, more than before?”

He frowns, his eyes averting when you glance his way, his legs shifting, “It’s warm. But it’s cooler than outside, that’s for sure.”

It doesn’t seem that way to you - you’re not sure how he’s able to wear jeans in this heat, even with the beachy, button-up shirt. The sleeves stretch tight across his biceps as his arms cross, your eyes slow to pull away as he adds, “Maybe you just need some fresh air.”

You nod - that makes sense, and you silently wish for Murray to hurry up, as much as you’re enjoying the current seating arrangements.

Now that the tape has been found, copying it goes quickly, the audio conversation as short as it was. Hopper tucking the tape into his shirt pocket, patting his chest as you push yourself to your feet.

It takes an effort, your limbs feeling not quiet coordinated. Your mind a little fuzzy, skin buzzing and tilting towards oversensitive. Maybe the beer wasn’t as cheap as you thought - maybe it was your empty stomach.

Hopper’s eyes narrow when he notices the slight sway in your posture, as Murray not-so-subtly herds you towards the front door. You still manage a thank you, and even a hug that you’re surprised that he accepts, “Thank you for helping us, it means a lot.”

“You’re both welcome back anytime.” Murray tells you cheerfully, the words almost cut off as the door shuts, the latch chain sliding into place immediately.

Leaving the two of you alone, blinking into the sunlight - the slight breeze welcome on your face. You’re still looking dazedly at the door when Hopper’s hand brushes your back, a gentle nudge towards the truck.

His words slow, eyeing you as you start to move, “Let’s get you in the truck”.

You’re compliant, unprotesting as he opens the door, climbing in. Slumping against the seats rolling the window down as he gets in on the other side.

The truck roars to life, reversing out of the lot, dirt kicking up from the driveway as he pulls back onto the main road.

Time seems to lose its meaning as the miles tick down, you’re not sure if it’s been minutes or an hour - the heat in your face and neck starting to feel like it’s moving downwards.

It should be a moment to remember, just the two of you, a beautiful summers day. A warm breeze on your face as the radio rolls through favorites - Springsteen, Rolling Stones, Tom Petty. Songs you know by heart sounding faded as thoughts you kept buried deep inside push to the surface.

Sideways glances that linger a hair too long, eyes drifting over his light, patterned shirt. The extra couple buttons popped at the neck, the coarse hair beneath.

The thick muscle of his arms, large hands that you think would span the space between your shoulder and jaw. The perfect size to cup your face. Fingers drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel.

You like looking at his hands, thinking about what they could do. How they would feel. On you. Maybe even in you.

The path of your gaze slowly shifts downwards-

You blink - catching yourself, eyes facing forward again. Going rigid as you recognize the curl of arousal in your guts, where the heat has settled. Stronger than you’ve felt before - the aching need for pleasure so sharp it almost hurts.

“You okay, kid?” He breaks the silence, “You’re usually talking my ear off.”

The nickname is unintentional - it’s one he’s picked up from his time looking after El. You know this but it still bristles at you, a dull ache in your stomach causing your words to come out snappish, “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh,” he draws the word out with a scoff, “What, would you prefer ‘sunshine’?”

He’s being petty, defensive - glancing your way with brows pulled low, expression changing when he sees the way you’re sitting, tense and uncomfortable.

You flinch when his hand reaches across, the back of his palm brushing your forehead. Something blooms in your stomach, and you have to fight back a moan at his touch, the feeling between your legs almost like a pulse.

“Jesus, sweetheart.” He’s frowning, eyes darting your way, “You’re burning up. We need to get you home.”

All you can do is nod, your face pressing against the glass again - trying to ignore the instinct to press your thighs together.

———

It’s become almost unbearable by the time you find yourself among familiar roads - the long winding dirt path through the woods to the cabin. Somewhere along the drive, Hopper had offered to take you home, but his was a good 15 minutes closer.

You just needed some water, to sit down for a moment. You were sure it was nothing.

He shifts into park, legs taking him around to your door before you can fumble with the handle. Almost knocking the old wooden door off the hinges as he ushers you inside - the water still lukewarm from the tap as you gulp it down from a glass.

It soothes some of the heat that warms your face, but not the one that roils in your guts. You can’t hold back the groan that wracks your chest, hand splaying across your lower belly.

His hands almost feel cool on your cheeks as he cups them, worry clouding his blue eyes as he angles your face up to look at him.

“How are you feeling? Talk to me, baby.” He coaxes.

“Hurts.” You manage, blinking as you try to concentrate.

“Where?”

Silently, your hand slips lower, until it’s all but cupping your mound. The slightest brush of fingers making your eyes flutter shut, a soft needy groan falling from your lips.

Hopper goes still, unable to breath. Not even knowing what to say for a moment - trying to come up with something, anything, to help figure it out.

“Uh- did you take anything today? Try anything funny this morning?” He stammers, and your eyes flicker open.

A small shake to your head. And then, you pause, remembering.

“At Murray’s. I-It was pink. I didn’t mean to.” You tell him, and he’s nodding - it’s not much, but it’s something.

Leading you to the couch, your body slumping onto it as he heads for the phone. Digging through his pockets for the scrap of paper, silently hoping that Murray will actually pick up.

Your hands wander on their own, brushing across your thighs, up, and then up. A pad of your finger pressing against the thin cloth covering your clit, and fuck - it feels good. Maybe the best you’ve ever felt.

But somewhere in the fog, you know the couch is not the place to do this. With an effort you push yourself up, his eyes flicking worriedly to your wobbling gait as the phone rings.

The bathroom door creaking shut behind you - the wood muffling your moans as your fingers press against yourself again. Easing the ache, just for a moment.

His fingers wrap around the phone cord until it hurts - eyes trained on the closed door, foot tapping as he waits for answer.

“Hello?” Finally there’s a voice on the other end, and Hopper feels like he could strangle him.

“Murray? Jim.” He barks out, not waiting for a reply. “Something is wrong, she’s not doing well. Said she had something pink at your house.”

There’s a beat, before he’s cursing - his questions not quite making sense, “Jesus Christ. She didn’t, right? When did-?”

“What was it?” Hopper interrupts, his voice firm and low, one that he always seems to pull out during his interrogations.

“Let me think. I need to make sure.” There’s a crackle on the other end, the words chosen carefully. “How is she? What are her symptoms?”

Hopper blinks, “Uh, hot. Forehead is really warm. She seems distracted.”

“She um, said it hurts.” Not knowing how to word the next part, heat creeping across his own face, “Down there.”

He makes a face as he waits, scrubbing a palm across his forehead, and there’s an agonized groan on the other end.

“Okay. Can you ask her how much she had?”

His patience is running thin, worry and anger making his chest feel tight, “What the hell was it?”

Another beat of silence.

“It’s an… aphrodisiac. I was doing a story on it.”

He had the phone pressed so close to his ear that it creaks in his grip, “A what?”

“You know…” Murray hedges, and then sighs. “The tape you heard? The one that pissed you off so much? That was part of my research.”

Hoppers mouth feels dry, remembering the lewd, rhythmic moans. The word clicking into place in his mind, things starting to make a little more sense.

“Does it go away?”

“That’s why you need to ask her.” His tone turns serious, “You need to, right now.”

With a frustrated sigh, he sets the phone on the side table, crossing the room to the bathroom. Knocking, then calling out for you.

Listening, not meaning to hear your panting breaths, the stifled moans sliding out from between your teeth. He doesn’t mean to picture what you’re doing either - but the images pop into his mind, his fist tightening around the door handle.

Inappropriate. Get it together.

“Sweetheart?” He calls out, and he hears your sounds stutter. He hopes your listening, “The pink stuff. How much did you have?”

A moment as you think, the words slow from your lips, “Just a bit. It spilled on my hand.”

He’s back on the phone a second later, “She said just a little bit.”

“Thank god.” There’s a sigh on the other end, but Hopper doesn’t know what there is to sigh about, “I didn’t want to tell you, but the reason I was doing the story was a couple guys took too much. It uh, turns out it can cause cardiac arrest.”

The implication hangs in the air - he wants to ask more, but fears the answer. Murray presses on, “But if she just took a little, she should be okay. She needs to…”

There’s a pause as he sucks in a breath, “She needs to work through it to make it go away.”

“Work through it?” He echoes, brows furrowing.

“Yes. If she doesn’t, it hurts like hell. I tried it myself, just once.” Murray confesses, his voice low, “Drank some like a shot. It took twelve hours to go away. I was chafed red, Jim. Red.”

Hopper makes a face at the overshare, lips pulling down over clenched teeth, “That’s disgusting.”

“That’s what happens.” Murray answers firmly, “I’m just telling you, you might have to help her. Or find her help - don’t let her go through that pain.”

He doesn’t know what to think about that either. Doesn’t even want to think about it, helping you. Not like this, not when you’re not in your right mind.

The next call is quick, just to cover his bases - a call to the school. A message for El, asking is she can spend time with Max tonight. Hopefully you didn’t need the twelve hours, but he had no idea what to expect, or if he could move you.

Then the back of his knuckles are rapping on the door again, three short, sharp knocks. He calls your name, listening - his mind going a mile a minute. Opening the door when he hears you say his name, the two syllables drawn out in a soft whine.

Even with what he knows now, he’s unprepared. The bathroom in his cabin had always been small - barely enough room to squeeze in a tub, a toilet, the chipped sink with a mirror.

Small enough that he’s hit with the scent of your shampoo, perfume. Then, the sweet musk of your arousal, completely unmistakable. Combining into something that made his pants feel tight, his breath catching in his throat.

Pheromones, maybe - something he saw once on a nature documentary. Murray didn’t warn him about that part. His back sags against the door as he closes it.

Fuck, he can’t do this.

He’s already thinking things he shouldn’t be - because he knows you don’t see him the way he sees you. That your sugar-sweet smiles and nudges are the same you give everyone else.

Trying on occasion to put some distance. An act of self-preservation - he’s always been shit at love. Always on the wrong side. But then you drag him back in. Bright and stunning and blinding.

Sunshine in human form, after all.

You’re sitting, back against the wall - tucked in the far corner, opposite the tub. Elbows resting on spread knees, your dress dipping down between the soft curves of your thighs. The navy blue flash of panties as you shift, the light glinting off the wet gleam of your fingers has his eyes darting away - flushing as he clears his throat.

Your eyes glassy as you look up at him, the way he fills the doorway - even bigger and broader than usual from your spot on the floor. Another sharp throb shoots through you, and you moan out loud.

His brow furrows, and then he’s moving, crouching down to your level. Fingers reaching out to brush your forehead again, your skin burning hot against his fingers.

“Talked to Murray. You drank some experiment he’s been working on. Says you need to, uh-” His hand rubs the back of his neck - lacking the eloquence of his new friend, completely out of his depth. “Finish. To get rid of the uh, symptoms.”

This close, the throbbing increases, twisting in your guts into you ache. The smell of leather, tobacco, aftershave sending another pulse down your spine, your thighs pressing together in an attempt for release.

Your nod is sluggish, the fingers twitching again, “I tried, Hop. I can’t-”

“Is there… someone I can call for you?” His voice is gruff, trying as hard as he can to think with his brain and not with his cock, “A…boyfriend, an ex?”

There’s a thud as your head tilts back against the wall, as you fix him with a long look.

“Is my flirting really that terrible?” You ask, with a huff of a laugh that borders on delirious.

There’s a long pause as Hoppers mind trips to catch up, to interpret your words.

“Nevermind.” The smile that stretches your lips is resigned, your chest heaving in a panting breath as your hand waves dismissively, “That wasn’t fair of me to say. Just forget it, I’ll be okay, Hop. Really.”

“Wait, back up.” Hopper’s hands raise, his voice taking on an edge, “What the hell does that mean?”

Each word feels like an effort now, your tongue feeling heavy, your heart thudding between your thighs, “It means-, it means the person I’d want to call is… you.”

There’s silence for a long, agonizing moment.

“You don’t want me,” He rasps out, eyes flickering between your half-lidded ones, the glossy sheen of your parted lips where your tongue had flicked over them. “It’s the drug. You’re not thinking straight.”

“Jim.” The name punches out from your chest, your eyes locking onto his, the pretty splash of blue, “It’s not. I’ve always wanted you.”

Realization making him sway - the wooden floor crashes into his knees as he rocks forward. His head ducking down as you push yourself up to meet him.

A whimpering moan that shoots straight to his cock when your mouth meets his, one of his thick arms curling around, a palm pressing flat against your back. Your tongue already swiping at his lower lip, pressing closer until your breasts are crushed against the wide barrel of his chest.

His hands dropping, as he groans in response - cupping the globes of your ass, your thighs opening further for him as he yanks you up and onto his lap.

Fingers fly to the meat of his broad shoulders for balance, the fabric of your dress bunching under roaming hands. A clashing of teeth and tongues as you devour each other, your panting gasps as your core bumps into contact with the thick curve of his jeans.

Electricity flickering down your spine, a seam catching on your clit. The burning in your core turning into something closer to relief. Your hips jerk again to chase the sensation, just as a hand comes up to palm at your breast, the tight peak of your nipple.

“Hopper,” You’re moaning into his mouth, your fingers fisted in his shirt, trying to tug him even closer. Hips rolling, grinding down against the thick curve of his jeans, “Please.”

His last ounce of self-control leeching from him as he accepts what you’re asking. What you’re needing from him.

Begging, even - something he’s only ever dreamed about.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He promises, shifting - your thighs wrapping around his waist, a low whine from your throat as he tries to move.

Hopper gives up on untangling your limbs, instead pushes himself unsteadily to his feet; your arms encircling his shoulders. Lips dropping to his neck, pressing against skin.

Walking you through the door, until he can drop you onto his bed. You scoot backwards to make room for him as he lowers himself down next to you, crowding you closer to the cabin wall.

Fingers trailing up your shin, your thighs falling open, just as your eyes shut with another cramp of discomfort. Halting at your thigh, at the curving hem of your dress.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He asks, leaning over you, letting you call the shots the best he can.

“Touch me.” You beg, hand reaches for his, dragging it up between your thighs. Hips rocking into his fingers when they press down against your core.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, feeling the damp cotton, your own hand going limp at your side as his flatten, rubbing at the fabric.

His other hand pushing your skirt up to your hips. Letting himself look now, the dark, wet stain of your panties under his fingers. Realizing they were never navy in color - the soft fabric cutting across your hips a light, sky blue. So similar to the shade of his eyes.

Your hips buck again, and his fingers slide beneath the fabric, slipping against soaked skin and soft curls. Another fresh wave of relief, pleasure curling over the pain, your fingers twisting around the pillow behind your head.

“Jesus. You’re soaked, sweetheart.” He grits out, fingers sliding up until they bump against the swollen bud of your clit, your response no more than a whimper.

Stroking against you, again and again - his fingers slick with your arousal. Sliding easily over your skin, making small, messy circles that have your breath catching in your throat.

A litany of pleas and moans falling from your lips, soft “oh, god-” mixing with his name. The sweet build of pleasure barreling down as his fingers touch you.

He’s impatient, the tight fabric limiting his movements, blocking the pretty sight of your pussy from his vision. The thumb of his other hand hooks on your waistband, tugging it down your thighs - your hips grinding into his hand as they rise to help.

A rough exhale of breath, the word “fuck” ground out through gritted teeth. Torn between wanting to keep going just like this - and knowing if you wanted more, that he’d have to use his fingers somewhere else.

His hand shifts, thumb rubbing over your clit, the middle sliding down, pressing against your entrance. Glancing at you for your nod before it sinks in, his fingers so much thicker and longer than your own.

Pressing down to the knuckle before withdrawing, starting a slow thrust that stretches you out. He’s so fucking hard, cock straining in his pants as he watches his finger disappear into you, your pussy so warm and tight around him. Thinking about how you’d feel wrapped around his fat cock, how good you’d feel coming on it.

Biting back a groan as he adds another, your own low whine as they press deep, finally itching at the ache of needing to be filled. Your words are slurred with drunk pleasure, your brain a messy fog.

“Make me come, Hop. Please-“

Fingers curling, each thrust of his wrist a loud, wet squelch in the small cabin. He shines with you, coating his fingers, leaking onto your inner thighs.

“I will baby, I promise.” He coaxes, trying to remember how it goes, fingers dragging against your inner walls until he feels you clench down around him, a ragged gasp in your throat.

His eyes flickering up again to yours, doing it again, again - watching the way your breaths grow shorter, tension coiling in your thighs.

The small rocking of your hips as you chase the movements of his thrusts, fucking yourself on his fingers, the soft pants of breath as you moan out “please” again and again.

Hopper shifts, pushing himself up - though you’re too close, too far gone to notice. Your eyes shut are shut, concentrating, when there’s the swirl of something hot and wet and soft against your skin.

Better than his thumb, eyes cracking open to see the way he bends over you, the pink flick of tongue as it presses against you, a low groan as he tastes you.

The scratch of his mustache, sending goosebumps across your skin. When his lips kiss against your clit and then suck, it becomes your undoing.

Unable to form words as the blinding pleasure peaks, instant relief flooding your system as you find your release. Soaking his fingers and tongue with a hoarse cry, limbs trembling with the effort.

The sounds you make when you come are prettier than he’s ever imagined - loud, panting moans, the heave of your breasts, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut in concentration.

Tight as hell around his fingers, he swears he can feel each pulse, the thud of your heartbeat in your clit as his tongue presses against it.

Devouring you until you finally go limp, before sliding his fingers from you. Bringing them to his mouth, unable to resist tasting the release that coats his fingers.

The sweet tang of your cunt as he sucks them clean, a low groan as his hips shift, pressing against the mattress.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, the fog starting to wane with each throb, though the desire still remained. The immediate pain quelled, but the deep ache of want and need was still burning in your veins.

Pushing yourself up, grasping at his shoulders until he’s hovering over you - your mouth tilting to meet his. His mouth tasting like you when your tongue darts against his, the rumbling groan as your hips shift up to rub against him.

“Thank you,” you moan into his mouth, and he almost wants to laugh, if the situation hadn’t been so disconcerting.

The thought about being thanked for something he’d dreamed about doing, never thinking he’d get the chance to bury his face between your legs.

He kisses you until you feel dizzy, until your hips are moving again, the damp spot darkening on the front of his jeans.

“More,” you break the kiss to beg, plucking at the buttons of his shirt, revealing inches of skin, greedily soaking him in.

“You need more or you want more?” He asks, hand curving to cup your jaw - a perfect fit, just like you imagined.

Lips feeling kiss-swollen as they scrape against the stubble of his jaw, down to his neck. Feeling the thud of his own pulse, “Both.”

He groans, loud and low, letting you tug at his belt, fingers working open the button. Hips shifting into your hand as you cup the hard bulge, your other hand tugging at the zipper.

A noise of disappointment as he rolls off you, the smallest hint of a smirk as he rids himself of his pants, boxers, “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

And he is, your fingers skating over his thick shaft, barely able to circle around it. It’s big, the fat head glistening with a bead of precum, and it smears across your thighs as he settles between them.

You wiggle against him, lining your hips up, but his hands are gripping onto your waist to hold you still.

“Easy, baby. Gonna hurt yourself.”

Taking a moment, his fist wrapping around the base. Sliding himself against you, you body flexing against the hand still holding you as he lines himself up.

Making sure he’s soaked with you before he starts to press in. Eyes bouncing between your face, trying to see if it’s too much, and unable to resist seeing the tip disappear into you, stretching you wide.

Your moan breaks his concentration, the feeling of him splitting you open almost too much. He feels even bigger than you imagined - making room for himself as he nudges into you. Stealing your breath with every small flex of his hips.

So much of him still left as he carefully thrusts his hips forward, the delicious slide of his cock against your walls before he withdraws. Breath heavy as he does it again, each time sinking a little deeper into you.

Almost flush now, his hands on your hips again. Keeping you pressed to the bed so you don’t try to take too much. Perhaps also to keep himself in check as well.

It’s overwhelming, how warm and tight you are around him. Squeezing him already, even with your come coating his cock, slicking him up. He’s afraid to move, thinking that if he starts thrusting, starts fucking you - that this will be over before it’s started.

His lips part as you wiggle against him again, trying to ignore your pretty pleas. The rough gravel of his voice drowning your sighs out, “Hold on, baby. I just need a minute.”

Fingers flexing against your skin, where the flesh pillows between them. But you need more, and you take matters into your own hands.

Your hand slides down, one lingering at your breast, cupping and squeezing the soft skin, pinching at a nipple. Sending a jolt racing down your spine as your other hand follows, drifting until you’re brushing between your thighs again.

Some of your wits now back, maybe enough that you can get yourself off - just like this.

Eyes on his, watching him watch how the tip of one circles your clit. The small rock of your hips that just barely causes him to move, buried in you. But it’s enough.

Your head tilting back as you set a pace, rolling your hips, again - again. Touching yourself, his name peppered in with the panting of your breath.

“Hopper, oh my god-“

And finally he finds his voice, fingers so tight you think they’ll leave bruises. The words skittering across your skin, as his head tilts up to yours, words coaxing, “That’s right sweetheart. Take what you need.”

Eyes fluttering open as the pleasure builds again as pressing your fingers harder, circling faster.

