#and it was but waiting to be discovered...

[pathologicalreid]

extraordinary measures | s.r.

in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: fetal abduction, potentially inaccurate medical information, entirely from spencer's pov, very violent crime, mom!reader, hospitals, medication, spencer lashes out at jj, rossi's son. word count: 4.41k a/n: the people said dad!spencer angst and i delivered. also! trying something new with formatting my posts. i pay for canva pro and need to get my money's worth.

The hospital staff had moved them into a conference room, giving the BAU more space to spread out – and so Spencer’s pacing wouldn’t disturb the other people in the waiting room. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Not to us. Not to me. Not to her.

The statistics on fetal abduction were alarming. Before today, there had only been thirteen cases since Spencer had joined the BAU. Today alone, there had been two.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said, followed by two knocks on the door, “I’m so sorry, but have you had the chance to fill out some of the forms that we gave you?”

Answering for him, Penelope grabbed the clipboard off of the table and passed it to the nurse, “The insurance card is on the top,” she informed the nurse. Nervously, the blonde looked between the medical professional and Spencer, “Is there any update?”

The nurse cringed slightly, “I don’t have one. I’ll see if they can send someone to talk to you.” She nodded assuredly before peeling out of the room.

“Can I get you anything?” Garcia asked helplessly. He had already been given tea, water, coffee, and a sandwich, but he didn’t want any of it.

Shaking his head numbly, Spencer dragged his hands down his face as he replayed the events of this morning in his head.

He wasn’t even supposed to be working, you were due any day now, but Emily had called him with the case and gave him the choice of working. He was supposed to go with you to the check-up, but you had encouraged him to go save a life.

The woman who had been found this morning had her abdomen crudely cut open and her baby was born via a botched cesarean section, but her baby was too premature and didn’t make it. They were both found in an alley near the hospital by a garbage man. Then, while he and Luke were at the medical examiner’s office, his phone started to ring.

You had been discovered, bleeding out, outside of your obstetrician’s office, and if you hadn’t been so close to a building full of doctors, you probably wouldn’t have made it as far as surgery right now. The fact that you had been brought to surgery should have been enough to give him hope, but he hasn’t been raised to be hopeful, he was raised to be pragmatic. The reality of the situation was that in cases of fetal abduction, the mothers rarely made it out the other side.

He was left with Garcia to keep him company, she stayed as a watchdog, mainly looking through traffic footage on her laptop as she made sure Spencer didn’t go entirely off the rails. “You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” she said offhandedly, begging Spencer to just sit down for a moment.

With a huff, he took a seat next to Penelope, leaning his head back on the taupe drywall, “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“We’re going to wait, we are not going to catastrophize, and we will listen to any and all updates that the doctors give us,” she said determinedly, nodding her head as she did so. “We only know what we know and assuming the worst will just lead to feeling worse.”

Closing his eyes, he agreed, listening to the bustle of the hospital from inside the secluded, makeshift waiting space. He wished he knew more about your status when you came in, there were the crime scene photos – which Penelope was under strict orders not to show him – and a quick mention from a resident about blood loss, but nothing else.

“Dr. Reid?” A new voice said, snapping him out of his stupor as he rose to his feet, staring at the doctor who came in with his scrub cap on, “I’m afraid there isn’t much news. Things are still touch and go. They’re hopeful that they can get the bleeding under control, once they do that, we’ll know more. I’ll come out and let you know, alright?”

With the doctor leaving, Garcia reopened her laptop, “You see? We can’t assume the worst because we just don’t know enough yet.”

“Garcia,” he interrupted, hopeful for just a moment of silence to digest the new information – if you could even call it that.

Nodding succinctly, she returned to her work, “Right, okay.”

With the arrival of JJ, Penelope left to check in at the office, and since a profiler was bound to know more information, he asked JJ for an update. His baby had to be almost three hours old now, and he knew nothing about them.

He was left disappointed, there was no information on the UnSub or the baby, “What’s the point of it anyway?”

“Everyone is working on it, Spence. No one is going to rest until this case is closed,” JJ tried to reassure him.

Spencer wasn’t sure he was ever truly going to rest again, “Where is someone supposed to go with a newborn baby? The umbilical cord has to be still attached.” Statistically, women were more likely to commit cesarean abductions, and they usually did so after the loss of their own child or because they told someone they were pregnant and needed to produce a baby. “No one can tell me anything about my child, JJ, don’t you understand that? Can’t you try to understand how that feels?”