He’d been worrying about you dying earlier - just for a moment. Now he’s worrying about himself, heart pounding in his chest, listening to each little mewling gasp from your lips as you use him.

Fucking yourself with shallow thrusts on his cock, your pretty face screwed up in concentration. Each breath growing shorter and shorter - he can feel you starting to tense underneath him, the clench of your pussy around him as you squeeze in anticipation.

Keeping himself still, letting you get off on him - thinking that he’ll throw you off your rhythm if he moves, desperately wanting to see how it feels when you come on his cock.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Your eyes all but roll shut as your release hits you. The heavy shudder of your body, surprising him with the sharp jerk of your hips. Taking him even deeper - almost all the way as you flutter around him.

Even better than how you felt on his tongue, better than he’s imagined. The sounds you make louder and rougher when you’re stuffed full of him - as he lowers himself down, hands easing off you.

Letting you wrap your arms around his shoulders, face buried in his neck as you drift back down. Holding you until your hips stop moving - waiting until you relax before he slips from you.

You frown, not understanding until he rising up, nudging at your hips. Giving you room to flip over, his palm warm as it slides down your back.

“Hands and knees, baby.”

Wobbling only a little as you push yourself to your knees, back curving as your torso slips back down, pressing against the mattress.

Shifting until your ass rests flush against his front, letting you feel the thick curve of him pressing against your swollen lips.

“You want more sweetheart?” He asks, a thrust of his hips nudging his cock against you. “Or are you all worn out?”

Again putting the choice in your hands, though he wants nothing more to bury himself in your tight cunt again and fuck you proper.

“More.” You sigh, pressing back against him. Feeling and sounding more lucid - the desire more firmly situated in your thoughts, feelings, rather than chemical stimulation, “Want you to fuck me, Hopper.”

“Yeah?” He growls out, thumbs digging into the curve where your ass meets your thighs, spreading you wide.

“Yeah.” You confirm, the word turning into a moan when you feel the tip press against you again, and then he’s slowly sliding back in.

It’s still a stretch, even though you’ve already taken him, the angle so much different. He can see so much more like this, the tension strung tight in your back and shoulders, your fingers fisting in the sheet.

“Relax, sweetheart.” His hand smooths across your hip, thumb rubbing across your skin, easing forward until his thick thighs are pressing against yours, the curve of his stomach flush with your ass.

His first thrust is experimental - shallow, fingers gripping onto your waist. Rocking you with his movements as you groan, so sensitive that you think you can feel every vein, each ridge.

Again, and then again - until your cheek presses against the mattress so you can look at him, your eyes heavy lidded.

The peek of pink tongue between teeth as he concentrates, a hitch in his chest when you clench down around him. Shoulders flexing as your lips part, the words moaned out - a plea, “Harder. I won’t break.”

Fingers digging into your skin, as you add a soft, “Please.”

It tips him over, hands jerking your hips back - all but impaling you on his cock. Sinking himself deep, filling you completely.

Your gasp is low and loud, head tilting back. Urging him to do it again, and so he does. Gripping your hips as he starts thrusting, your panting moans mingling with the wet squelch of your pussy as he pounds into you.

Shifting, his thighs bumping into yours, lifting your hips, pressing you further into the mattress.

Changing the angle, his cock dragging along your walls. His forward thrust nudging against a spot that makes you cry out, muscles clenching, pleasure flooding your senses.

“Yeah?” He asks through clenched teeth, voice like gravel.

Finding it again, and then again. Your fingers gripping the sheets, lips parted as the moans are pushes out of you. Hurtling towards the edge, your hips rocking back to meet him the best you can.

And when his hand moves, fingers pressing against your slick, sensitive clit, it only takes a few flicks of his wrist until you’re trembling, your words a jumble of begging pleas.

“Oh god yes, Jim, please, please-”

Soaking his cock as you start to flutter, tight and hot and almost overwhelming him. His name sounding so goddamn good on your lips as you chant it, the little jerks your hips make as his fingers keep moving.

Your eyes shut as you ride out the waves, your body relaxing into his grip. Realizing he’s still thrusting, drawing your pleasure out, still pressing against your clit.

“Come on honey, one more.” You just catch the rough rasp of his voice, raising goosebumps across your skin, “Let’s get it out of your system. I want to be the only one helping you.”

Quickly working you up again, until his own thrust starting to stutter. Your tight heat too much, he’s not going to last much longer. Trying to hold himself back a little longer, but it’s he thinks he already too far gone.

“Fuck baby, I’m close,” Hopper pants, and thinking about him coming makes you moan. “Where do you want me?”

“In me.” You beg, already close again - from his touch, his words.

“Fuck.” He repeats, “Goddamn-”

His groan low, hips snapping forward, the slap of his balls against your pussy before he grinds himself deep. The sharp thrusts sending you over with him, your own orgasm washing over you as you feel the hot pulse of his ropes painting your walls.

Basking in the sweet feeling release as he ruts against you - until you’re filled - until his hips finally start to slow.

Chest heaving as he catches his breath, fingers carding through his hair, brushing it back. Your thighs burning in a nice, used way - your head pressing against the mattress so you can peek up at him.

Taking a long minute, and then another. Until your breathing finally slows, until the tension melts from both of you. A hand rubs your lower back, above where you are still joined.

“More?” He asks, his gaze heavy as he meets yours.

You clench down around him, squeezing him as his release gets pushed out, dripping down your thighs. He twitches inside you.

“More.”

———

Evening has fully settling in when the two of you finally collapse - his head hitting the pillow with a heavy, satisfied sigh. Your body going limp against his, pressing yourself flush against him.

Your cheek scrubs against the hair sprinkled across his chest, your movements slow and sated. The fire - finally, completely - quenched, the only warmth now coming from your sweaty, sticky skin.

The humor returning, now that the danger has passed. A rumble of laugher beneath your ear, the click of a lighter, his voice a low rasp before he takes a drag of his cigarette.

“If you wanted me that badly, sweetheart, you could have just asked. No need to go through all that trouble.”

Unbelievable.

Your head tilts upwards as you fix him with a glare, “You’re lucky I’m too tired to move.”

His hand lifts to cup your chin, thumb scrubbing tenderly across your cheek. Another breath that takes you with it, rising and falling as you sag against him.

“‘Lucky’ is goddamn right.” He tells you, his teeth flashing with his smile.

And with that, you find yourself smiling, too.

#please mind the tags!#been working on this for a bit - hope you like it! 💕#jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper imagine #hopper x reader #hopper x you #jim hopper smut #jim hopper

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 17 days

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Still With You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Seven

Summary: Jungkook introduces you to his Hyungs but his jealous streak comes out and shows you the worst of him Pairing : Luna (reader) x Jungkook and Jimin, f2l love triangle Word Count: 4.5k~ Warnings: JEALOUS JUNGKOOK like I mean jealous, possessive, territorial the whole nine yards (and it's pretty hot ngl lmaooo) which leads into an argument, explicit language (I think?) making out and all that stuff a/n: I have part one through eleven written already so I figured I would just post this to fill up some space until the next update for my other stories :) Start from the beginning

As Jungkook leads me towards his hyungs I feel myself getting a little anxious. I know I'm safe with Jungkook but I'm on edge nonetheless since I'm still not sure why we're here. The guys turn their backs and start walking towards the building behind them and we follow close behind.

Looking around I notice that this place almost looks like the bare bones of a warehouse but from the looks of it someone has been working on remodeling it.

Once we get to the back Namjoon opens a door and leads us down a set of stairs onto what looks like a boardwalk. I knew we were getting close to the coast but I didn't realize we could get to a place like this so quickly.

As we make our way down the boardwalk I take that time to look at all the little shops lined up on either side of us that have been long forgotten and start to imagine what this place might've looked like in its heyday.

Getting too lost in thought I feel myself trip on a loose board, and before I even have a chance to react I feel a pair of hands on my waist steadying me before I fall.

"Hey daydreamer, you alright?" Tae says with an amused smile. "Yeah, sorry" I say, quickly tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear that had fallen out of place. "You don't need to apologize" he says warmly "Just watch your step okay? Do you want to hold my hand just in case?" he offers.

"No she's fine, I'll help her" Jungkook says coming out of nowhere and pulling me in by my waist from behind. With my back now up against his chest and his arm wrapped around my waist protectively I give Tae an awkward smile but I can see from his expression that he's clearly enjoying Jungkook's reaction. "Let me know if you change your mind" he says sending a not so subtle wink my way and giving Jungkook a devilish smile clearly taunting him.

"What is this place?" I ask aloud in hopes to direct Jungkook's attention to something other than boring holes into the back of Tae's head. "It's an old boardwalk that my uncle just bought" Namjoon answers having overheard my question.

"It used to be super popular back when he was younger but I guess people stopped coming once that new shopping mall opened up a couple of miles down the road. They ended up losing too much business so they finally closed up about 20 years ago, it's kind of been frozen in time ever since. He just started working on restoring it and he finally finished the arcade about a week ago, so I thought I would finally invite you guys to come and check it out!" he continues. He seems to be putting on a laid back act but I can tell he's really excited to show us.

I look up at Jungkook with my back still pressed against his chest and notice that he hasn't made an effort to follow the guys into the arcade. "Is everything alright?" I say seeing his jaw clenching. "Jungkook" I say hoping to bring his attention back over to me.

"Huh? What? What'd you say?" he says finally breaking out of that possessive headspace. "I asked you if everything was alright? You seem a bit tense" I say turning around to face him. "Everything's fine, it's just, I didn't like the way he was looking at you" he says finally admitting to his jealousy.

"I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it, from my perspective it seemed like he was trying to get a reaction out of you and you gave him exactly what he wanted" I say placing my hand on his arm.

"Kook I'm here with you. I came to meet your friends but I promise you, you have nothing to worry about" I say looking into his eyes trying to convey my sincerity. He looks away from mine and huffs, "Maybe it wasn't a good idea to introduce you guys".

"Aw come on they're harmless!" I say laughing at how moody he's been ever since we got here. "Plus Tae was just trying to make sure that I didn't fall" I say explaining the situation. "Yeah I know, I saw" he says looking back down at me. "So then why are you still upset?" I ask hoping to help him make sense of situation.

"I didn't like the way he was touching you either" he says, continuing to justify his reaction. "Oh come on it wasn't that bad, see?" I say placing his hands where Tae had touched me. Looking back up at him I now realize what he meant, and feel my heart rate pick up under his gaze.

"See" I say, clearing my throat, "It's nothing" I continue trying my best to convince him. He looks down at me and I can feel my skin burning up from the intensity of his stare, and then let out a small gasp as he quickly pulls me in by the waist.

"Now is it nothing?" he says into my ear in a tone that wakes up all of my sense. "Tae didn't do this" I respond in a breathless tone feeling the mood change drastically.

"Yeah, but he could've" he says continuing to speak directly into my ear, feeling his warm breath fanning my neck. He leans in closer and I soon feel his soft lips placing feather light kisses on my neck and now exposed shoulder.

"Jungkook" I choke out trying to keep a level tone. "What if someone sees?" I continue once I realize he isn't stopping. "Good, because then they'll know who you belong to" he says stopping his kisses only long enough to respond. He increases the intensity of his actions and walks towards me placing my back up against the wall of the building behind me.

I hiss slightly once I feel him start to bite and suck one spot, now realizing what he's doing. Before I'm given a chance to protest he crashes his lips against mine, swallowing the beginnings of an argument.

The kiss is rough from the very start, feeling him kiss, bite and suck on my lips with more intensity than I've ever felt. I try to suppress a moan from coming out but it's impossible from the way he has my head spinning.

Feeling myself running out of breath I press on his chest firmly and he pulls away from the kiss, resting his forehead against mine. Looking into his eyes and seeing the way he's looking at me makes it even harder to breathe let alone think and before I have a chance to say anything he whispers "Mine".

"Hey are you guys coming in or what?" Jin yells from the doorway. Jungkook takes a deep breath and calls out "Yeah we'll be there in a minute Hyung" not making efforts to move away from me just yet, but nonetheless Jin in turn retreats inside.

"I don't want anyone else touching you like this. Do you understand?" He says firmly. "Jungkook I already told yo-" I start in protest still feeling breathless. "I don't care. I just want you to know that I don't want anyone else being this close to you" he says cutting me off and making his stance clear.

"Okay" I respond, not really knowing what else to say. "But did you really have to give me a hickey to prove your point?" I question rolling my eyes at him.

"No, but it was a nice touch" he says with a smirk rubbing his thumb over the mark. "Oh so giving me swollen lips from making out wasn't gonna be enough for you?" I call after him as he walks away towards the arcade. "Nope" is all he bothers to say before opening the door and waiting for me to catch up.

"You're insufferable" I say as I walk past him and he gives me a light slap on my ass in response. I glare at him but am cut off before I can even utter a word of scolding by Namjoon asking me to come and play a basketball game with him. Gladly accepting I take the first chance I have to escape Jungkook before giving it a second thought.

"Have you played this game before?" he questions and then glances down at my neck where I can only assume is the place where Jungkook's mark has started to bloom.

"Uh yeah I have" respond shortly, turning away from him to place it out of his line of sight. He starts the game without any other questions and we keep going until the timer runs out.

"Yes!" he says exclaims in victory. "Yah!" Jin exclaims, having seen the exchange. "Don't be rude, you challenged her to your favorite game so of course you won" he further scolds. "It's okay Jin, I'm not very good to begin with but it was still fun!" I say trying to lighten the mood.

"Why don't you pick out a game and then we'll see who wins next" he says giving me a genuine smile which happens to be accompanied by two adorable dimples. "Sure! Best two out of three?" I propose excited for another chance at victory. "Best two out of three" he repeats in agreement.

"I would propose to play a few more but my guess is that he won't let me keep you for that long" he continues, nodding his head towards Jungkook who has his eyes trained on the both of us. "He can get over himself" I say turning back towards Namjoon.

"Now, what would you say to playing a round of Guitar Hero?" I ask excitedly. "I would say I should just accept defeat right away" he admits laughing at his lack of luck with said game. "Oh come on it'll be fun!" I say trying my best convince him to play. "Alright let's get this over with" he says shaking his head and laughing, knowing the future result.

"Man... you really do suck at this game Hyung" Tae says after watching the beating Namjoon just took from me. "Hey he tried his best" I say placing a hand on his shoulder trying my best to keep my composure.

"It's okay Luna you can laugh" he says giving me a painful smile. I can't help but break after being given permission and feel Tae joining right along side me as we laugh for a bit at Namjoon's clumsiness.

"I'm sorry Namjoon" I say, still trying to calm down. "It's okay, and call me Joon okay? Namjoon sounds way too formal coming from you" he says playfully.

"Alright Joon" I start, complying with his request. "What should our tiebreaker game be?" I ask, feeling the tingling sensation of victory continue to run through my veins. "Hmm" he says looking around the room before laying his eyes on a particular spot.

"Air hockey?" he suggests. I can see from his expression that he's trying to hide his confidence under an indifferent demeanor but what he doesn't know is that I haven't lost a game of air hockey in 7 years. Even Jungkook with his competitive spirt refuses to play with me anymore. "Sure, why not?" I respond following suit in trying to conceal my excitement.

Walking up to the table I look over at Jungkook and see he's still there watching me closely and I can see a smirk slowly growing on his lip. I don't make an effort to give him a reaction in return and turn back towards the table to grab a hold of the mallet. I feel the air turn on and notice that the puck comes out on Namjoon's side.

"Why don't you start?" he says making moves to hand me the puck. "No that's okay, age before beauty" I say and hear the boys laugh at my response as they all seem to have drawn their attention towards our tiebreaker challenge. "This is gonna be good" I hear Tae whisper to Hobi but I try my best to not let our little audience psyche me out.

Taking a deep breath I watch as Joon starts to place the puck on the table and sends it my way. I in turn send it back to him but bypass his mallet and hear the clinking sound signaling my first point.

All the guys react by laughing, cheering or teasing, but as the game continues I have yet to hear one voice during the entire match but I do my best to keep my head in the game nonetheless.

Once the time clock is close to running out I hear the boys countdown from ten and then feel that same thrilling sensation of victory I've felt time and time again as they finally shout out zero.

I celebrate my victory for a second or two along with the guys but after taking a couple of steps back from the table I cut my cheers short as I feel myself hit a wall of muscle accompanied by arm slowly wrapping around my waist.

"Good job Noona" Jungkook says in a low voice fanning his breath against my neck again making me shiver at the unexpected contact. "How many wins in a row is that now?" he continues, speaking softly enough so I'm the only who can hear. "I-i've lost count" I stutter for a second and clear my throat immediately after.

"I'd expect nothing less from my champion" he says as he rubs his nose into the side of my neck, taking a second to gently breathe in my scent before taking a step back making his hold a little less intimate.

"Wow Luna! I had no idea you would be that good! I can see why Jungkook has always been so competitive being friends with someone like you" Hobi says with a big smile on his face. "Thanks! I think?" I say confused as to if I should take it as a compliment.

"You're a worthy opponent Luna, I'll give you that" Joon says coming up to me and giving me a high five. "You too! Not gonna lie, it bruised my ego a bit losing the first game but I guess you could say it kickstarted my competitive nature" I laugh.

"Thanks for asking me to play with you!" I continue, giving him a friendly smile. "Anytime" he responds reciprocating my smile. "Hey Hyung I think Jin Hyung is looking for you" Jungkook says while pulling me in closer. "Oh alright, I guess I'll go see what he wants then" he says and makes his way over to the man in question.

"You know you don't have to do this right?" I say turning around to face Jungkook who is still holding me. "Do what?" he says feigning innocence. "This" I say running one on my hands up his arm. "I always do this though" he says in defense. "Jungkook I already told you that I'm not interested in any of them" I say trying to reassure him yet again.

"It's not you that I'm worried about, it's them" he says glancing over at his Hyungs, now surrounding Yoongi and Hobi while they compete in some sort of racing game. I don't bother to look at them for too long so as to not give him another reason to be jealous and continue on with our discussion.

"What about them? They didn't do anything" I say confused, "We were just playing games, it's not like they hugged me or something. You made it very clear from the start that you didn't want that to happen" I say trying to explain away whatever he was worrying about.

"You do realize that almost all of them were checking you out the whole time right? Especially when you were leaning over the table" he says sliding his hand down lower on my waist. "Jungkook it's whatever, don't let it bother you" I say trying my best to get him to drop it but he persists nonetheless.

"But it does bother me Luna. I'm in love with you, and I know you haven't fully figured out how you feel about me so, I don't know, I can't help but feel insecure" he finally fully admits.

"Jungkook I'm sorry but I don't want to rush into something right now. Give me some time and I'll let you know soon okay?" I say in hopes to reassure him that I'm still thinking about us. He nods his head in response and leans in to kiss me and I turn my face to the side and make him place it on my cheek instead.

"Time Kook" is all I say and pull away from him before he can pout any further.

Walking over to watch the madness that is this racing game unfold I feel someone take a hold of my hand. "Luna can I talk to you for a second?" Jin says as I turn and make eye contact with him. I politely slide my hand out of his grasp and nod my head yes, following him to the other side of the room so we can talk.

"What's up?" I ask looking up and seeing his unreadable expression. "Is everything alright between you and Jungkook?" he questions straight away. "Yeah! Why wouldn't they be?" I question trying to figure out exactly what he's trying to ask me.

"Well, ever since I saw you guys get out of Jungkook's car I noticed that things were really tense between the two of you. I know we just met, and I haven't really seen what your relationship with Jungkook is like normally, but I can tell that there's something going on" he continues doing his best to be considerate but also wanting to get some answers out of me.

"I just want to make sure that you're feeling safe and comfortable around him. I know you guys have been friends for forever from what Jungkook has said but I just want you to know that if you ever need to talk or want me to talk to him just let me know" he finishes, fully explaining his motives. I'm taken aback by his maturity and observation of the dynamic that Jungkook and I have going on and am honestly touched by his concern.

"Thank you Jin that really means a lot to me. Things are kind of rocky and uncertain between us right now but we'll get through it" I say trying to wrap things up neatly. "How long ago did he tell you he has feelings for you?" Jin says not wanting to drop the subject.

My eyes widen realizing that Jin saw a lot more than I wanted him to when he came outside. "I- um-" I fumble for a second before settling on just telling him the truth. "Last night" I admit.

"And what did you say?" he prods further. "I told him that I needed time to figure things out. I just barely caught onto the fact that he might have feelings for me a few days ago so everything about our relationship has just switched up drastically and I just haven't had time to think about it all" I respond dropping my gaze to the floor.

"You're scared of losing him aren't you?" he ask when he knows for a fact that he's right. I nod my head in response not really knowing how else to respond. "Luna, that boy is crazy about you! He's always thinking about you and bringing you up in any and every conversation he can. Not to mention how many times he's ditched us to go see you. Not that I'm complaining" he laughs trying to lighten the mood.

"He would always tell us how much he likes you and would pout when you were taking too long to respond or had to cancel on him because of work. I highly doubt you would ever lose him even if you tried" he says smiling down at me. "

All I'm trying to say is that he loves you and cares for you a lot. If you want him to back off let me know and I'll talk to him. I know what it feels like to be put under pressure, especially when it comes to relationships so know that I'm here for you if you need anything" he finishes.

I thank Jin for his advice and make my way back over to the guys just in time to see Yoongi cross the finish line. Unfortunately for Hobi he comes in last, having somehow managed to get his car stuck going backwards off a cliff and can't seem to get it to respawn in time to catch up.

While Hobi does his best to get Yoongi to give him a rematch I feel someone bumping their shoulder into mine and turn to see Tae looking down at me. We make eye contact and then see him turn his head over to another part of the arcade and makes his was over there.

I turn back towards the group of guys trying to find Jungkook in the crowd and notice that he's finally taken his eyes off of me to talk to Namjoon. I take that as my chance and follow after him to see what exactly he's wanting to do.

"Hey Luna" he says with a soft smile leaving me retuning his greeting and inquire as to why he's brought me over here. "I just wanted to see if you're having fun. You really killed it in that game against Namjoon hyung" he says with an amused smile. "Yeah it was really fun! I'm glad he asked me to play" I say truthfully turning my attention over to the other games in that area.

"Have you ever played this game?" he motions over to a Zombie Apocalypse simulator. He walks over towards it and I watch as he climbs inside the little two seater cubby that shows the war torn landscape on a big screen. I walk over to it and observe the setup.

"I haven't. Is it scary?" I ask, apprehensive to trying out such an immersive game. "I don't really think so, you just gotta keep on telling yourself it's not real but also do your best to defend yourself. It's a delicate balance" he says with an encouraging tone.

"You wanna try it out?" he offers, scooting away from me so I can sit next to him. "Sure" I say coming around to the idea after hearing his explanation. He pats the space next to him inviting me inside and hands me the gun that is directly in front of me once I get inside.

I mutter a quick thanks and feel myself getting a bit nervous from being this close to him but I do my best to focus on the task at hand.

"You ready?" he asks making moves to set up the game. "Ready as I'll ever be" I say with a nervously. "You'll do great!" he says giving me a warm smile. He pulls the trigger after having chosen his gun and has me do the same.

The pace starts off slow with a couple walkers here and there and soon escalates to more and more coming faster and faster. I flinch a bit seeing one having jumped on to the screen and do my best to get him off of me.

Tae aims his gun over onto my side of the screen to help me out and we quickly get it off and we continue on finishing the final round.

"Wow you're really good at this!" I say impressed with his skills. "You're not too bad yourself" he says bumping his shoulder against mine again making me smile at the friendly gesture. "Do you wanna play again?" he proposes the idea but I'm soon cut off by another voice.

"Hey no fair! You can't keep her all to yourself! Luna why don't you come play with me? I'm sure you'll find it very... stimulating" Hobi says in a suggestive tone while leaning on the side of the game where I'm now held captive between the two of them.

But yet again before I'm able to respond I see Hobi being pulled back and feel someone yanking me out by my forearm.

"Luna get your stuff we're leaving" Jungkook says dragging me towards the exit. "Jungkook hold on a second let me grab my bag!" I say trying to pull out of his grip. He loosens his grip on me just enough to place his hand in mine and have me lead him towards the spot I had left said bag.

Once I do he pulls on my hand and leads us towards the exit yet again. I see the guys take notice and send me a questioning look, observing the situation and contemplating whether or not to intervene. "Bye Luna" is the last thing I hear before the door closes behind us.

"Jungkook wait!" I say in protest waiting for him to listen to me yet he continues to pull me towards the building we had once come through.

"Jungkook STOP!" I yell at him finally being able to yank my hand out of his grip. "What?" he exclaims but does his best to keep his voice level. "What was that all about?" I say, finally given the chance to question his behavior. "I told you I didn't want them to be that close to you!" he says defending himself.

"Tae and I were just playing a game and then Hobi came over seconds after we had finished our game. It's not my fault that he was trying to get closer to me. And if you had given me a chance to speak for myself I would've taken care of it" I continue, poking holes in his argument.

"You shouldn't have been that close to Tae in the first place. I told you how it makes me feel when stuff like this happens" he continues trying to patch up his reasoning.

"Jungkook you're not my boyfriend!" I say finally fed up with his controlling behavior, but immediately regret it as soon as the words left my mouth. Seeing the slight change in his already frustrated expression I know I've hit him where it hurts. "You're right, I'm not" he says and turns his back to continue down the path leaving me behind.

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anonymooseforever007 · 11 months

Text

Ring Around the Roses

(Alfie Solomons x female reader)

Summary: Attempting to get away from the Shelby party chaos, Alfie and his wife sneak off into Tommy's garden for a little fun. It isn't until the next morning they discover the consequences of their actions and Alfie has to remind his wife what their marriage is really about.

A/N-Hi Y'all! Possible TW's for only the end of this include Mentions of death, Unhealthy coping habits and self blame! Also this is for K's (@runnning-outof-time) 3K celebration! Congratulations you're amazing and I love seeing you on here❤️❤️❤️ I hope you like this! I haven't done a celebration before really but I saw your theme and the idea spring into my head. Despite the warnings it's mostly fluffy until the time skip! Also there's one part that implies smut but none actually written! Enjoy ❤️

WC- 6.6k

Main Masterlist

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"Are you sure we can do this out here?"

"Do what dovey? I'm just taking a nice little stroll with my darling wife aren't I? Letting her get a quiet break from all those heathens inside."

You scoffed, knocking into your husband's side gently as the pair of you walked through the garden. For a man who seemed particularly fond of dark colours, Thomas Shelby's garden was particularly vibrant.

"Oh hush, you only call them heathens because you're too scared to use the word friend."

"FRIEND!" Alfie scoffed while kicking at a particularly beautifully tulip that just happened to be nearby, just to prove his point. "No no no Dovey, THEY are not my friends, yeah. If I were to pick anyone to be my friend it certainly would not be ANY of them."

You only rolled your eyes and shot a knowing smirk in his direction. For all your husband's spite and trickery, you knew he really did have a soft spot for the Shelby family.

"Alright love, I believe ya. That's absolutely why you immediately declined the invitation to come here tonight isn't it. Burned it in the fireplace correct? Told me not to put it in the calendar? Because you don't have plans at being anything other than vicious enemies is that right? The pie I brought tonight was a death threat wasn't it? Did you slip in some arsenic into the powdered sugar?"

Rolling his eyes at your teasing, Alfie couldn't help but smile as he watched you laugh at your own joke. Continuing your path through the garden you mindlessly reached back a hand for your husband a few steps behind. A clear indication of what you wanted. What you always wanted. Slipping his hand between yours, he let you drag him through the bushes, further from the party. With each step he could see you relax a bit more, as you enjoyed the scene around you.

"Is it quieter out here Dovey?"

Smiling softly, you only nodded your head before reaching out gently to touch the leaves of a nearby bush. Though the party was fun, it had gotten a bit loud and in the growing chaos you needed some air. So while Tommy and Polly were distracted trying to convince Arthur and Finn not to throw Michael in the lake, you and your husband had slipped outside.

"Alfie, we should plant a garden of our own I think."

"Is that right Dovey? Does my lady want some bushes of her own to trim doesn't she?"

"I think we could get some nice rose bushes. I've always loved those."

"Roses, is that it? You got a feeling about those prickly little parasites don't ya Dovey? I never got why you liked them."

Chuckling you sat on the edge of a nearby wall as your husband dug his feet in the ground. You knew exactly why Alfred hated roses, and it still amused you to this day.

It happened years ago, around the time you'd first gotten together. This was before Alfie was even able to grow a beard, and all his kisses resulted in a scratchy scruff that prickled your face. Way back when boxing was still his main pastime instead of "baking", both kinds actually and these days your husband finally knew how to make a decent muffin. In an effort to be romantic, he'd shown up at your work one day with a nice bouquet of roses. They were lovely flowers and you were immensely elated by the gesture, and especially amused since he'd bought the flowers from that very shop only the day before too.... However it was a shame you never got the chance to put them in water. See, somewhere between the ten steps it took to get from the door to your table, he had tripped and fallen flat on the ground. Don't worry, his face hadn't hit the hard ground, it was cushioned....by the thorny roses. Maybe it was a good thing the thorns had left so many bloody scratches. It meant you weren't able to tell his face had turned as red as the roses petals now surrounding him. Instead of the romantic date he wanted to take you on, the evening was spent with you dapping the cuts on his face with a damp cloth while he started at the wall, contemplating every life choice he'd ever made. That was the night Alfred Solomons decided he'd never trust a rose ever again. Not even the ones his darling wife sought to plant in her gardens.

"Alfie, come on! Roses aren't that bad, just because you had a little slip up years ago doesn't mean they all hate you."

Standing by up again, you held out your arms towards Alfie as music began to reach the garden. Shaking his head lightly, he set down his cane and took your arms, fully confident you'd be there to support him if his hip got too bad. You and Alfie had yet to dance tonight, caught up talking with others (which was really just your doing) and pointing out everyone who'd gotten too drunk and was trying piss in the plants. It wasn't something either of your minded to badly, the large crowds of people tended to make you feel a bit nervous and Alfie occasionally had a hard time keeping rhythm because of his hip. So most of your dancing was done in the back corners of the ballroom or privately in your kitchen, waiting for the midnight snacks to be done.

However tonight, it seems you'd be dancing in Thomas Shelby's garden. Slowly but happily, you waltzed closely with your husband, stepping around the fountain and laughing as he stopped to twirl you ever few seconds. Other than the music from the house and the gentle crunches of your shoes beneath the gravel path, the world was silent. When the song ended your husband gave you a gentle kiss and stepped back, though he was still holding you in his arms. Looking up above yourselves, you saw the constellations fitting the night sky.

"Ohh Alfie! Look at them! Aren't they beautiful?"

Beaming, you grinned up at the stars twinkling down on you before moving from your husband to a smaller empty plot of ground. You suspected that something was to be planted there soon, but paid no mind to the grime that would get on your skirt as you settled down to sit in the dirt. It was a nice little spot, right next to the rocky path and dug out in a manner that was lined on three sides by tall hedges. To anyone looking out if the mansion, the little alcove would have been completely invisible.

"What are ya doing now Dovey? Is this the thing you said we shouldn't be doing?" Alfie teased you from where he was still standing.

"I just wanna sit and watch the stars for a bit. Come," remaining seated you patted the spot next to you, "Join me."

Alfie walked over to the spot but when he got there, he only raised an eyebrow at you and tapped his hip with the cane. You stared for a moment and then it clicked. Laughing slightly at your forgetfulness, you stood up, bowing dramatically, and held out your arm.

"Right right, I forget you have the hip of an overworked, ninety seven year old parlor dancer. Shall I assist you to the ground my dear sir?"

Alfie only grumbled, but his eyes twinkled as you teased him. If anyone else had made the comment they'd have been dead before they blinked, but you were different. Alfred Solomons was capable of many things, but some nights when his hip got bad, he needed help moving around more, especially if it meant going from standing to sitting on the ground. You were happy to help of course, but being married for over a decade didn't mean the pair of you were above lightly poking fun of the other. Only two years ago, you had accidentally scratched part of your eye and needed to wear an eyepatch for five weeks. The first thing Alfie had done when you walked out of the examination room and asked if he could get food for dinner, was reply with "does patchy wanted a cracker" in reference to the one eyed parrot you'd seen in a film the month before. It was just something you'd always done together even before you started dating. A dark humor you both shared, as if joking about the hurt could make it better.

Holding his other arm, you gently helped your husband lower himself to the ground, squeezing his hand comfortingly when he let out a small groan. After helping your husband take a seat, you settled into your own again, leaning your head on his shoulder as you looked to the heavens.

"You aren't really gonna plant roses are ya Love? What if something happens to them?"

"Like what? You assault them with your face again?"

"....Maybe? But like why do you really enjoy them? I still don't see the charm."

Sighing, you shifted your gaze and looked your husband in the eyes. One of your hands moved up to his face, as you gently caresses the one spot on his face that refused to grow hair like the rest of his beard. You knew it was another old war wound, but this was actually one he had yet to tell you the story of. Gazing into his eyes a few moments more, you then changed positions so you were seated across his lap, one leg in either side of his.

"Why do I love roses?....Their petals are as soft as their thorns are sharp and given the right hand, their climb up any wall in their path. Not only that but their petals can have many uses for food or paint or even my blush. That means they are able to change their usefulness based off their situation at hand. They are able to adapt, nor are the helpless. Some people say the point of the thorns is to choke out anything else threatening to take the roses' livelihood." you gently held your husbands face between your hands as you continued, "I like roses because they remind me of you Alfie. Because they are beautiful, and strong, and dangerous. You are a gorgeous and strong man, and I know how badly you try to protect me every day. You are so kind to me, but I know how far you'll go for me. I would go just as far for you. You are my rose Alfred Solomons and so I love them as all they remind me of you."

Alfie was quiet for a moment, observing what you'd said. His hands sat on your waist, thumbs rubbing gently in your sides.

"You saying I'm like a fucking flower Dovey, is that it?"

"Yeah, you're my flower though."

"....Alright."

"....You know why else you're like a rose love?"

"Why poppet?"

"Because it can be a pain in the ass to keep you alive sometimes."

Alfie only put his hand to his chest in mock offense, while your grinned up at him mischievously.

"Oi, now you better watch your words there Dovey."

"Make me Rosie," you whispered, grinning as your leaned closer to your husbands face, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.

Gently Alfie leaned back, taking you with him until his back was on the ground. Hands, still on his face, you could feel the smile on his face. Slowly one of his hands moved to your head bringing you down so he could kiss you again. Sweet at first but it quickly increased in passion and vigor. Though eventually you had to pull back for breath, and it was then you realized his hands had already rearranged your skirts in a way overnight you both.

"Alfred? I know we can't do this out here?"

Your husband only laughed, reaching towards his belt as he pulled you close again.

"Slide down a bit farther and I think you'll see we definitely can Dovey. It's only a matter of being quiet enough to evade capture."

It was a nice little spot, right next to the rocky path and dug out in a manner that was lined on three sides by tall hedges. To anyone looking out if the mansion, the little alcove would have been completely invisible. And luckily, the music was loud enough to hide the sounds of rustling bushes...

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It wasn't until the next morning when you realized what went wrong...

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After making it back to the house last night and finding half the dog food "mysteriously missing", the pair of you had decided to call it a night. And since business was going so well Alfie had elected to take a few days off, hoping to spend more time with you. It also meant he'd finally be able to sleep in.....or so he thought.

A sudden crash woke Alfie from his slumber the next morning.

Shooting up, he automatically looked to his right, and his heart stopped for a moment realizing you weren't there. Another clatter from downstairs and a frustrated scream from you had him practically jumping out of bed and grabbing his gun. You usually like staying in bed for a few more hours, especially when he was there, so the fact he could hear your distress from upstairs made him worry.

Carefully Alfie snuck down the hall, peaking in rooms to make sure no unsavory figures were lurking behind the door. Another annoyed groan accompanied by various curse words hurried him to his final destination.

"Love, are you alright?"

It was a stupid thing to ask as you were very much not alright. The kitchen was a mess, looking like every cabinet had been opened and all the contents pulled out. Pots and bass were laud hurriedly across the counters as you rummaged through every nook and cranny. A quickly glance into the living room told Alfie it was scattered in a similar state. But you hadn't responded to your husband, not the first time or even the second. It wasn't until Alfie stepped right up behind you, putting his hand on your shoulder, and turning your around to face him when you responded.

"I can't find it."

Your voice wavered as you admitted the truth. Looking down like a small child about to be told off, you averted your face from your husband's. Alfie was still confused, but he could tell whatever you were rallying about was obviously important.

"Can't find what Dovey? Whatever it is it's probably isn't too bad. I can help ya find it righty?"

"No Alfie you don't undertstand."

"Then help me understand Love. Let's get through this together like we always have yeah? Come on, tell your husband what we're looking for." Carefully cupping your face in his hands, Alfie guided you to look at him again. He could see the tears welling in your eyes as you spoke.

"....I.....I lost my wedding ring Alfie."

"Oh."

It was the simple oh that broke the dam. Stepping back from your husband, tears began to stream down your face as you shoved your fingers in you hair as if trying to hold in the stress.

"SEE I told you it was terrible. I...I woke up this morning and went to the bathroom and noticed it missing when I went to clean my hands. I figured I'd just taken it off la... last night but it wasn't by the bed table like I usually put it. Then I went through the bathroom and it wasn't there. I've gone through every room in this hours and I can't fucking find it!!! I don't ....I don't know where it is Alfie. I just... oh god."

Covering you mouth with your hand, you realized where you lost the ring.

"Alfie the fucking garden."

"The garden? Love you haven't made the garden yet, how could it be there?"

"No, TOMMY'S garden. It has to be there. It fell off last night when we were rolling in the dirt. I've been meaning by to get it resized. Oh fuck this is awful"

Alfie actually chuckled at your realization. Of course the ring would fall off in the most inconvenient place possible, but he wasn't about to tell you that.

"Thats alright Dovey we can just..."

Throwing your hands in the air you interrupted your husband, frustrated at yourself for a number of reasons. It stung Alfie's heart to see you like this. Carefully he dragged your hands from your face and pulled you into a hug. Soothingly his hands ran up and down your back as he tried to comfort you.

"We can just what Alfred? Waltz back over and demand he let us dig up the plants for it? He'd probably ask why and what are we suppose to say then huh Alfred? Oh you know, we lost it in the garden you see...Well what were you doing there Y/N? ...Nothing much just fertilizing the soil, pollinating the flower, playing like the rake and ho, rustling the bushes, sowing seed in the garden, FUCKING IN THE FLOWERBEDS!!!! No we can't do that Alfie we just can't! It's probably gone forever... I'm so sorry."

Alfie was the one to hide his face this time. He knew you were in distress but he was amused by one of your last sentences. You always were good with the innuendos. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to get you to calm down. He knew at this point you weren't so mad about the ring, as just overwhelmed by the lack of success you'd had in finding it.

"Yes love, we can tell him all those things and if he'd got any sort of romantic bone in his tiny, banged up little body he'd offer us shovels to dig if we need them. And if not then I'd wager every deal I'd ever have with his lot is out the fucking window isn't it. We've been married since before the little one of them was teething haven't we? It's not like they don't think we're fucking. Besides it's a decent fucking garden, Tommy should have know what he was doing when he made that little hidey spot didn't he? It'll be fine. And if I find it then I'll get to propose to you all over again won't I? I think if I got one wish left in the word it would be to do that again. Ask if you'd be mine forever and let you know I'll always be there. Love I promise. It's alright Dovey, it's ok. No need to get worked up about it's not such a big deal."

Thought he was trying to help, his last sentence only made things worse. Stepping pack from Alfie you threw your hands up again.

"IT IS OUR MARRIAGE ALFIE! And I've practically lost it like it means nothing at all! How can you say that!"

There it was. The really reason you were so worked up. Not because you'd lost the little ring. It was because somewhere in your mind, over the years you'd been together, you'd gotten the idea that if you didn't have it on your were almost betraying everything you held dear. As if you thought without the ring, all the vows you'd mad together were nil. Alfie couldn't help but laugh at that. He laughed hard too, like you'd told the funniest joke in their world.

"You think that ring is our marriage?"

Stepping closer again Alfie took your arms and pulled you closer.

"Our marriage is so much more than that fucking ring love," he said, cupping your face between his hands again. "Our marriage is me stealing Ollie's shirt before every lunch date because his is cleaner than mine and wanna look my best for the best, that's you by the way. It's you grinning at me through the glass window at fuck O'clock in then morning when I've taken the dog out for a piss since you thought it'd be funny to lock me out in the cold in my fucking skeevies again. It's me paying a fuck ton of money to the flower shop down the street so you could get a rose every week I was away fighting. It's you spending hours patching me up after I had a bad fight even though blood makes you gag yeah. When you refuse to give me dinner until I give you a kiss and when I won't give you a gift until I've gotten a hug? Sharing a bath after a hard day? That's our marriage. You interrupting my meeting because you're so excited to show me a new book? Me interrupting your book club because I've just gotten back from a business trip? You demanding I come to bed and cuddle up, only to shove me off of you later when you're too hot? Me tightening jars in the pantry so you have to get me to open them? Making fun of each other's injuries, patchy? Don't you see it? You. Me. You. Me. You. Me. WE."

"Alfie..." You couldn't help but smile at your husband's words realizing he was right.

"Dovey, It isn't defined by a thin piece of metal with a tiny fucking stone that I stole off a rich toff at a boxing match one day. Our marriage is YOU and ME and every little moment in between. And I promise it's always gonna be just that. And do you know why that is Treacle?"

Alfie had moved his hands again, now resting them on your hips. Gazing at you lovingly he waited for your answer.

"Why Ally?"

"Because I'm your flower remember? I'm your fucking rose.... and you're fucking my sunshine, Dovey. I have no chance of living without you."

Wrapping your arms around your husband, you buried your face into his neck. Losing the ring you'd worn almost every day for years didn't seem so criminal anymore.

"Alfred Solomons when did you learn to say something so romantic."

Your husband only chuckled as he step away, grabbing some of the boxes you'd pulled out in your panic.