Bracing herself, JJ nodded, “You’re angry, I get it, you-“

“No, you don’t. My wife is bleeding out in surgery, and I have no fucking clue where our baby is. I have never met them. I don’t know if I have a son or a daughter or if they’re alive and you have the nerve to tell me that you ‘get it’?” He peered over at the blonde profiler. You should’ve been the first person to hold your baby, and instead, you might never live to find out what happened to you.

She was silent for a moment, “You’re right. I- I can’t even begin to process what you’re feeling right now, but all we can do is keep working on the case.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Spencer shook his head, “Then go work on the case,” he insisted, “I don’t… I need to be alone right now.”

Just as the four-hour mark approached, the glass door opened again, and David Rossi walked in.

“Are you here to lecture me?” Spencer asked, his voice raspy from crying in the solitude of the room, he wondered if JJ had told everyone how he lashed out at her.

Crossing one leg over the other, Rossi answered, “Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “I’m just here to sit and wait, same as you, kid.”

Nodding, Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes as a protection against the fluorescent lights of the hospital, “How did you manage?”

There were some things – life events – that were left unspoken in the BAU. Traumas that people didn’t want uncovered, horrors that the team didn’t need to relive, but Spencer needed answers, and this was the only way he could think to get them. “Manage what?”

“Losing your son,” he answered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he kept his eyes closed, wondering if he too would lose a child. Birth and death within the same day.

Clearing his throat, Rossi took a moment before responding, and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was appalled at the question or if he simply wasn’t sure how to respond, “Well, I’m not sure I ever really did. Not for a long time, at least,” he admitted.

Digesting the information, Spencer shifted in his seat, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Everyone just keeps telling me to wait, but…” he chuckled to himself, “Y/N always jokes that if patience is the companion of wisdom, then I have to be the exception.”

He had always been told to wait. Wait for his turn. Wait for the perfect person to show up. He had waited, and he had gotten you, but all of that waiting had led him here. In this beige room where he had signed papers asking doctors to use extraordinary measures to try and save your life.

“Dr. Reid?” One of the doctors from earlier called his name, knocking on the glass door. Instinctively, Spencer stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and looking at the doctor expectantly, “Oh, please,” the doctor said, “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, Spencer lowered himself back down into the hospital chair, he couldn’t help but feel like that was a bad sign.

“All things considered, your wife is very, very lucky,” the doctor informed him, “She’s not fully out of the woods yet, but they’re setting her up in recovery right now. I’m just waiting on a message from my colleague, and then I’ll be able to bring you up to see her.”

A flurry of questions flew through his mind at once, “What are you still concerned about?” He asked, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees.

Nodding, the doctor continued, “Y/N lost a lot of blood in the attack. When you factor in the trauma of having a baby and a four-hour surgery, there’s a lot of healing that has to happen, and right now she doesn’t have the strength for it.” His phone chimed, and Spencer jolted, trying not to get his hopes up if it wasn’t about you, “Come with me,” the doctor said.

Rossi offered to let the rest of the team know and Spencer rambled off a random confirmation as he followed the doctor through the doorway, feeling like he was floating. As they walked through the hospital, Spencer grew more and more anxious.

Your hand was cold. In fact, your hand was so cold that Spencer asked the doctor to turn the volume on your vital monitor up so that he could have the constant reassurance that you were alive.

Blood was being transfused still, he had already forgotten the doctor’s estimate on just how much blood you had lost, but if he had the urge to read through your medical chart, he was sure he could find out. The only problem was, ever since the doctor left, he hadn’t been able to do anything except stare.

Every once in a while, he pinched your index finger, testing the capillary refill time out of his own morbid curiosity while blood was being returned to your body. Agents and officers stood outside of your hospital room in a steady rotation. The BAU wasn’t sure if your life was still in danger, but they weren’t willing to take any risks.

There were countless law enforcement personnel involved in this case now, if not directly investigating the case, they were at least contributing to the search. The Manassas Field Office, DC Metro, the Maryland Police – they were all out there looking. Out the window, he could see news reporters gathering out front to start their afternoon broadcasts.