"A master never reveals his secrets Dovey. Now come on. Let's clean this up and then we'll go get you a new ring eh? Wouldn't want any gangly miscreant thinking they've got a chance with you would we?"

Looking at the damage you'd done, you couldn't but sigh, maybe it would have been better to wake your husband immediately before diving head first into your expedition. Now you were kicking yourself since you'd just redone all the work you'd don't last week reorganizing every thing.

"I'm not sure the jewellery shop will still be open today by the time we finish Alfred. I'm not even sure we'll be able to finish this in a week with the mess I've made."

Your husband just bonked you lightly with the broom he handed you and nudged you in the direction of the living room.

"That's alright Dovey. Because unless you've got some nefarious little plans I haven't heard of to steal my dog and run off, I don't think either of us is going anywhere anytime soon aren't we?"

You could only smile and kiss him on the cheek.

"I suppose you're right. We've got all the time in the world...."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two years later...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Shelby, I want my dog."

The Shelby in question turned around, eyeing the woman before him. He knew this day would come. Only he expected it to be sooner, a few days, maybe even a week later...but now it was four months. Four months since he....despite his feelings towards the man, Tommy couldn't help but feel slight regrets for what he'd done. Especially seeing the state of her now, standing in his garden.

"He's just gone on a walk with Charlie and Finn. They should be back in an hour or so."

"I'll wait... I see you filled in that empty plot of ground. They're lovely flowers, I don't remember them being there two winters ago."

Tommy averted his gaze to the bushes you were pointing at. Indeed the small alcove where you'd hidden with your husband had been filled. In its place grew a thick rose bush, blooming with life. You smiled, and to anyone else, they might have thought your look truthful. And some of it was, thinking of the happy memories connected there. But Tommy could see deeper than that. Behind the smile he could see the same pain he had when he looked in mirrors. The pain that came from losing the thing you loved most. For as different as you both were, he knew the tactic you played, though the mask you wore was much brighter than his. And for now he decided he could respect that. He could pretend just for a moment, if only to help you. It was the least he could do, seeing as he was the reason you wore it... He was the one to pull the trigger.

"You're right. The gardener put them in almost two years ago, right after the party where Arthur and Finn tossed Michael into the lake. Do you remember that one? I saw you talking to my sister but never saw you leave that night."

A genuine chuckle left your mouth hearing his words. You played with the ring on your left hand. Only two years old and very expensive, but in that moment, it felt like you were wearing another ring again. One that was much older and worn, that you hadn't seen in years.

"I do. That was certainly a night I'll remember forever. It's a shame you got rid of that little alcove. It was a nice little spot away from the world wasn't it."

Tommy could only nod and take another drag of his cigarette.

"Did Alfie ever tell you about the first and last time he gave me roses in person. I mean, of course he probably didn't and I'll have to tell you sometime, but I think you might find it funny. There's a lot about him I'm sure he hasn't told you. But then again, knowing him there's probably a lot he did..." You trailed off, staring at the flowers a bit longer, remembering that day over a decade ago, not really meaning to tell Tommy that, doing so anyway. After all, no one had heard from you in months, so it made sense to him, that you'd be eager to talk to anyone. Even the man you should hate most in the world.

Silence descended on the pair standing tense in the garden. There was so much to be said, but neither knew where to start. Truthfully, you'd only talked to Tommy a handful of times, but he felt like he'd already known you like his sister. He couldn't help but scoff, thinking of all the times Alfie had gone off on a tangent about you during a meeting. Sometimes, your mention had nothing to do what was being discussed at all, Alfie just liked to brag about the good he had. In the end it was Tommy who spoke up first, the guilt of his past actions finally caving in on him.

"Y/N, I'm sor..."

"Don't. Thomas, I don't want you to say sorry," turning from the vibrant blooms, you faced the capped man. "I don't want you to say sorry, because you know what? I don't blame you. You're completely alright. I'm not mad at you.... It's my fault I suppose. I could have stopped it."

Tommy raised his eyebrow, curious to what you meant, and also concerned. There was something in your eyes that made his stomach turn slightly hearing those words. But he couldn't exactly place why.

"What's that suppose to mean Y/N?"

You only let out a bittersweet laugh and stared out into the garden again, sitting on the edge of a familiar fountain before you revealed the truth.

"It's my fault he's gone I think. I should have known. I should have never left that day and I could have stopped it."

Tommy's brows furrowed as he sat down next to you.

"What's that mean? You couldn't have known what his plan was? It's not your fault."

Absentmindedly, you picked at the leaves of a nearby bush. Though your voice was even, Tommy could practically see the war inside your head.

"It's how he kissed me when I left that day. I was only going to be gone a few days to visit my friend who was suppose to have her baby soon. Nothing dangerous. But it's the way he kissed me that should have tipped me off. He kissed me the way he did when he got on the damed train, in that damned uniform. He kissed me like he didn't think he'd see me ever again, going to die in the war. And I guess he didn't."

Tommy didn't say anything. He just let you continue. Something in his head told him, he needed to let your speak, he needed to keep you here tonight. If he let you leave today, no one would ever see you again and something in Tommy told him not to let that happen.

"You know I still haven't admitted it to myself just yet... The truth," standing up you began to pace around the fountain, circling the water. "Since I first got the call I haven't picked up the phone anymore, I'm scared of what I'll hear. I haven't opened any letters, because I don't want to see what they'll say. I still haven't even gone home yet. I've been paying for a hotel room by my friend's house and only leaving by when I need more food. I know it not good for me, but it's all I can find I can do. I've been telling myself it's just that. He's gone to the war again and he'll be back in a few months." Though you spoke with a smile as if talking about the weather, it was easy to see the pain in your eyes. You thought denying the truth would make the hurt go away. But it wouldn't, Tommy knew it was only a matter of time before you broke. And like with Cyril, he felt like he was the one who needed to help. So he decided to play along for now, letting you keep your act up. Atleast until he could figure out the best way to fix the mess he still felt he'd made.

"You tell yourself it's the war eh? Do you write him letters."

"Yes, I write him one almost every day. But I haven't sent any. Did you know that I was rarely able to send them to him during the war. Something about his post being secretive, and no one should know where it really was. So I'd just... write a letter everyday and when I got a letter that his squad was resting at a safe camp every few months I'd just send the packet of them.... If I was lucky I'd get one back, but most of the time I just had to wait. I learned a lot about waiting then. I learned it was better to laugh too. Laughing helped me stay sane."

Standing up, Tommy began walking with you as you stepped deeper into the gardens.

"Laughing eh? Well I guess it's better than what I did. Almost drunk myself to the grave and then fucked off in a caravan with my son for a month. Seems you're handling it better than me."

You could only scoff at his response.

"Oh don't worry, there's been plenty of drinks for me too. I'm a happy drunk though, so I guess it helps my plan. After all, as long as I'm laughing, I don't have time to cry. I don't think I'll be able to stop crying the day I begin. So I'm just trying to hold off as long as I can."

"Aren't we all."

Silence fell in the garden again, and the two widowed souls walked back to the house. It was starting to get back and Tommy had noticed Finn's car pull up a few minutes ago. When you reached the back door you were met with a fluffy beast knocking you over as soon he'd caught sight of you. Cyril was happy to have at least one of his masters back. The man taking care of his now treated him well, but he still missed life with his old owners, even if he couldn't express it in words.

While you reunited with Cyril and applauded Charlie on the tricks he taught the dog, Tommy went to gather some of Cyril's things and have Francis prepare a room for you. Tommy had no clue where you'd take the dog, but seeing as you seemed adamant about staying away from Margret, and apparently didn't despise Tommy (somehow), he thought it made sense to let you stay the night for a bit. And something still told him to convince you to stay even if just for one day.

On his was back down the stairs he noticed something sitting on the table and there was a click in his brain. He remembered the curiosity brought to him that morning during breakfast, and suddenly a lot of odd business meetings made sense. He finally realized who'd messed up the empty dirt patch that night two years ago. Grabbing the object off the table, Tommy headed back to the drawing room. Inside you were still petting your beloved dog, even though Finn had taken Charlie to get ready for bed.

"Y/N, I went up to grab some of Cyril's things, but I think it may be better for you to spend the night here. It's getting late and I don't think either of us wants the dog getting hurt if you were to crash."

You laughed gently at his words, not caring to ask about the hand behind his back. Not thinking much about his words, you accepted his offer. You knew you should be mad at him, hate him, even what to kill him, but you couldn't. You were too tried to be mad at anyone right now. Besides, it wasn't like you knew where you were going anyway. You just wanted to see your...his dog again. Maybe if you had that little piece left, it would make it easier to move on. It would make it easier to pretend you weren't alone now.

"Alright. I'll stay. But only so Charlie can give Cyril a proper goodbye. I'd hate to tear them apart, it seems they've made close friends."

"They have," Tommy smiled, genuinely happy thinking of how closely his son had bonded with the dog. "Cyril's stuff is in Charlie's room now infact. They've taken such a liking, I can't keep them apart. We can get his stuff tomorrow, but I do have one thing I think you may want now."

You looked towards the Shelby man curious. "What is it?," you questioned.

Silently Tommy extended his hand to give you the object he'd snagged from the table.

It was a single rose... But something was different about it. The stem seemed to have grabbed something buried within the dirt to take along as it began to grow. Twisting and turning all the way out of the dirt, outwards towards the sun, as if offering the shiny object up. An ages old promise from the rose to the sun of an endless truth, never broken even in death...

The rose was offering his sun a ring.

And not just any ring. A wedding ring. Simple and worn, it had been stolen off a rich toff from a boxing match many years ago. It had survived work and war, seen blood and lust, and so many other things. And while the ring didn't define the marriage it represented a promise you thought you'd never see again. But here now, seeing how tightly the rose stem had grown around it, you knew you'd never have to worry about that again. Not even death could stop the love the rose proposed to his sun. Even in death he'd still offer her life.

You couldn't even take the rose from Tommy's hand before you finally broke. Laughing at the irony, Tears streamed down your face as you sunk to your knees, all the pain you'd been bottling up coming out. And thus you sobbed, hard. So hard in fact, it felt like you couldn't breathe. And you sobs were still mixed with laughter of disbelief as a million memories ran through your head, but none as loud as the one of that night and the morning after.

Two years ago you'd lost that ring. Alfie promised that he'd look multiple times whenever he went back to the house, even if it meant having the meeting in the garden like "a bunch of prissy ladies at a fucking tea party" as he'd called it. And for two years he'd had no luck until now. But today, your rose had finally found the lost ring, even if you'd lost him months ago.

Setting the rose gently on the table, Tommy sunk to his knees too. Letting you grab onto him, for a shoulder to mourn on. He knew you needed it. For so long you'd shut yourself away, denying the truth and trying to act like it didn't affect you. You wanted to pretend your world wasn't falling apart and now you couldn't any more. He'd been he same way, except he didn't have anyone to help him. He couldn't burden his one year old son with his grief and he knew most of his family still resented Grace to some degree. They hadn't been as destroyed by her passing as he had. He didn't want you to be alone like he had. For as many terrible thing as Tommy had done, he couldn't bring it upon himself to leave you alone now. And so he sat on the floor, holding you in his arms as the cracked dam finally broke.

That night, until the early hours of the morning, Thomas Shelby sat comforting the wife of the man he'd killed. And he would until she'd fallen asleep, finally worn out from her grieving. In the morning he'd offer breakfast and they'd get to talking about the loves they lost. They were still both hurt and broken and mourning what they'd lost, but they weren't alone now. For two people so different they both knew what the other felt so deeply. Little snippets and stories about happier times, while watching a little boy play with a big dog, laughing as the pair rolled in the grass. And while both still grieved, there was a peace to be found in being with someone who knew how they felt.

And while they talked, Y/N played with the ring on her finger. It was new and expensive and fit just right. This one was only two years old and didn't have many memories but she loved it just the same. And upstairs by her bed sat another ring, but this one was held tightly by a rose she'd placed in a vase. This was the ring that she loved more, and the one she really wanted to wear, but she couldn't bear to tear it from the rose just yet. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to. Maybe she'd let the rose dry out and preserve it like she use to do someone's at the flower shop when she was young. But for now she's let it live as it was.

Holding on tightly to a promise that not even death could divide...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While all this happened a mailman was headed towards Birmingham with a letter from a dead man, asking about his dog and looking for his wife....

#Alfie Solomons x reader #peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinders #alfie solomons #tales from the flower garden

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wooahaes · 4 months

Text

collaborative effort

pairing: non-idol!95z x gn!reader

genre: fluff. domestic fic. established relationship. poly relationship.

word count: 1.1k~

warnings: food mentions.

daisy's notes: yes this references the october fic from this year where they all went on a hike together hehe

“You know, you’re supposed to be helping us.”

Seungcheol stood beside the Christmas tree the four of you had put up this year. Or, rather, the two of you did, because Seungcheol and Joshua were the only two working on the thing at this point. Jeonghan had yet again pulled you away from decorating the tree (he helped pick it out! And the two of you tracked down the worker so you could buy it! Technically the two of you did help since you also untangled the lights!), linking the two of you together as partners in crime yet again. It reminded you of that time the four of you rented a cabin in the mountains, actually: it always felt like Jeonghan latched onto you because he knew you’d go along with him without a second thought. Seungcheol and Joshua did, too, but Jeonghan liked how you’d ask questions later most of the time.

“We are?” Jeonghan said from his spot on the couch, happily cuddled up with you clinging to his arm. The two of you were sharing a blanket, and he had been eating a candy cane that you suspected he was purposefully sharpening… just to keep the others on edge. “Someone has to stand back and watch it all come together.” He nodded toward you, “and they’re our second pair of eyes.”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes, picking up another ornament. “Why do I love you both…”

“Because we’re irresistible,” Jeonghan chuckled, snuggling into you further. “Besides… You and Shua got to rest while we—”

“—Untangled the lights for us,” Joshua finished. “We know.”

With a crunch, Jeonghan broke off the slightly-sharp part of his candy cane. “If you need us to help, we’ll help in a few minutes. I’m resting right now.”

Seungcheol looked over, his eyes finding yours. “And you?”

“I’m keeping him warm,” you giggled. “And observing. Cheollie, move that red one over a few branches. It’s too close to that gold one.”

Immediately, you were met with the pouty grumbles of Seungcheol as he did as you told him. A moment later, he took a step back, taking in the sight of it.

“Well?” Jeonghan was smiling, already fully aware of what Seungcheol thought. “Were they right?”

Seungcheol said nothing, earning a soft laugh from Joshua as he glanced over to see the man’s pouty face. Sometimes it was too easy to mess with him.

“How about this,” Jeonghan spoke up again, “if you two finish the tree, we’ll decorate the rest of the house, and we all can do anything outside together.”

Joshua looked over, watching the two of you for a moment. “I feel like you’re planning something.”

“We’re not,” you hummed. “We’ll handle the rest of the inside stuff. I don’t mind.”

With a sigh, Seungcheol set down the empty box of ornaments, making his way over. “Move over,” he mumbled. “I’m tired, too.”

Before he could flop down onto the two of you (something both he and Joshua have done before… and, to be fair, you and Jeonghan were equally guilty of), you dove away, giving Seungcheol enough space to rest between you and Jeonghan before you cuddled back in. You reached a hand up, brushing back a strand of his hair behind his ear as he met your eyes.

“The tree looks really good so far,” you said, leaning over to press a quick kiss against his lips. “If you need me to help, I will—”

“It’s fine,” he said. “Just keep Jeonghan company. We’ll bring the other boxes down later.”

Jeonghan settled in after pulling himself free from the blanket the two of you had been sharing, head resting on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “I guess we owe Shua for convincing us to get a real tree.”

As if on cue, Joshua threw himself onto the couch next to you. “Because it’s nicer.” He rested his head in your lap, and you already dropped a hand down to play with his hair. “We can use the plastic one again next year if you want.”

“You’re going to have to vacuum up pine needles,” Seungcheol flicked the top of Joshua’s head, “since it was your idea.”

“I can live with that,” Joshua let out a soft hum as he curled up closer to you.

The four of you simply stayed there for a while, cozy and warm in one another’s company. Joshua rested a hand on your knee, thumb dragging across the fabric of your sweatpants as he gazed at a nearly-completed tree. Seungcheol’s head rested against Jeonghan’s, his hand in your free one, your other hand still lovingly stroking Joshua’s hair. You could see Jeonghan wrap his arms around Seungcheol’s, shutting his eyes for a moment happily as he let out a blissful sigh. Sometimes it took moments like these for you to appreciate just how much the four of you loved one another.

“We still need to put the tree topper up.” Seungcheol glanced between you and Jeonghan, gaze settling on the person without Joshua laying on their lap. “Jeonghan—”

“I’ll get it,” he sighed, pressing a kiss against his cheek.

“We could put Jeonghan on top of the tree,” you mumbled, shutting your eyes as you leaned against Seungcheol a little further. “Don’t people put angels on top of their trees sometimes?”

Sure enough, you heard Joshua mumble something that you weren’t entirely sure he wanted anyone to hear, earning him a soft smack against his shoulder. He immediately started cackling, earning a confused look from Seungcheol, and a knowing look from Jeonghan when he glanced over.

“Shua!” You whined at him. “I’m not repeating it.”

“I’ll tell them later,” he said, squeezing your knee. “Jeonghan—”

He shook his head, already moving the stepladder over. Jeonghan carefully picked up the shiny star tree-topper the four of you had bought years ago (back when it was just Seungcheol and Jeonghan living together, with you and Joshua crashing constantly at their place). With slow steps, you watched as Jeonghan stepped up the ladder, carefully placing the topper in its proper place. He drew his hands back, waiting just for a moment to ensure that it was secure before he descended, stepping back to admire the finished tree.

“There…” Jeonghan turned back to the three of you. “I think we’ve earned some hot chocolate. Cheol, you’re buying, right?”

Under the sound of Seungcheol complaining and Joshua’s soft laugh (because of course Jeonghan would rope Seungcheol into paying), you giggled, smiling to yourself as you moved to untangle yourself from your partners. Yet you found yourself stuck in place, admiring how pretty everything looked when it finally came together. Joshua stood up after you, leaning against you as he, too, admired the finished tree. Soon enough, Seungcheol and Jeonghan had come back together, the four of you standing in this sweet moment you felt would last an eternity.

“You know… I think we did a pretty good job,” Joshua mused aloud.

“We did,” you nodded, a hand curling around his bicep. With a smile, you looked at your partners. “Let’s go get that hot chocolate.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny

#wooahaes.dec23 #wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #seventeen fluff #joshua x reader #joshua hong fluff #joshua fluff #jeonghan fluff #seungcheol fluff #s coups fluff #s coups x reader #jeonghan x reader

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wroteclassicaly · 1 year

Text

When you say “Eat me” and King Steve is like… “Okay.”

And it ends up with you in the boy’s bathroom, Steve on his knees for you in those tight jeans, your back against the stall wall, one leg over his shoulder. He edges you, then drags you to different places all over the school, not letting you cum, just getting you right there with his disgustingly sinful mouth. There’s the boys’ locker room, your abandoned home room, behind the bleachers in the gym, maybe even during a spontaneous pep rally like when he’d made you cum on his fingers once during the cheerleaders senior spirit week, no one even aware. Or it’s another random supply closet, like the one where you’d lost an earring earlier in the week when you were choking on his big fat cock until you were hoarse the rest of the school day. During lunch hour he takes you into his fancy car in the parking lot, windows steamed up due to winter’s condensation, both legs over those shoulders, your hands messing up his quaffed hair, toes curling across his baby blue sweater, bunching the material, knowing what’s underneath.

Maybe he’ll let you orgasm this time, maybe not? He’ll watch you through hooded eyes, a thin ring of hazel, blown pupils like shattered glass that leave fragments of cinnamon behind. Then he’ll push in two fingers, with the sole purpose of hearing how wet you are for him. He takes it slow, just to hear that squelch inside your soaked cunt, that smirk on his diabolical, spit-slick mouth. He’s on his knees on the floorboard in the backseat as he rises, your knees nearly pressing to your chest when he rocks forward to mumble, “Yeah? You thinkin’ about coming for me, baby?”

“Steve…” And you’d beg, because you always fucking beg him.

“I’d quit talking if I were you, honey.”

He doesn’t let you cum this time, not until he’s got you at his house later that night, spread out on his bedspread, back arched, tits out, legs squeezing around his head and neck. When you’re so overstimulated and cursing him out from not being able to reach your high, he levels you on your knees and makes you suck him off until your throat is burning, your resolve faltering. Only when you consider tapping out (but you won’t, you never do, you both know this), he will manhandle you up and onto his mattress, pull you to the edge of the bed, and lift your legs back over his naked shoulders, telling you that you need to “remember your place”. And when he finally does give you permission, it’s so fucking messy that he has to punish you.

“Look at you. Made a fucking mess on my chest, my bed, even the carpet.”

You didn’t mean to, you really didn’t. But as you come back down to your senses and see his chest hair drenched in your squirt, his mouth shiny and smirking, cheeks flushed and body bound for more, you know King Steve is gonna rail you. He works his back against the headboard, bending his hairy thighs a little, beckoning you in a command, never a question. “C’mhere. Sit on me, I think you’re wet enough to take me, slut.”

“You can think whatever you want, but we both know who you belong to. And whenever the next pathetic sucker is inside you, you’ll remember me. You’ll remember… this.”

And he pushes his hips up as you gather yourself over his lap, splitting you open, that overwhelming sting causing tears to gather at your lash line. He takes you so hard that night, that you can’t walk without a limp for hours, and sitting? It becomes a task that takes special effort for the next week.

Years later, when you find him in the Family Video, wiping the snow flakes off your forehead, dusting the mixed rain drops off your coat, you end up catching those beautiful eyes. He’s munching on a Twizzler, his milky white teeth pausing on a sink down as he drinks you in.

“Hey, you.” His voice is soft, softer than you remember in the previous years. But there’s an undercurrent that’s stirring on the surface.

“Steve.” You greet politely, stepping forward and leaning over the counter with your cleavage spilling out of the dark black V neck sweater you wear, biting into the opposite end of candy rope, fascinated by the saliva that coats his lips in a shine when you manage to pull the candy out to take your bite.

He raises a thick brow, leaning forward on clasped fist, knuckles protruding, helping to showcase the veins that run along his forearms and into his hands. You miss those giant pleasure patters. Despite his changed reputation, you flip his switch, still.

“Didn’t I tell you to remember your place, honey? You that stupid that you’re forgetting this quick?”

Finishing off the candy, you shrug. He grips your throat and has you tugged onto the tip toes of your boots in seconds flat. “Get your ass into the back and take your fucking underwear off.”

Smirking, you nod. “Yes, King Steve.”

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drivinmeinsane · 4 months

Text

Mistletoe ※ 12 Days of Goosemas

Day Twelve ※ Driver / Reader

{12 Days of Goosemas Masterlist} ※ {Regular Masterlist} ※ {ao3}

※ Summary: Your apartment complex decided to decorate for the season and who else is with you but your ever-present shadow, Driver?

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content.

※ Content/Tags: Cumming Untouched, Shy!Driver, Kissing

※ Word count: 1087

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

As the sun sets, the temperature continues to drop further. It’s cold and you rub your hands together, fighting the urge to blow on them. If you’re this chilly, you can’t imagine how your neighbor must be feeling. The quiet man had moved all the way from California about a year ago. You’ve become fast friends since meeting each other in the parking lot. He had been there when another neighbor backed into your car. His intervention when the guilty party decided to pick a fight had been invaluable. Strangely enough, that neighbor broke the lease and moved out not even a week after the accident.

Today, the mechanic is helping you bring in the groceries. Driver had softly insisted on carrying all the bags, leaving you empty handed. Your only jobs in this process until getting inside the apartment were to close his truck and unlock your front door. Almost all your trips have turned into mutual excuses to spend time together.

Your apartment complex has decided to decorate for the holidays. String lights are twinkling in the hallways and along the awnings of the buildings. The effect is admittedly cozy. You’re looking up, admiring the lights when you spot it and come to a dead stop. Driver nearly stumbles over you.

“What is it?” His tone carries an edge of concern.

Pointing upwards at fake leaves and berries, comically large for visibility, you answer his question. “Mistletoe.”

Driver doesn’t move when you spin on your heel to face him. He makes a low, questioning noise, but doesn’t speak, There is a moment of silence while he processes the word. You see the moment when he realizes what you’re getting at. His eyes widen slightly and he looks as flustered as you’ve ever seen him.

Biting down on his toothpick and clearing his throat, he finally speaks. “It means a kiss, right?”

“Is that okay?” You ask softly, not wanting to push him into something he doesn’t want.

The man quietly nods. He stays still when you step into his space and reach up, slowly, to pluck the toothpick from his lips. You tuck it into its customary spot behind his ear. Driver leans down, angling his grocery-laden arms out of the way. You lean up to meet him, mouth hovering over his. He makes no effort to close the gap. He’s waiting for you to make the choice, breath brushing erratically over your face. His blue eyes are hooded, nearly closed as he observes you. There’s a flush creeping up his neck, dusting his ears in pink. He’s so lovely like this.

Reflexively, his tongue darts out and wets his lips. They glisten in the light. He’s almost trembling, his jaw working. Finally, you take pity on him and kiss him. His mouth falls open under yours. You had genuinely intended to keep the kiss chaste, but the way he melts against you causes you to kiss him deeper, thoroughly.

When you finally pull away, he makes an involuntary, wounded sound. It’s so needy that you immediately catch the tall man in another kiss. His breathing is ragged, and you can feel the muscles in his upper arms tensing underneath your hands. Your teeth catch on his bottom lip and you suck it. He lets out an unrestrained whine and his body jerks, hard. You pull away, concerned. The man is trembling, chest heaving. He’s flushed and his eyes are glazed. His lips are kiss-swollen and shiny with spit.

Worried, you visually scan him for something wrong. You start to open your mouth to ask him if he’s okay, but that’s when you see it. There is a sizable wet spot spread over the front of his jeans. You can see the imprint of his erection straining against the thick material. Under your astounded gaze, you see it twitch and the spot grows larger.

In a daze, you reach out and press your fingertips to the clearly visible head of his cock. The denim is warm and damp to the touch as you rub over it. Driver’s hips instantly press against your hand. Your hand opens and he’s grinding against your palm, over sensitive but desperate for contact, as though he can’t help himself. He’s silent now, but panting.

“Oh,” you breathe wonderingly.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, sounding distraught. He can’t meet your eyes when you finally look away from the sight of his gradually softening cock against your palm, separated only by a single layer from the look of things.

“Don’t be,” you tell him, voice gentle.

Reluctantly, you remove your hand from the front of his jeans. Driver sways forward after it before coming to his senses and taking a step back. Neither of you speak as he follows you back to your apartment, still carrying the groceries. He lets you close the door behind him after he enters and makes his way to the kitchen to set the bags on the counter. You join him, hastily putting away the cold items. The two of you stand there for a moment in crushing silence. The mechanic turns to leave, but you interrupt him.

“Would you like a glass of water?” It’s irrational considering the man has an issue to take care of but you can’t stand the thought of him leaving. There’s a growing certainty that you will only see him in passing if this doesn’t get resolved. He’s clearly embarrassed.

He’s quiet for so long that you’re certain he’s going to just walk right out the door. “Sure.”

Your hands brush when you fill the glass and hand it to him. There’s no missing the way his breath hitches and his eyelids flutter at the small amount of contact. Your eyes are glued to the movements of his throat as he swallows. He sets the glass down on the counter at his side. There’s something sad in his expression, like he’s in mourning. You can’t stand it.

“Oh look, more mistletoe.” you say, tipping your chin at the ceiling.

“Yeah?” He asks quietly.

“It’s the invisible kind,” you confirm, getting a smile out of him.

Driver reaches out, sliding his hand over your side. He crowds against you. The devastated look is gone, replaced only by his searching gaze. You tilt your head back for him and then he’s kissing you. The way he groans into your mouth when you slide your hands under his layered jackets makes you thankful for your apartment management company for the first time since you moved in.

#12 days of goosemas #drive (2011)#drive 2011 #drive 2011 fanfiction #driver #driver x reader #driver fanfiction #ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling fanficton #.my work #.my posts

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infini-tree · 2 months

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episodic - part 3

< back | next >

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Summary: It's business as usual. At least it looks like it, and that has to count for something. The boys do a bit of arts and crafts. Krupp takes a step back.

A/N: literally the worst part of writing fic for CU is trying to think of pranks. they’re up there with choreographing fight scenes. also these next chapters were brought to you by: me referencing the movie’s art book i got as a gift. Locations And Fascinating Objects section my beloved…

this chapter's scene went through a lot of shuffling-- melvin was supposed to be in this one. but alas, once this was finalized he was pushed back into the next chapter. ideally. at the earliest. its been almost 4 years, i swear he actually has a part to play in this AU, he's technically part of the core secondary cast--

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Back in the present day, the boys snuck into the art room. Even now, there wasn’t a proper class for it in Jerome Horwitz, despite The Prank For Good. But because of it, Krupp never had the thought to put it under lock and key again. The doors still remained unlocked for any kid that needed it. And George and Harold had a big need. In fact, they had been caching away supplies when no one was looking.

Captain Underpants trailed behind them; he looked at the room and gave a small nod, murmuring something about being “back at the start”.

“What will we be doing this time, sidekicks?” He clapped his hands together. “Oh! I could try and ask for a carnival again–”

“NO!” both of them shouted. The hero jumped up in surprise and stayed in a low hover.

George was the quicker of the two to regain composure. “No, no– we’re doing something different.”

“Oh.”

Harold unpacked the contents of his bag. There was a ridiculous amount of flour and bottles around them, along with other plastic pails and shovels.

“Ooh, are we making a cake? Can I decorate it?” Captain asked.

George sighed. “It’s not for a cake.”

“Well, what is it for?”

Harold dumped a bunch of flour and oil into the largest bucket with the glee reserved for children about to make a huge mixture of stuff. “Sand!”

When the hero continued to look baffled, George cut in. “With Krupp instating the grade-wide assignment gauntlet, we have to retaliate with the exact opposite of that.”

“…Recess?”

“Close!” Harold began to mix the concoction with a plastic shovel. “Summer vacation!”

“And we need to make a lot to really sell the beach vibe.”

“Oh…” Captain nodded with the confidence of someone who had no idea what that meant. He knelt down and gave a curious sniff at the flour sand, catching the faint whiff of some sort of cooking oil. mix his own bucket the other boy handed to him.

To make a long story short, they managed to create enough of it to create a sizable layer in at least two classrooms. They hauled the first half of it to Guided’s classroom–or rather, Captain flew it over in record time. He began to push all the desks back and started to stack them high up against the edges of the wall. It reminded Harold of that one time he showed George a boardwalk on a faded postcard, tall buildings looming over sandy beaches.

“Why only two?” Captain asked as he stacked some of the desks on the teacher’s desk. “Why not make the whole school a beach?”

The boys perked up from their efforts to place the sand evenly across the classroom floor.

“‘Cause the first big tests are in Ms. Guided and Ribble’s classrooms,” Harold said.

“We’d have loved to do something big," George explained as he scattered the beach toys. "Really put the last big prank that happened here to shame–”

“But we had to improvise. Go for lots of smaller ones for the first part of this plan, you know?”

“First part?” Captain echoed.

“Yeah!” Harold continued, ushering them all out of the room. Captain followed in a low hover, and George swept over the remaining footprints with a hand. Looking back at their work, it looked like no one was ever in the room.

“The first bit is to wear all the teachers and Krupp down. And then–”

“Bam.” he punched into his own open palm. “That’s where you come in!”

Captain tilted his head. “I thought this was where I came in?”

“What? No– I mean, we appreciate your help, but you have a bigger part to play here.”

“I do?” he asked.

“We figured you’d want to get back at Krupp, right?” George said.

Captain was silent, his expression dumbfounded.

“With enough pressure, he’ll back off from you and he’ll back off with all the sudden assignments!” Harold clarified. “It’ll be great.”

“We’re not sure how long he’s planning on making everyone miserable, but we’re planning for the long game.”

That seemed to make things more murky for him but the curiosity still remained. He tilted his head with furrowed brows, as if trying to figure out the connection between the two facts. “…How long, exactly?”

“As long as it takes.” Harold gave him a good natured punch to the side. “Now come on, let’s get the other classroom set up.”

The boys grabbed his hands and led him back to the art room, chatting about what else they could do.

---------------------

The school didn’t know what hit them.

Later that day, the fourth graders enjoyed the slices of beaches in the pair of classrooms. They made their sandcastles and moats as the teachers tried– and failed– to get their papers from their desks buried under their own students’ desks.

And on the day after that, there was the petting zoo in the math classrooms on the same day a calculator-less test on long division was meant to happen. It was no tiger, but the kids enjoyed petting the sheep. For extra salt in the wound, there were numbers drawn in bright colors on their wool.

Corralling the animals out was one thing. Finding out they were only Sheeps #1-6 and 8 was another, leaving all the teachers to scramble to find the last sheep of the set for the past few hours.

Apparently, the third time wasn’t the charm as George and Harold were called into the principal’s office. When they walked in, he had never bothered to close one of the desk drawers, clearly embroiled in whatever work principals do. Krupp was faced away from them, yelling into the phone.

“How many times do I have to explain it to you, there probably isn’t a Sheep #7– are you falling asleep counting them?” He turned to face them and grimaced. “I’ll get back to you.”

He hung up the phone, glaring at them as they took their respective seats.

“Care to explain the last few days?”

Harold shifted in his seat as he gave a glance to the other boy. “We have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“We were a bit too busy dealing with the sudden wave of assignments and tests to try anything,” George added with a shrug.

“Don’t play innocent with me. The gaps in my memory are extremely obvious.” He waggled an accusatory finger at them.

“Like we said, we were busy–”

“What– watching him get bit by sheep yesterday?!” He held up his other arm filled with band aids of various sizes.

George leaned over to the other boy and whispered, “Man, they can be really vicious, huh?”

Krupp slammed his fists onto his desk. He opened his hands. Closed them. Before pushing himself off his seat to look down at them. “Whether you’ll actually admit it, I’ll cut to the chase. Stop whatever you’re trying to do.”

“If it was us, why would we? You started it.”

“Oh, hah–” He let out an incredulous, breathless laugh at that. “I started it? You’re one to talk after all you’ve done to me. You should be grateful I don’t just hold you back right now for that comment!”

Harold was unmoved. “Man, you got so much worse– I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Oh, I can do so much worse after your little breaking and entering stunt,” he shot back. “Invading my privacy, looking into things you shouldn’t–”

“So you admit you were talking to him.”

“Now I never said anything about talking, have I?”

George and Harold leveled a glare at him, refusing to give him any confirmation or satisfaction that he was right. “So that is why you cracked down on the entire fourth grade, huh?”

“Or maybe it has to do with the fact that I’m losing sleep over mysterious injuries!” The boys wanted to speak up, but he refused to give them that. “And– and, seeing the school be nearly destroyed multiple times a week.”

“Not like you really cared about the school before,” George grumbled.

Krupp spluttered furiously, turning a new shade of red in the process. “Says the children who keep on endangering it and wasting its resources!"

“We’re saving the school!”

“From problems you made up.” He slowly made his way around his desk to them. “Is that why you made me your little stooge? Were you just tired and wanted to feel important in your little superhero fantasy? Or was getting rid of me the main motivation here?”

George stood up from his chair. “Oh, if we could have, we would have!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, it suddenly felt like the office had turned somewhat askew. Gone was the red in Krupp’s face and gone was the anger– if anything, he looked like he had been slapped in the face. His mouth opened. Closed. Nothing.

The boys were suddenly aware of the clock ticking, now that it was completely silent. George couldn’t help but be reminded of the time he said something that crossed some unseen line with his mom.

And just as quickly as the conversation was fishtailing out of what any of them were used to, the principal clambered for any sense of control.

“I’ll deal with the both of you later.” He put up a hand to rub his temples– and conveniently hid his eyes. “Get out.”

Harold blinked. “What–”

“NOW!” He whipped his arm to point at the door.

They stumbled out of their seats and ran without a second thought.

---------------------

For the rest of the last class of the school day, Harold was sitting on pins and needles as he looked at the clock. While most kids looked at it expectantly for the final bell to ring, right now he was dreading it. He figured George was doing the same.

Krupp getting the jump on them was a matter of when today , not if, especially when he was as mad as he was earlier.

Five minutes. He glanced to the front of the class. Even Rected was struggling with the new mandate to increase kids’ work. Which, he guessed, made sense– more work for them meant more stuff the teachers had to look at.

Two minutes.

Speaking of work, he was quickly scribbling out some ideas for the next issues. Though he couldn’t help but let his mind wander off to the other prank plans they had– he figured by the way Rected was pulling at his hair, they can bring Captain in for the cherry on top by the end of next week–

The speakers screeched to life. There was a beat of silence long enough for someone to ask if Krupp called an announcement on accident, until–

“Pop science fair, end of this week,” he said tersely. “Hope you can wow the teachers, since this is now a good chunk of your mark. How much? That’s the ‘pop’ part of that.”

The kids began to groan and slam their heads on their desks. Even more heads fell on their desks as another screech echoed through the school.

“You have George Beard and Harold Hutchins to thank for that. That will be all.”

The bell rang. One by one, everyone turned his direction, some shocked, others confused, many furious. Even Mr. Rected gave a baffled look.

After dodging the onslaught of kids ready to hound him or worse due to the announcement, he found George running down the hallway for similar reasons. At some point along the way, the other boy got their skateboards and helmets. With a frantic throw, they skateboarded out of the front yard and down the quickest route to their house.

“George?” Harold said, once they turned to their street. He had been eerily silent the whole time.

The other boy jumped off his own board and pulled his helmet off. He could see how much sweat was on his forehead now.

“Change of plans–” He stomped the end of the skateboard to make it stand before quickly grabbing it. “We’re taking stock of everything tonight.”

Harold stared at him. He knew why– he could still feel a flare of indignation from that announcement.

It was like George read his mind. “What Krupp said– those were fighting words. We’re going to move the Captain Plan up next.”

He gave a curt nod.

#mellsian fanfics #captain underpants #sticky notes au #estimated chapter total for this is uh #six now! may fluctuate but Yeah :)

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testingthewatersss · 4 months

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Ran Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture, etc. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 1 / 3 3000 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI You told him it was a bad idea. That it was going to be loud. Luckily, he has somewhere to run too.

Y/N looks up at the sound, quirking her brow as she catches Barnes peering around it’s edge. She thinks, it looks like he’s afraid of a scolding, so she’s careful to offer him a smile, as soon as he meets her eyes.

Some of the tension drops from his shoulders as he registers her expression, as he sees her, safely on the bed he shares sometimes, when he really needs to sleep.

She doesn’t say anything to beckon him further towards her, just opens her legs, keeping her knees bent, and closes her laptop, slipping it over to the far side of the mattress.

Nervously, he steps into the space, nudging the door shut behind himself, waiting for the click of the lock before he starts to pad over to the bed.

“Hey, sweetheart” her sweet voice coos, as he finally climbs up, over her comforter, to settle himself between her thighs, “You doin’ okay?”

It’s clear he’s not. But still, Y/N likes to ask, partly, Bucky assumes it's so he has to acknowledge it himself, without relying on others to tell him how he’s feeling.

He doesn’t really want to answer. He doesn’t really know, anyway.

His head falls to her shoulder, as he ignores the ache in his bent knees.

Gentle hands, that are warm, and familiar slip over his back like water, palming the taught, over worked muscles with ease, as the man they belong to settles himself in her embrace.

Y/N kisses at the top of his head, and tries to ignore the way she can feel his pulse hammering through his body. He smells like adrenaline, like fresh air and panic.

“Wanna talk about it?” she offers calmly, nodding when he instantly murmurs out a no, that is absorbed by her throat.

She assures him that that’s okay, too. That he doesn’t have to tell her a thing, that he can just be, for a while, if that’s what he wants.

It’s all I want, he decides, all I want is to stay with you, where it’s quiet.

Her legs card his body protectively, as she lets him continue to hide against her front.

His hands are in the front pocket of his hoodie. His metal fingers tugging at the flesh ones anxiously, as he fights the urge to hold on to her waist.

The way he’s breathing is shallow, it’s the raspy kind of panting that can only be conditioned by years of enforced stillness, and Y/N finds herself deepening her own inhalation, hoping he’ll adapt, and try and match her slower, more even rhythm.

He doesn’t. He can’t. Not yet.

She rubs a small circle between his shoulder blades, noting the way he’s starting to soften against her. It’s a good sign, she thinks, it means he’s letting himself relax, even a little.

“Cold?” Bucky hears her ask-

“A little” he whispers back, voice dry and cracking.

His cheeks flush red at the admission, they only continue burning when she tells FRIDAY to crank the heat up.

He’s been colder. He's just being stupid- he probably shouldn’t have come here, he scolds internally, he shouldn’t be wasting her time, ruining her day like this-

“Stop that” Y/N murmurs, lips ghosting his temple, “I can feel you being hard on yourself.”

Bucky stops breathing for a second. The quick, shallow bursts of air he’s been managing to swallow catching in his throat.

“I’m sorry” he chokes quickly, not wanting to her upset her, somehow, “I-“

“You” she interrupts sweetly, “are very tense, all of a sudden.”

He nods in agreement. He is tense. Every muscle of his body is cramping and locked in place. He tries to relax them, making a conscious effort to let his shoulders sag, even if it’s only for a moment.

“I ran” he confesses next, ashamed eyes staying closed, against her skin, “I was with the others, and I- I couldn’t take the shoutin’- I- I just ran”

That’s not a surprise. It’s game day, and most of the towers occupants had decided to go and watch the match together in the home cinema Tony had built into one of the lower suites.

They’re rowdy, at the best of times, and things had been… tense, since Barnes’ arrival.

Months had passed, by now, but the atmosphere is still malleable. It fluctuates, depending on the day, on the mood of the people within it.

Adding a competitive sport, where people supported differing teams, usually lead to boisterous play fighting, at the very least.

Y/N had declined the invitation, along with Wanda and Bruce.

“Who was winning?” she asks gently, feeling his chest gives a meagre attempt at a tremor.

"No idea" Bucky murmurs with a weak attempt at a shrug, “Everyone was yellin’, doll”

She nods, and pulls him a little closer towards her front.

“They do that” she says, “I warned ya’, I said it might get a little loud in there-”

I told you so, isn’t what Y/N is trying to say, not exactly, but, it doesn’t change the fact that she had. She had warned him that going down with Steve might not be the best idea, not when he hasn’t been sleeping, not when the seasons are changing to winter, and he can barely get through the day without disappearing for hours at time.

She’d offered to join him in the end, hoping that she might keep an eye on things, step in if he needed an escape. Compromise, sweetened with a lovely smile. But he’d declined, with a chaste kiss against her lips, and a beer in his hand, and told her to go and get some work done without him bothering her for once.

"You never bother me, sweetheart", she’d told him honestly, palm stroking his cheek, "I promise, but go, have fun with Steve, and remember where I am, if you want me for somethin’"

His head shakes the memory away. He feels his metal fingers digging into the bed of his flesh thumb until it starts to sting.

Stupid, he scolds silently, gritting his teeth against the tension of his tight metal fist, It was stupid to let Sam talk me into it.

“Doesn’t matter anyway” Y/N soothes, “nobodies yellin’ here”

No, he thinks, please don’t yell at me.

He couldn’t take that, Y/N is safe, she’s gentle, and kind, and she loves him, even if he doubts she could possibly love him as much as he loves her, he believes her when she tells him that she cares, and she tells him all the time-

“I love you” she whispers, as if on cue, “You’re okay, nothin’ bad’s comin’”

Bucky knows he’s starting to shiver, now, he can feel the way his body is trembling against the steady surface of hers.

He makes a poor attempt at stilling it as he nods, stubble grazing her shoulder.

Nothing bad’s coming, he repeats to himself, desperate to believe it.

“We should let Steve know you’re with me” Y/N suggests gently, “Don’t want him turnin’ round and you havin’ vanished-”

“He saw me go” Bucky tells her, voice still awfully low, “I ran- I- I just bolted, Y/N/N-I-”

“That’s fine” she’s quick to assure him, “As long as he knows you’re okay, you know how he worries-”

“I’m not” he murmurs, the tragic admission slipping past his lips before he could swallow it down, “I- I- I ran, like- like a fuckin’ animal I-“

“You” Y/N cuts in again, “are being too hard on yourself, as usual.”

Her hand sweep down his spine, making his back arch in response to the gentle trail of heat.

“I-“ he tries to insist, “I-"

He lets himself fall silent, not knowing how to express the intense well of self-loathing that’s heavy in his chest.

It’s been a fixture of his being for so long, now, along with guilt and bitter, un-relenting fear that he doesn’t remember what it’s like to be completely without it.

This newer, shame driven anger is still jarring, though.

He’d run away like a child, he’d slammed the door so hard it had cracked down the centre, and despite the way he’s safe, now, with no one shouting anywhere he can hear, he still can’t make himself settle, he still doesn’t trust that nobodies going to burst into the room, and tear him away by his hair, to bark orders in his face, and torture him some how.

That thought makes his fingers knot together again. He tries to breath, to remind himself that he’s not there anymore, that he’s somewhere where he’s allowed to run away, now.

Y/N feels his back heave, she feels him steady it, bracing himself to either defend against a blow that is never going to come, or to stop himself from crying.

She sighs gently, reaching up to stroke the long, tangles of hair that are sitting heavy and sweat dampened at the base of his neck.

He tenses at the contact, still expecting something crueller.

“It’s just me, Buck” Y/N reminds him quietly, trailing her fingers through the mess of brown, “Here, just me, see?”

She can feel his muscles twitching again, so when he relents to her suggestion, and starts to sit back on his haunches, eyes wide as he stares at her face, she can’t help but reach out to cup his cheek-

His head snaps sidewards in a frantic bid to protect his face.

Her heart strings tighten as she realises that he’s expecting a slap.

Bucky feels his blood thrumming through his veins, his arm whines pitifully, and his eyes stay screwed shut, even as he starts panting a little more heavily.

“Oh, Sweetheart… no…”

His heart only speeds up at the prospect of being chastised, some how.

But then, he feels the warmth of her palm on his cheek- he flinches, not able to stop the reflex.

Y/N just hushes him, a slow, easy breath melting in the air between them as her fingers ghost his cheek.

He looks terrible, really, the hollows under his eyes are dark, and there’s a graze above his brow from training that morning, she knows his flesh knuckles are still bruised, too- even if he’s hiding them in his pocket. His chapped lips look sore, and his jaw is locked, the muscle bulging under her thumb, as she sweeps it across the skin.

“That’s it” she praises lightly, seeing him relenting to the kindness of the interaction, “You’re tired, aren’t you?”

Bucky lets himself hum, enjoying the affection he’s being treated too.

He’s like a cornered stray, Y/N thinks, like any wrong move might cause him to bolt.

Except he's already bolted. He ran away, and kept running until he'd found her.

She keeps her tone soft, and her movements slow, as she reaches over to his neck with her other hand.

He doesn’t recoil, this time, but she can’t quite tell if that’s because he’s calming down, or if it’s because he’s scared to risk the movement.

“I know” she murmurs sweetly, “I know you like that, it’s alright”

Her thumb and forefinger have slipped up to stroke the marred skin behind his ear. There’s a deep, old, scar there, and he’s told her before, about how much he likes it when she soothes it for him.

It’s endearing, really.

The way his eyes flutter open, nervous and muddled before recognition and affection fill them.

Y/N beams at him, nodding encouragingly as he leans back into her touch, exposing his throat for her.

“Come on now, sweetheart” she purrs, “No more shoutin’- I promise”

Bucky offers her a jerky nod, as he sniffs in through his nose.

“I- I love you” he murmurs, because it’s true, and he feels like he should tell her, “I- I’m just… I-“

“I know” she tells him calmly, “It’s alright, you’re exhausted”

“I’m scared, doll” he alters anxiously, “when… When I- When I was there… it felt like everyone was always shoutin’ at me…”

Y/N doesn’t stop him, even though he’d said he didn’t want to talk about it earlier, she just continues the way she’s stroking his face, letting him collect his thoughts the best he can.

“I-I don’t remember a time when someone spoke, to me, like- like a person… it- It was always, someone yellin’, givin’ me my orders, or- or tellin’ me where to go. They’d talk about me, with each other sometimes, but…”

He quiets for a moment, shaking his head a fraction, nuzzling into her wrist.

“Sometimes when it’s quiet I hear screamin’ in my head…” he confesses, “… sometimes it’s my own, from… from when they’d…”

Y/N hears the crack in his voice, it makes tears sting behind her eyes- she brings her fingers up, over his lips to quiet him.

He kisses at her skin, before sighing sadly.

“Sometimes it’s… sometimes it’s the people I killed- I- I hear them cryin’ out- beggin’ me to stop-“

Her head tilts, she drops her palm back to his jaw, to let him continue, since it seems like he wants to keep speaking, and she has no intention of discouraging his openness.

“I think… sometimes, it’s the officers too” he continues sadly, “I- I hear them shoutin’ orders at me, givin’ me my missions or- or just… fuckin’ screamin’ at me…”

It’s clear he’s slipping, now. His head shakes a fraction, as though that might clear what ever memories he’s uncovered with his admission.

She stills him with her hand, before leaning in and pressing a gentle, careful kiss against his lips.

Bucky feels his chest relax as soon as his mouth meets hers. He exhales long and slow, and relishes in the sweetness of the affection he’s receiving, in the feeling of the woman he loves stroking his jaw as she settles his nerves with a kiss.

By the time he lets Y/N pull away, he’s back to shivering. He’s drained, and clearly embarrassed by the weakness he’s displaying.

but none of that seems to matter, not with the way the woman he loves is watching him, with her warm eyes shining with affection.

He’s exposed like a nerve under her consideration, but as always, her attention only serves to make him feel delicate… to make him feel small and vulnerable.

Those are qualities that HYDRA have spent the better part of a century ripping away from him, piece by piece.

He shudders, when her hands fall away.

“C’mon, handsome” Y/N coos, reluctantly slipping away, back towards the mound of pillows behind her, “Lie down with me?”

The lilt in her velvet tone reminds him that it’s not a command. That she would never command him to do anything, not even something as lovely as laying down between her legs.

He slips into position easily, head settling against her upper thigh, in the bend where it joins her torso.

Y/N smiles approvingly, reaching down to touch his cheeks again, knowing how much he relishes in the luxury of touch.

Because it is a luxury to Bucky, especially now, after… everything.

The trembling of his muscles only intensifies now that his posture is leaning more, and more towards relaxed. His own legs are still bent, but his upper body is pliant, and heavy against his lover, his head lolling over to her fingers.

The air is thick between them, the heating was on before Y/N asked for it to be intensified, and now, the warmth in the room is palpable.

He likes it, he likes how it reminds him that he’s not outside in some god-awful blizzard.

Y/N is still tracing the edges of his face with her fingers, caressing every dip and curve with total adoration, and he can feel the tenderness in the action.

“You’ve got to take it easy, Bucky” She murmurs, thumb finding the graze above his eye, again, “Let yourself rest up a little”

I don’t know how, he thinks sadly, not able to bring himself to say so, out-loud, feeling that that might be one tragic confession too many.

“I know it’s difficult” her soft voice promises, “I know it doesn’t feel right, sweetheart, I know you want to keep movin’, but you’re human, serum or not- and you have to let yourself get better”

“I want to be better” he murmurs, turning over a little to stare up at her face.

He swallows, suddenly feeling very unworthy of the sight.

Y/N is beautiful, truly beautiful, Bucky has always known that, he’s always marvelled at her ability to be so effortlessly lovely-

Blush creeps up his neck when he catches himself staring, lips parted, like some kind of love-struck teenager.

He decides that he’s been far worse than that, before. So, he just blinks, and continues his internal monologue about how not only is the woman he’s lying on attractive, but also, unwaveringly kind.

He’s considering descriptors like etherial, and angelic, when she realises his eyes have fallen shut.

They open with a start, and he sucks in a frantic breath, afraid of how easily he’d slipped into a state of near unconsciousness.

Y/N shakes her head, hushing him again, as she brings her palm back to cup his cheek.

“See? that was good” she says, “You were relaxin’, what were you thinkin’ about?”

“You” Bucky croaks, adrenaline spiking, again, “I- I was thinkin’ about you, doll”

The laugh she gives him is gentle, it’s quiet and sweet.

He loves it.

He loves her.

“Only good things I hope” she teases, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his eyes, “I’d hate for you to be reliving that time that I broke your coffee mug, or somethin’”

Bucky scoffs softly, offering her a small lopsided smile.

“As traumatising as that was” he murmurs, “I think I’ve recovered”

Y/N chuckles again, and the upward curl of Bucky’s lips seems to be a good deal more genuine.

“I’m glad�� she coos, “because I’m kinda, totally in love with you, Barnes, and I’d be pretty torn up about you bein’ hurt by somethin’ I’ve done”

“You’ve never hurt me” Bucky bursts quickly, eyes widening a little, “I- I was thinkin’ about how lucky I am, doll- about how beautiful you are- how- how you’re too good for me-”

“I’m not too good for you” she replies calmly, “and, I think you’re beautiful too, for what that’s worth”

His nose screws up a little at comments, Y/N thinks it’s more than a little bit cute.

“and you’re lovely” she drawls, taking the opportunity to shower him in kind words, “and funny, Buck- and brave, and strong and-”

“Stop?” he objects softly, still not feeling comfortable saying something that close to a command, even as a joke, “Please, Y/N/N- I’m… I’m not all that- I’m a damn mess”

Her head shakes, but he ignores the motion

“I’m a grown man who can’t even be in the same room as his friends watchin’ a football game” he continues sadly, “I’ve killed people, good people… I’m torn up- and I- I- ”

Frustration and pure, unbridled self-hatred making his throat tighten, making the words sound almost like sobs.

Her hand strokes his brow, gentle and loving.

“You’re perfect” she soothes, seeing his teeth tugging at his lower lip, “You’re perfect for me, alright? I love you, all of you”

“you dont understand” he murmurs, not knowing what else to say, “I did things-“

“Bucky” Y/N says, capturing his attention, “none of it, was your fault-you were drafted, and after that, all you did was your best.”

“I wanted to help” he says quietly, almost like he's remembering, “I… I never wanted to hurt anyone”

“I know that" she promises, “and you did, you did help, you helped Steve, you helped save all those people-”

“and then I fell” Barnes hears himself whisper, more to himself than to the lovely woman still stroking his cheek.

“and then you fell” Y/N confirms, “and nothing that happened after that, was anything to do with you.”

“It feels like it was” Bucky admits after a harsh swallow, “It feels like all of it was because of me”

He watches her head shake, brown curls cascading down her chest as she stills herself again.

“You’re a good person” she reminds him, “That some very bad things have happened too, but none of those things, make you any less good.”

After a beat of silence Bucky sighs.

“God," “I’m sorry, Y/N/N- I shouldn’t put so much pressure on you-”

She shouldn't have to spend her afternoons snappin' me out of nightmares from a lifetime ago, I couldn't even make it through a game-

“On me?” Y/N scoffs, shaking her head, “Bucky- you don’t put enough on me, you’ve gotta let me help you, at least until you’re feelin’ better”

He blinks, not understanding.

She thinks the blatant confusion on his face is utterly endearing.

“Love,” she says, “You never stop, you're constantly in fight or flight, it's no wonder your adrenalines shot. You haven't had nearly enough time to adjust - to any of this - if you need some peace and quiet then all you have to do is take it"

“Yes, ma’am” he murmurs with a gentle edge of apology in his voice.

Y/N beams at him, and places a kiss against the back of his hand, letting her lips linger against the calloused skin before she lowers their tangled fingers to her lap, by the side of his face.

It's quiet. It's warm, and he's totally in love. It doesn't take him long to pass out at all.

x | 2 | 3

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #the winter soldier x you #x reader #drabble #series #BBran #angst

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l00na24 · 26 days

Text

I Got Your Six - Chapter 6

Warnings: From this chapter onwards, there will only be a general warning to avoid spoilers! The story contains mature content and if you keep reading, you agree that you can handle it!

Word Count: 11.5k

A/N: We're back :D This time with a huuge one thanks to me not being able to keep the intro as short as I wanted and just couldn't cut the entire thing for reasons... you will probably see why 😅

Enjoy reading! 😋

29 Minutes later, 7:01 PM, Brazil

After I don’t know how many miles because I eventually stopped counting, we finally reached the place we agreed to meet. It seemed an eternity away with how long the drive still was until we were there, not helping my thinning patience at all.

I couldn’t remember the last time when I was so on edge than right now and I hadn’t even met them yet. Every nerve in my body was literally on fire and my stress level past every limit already, like we were on a mission completely gone out of control. For those who knew me absolutely no good conditions for a confrontation like this, especially with my past. But I covered it with the masquerade I had improved to perfection, to hide my rapidly diminishing confidence and all my previous accumulated anger turning into an even faster rising anxiety with each passing second. I wouldn’t let anyone see my weakness.

When our vehicle came to a slow stop, I wished we would have had at least still hours to drive instead of being here. Not making an effort to move when the three boys exited, I drew in shorter breaths and flinched slightly when I heard the car doors closing. My head coming up with something I thought I had buried a long time ago only to surface in the worst possible moment.

Loud shouts, motor sounds, car doors opening and closing with a bang from the force, the movements of a car…

Shit. I couldn’t get a panic attack right now. I’d get through this, whatever it took. It’s just a job like any other.

Lying to yourself won’t help you.

It was far from it.

Willing my breathing to even out a bit and shaking my head to get rid of these unnecessities, I opened my door and got out after I had unbuckled my seatbelt. The men of our team were patiently leaning against one side and the hood of the car, giving me the needed time until I was ready to make the first step.

As soon as they heard me leaving the last temporary safe space I’d get for tonight and shutting my only opportunity to escape, their eyes shifted to me. Ignoring the discomfort it caused, I tried to act totally unfazed by the very situation I had tried to run from for all these past years because I knew I couldn’t face it.

The truth was: I was scared shitless. How they would react, how they would look at me, what they would say, if they would do anything at all…

With an unusual hesitation I forced my feet step for step forward, fighting with all the strength I had left against the impulse to run away yet again, but with the significant difference it was amplified at least ten times more now than before. An unmistakable red flag of my body I was about to cross a line I shouldn’t, under no circumstances.

You can’t always run away. No one will come to help you, this is alone YOUR own fault.

It was an open secret that my boys could see right through the false facade I had put up and the smallest movements I made, from the uneven rise and fall of my chest to my fingers starting to nervously twitch and shake.

Sensing the waging battle the girl of their group was fighting with herself internally when she followed soundless behind them, Alex wanted nothing more than to put her out of this agony she carried with her for far too long. Hating to see the various indicators written all over her and being forced to helplessly watch how it continued to destroy what was left of her, if there even was still something. He had enough about pretending that everything was ‘okay’ when they could see it clearly wasn’t. Not this time and not now in this absurd situation they had been thrown in.

Normally he was the person instilling fear on his enemies but right now he felt it creeping up his spine and every thought went in circles around the most important question: What if this broke her for good? If she wouldn’t recover from this?

There was no way in hell he would let that happen, Alex owed it to his best friend he had known since childhood to protect his girl and be there for her. Maybe he wasn’t doing it entirely for him if he was honest but a little for himself too… but this wasn’t important right now.

The top priority was to shield her from the possible damage these five people could cause. And he’d do everything in his power to make sure of it. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her even more than she already had been.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to…” Our group halted when Alex turned around to me, gaining the attention of his brothers beside him and mine. The care on honest display, unfortunately for him, hit a nerve because I couldn’t stand it in my current state, not able to accept it.

“You can’t protect me from everything!” I blew up at him with a hateful glare before he had fully ended, the pressure I was under mixed with my anxiety getting the best of me and announcing itself in an uncontrolled outburst. Immediately regretting my reaction, I cast my sight downwards to avoid the result edged on his face. I didn’t intend to strike right the point I knew would hurt him the most but it was my natural defense mechanism kicking in.

“Sorry.”

They shouldn’t care about me at all and they shouldn’t hold onto me so much like they did, trying with everything they had to keep me off the ledge I was continuously seeking. They deserved everything but me. If I wasn’t here, they would probably live a happy life and their best friend would be still alive. I never wanted to drag them down with me in this hellhole but fate obviously had a different opinion, wanting to punish them for not giving me up and yet none of the boys did even consider it in the slightest. How could they be so foolish?

Sometimes these three were too smart for their own good, the cracks in my defense visible to them as if a light would make me stand out to call out my false play.

It took not more than a short exchange of their sights to have the same thought.

“Come ‘ere.” Mick spoke up and beckoned me with a hand gesture over to him, spreading his arms to the sides in the process.

Not sure what he aimed to accomplish with this, I stood there a little baffled while I contemplated what I should do and trying to gauge his intentions behind it. I was in no mood for any kind of empathy.

“You really wanna leave me hanging here?” He asked when I still hadn’t made a move, pulling up his best sad look and tilted his head with raised eyebrows in hopes it would convince me. He knew exactly what he did. Little shit.

There was nothing I hated more than to see them sad or hurt, especially if it was because of me and if he had gambled on that, his plan was working.

Reject him. Don’t. Give. In.

Letting out a huff, I came to him and put my arms hesitantly around his body. Laying the right side of my face carefully on his chest, assuming he offered himself for a hug.

“See? Isn’t that bad, is it?” Putting one hand on the back of my head to stroke it slowly and the other respectfully on the side of my waist with the utmost care to not place it too far backwards to keep the lines in which I allowed them to touch me.

I couldn’t deny his simple gesture was actually relaxing my nerves a little bit.

“So… we all know I’m not good with this emotional stuff but…-” Mick began after a moment, only to be cut off by Luc.

“Horrible is more accurate.” He corrected him with a smile directed toward me, making a little wink at the end.

“I’m trying to cheer her up, dude! Can you not butt in?” The man currently holding me to his large body retorted in a fake offended tone before he continued, focusing back on me.

“Where was I? Ah! Right, as I was saying… regardless what they say or do, it will not change anything between the four of us. You have my word, okay? Forever and always. Like we promised, little wolf.”

At the mention of the nickname my gaze shot up in lightning speed till it met his, my face blank. I could feel him tensing up a bit, probably because he wasn’t sure how I would take what he said and if he was overstepping a forbidden boundary.

I hadn’t been called this term in literal ages, but it was engraved in my brain for eternity. The very name he had used to tease and mock me in the beginning or when he made fun of me or… to express his affection between the lines.

Mick felt my hold tighten slightly and took it as a good sign, also since I hadn’t pushed him away from me yet, which was very likely to happen at any given moment depending on what he would do. The odds for it happening were even increased given the situation, so he had to navigate his every move very carefully if he wanted to avoid this scenario and ruin everything.

“Remember what he used to say? ‘The strength of the wolf is the pack.’ And we’ve been one ever since you came to us. That’s exactly what we gonna show them. We are all standing behind you on this and won’t leave your side.” It wasn’t a common occurrence of somebody making me speechless but right now Mick had managed to do exactly that. I had forgotten how good with words he actually could be if he wanted, reminding me not to underestimate his diplomacy skills similar to Luc’s.

But what was a pack without its true leader?

The ‘goofball’ out of the four, as she had so fittingly named him after his best and also worst trait, couldn’t watch her struggle any longer. If he could take the smallest amount of weight off her she carried, he would do it without a second thought and give her some air to breathe to keep her from drowning.

He had made it his personal mission straight from the start, but even more so after the tragic loss they had suffered - especially her, to preserve and keep that spark inside they had seen in her. Even if it was through the faintest hint of a smile, real or not, all effort put in was worth it regardless. And whatever he or his brothers had to do to stoke those flames their former leader had ignited in her, they would be there to keep them alive, 100%. They would keep her alive.

That’s why he was the self-proclaimed backbone of the team, with his ever positive and lively personality but also blunt directness. Always a cheeky comment on his lips to lift the mood of the situation and his teammates. He was the unmatched motivator out of them, despite his comical and non-serious, or what some people called annoying, appearance. The lightness he carried with himself a huge benefit for everyone when they needed it, as well as his seemingly unlimited energy that had been equal with their captain’s, after their girl had enhanced it in Vic.

“You know, you could at least pretend I’m doing a good job here.” Mick whispered lowly to me, attempting to convey his message inconspicuously, so nobody would notice but being caught red handed the second he opened his mouth, not acting suspicious at all of course.

“Feel the fear, let it be your friend and it will guide you. Don’t be afraid of it.”

It didn’t take long till I couldn’t tolerate his hug any longer, retreating myself from his embrace without a word when he got the hint and reluctantly withdrew his arms to give me space. The second person close to me I disappointed in a matter of seconds. I could make a world record with this.

“You’re right. Let’s show them that no one fucks with us.” I said when I had brought some distance between us and walked past him down the way leading to the bar. Letting them know I was done talking.

Mick blinked a few times in her direction, not quite sure if it was the reaction he had been aiming for. He had believed he had done everything right, had been careful enough, well, maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned the last part, but how fast the situation had taken a complete turn and his well-meant support ricochet back left him dumbfounded. He should have been used to it by now since it wasn’t the first occasion this happened, but none of them probably would ever get used to her unpredictable, fast-switching duality from one moment to the other.

“You only wanted to help, she knows that. It’s not on you.” Luc followed his friends’ gaze to the back of their girl with concern in his narrowed eyes. His sneaking suspicion, he had hoped would prove itself wrong, turning out to be true more and more. There would be nothing they could do to prevent the inevitable if it was what he thought, from his knowledge all the signs she had shown pointed to it so far. Her more frequent, sudden mood changes out of the blue, the tension and nervousness in her body language, her touchiness in general, as well as most importantly, she shared way more physical contact with them than she would under normal circumstances. And this fact alone was more than worrying.

“Let it fulfill you.”

It had been the most terrifying lesson a certain person taught me, but it gave me the needed courage to fight back my anxiety as best as I could for now. To use it as a weapon instead of being used by my fear.

I hadn’t been on an endless amount of battlefields, ran too many times into hails of bullets, put my life on the line for enough people that weren’t even worth it, had made friends with death more times than I could count, ended lives without giving a shit about them and the amount of blood I had on my hands and hadn’t done unspeakable things, only to be brought to my knees now by the very men of my old team.

Nobody in the entire world would ever get me to break the one holy oath I’d die for before desecrating it: I wouldn’t kneel for anyone. Only my enemies will.

Entering the area of what I presumed was an outside bar, the first thing I did was carefully assessing the place. Spotting not much besides a lit-up area on the right looking like a combination of a bar and a market stall with two people sitting at the back of the bar and the barkeeper standing behind the counter. Regals full of various bottles lining the wall behind him just as a multitude of vegetables and fruits on the ground on the opposite side. Whoever would buy these things in the middle of literal nowhere.

To my left the actual bar, built on a wooden construct and a stairway on the right with some fairy lights hanging from the edge of the roof to give this shady appearing place a more trustworthy look. Its height and a fence made of thin planks of wood allowing to overlook the whole area from each table.

And then a car parked in between. The same car we had seen not too long ago.

Its sight alone making my stomach churn and heighten my senses to full alert. Not wanting to give it any more attention than I had, I kept moving forward while making sure to stay close to the bar to avoid getting noticed just yet from above.

As if on queue when I had crossed over half of the way, loud laugher from multiple people suddenly filled the air that instantly stopped me when I jerked away from the sound of the familiar voices and stripped me of every false confidence I had managed to gather up. Feeling the anxiety skyrocketing but also shifting into a mix of fierce anger and hatred directed at myself because I couldn’t even do the simplest thing. I was so pathetic.

“Is this all you got? Do you give up that easily?”

“Stop being so mean to her, Vic. Can’t you see she’s trying her best?”

“Trying is not enough, we’re not in kindergarten here. Do it better!”

My nails dug themselves into my palms at the memory.

Movement in my periphery snapped me back into the present, registering Luc, Alex and Mick who had walked past and blocked my way with their bodies. It was so unnatural to see them this tense, especially about the awaiting situation, both their posture and faces didn’t have the usual relaxedness I was used to and it stressed me out even more.

They were ready for battle and wanted to make sure I was too with this silent conversation between us before they would allow me to continue. My very last chance to back out of all this.

As always, the first nod came from Mick, shortly followed by Alex and then Luc, giving me their affirmation that they were only waiting for my “Go”. It was like they had known I had exactly needed this to give me the drive to move on and spur the wolf to get ready to pounce.

With the encouragement through my team, I took the time to take in a long, deep breath to gather myself before I gave them my confirmation with a firm nod of my head and sharing a last sight with each other for assurance about our next step.

Our engineer decided to take the lead as ‘the first line of defense’, Luc taking the second position after checking me up and down with his scrutinizing gaze before he left Alex with me who was waiting until I got going too before he went ahead last.

I couldn’t thank them enough for not forcing me into another verbal conversation and instead choosing the option that conveyed so much more than any word ever could and taking a bit of the pressure from me to have to express myself.

Just when we had reached the stairway, I came to a halt and looked upwards.

You finally get what you wanted…

Please be with me. I need you, I can’t do this without you.

Accepting I couldn’t delay the confrontation I had wanted to avoid ever since any longer, I forced myself to tear my sight away even if every fiber in my body resisted doing it. The emptiness I continuously felt came crashing down like a tidal wave above me without mercy, pushing me back under far out of anyone’s reach to the place I just couldn’t get out of no matter what I did. The very place I had never wanted to be in again after I was shown how it was to touch the sky on the other side. Until I got pulled back under and buried at the bottom with no life left to fight for.

Three sympathetic smiles were directed at me when I looked to the stairs in front, noticing a hand stretching out to me in the same moment. First I wanted to refuse Alex’ gesture but thinking for a second about it, what a bitch I was earlier and what it meant that he was still showing how much he cared about me when he offered to be the anker I could ground myself on – knowing what it took for me to even make this step – I didn’t have it in me to deny him.

Without much protest I reciprocated his gesture, feeling the warmth of his skin seep into mine and giving me some safety. The smile on his face stretched a tad wider when he had my physical assurance I wouldn’t shut him out again and let him help, returning it with his own and brushing a few times over my hand. We are here. You are not going through this alone.

“Don’t jump at each other’s throats.” With a quiet but steady voice I gave them my permission to engage, steeling myself and shoving all emotions in the dark corner where they belonged.

A quiet snort escaped Mick’s lips, conjuring a grin about the irony of my words. There were only two ways this was gonna go, either war or peace. There was no in between.

And knowing my boys, they wouldn’t even let them anywhere near me - not that I wanted it anyway.

I could only hope for the best and that they could control their temper because I would fight tooth and nail for those three and protect them with my life no matter who I was up against.

If any of my ex-mates dared to pick a fight with them, they had to survive the feared wolf first and then things would get ugly very fast – for them.

Let’s not get started if they found any of my triggers…

Before my thoughts could come up with every possible scenario, I chose to distract myself with something way more important, to check I had everything covered I didn’t want them to see while we were slowly ascending the stairs step by agonizing step. Making sure my braided ponytail was hiding most of the unmistakable, angry red scar on the right side of my throat before everyone’s eyes and my two necklaces were concealed under my black shirt. Going lower till the waistband of my jeans in the same color to find my gun and knife in the places where I had put them, ready to use in case anything should happen.

The grip on each other’s hand hardened when we reached the end and entered the bar, sharing a tight squeeze while we walked one after another in a row. All my senses automatically zeroed in on this very moment, making it almost impossible to keep up the mantra I was telling myself over and over.

I can do this. I can do this… I can… do this… I-

I stayed as close to Alex as I physically could to hide myself behind him in hopes it would give me more time until they realized who I was.

The paralyzing fear I had tried to fight in vain before came stabbing me in the back harder than ever and turned my body against me. Feeling like someone was squeezing my throat so tight I could barely breathe. Every step forward being at least a hundred backwards for my strength and self-consciousness which had been so laboriously built up. My muscles moving on their own despite the weight manifesting on my feet.

“FIGHT! FIGHT BACK!!”

“Vic, it’s ENOUGH!”

“You’re so pathetically weak…”

Not daring to take a look from behind his back, I kept facing away from the scene to not cave in now and show everyone present how weak I indeed really was.

The atmosphere shifted as soon as we had stepped foot into the place, the one before a storm was about to break lose any minute with us in the epicenter. The hot and cold signals my body was sending me together with the humid climate didn’t do me a favor at all, the sweat clinging to me grossing me out and I wondered why Alex hadn’t let go yet and didn’t seem to care about the stickiness of my hand.

Was he regretting being here? Was he rethinking his choice of agreeing to this? Was he already hating me for dragging them into things they didn’t have to do anything at all with? Would they leave me as soon as we were done here to deal with my past alone? Were they only still with me because they thought they owed it to their dead friend?

What was I doing here? I should have never suggested this mission. What did I thought it would do? I should have ignored this god damn letter. I wasn’t supposed to even be here. Why couldn’t I just go back??

“Y/N?”

The moment my very name shot through the silence like a bullet, the chaotic whirlwind of thoughts was gone and I instantly froze into place. Not making any movement and praying I was mostly hidden for them, so they would hopefully ignore me thinking they had mistaken me.

But luck – fate – wasn’t on my side as always.

Of course they wouldn’t give me more time.

I couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. It was over.

As slowly as I could I moved around, the hold on me tightening while I revealed myself and shared a fleeting glance with Alex who had his eyes already on me from over his shoulder.

I had to do this now. I wouldn’t cave.

I couldn’t run away anymore.

My pulse accelerated with every passing second and the only thing I wanted was to disappear, desperately clinging to my anker.

It was never meant to happen like this. In fact, it was never meant to happen at all if I could have helped it.

Forced to face the five men from my past after so many years spent to run from them, I hesitantly looked in their direction and deeply regretted it when five sets of eyes found mine. Bringing back up everything again, first and foremost the day I had left them.

Ben, Will, Santiago, Frankie and Tom were also brought back to the fateful events leading to the loss of the most important part of their team at the sight of the person they had never expected to see ever again before their very eyes…

8 years ago…

5:09 AM, Central America, Nicaragua

Moving uncomfortably around on the chair he was sitting in, Ben woke slowly from his sleep, stretching his limbs and blinking a few times with his eyes. It wasn’t definitely the best idea to try to sleep on the piece of furniture that was too small for his large body.

Noticing the room was still dark, he guessed it was still night, maybe close to early morning.

Trying not to be too loud and wake the other person in the room with him, he tried to shift into a more comfortable position and ease his muscles up he could feel hurting already from laying in this awkward position for probably a few hours.

Ben’s eyes automatically went straight ahead to the bed in front of him, checking if their girl was sleeping soundly under the covers he draped over her before he took the first shift of watching her. That in case something happened or she had a nightmare, one of them was there to help. Just in case. They would make sure they would be there this time.

Still mostly asleep and wanting to close his eyes and turn around again to get a bit more sleep, he listened for anything that would indicate a nightmare or that she wasn’t okay but the room was silent and he also couldn’t make out any violent movement on the bed through his half closed eyes. He was nearly off to sleep again as a thought hit him like a lightning strike.

The bed was empty.

His blue eyes shot open wide and his body followed, nearly tumbling to the floor in the process from jumping abruptly out of his seat in his sleeping but now wide awake state.

The dirty blonde’s gaze shot to the bathroom next, spotting the door wide open and no light shining. Looking back at the bed and trying to figure out if he was dreaming or not.

“Honey?” he asked in his rough and raspy morning voice, waiting for any form of response that never came.

Faster than light he ran over to the switch next to the door and flipped it on. The whole room illuminating and confirming his fear that felt like someone had just poured a bucket of ice water over him. There was no way she was gone.

Frantically he searched the room for anything that belonged to her, like her baggage she brought with her the first day but came up emptyhanded. Nothing. Not a single thing.

Ben had never felt anything like he was feeling now. First the whole thing hours ago and now this? It couldn’t get any more worse, right?

His heart was pounding hard against his chest as he ripped open the door, not caring about anything but her right now and bounding out to the one next to it.

“Guys! Open the fucking door! Wake up!” He screamed loudly, waking the whole hotel in the process.

His knocking only stopped when the door opened and his brother Will was standing before him, not knowing what happened to have Ben this wound up in the early morning hours but already on high alert.

“What the fuck, dude? What’s going on?” Blue eyes already searching each other.

“She’s fucking gone, man!” His little brother was not even waiting a moment to respond.

The opening of another door not far away could be heard and another voice joined them.

“Can you tell me, what you think you’re doing? You’re waking the entire complex, Ben!” Tom’s annoyed voice sounded from the other side of them.

“I just woke up and wanted to check she was okay but she wasn’t there!” Ben explained, making wild gestures with his hands and arms.

“Let’s not discuss this out here, come in.” Will said quietly and gestured with his head to Tom and Frankie to come over in his and Santiago’s room, who followed his request and walked over.

“You better have a good reason for this, hermano.” Santiago warned, sitting on the front of the bed he was previously sleeping till he got so rudely awakened by the young man’s screaming voice.

“We need to go look for her. Something could have happened or what if someone-?” Ben started again but was halted by his brother.

“Calm down, okay? Maybe she has taken a walk or just needed some fresh air.” He suggested, going already over all possible options in his head.

“What is even happening?” Frankie, the only one of the group that still hadn’t really caught on at was happening asked, leaning against the table on the wall and folding his arms.

“Y/N’s gone! That’s what’s happening and all her stuff too!” Benny shouted back, nervously running a hand through his strands.

Frankie’s eyes grew wide at the reply.

“Her stuff too?” He asked, not believing what he was hearing.

“Yes! Like she was never there in the first place!” The dirty blonde said, shifting constantly around on his feet.

Well, a walk was off the table with that. Will grinded his teeth together hard. This was not good, it was far from good actually. The way things had developed in the past hours only increased the boiling inside him further. Not knowing what was going on, being kept in the dark and things happening that were so out of character for the girl they were serving with for years now. Nothing of all this was making sense.

“Okay, we get it. Let’s all not make any hasty assumptions here.” Will tried to reason and keep everyone from panicking.

Santiago shook his head and angrily spoke something while standing up and shuffling around, probably some curse in Spanish.

“What are you doing?” Frankie eyed his brother.

“Getting ready to look for her, pendejo. What else?” He replied back and unzipped his bag on the ground in the corner to get some clothes.

“Fucking finally!” Ben breathed out and was ready to go, not wanting to waste any more time than they already had. Too much in his opinion.

“You can’t just walk out there like this. We’re still on a fucking mission!” Their captain decided to join in on the conversation to remind them that their reason for being here was not a vacation but way more serious and they still needed to be careful even if they were leaving today, or so it was planned.

“He’s right. We don’t know where she is right now and we can’t just aimlessly walk around here. And we also have a flight to catch.” Will backed up Tom’s opinion on their plan, looking around the group.

“What do we do then? I ain’t fucking sitting around waiting if she comes back or not and I don’t give a shit about that flight, I’m not leaving without her!” His little brother was clearly done with talking, his decision what he’d do already written on his face.

“If she left, someone must have seen her. Let’s try asking around first and see if we can find out anything that will help, okay? She couldn’t have used the car because I still have the keys, so she could’ve only left by foot or a cab.” The other Spanish man in the room voiced his thoughts to the group, trying to intervene before it escalated into a more heated argument.

Everyone looked at each other for a moment, exchanging looks before Tom nodded and straightened his position.

“Alright. Let’s get ready and meet downstairs in 10 minutes.” He confirmed with one more look around them before starting to move toward the door with Frankie and Ben in tow.

Not needing the full 10 minutes to get ready, the group met 5 minutes later in the lobby of the hotel.

“So what’s the plan now?” The younger Miller wanted to know, already scanning the environment around them in search of their missing girl.

“We split up and try to ask around. Stay in the building, we’ll meet back here in 20.” Tom explained and everyone nodded as confirmation before they began to split, each one taking a different direction to begin their search.

The Minutes passing by and still no success for each of them, Ben stormed annoyed past the lobby a second time. Huffing from the frustration that grew bigger by the second. They needed to find her. Right fucking now.

“Excuse me? Are you looking for something?” He heard a voice from behind.

Halting his steps, he turned around.

“Yes! Have you seen the girl that was with us when we checked in?” He immediately answered. Registering the female receptionist not far from him now, that was also there when they checked in the first day.

“Yes, of course I did. She paid and checked out already 4 hours ago. Said that someone would still be in her room that was supposed to check out today.” The young brown-haired woman answered politely, offering him a slight smile.

“She- What?!” Ben felt like his legs would give out underneath him at the revelation he just heard and all color left his face.

“Do- do you know where she went?” He choked out, trying to get as much information as he possibly could.

“She took one of the cabs outside but I don’t know where she wanted to go. Probably the airport with the baggage she had with her if you ask me. But that’s all I can give you, I’m sorry.” She elaborated and gave him an apologetic look. Sensing that there was probably a not so nice reason for her leave alone but not wanting to interfere with their privacy.

“That’s enough already, thank you so much!” He thanked the receptionist, turning around and walking a few steps back, tapping his feet impatiently while waiting for the boys.

A few minutes later, the rest of the group turned up at the lobby again where Benny was already burning holes in the floor with his shoes, finally stopping when his brothers came into view.

“She checked out 4 hours ago!” He told them before any of them could ask something.

Not expecting something like this all of them needed a second to process what they just heard. They felt like someone had punched them in the gut.

“Checked out?” Frankie repeated in complete disbelieve.

“Yeah, the receptionist there told me that she paid for the room already too and that she took a cab. Probably to the airport or somethin’.”

“She’d never go alone on a fuckin’ plane, man.” Santiago joined their conversation. Not believing their female teammate would go voluntarily near anything like that because of her anxiety.

“Where else would she go with all her stuff? Another hotel?” The younger Miller shot back.

“You said she took a cab, let’s go and ask the drivers then. I saw some standing outside.” Will said, already turning around to go outside and ask there.

Without protest the others followed hot on his heels, marching out with quick steps and looking for the cabs that waited outside the entrance of the building.

Starting with the first to their left, they moved down the line as a group, asking each driver if they had driven a woman from the hotel somewhere in the last few hours.

Ready to nearly give up, they came to the last one in line. Stopping and repeating their questions for the fifth time now in a matter of minutes, not really believing this one would turn out any different than the others.

“Let me think… hm, yes. I did, actually.” The driver, an older man answered, leaned next to his car.

“Where did you drive her?” Ben wasn’t sure if he should be happy or not, that they at least had a lead where she was now.

“She’s your girl?” The man eyed him questioningly, not sure if he could trust the men in front of him, considering the woman they were looking for seemed to have left them without their knowledge. Normally a clear sign to what this could be leading to.

“Yes, she is.” He answered without hesitation, not needing to think over what he was saying. For him she was and always would be his. No question. She always had been and he wouldn’t let anything change that. Even if he’d never admit it.

Catching the other guys a little bit by surprise upon his answer, they tried to compose their faces, so the man couldn’t see their reactions. All of them knew how Ben was feeling about the only girl in their team, there was enough history between them to tell what was going on. But hearing him saying it out loud, even in a different context, still caught them a little off guard.

“I really hope for you, that you and your friends didn’t do something to her. Otherwise I have to call the police.” The driver threatened them, narrowing his eyes at the group.

“We’d never, I swear! She’s important to all of us and we just wanna know where she went, so we can go and look for her.” Ben answered honestly and looked the man in the eyes with a seriousness you only see when he was in mission mode.

“You’d better. I took her to the airport, looked a bit off and wasn’t really paying much attention, being quiet the whole drive.” He finally told them, adding the little details he had noticed.

The boys exchanged worried and confused looks at that, giving them pause for a moment.

“Thank you, sir. You really helped us a lot!” The younger Miller thanked him and walked back in the hotel followed by the others, making a straight beeline to the elevator.

“Any ideas?” Santiago asked while pressing the button of their floor.

“Our flight’s supposed to be in 5 hours.” Will informed, always the one in the group to rely on when it came to numbers. Her time missing making his stomach turn more with each second he counted passing by.

“Fuck that, we’re going to the airport now!” Ben huffed, slamming his fist against the wall of the elevator in frustration.

“She’ll be alright, okay? It won’t help if we’re loosing it.” Frankie jumped in, patting his friends’ back reassuringly a few times.

“Fish’s right. We’ll get our things packed up and go to the airport. But there won’t be a guarantee that we’ll get another flight.” The older Miller brother confirmed while stepping out and walking to their rooms.

“We meet at the car in 10.” They heard Tom’s voice in the distance while everyone spread out to their respective rooms, packing up everything in record time.

Before Benny could enter the empty room he carelessly left behind an hour ago, he was stopped by his brother.

“Y/N’s gonna be alright. Whatever is going on with her, we’ll find it out, okay? Everything’s gonna be fine, Ben. There will be an explanation to all of this.” Will came closer and brought him in a tight brotherly hug, holding his little brother to him. Trying to sooth his strained nerves and allowing him to finally break down and let out everything he desperately tried to hold back.

Feeling Benny slowly pulling back, he looked at him intently, not once breaking eye contact.

“Can you help Fish load the car while I get everything sorted with our checkout?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll see you downstairs in a few.” Will gave him a slight smile and a last pat on the back before walking off to his room.

After everything was taken care of and their luggage packed in the car in an amount of mere minutes, they were off to the airport.

Under normal circumstances Frankie would drive safely, but their situation was far from anything close to it and he drove a bit faster than he should and “missed” a few stop signs along the way till they stopped after a 10 minute drive in the large parking lot of their destination.

Each of the Delta soldiers was practically jumping out of the car when they were parked, grabbing their things and speeding off, minus Tom, who’s mood had soured over the course of their not planned way back to base.

“She’ll better have a very damn good excuse for this.” He grumbled annoyed while they were on the way through the building, but the rest decided to ignore his comment. There were more important things to be concerned of right now than his pissed-off mood.

“I’m gonna go over to the counter and see if I can rebook our flight to an earlier one. Maybe someone has seen her too.” Will announced shortly after they stopped in front of a few seats.

“I’ll come with you.” His little brother said and was right beside him in an instant, needing some closeness to him right now to keep him grounded.

Already knowing what was going on, the older blonde accepted his silent request without any protest and gave him a quick nod before walking off together to the ticket counter.

“Hello, how can I help you?” A red-haired woman in probably her 30’s greeted them with a smile.

“Hello, excuse me but we’re looking for a woman that probably booked a flight here to North Carolina a few hours ago. Have you seen anyone maybe?” Will greeted her.

“Wait, I have a photo of her.” Benny added and took it out of the pocket of his blue shirt, showing it to her.

It was a group photo, made when they were back at base after their first mission together, all of them exhausted but happy and smiling. The boys were standing in a line, arms over each other’s shoulders with their girl in front of them, having the brightest smile on her face they’d ever seen toward the camera. The colonel had taken it for them, being very proud of his best team he had in Delta Force. He had given all of them a copy of it after. Everyone knew from that moment on that they would be a team forever. Ben would never forget that day, would never forget that smile she had back then. The need he felt there to always make her smile like that again.

The woman behind the counter looked at it for a few seconds until she gave it back to him.

“Yes, she wanted the earliest flight when she arrived here.” She answered, remembering her from before.

The Miller brothers shared an alarmed look. She really must have taken a plane on her own, besides her really bad fear of heights.

“Thank you really much for the information ma’am.” Benny thanked her after breaking eye contact and looking back at her with a slight smile.

“No problem. Is there something else I can help you with?” The woman wanted to know and looked at them questioningly.

“Yes, we have a flight that was booked for later. Would it be possible to rebook it to an earlier one?” Will asked and handed her the tickets and his passport to confirm his identity.

“Let me see… yes, the last free possible flight will be in an hour. Will that be okay with you?” The woman said while looking at her computer, typing away and back up when she found something.

“That would be nice, we take it.” Will answered, letting out a breath of relief. Thank god, they didn’t have to wait for hours here or otherwise we wasn’t sure if he could stay calm any longer. He was close to the line he not wanted to cross and didn’t want to risk overstepping it. He needed to stay strong for Benny and the rest of his brothers, be the rock they needed right now, even if it wasn’t easy despite his own worries for their girl and the anger against himself for letting something happen like that. He’d make sure they got on that plane and do everything he needed till they knew she was okay and she was safe. Till he could hold her in his arms again and apologize for what they had done.

“Here you go, just look out for the announcement. The gate is down the hallway and then to your left. Have a safe flight and a good day.” She smiled and handed him the new tickets and the passport.

“Thank you for everything. Have a good day too.” He said goodbye, giving her a fake smile.

“Do you really think she would go on a plane without us?” Ben asked unsure out of nowhere, looking at Will with stormy blue eyes, that grew darker by the second like his brother’s.

The older man wished he would know the answer himself but every information they had gathered so far was pointing toward it. There was no other possible option in this moment. Why did she come here asking for the earliest flight she could get then? It wouldn’t make sense if she went somewhere else and the woman on the counter would have probably told them if she left without taking her new-booked flight. But she’d never go on a plane without at least one of them, hell it was even a thing on its own to even get her to go into it. And now she should have done that alone all of a sudden? Out of nowhere, like it wasn’t bothering her in the slightest and her anxiety didn’t exist? Will’s head started to hurt from all the overthinking he wasn’t able to stop.

“I don’t know, bro. The only thing I can say is, that everything looks like it.” He answered his brother’s question after a short silence with a sigh.

“How did it go?” Frankie greeted them and searched both of their faces for answers.

“Our flight’s in an hour.” Will answered and handed out the tickets.

“Anyone seen her?” Santiago followed with his question, hoping they’d get more information.

“The woman on the counter said Y/N wanted the earliest flight when she arrived here.” Ben explained trying to temper his mood, lifting his backwards cap to run a hand through his hair and putting it down again.

All of their movements halted and their eyebrows rose comically high on their foreheads.

“Imposible. (Impossible.)” Frankie grunted out in Spanish, not able to hold in his disbelieve any longer at the thought. Turning around with a shaking head while walking a few steps and crossing his arms over his chest.

What made her do that? What was going on with her that she would do something like that? It was so unlike her and in this moment, they felt like they didn’t even know her.

“So, what you wanna tell us is, that she went on a plane all by herself with her anxiety? The same girl that needs at least an hour till we can convince her to get into a fucking thing like that? That would rather walk by foot instead of flying?” The other Spanish man in the group spoke up to voice his thoughts about their newly found out information. Sharing the same feeling with the pilot.

“Look man, I don’t know what the fuck is going on but that is the only thing we’ve got right now and you’re not the only one who thinks how fucked up all this is. All of us know she’d rather die than go near anything that can fly but what if she really did it? There’s no other option what she could have done, otherwise that woman would have told us if she didn’t take her flight.” Will countered with slight agitation in his voice.

“All we can do now is wait anyway.” The captain of the group added and leaned back in his seat.

Not wanting to fuel the tension, the rest of the boys decided to follow Tom’s example and take a seat and wait till their flight would be announced. They’d have 6 long hours ahead of them where they could do nothing but wait and maybe try to get some more sleep.

8 PM, North Carolina, Fort Bragg

When they arrived back at the familiar soil of the Delta Force base 6 hours later, they didn’t know what bomb would be waiting there for them, ready to leave a devastation in its wake none of them could have been prepared for.

“Look who finally decided to join us!” Deryll piped up smiling upon seeing the missing Delta soldiers returning, still on the security shift with his best friend Marc.

“Did they jail your asses in that airport?” Marc joined his friend, greeting the boys laughing and giving them a wave with his hand.

Quick hugs among the men were exchanged, giving each other a pat on the back.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Ben asked afterwards, not knowing what they meant.

“We were worried we had to take care of your girl now.” Mark continued with a wide grin on his face.

The group of five exchanged confused looks for a moment. Knowing they were clearly missing something here.

“You better watch your mouth, hermano.” Santiago threatened him with a serious gaze.

“So you’re letting her fly on her own now, hm?” Deryll threw in while also grinning at his friend across.

“What is this all about?” Tom asked, having enough of being kept out of whatever this was.

“You’re joking right?” Marc said, still amused over the reaction of the men in front of them, not believing their seriousness.

Another round of looks among the boys was exchanged.

“No, we’re not. So would you mind telling us what’s going on here?” Ben spoke up, making his point clear that he wasn’t joking.

That took the two security men by surprise. Sharing a weird look with each other.

“Y/N said there was an issue with your flight, so she took the earlier one when she turned up alone here a few hours ago and we asked her about you.” Deryll explained, his smile slowly fading.

“An issue with our flight?!” Will repeated, making sure he heard correctly.

“Yeah, why?” Marc confirmed it almost in an instant, getting serious now too upon their reactions.

“Where is she?” The younger Miller brother butted in, his voice growing more desperate and serious.

“Calm down man, she’s somewhere in there.” Deryll told him, making a motion with his head toward the entrance of the base.

“Was talking and joking around with us when she arrived here, so no need to worry, dude.” Marc added to his friend’s comment, hoping it would ease up the sudden tension.

“This just gets better and better.” Tom commented sarcastically, shaking his head heavily and running a hand over his face.

“I don’t know what you’re on about but get your asses in there and look for yourself if you don’t believe us. We’ll see you later.” Marc said, crossing his arms now and opening the door for them.

“Yeah, shouldn’t keep your girl waiting!” Deryll shouted after them as loud as possible with a laugh after they walked through the entrance.

“The fuck was that?” Frankie asked confused as they walked through the base toward their bunks.

“Don’t have a fucking clue.” Will replied, shaking his head at him and shouldering his luggage a bit higher on his shoulder.

“Whatever it was, I don’t like it.” Benny commented quietly and mostly more to himself, clenching his jaw.

“We should probably teach them a lesson next time if we get a chance.” Santiago added, letting his sight wander around the base.

“There’s time for that after we reported back to the colonel. Drop off your stuff and meet at the colonel’s office.” Tom ordered and broke off to his bunk when they reached them.

“Yes, sir.” All of them said in unison before splitting and going to their own.

A few minutes later, the boys met in front of the building the colonel was in.

“Let’s get this over with.” Tom sighed and walked in first, followed by Will, Santiago, Ben and Frankie.

The group stopped again at his office, waiting patiently while Tom knocked a few times at the door.

Being beckoned in with a “Come in!”, they all entered and shut the door behind them.

“They finally let you go, hm?” They got greeted by Colonel Sanders, standing up from his chair and nodding at them. Motioning for them to take a seat if someone wanted but all declined his offer, making themselves comfortable while standing next to each other.

“I’m sorry?” Tom asked, surprised by his greeting.

“I heard about your ‘flight issues’.” The colonel elaborated, closely observing his boys.

Their once blank faces changed slightly at that and of course Sanders noticed it right away. There was something wrong, just like he had supposed before.

Standing there in silence for a very long moment, he decided to continue.

“I guess by your reactions that there weren’t any, right?”

The Delta soldiers didn’t quite know how to respond, not knowing themselves what this was all about.

“No, sir?” Ben decided to speak up but actually cringing at how it sounded.

“I thought so. You’re here to report back then?” The colonel answered, walking away a few steps from his desk, his gaze still fixated on them.

“Yes, sir.” Will confirmed, giving him a nod.

“Is there anything you wanna tell me first?” Sanders carefully asked, straightening his position and eyeing them more intently than before.

The boys’ faces immediately fell when they thought back to what they had witnessed in the smuggler’s hide-out.

“There was a little ‘incident’ when we cleared the hide-out of the smugglers.” Tom answered, trying to not make a big deal out of it.

“A ‘little incident’?!” Ben shouted out angrily and glared at their captain, not believing how he could downplay so easily what they actually had seen.

Colonel Sanders heard enough to know it must have been something really serious, for Ben and the others to act like this.

“Y/N didn’t tell me anything when I asked her. So I wanna know from you what’s going on.”

“Where is she?” The younger Miller asked with worry in his voice, ignoring the comment from the colonel and only thinking about their girl in this moment.

“None of you is leaving this office before someone has told me what the fuck happened on your mission!” Sander’s voice grew louder, making it clear how serious this conversation was and catching the guys off guard by the tone of his voice.

“We… don’t really know.” Frankie answered after a moment, looking to the ground with a guilty expression on his face.

“You don’t know?!” The colonel repeated, not knowing what he should think about it.

“We had cleared the building up to the 6th floor and were checking the 7th. Everything looked clear, we even checked it twice each but then she told us to hold our position because she thought it was not clear. We were convinced that the floor was safe too after checking it multiple times and decided to move on despite her warning and not responding through her com anymore. We got to the last floor without any problems or encounters on the way. There were just a few more guys and our target on the last one that we took care of. After making sure we were done, we headed back down where we were coming from and then… we found her on the floor below.” Will explained cautiously, fully knowing what the colonel’s reaction would be.

“Found her?” Sanders calmly asked, hating where this was going.

“She… was just laying there… with all those bodies and the blood around the floor.” Ben tried to get out, the same feeling he had back there, creeping up his body and making him sick to his stomach again.

The older gray-haired man in the room tried to keep his composure upon hearing the revelation, going back to his chair and needing to sit down for a moment.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He trusted his boys with his life, they were his best team for a reason. How could they let something like this happen?

“When we got to her, we immediately checked if she was alive and if she had any serious injuries but we found nothing. She only had an anxiety attack and a complete breakdown right after but besides that, she physically was fine somehow. Only a slight scratch on her throat. She slept through the whole drive back to the hotel, where we took care of her gear and cleaned her up a bit since she and her clothes were completely soaked in blood. After, we decided that each of us would take turns to watch her till the next morning to make sure she was okay. Ben woke us a few hours later in the middle of the night, saying that she was gone. That’s all we knew until we tried to find her. We decided to ask around for her in the hotel first and the receptionist informed us that she had paid and checked out already hours ago and took a cab. So we asked some of the drivers outside if they had seen her and one of them said that he took her to the airport, so we went there next after we got everything sorted. My brother and I went to the ticket counter to try and ask for her, which turned out positive. The woman explained that she had been there, wanting the earliest flight when she arrived. That’s everything until we landed and went straight back here.” The older Miller continued his report, making sure to tell everything he knew and lowering his head with an almost pained look.

Now her behavior made at least a little bit more sense but still didn’t explain why she not wanted to be with them anymore.

Colonel Sanders let out a heavy sigh, folding his hands in front of him, trying to think about the best way to tell his boys what their girl had requested from him.

A deathly silence settled over the office until he decided to speak.

“I… have to tell you something.” His gruff voice already a bad omen, sounding like he was about to tell them about her death.

The rest of the men in the room all immediately picked up on the sudden change in his voice, not being used to that kind of tone but already feeling fear creeping up their spines. Not able to say something.

Sanders looked around at each of them before continuing. Making himself ready to drop the already ticking bomb over their heads to explode.

“She requested… to be moved to another team. Immediately.”

Right as the last word had left him, Benny nearly lost it completely. Clearly not expecting anything like this.

“What?!” It was the only word he was able to choke out before he felt his legs nearly giving out under him. He felt like someone had forcefully ripped his heart right out of his chest and left him to die.

His brothers didn’t take it in any different, the ground having been pulled away from right under their feet quite literally. Each of them taking in a sharp breath and needing some support from the wall behind them to keep them upright on their feet. Frankie and Santiago grabbing their caps and lowering them slowly from their heads in front of their bodies.

“This… is all just a bad joke from you and her to get back at us for what happened, right?” Ben tried to convince himself, denying this could be actually true. There was no way in hell that she actually had meant what she said.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” The colonel asked him, his expression unchanged and the same seriousness in his voice than before.

“No…. no, no, no, no, no! That’s- that can’t be…” The devastation was crystal clear in Benny’s voice. His mind completely blanked. He didn’t know what to do with what he had been told a few seconds ago.

All of their faces had turned deathly pale, completely drained from their color in a matter of a second. None of them knew what to say, what to do with that information. They just felt like someone had shot them straight in the head. Never once had any of them even thought about the one impossible thing happening.

“Why?!” The younger Miller screamed and sank on his knees to the floor with tears in his once bright blue eyes that were now swallowed whole by the same darkness that crept up inside of him in that very moment.

“Did… she say anything?” Will didn’t know how he managed to get any words out right now but somehow, they left his mouth without fully registering it.

Colonel Sanders left another heavy sigh and hung his head, knowing full well how his Delta boys must be feeling right now.

“I can’t tell you anything more than this. I’m sorry.” He apologized, hating to have to keep the promise he had given their girl.

“This must all be a mistake! This can’t… be…!” Ben continued sobbing, not being able to hold in his emotions any longer and starting to hit the ground with his right fist he had curled so tight, he could feel the nails digging in his palm and drawing blood.

“I’m so sorry. I wish I didn’t have to tell you this.” Sanders apologized again, not knowing himself what he could do to be there for them.

“Where…? Where… is she?” Having released some of his anger, Ben looked up at the colonel, tears still running down his cheeks.

“I don’t think this is a good idea right now.” The colonel sighed, knowing they probably all wanted to see her but it wouldn’t lead to something good until they at least had cooled off.

“I don’t fucking care! I wanna see her right fucking now!” Benny screamed again, raising suddenly with lightspeed to his full height with his completely shaking body.

Before he did anything he’d regret later, Will was by his side and tried to hold him back and appease him.

“Ben. You need to calm down.”

“No! How can you even stay so fucking calm after this?! Do you even fuckin’ care at all about her?!” His little brother knew fully well that he was crossing a line with this that he shouldn’t but his emotions were all over the place and he couldn’t think straight.

It was the last thread that Will had been hanging on the entire trip back. He couldn’t restrain himself any longer and finally snapped too thanks to his little brother accusing him of not caring for their girl, that was way too precious to him as well.

“You really think, I don’t fucking care about her too?!” He wasn’t able to control his rage anymore, that had been building up gradually more and more inside of him in the last minutes.

Santiago, Frankie and Tom snapped out of their paralyzed state when both of the Miller brothers were about to charge at each other. The look in their eyes one, that promised nothing but death and destruction. But before anything could happen, they intervened. Frankie grabbing and holding back Ben with all his strength and Santiago did his best together with Tom to keep Will separated from his brother.

“You gotta stop, hermano. It’ll be okay. It’ll be fine.” The pilot reasoned with him, looking him dead in the eyes.

“Stop! It won’t help if you jump at each other’s throats! You know that!” Santiago on the other side tried to get through to his friend, knowing he was the more reasonable one of the two right now.

“Enough!” Before anything more could happen, the colonel raised his voice loudly enough to get the attention of all.

“You can be thankful that this has no consequences because of her! Y/N defended all of your stubborn asses with her life when I asked her about what had happened! She even said that it wasn’t your fault!”

His statement felt like another heavy punch in the gut for the boys. Coming back to their senses again, Ben and Will looked guilty to the ground and stopped fighting against the hold of their friends that loosened their grip on them when they felt them relaxing.

None of them dared to say another word, feeling like absolute shit. So the older gray-haired man took it upon himself to continue and try to soothe them at least a little with his words, even if it wouldn’t help the deep gaping wound each of them now had inside.

“Do you think it was an easy decision for me? You think I don’t know how you feel right now too? I tried to convince Y/N to think about her decision at least for a day but she insisted and I can’t deny her that. But we all know that this girl would go through hell and back for you. She’d do anything for her possible to save your asses from whatever mess you drag yourself into. So please try to accept her decision and give her some space and time to think about it. I know it’s a lot right now but you can’t change anything about it in this moment. Go to your bunks and get some rest after all you’ve been through in the last hours. Give yourself some time to process everything and try to stay away from her for the time being. I will keep an eye on Y/N until she decides that she wants you back, you have my promise.”

The boys knew he was right, rationally. But emotionally this whole ordeal was a completely different thing. Especially for Ben, not being able to be with her, hear her voice he loved so much and could listen to from day to night and her laugh that would make his entire day when he heard it, feel and touch her soft skin on his and assured him that she was there with him, to see her smile and knowing it was because of him. All of it had been violently ripped away in a matter of seconds. He never wanted to be a second without her, always wanted to have her by his side and being reminded that someone cared about him, that she was happy and safe. Ben didn’t know if he was able to live without her, how he was supposed to continue from this.

The colonel stood up from his seat and rounded the table to give each of them a long hug, letting them know they weren’t alone in this.

“I’ll see you back here in the morning.” He said and walked back behind his table, watching them as they slowly made their way out with hanging and defeated postures. None of them capable of more than a nod as goodbye.

They went back to their bunks and waited…

…for 8 long years.

A/N: The flashback part had been sitting in my drafts for ages ever since I wrote it along the first chapter of this fic because I wasn't sure when it would fit nicely into the story or if I even wanted to incorporate it at all. But I'm excited to share it with you now and hope it was a good choice to place it here and shed some light to what actually happened from the boys' side of things! 🥰

Buckle up because we are about to go down the rabbit hole! 😎

If you enjoyed feel free to reblog, like and comment! 🥰

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