It had been four hours. Four hours and there was still no word on the baby or the UnSub. The baby would need to eat soon, and Spencer found himself depending on the UnSub to have had the forethought to take care of the newborn.

Every couple of minutes, you would mumble something in your sleep, and he willed you to stay asleep. Selfishly, he wanted you to stay asleep until he knew the baby was safe – until he knew he could have something good to tell you.

Penelope was stationed right outside the door. She likely thought he hadn’t noticed her return, but the clicking of her keyboard gave her away.

Infrequently, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tried not to concern himself with it. Garcia had made contact with your mom, being sure to reach out to your family before any other news hit the airwaves.

He adjusted the way the nasal cannula rested on your face before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles and resting your cold fingers against his cheek, as if his face had the capacity to warm your whole body. Briefly, he wondered if the team would be willing to have a desk agent bring you a blanket from home.

The team would probably find a way to get him a helicopter if he requested it.

Flowers and cards flowed into your hospital room, arriving from people who knew you to people who had seen your story on the news. He had to look away when a small stuffed elephant was delivered by a nurse, knowing that the baby it belonged to was nowhere to be found.

Much to his surprise, he looked away from the stuffed animal just to find you looking back at him. The sorrow in your eyes a staggering reflection of that which could be found in his own. One glance at you and he knew that there was no need for him to break the news to you – you were well aware.

Spencer remained wholly silent as a slew of medical professionals filtered in and out of the room, a cacophony of directives and questions sent your way as tears filled your waterline. He captured your hand in both of his, holding your hand like it was a lifeline to everything he knew as the truth. He was here, you were here, and you were both alive. Tethered to you in the woven web of life, he refused to falter. Not now. Not when you needed him the most.

He answered the questions that you didn’t know the answers to and watched, tight-lipped, as your doctor kept you informed. Dr. Lasher was picking and choosing from your chart, telling you anything pertinent, and leaving out anything that she thought could wait for later.

Once the doctor had cleared through an extensive list of maladies, everyone let you have the room. “Darling,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to adjust the way your hospital gown rested on your shoulder, covering some of the exposed wires.

“There are no leads?” You asked tentatively, the pain in your voice exacerbated by the swelling caused by the breathing tube you’d had during surgery. Your eyes were glassy, and Spencer didn’t know if it was from sorrow or pain or fear. It was a question he was afraid to ask.

He shook his head, “Not yet, but everyone’s looking,” he fed you the same reassurances that had been given to him. The same reassurances that he hadn’t believed.

You moved your hands, laying your palms flat on the sterile white sheets and starting to push yourself up, only to be met with Spencer’s hands guiding you back down to the pillows. “I’ve gotta go,” you mumbled, “I wanna help. Spence, please let me help.” Fresh tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him in desperation.

The way your bottom lip quivered was what broke him, he tilted his head to the side, “You can help just fine from right here, okay?” He looked out into the hallway, wondering which member of the team was around for you to talk to. “I’ll be right back,” he told you, squeezing your hand before retreating to the hallway, never letting you out of his line of sight.

“Hey,” Penelope greeted, the compassion in her voice giving him pause, “How is she?”

Exhausted, terrified, in pain – all applicable at the moment. Spencer thought about answering for a moment before skipping Garcia’s question entirely, “Who’s around for a cognitive?”

You didn’t quite have the energy for a full interview, but you were so adamant about helping that he couldn’t refuse you, not today. “JJ’s one floor up, do you want me to call her for you?”

He thought about it for a moment, he hadn’t handled his last interaction with JJ with the most care, but you needed someone to talk to and it couldn’t be him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Please.”

Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair as he tried to comfort you. In all of the time he’d known you, he’d never need you so defeated.

Not much came out during your cognitive with JJ, either there was a mental block in the way or you hadn’t seen much when you were attacked. Whichever one it was, Spencer was fighting himself internally on whether or not he should be thankful.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured, keeping his voice low as you fought off sleep. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he cooed, “You need to rest.”

You fought sleep with everything you had in you, which wasn’t much anymore. The cognitive interview had gone too long. Your nurse was the one who put her foot down and ended it, even when you wanted to keep going. “It’s not fair,” you cried, slow tears making their way down your cheeks.

Very slowly, Spencer could feel his heart breaking as your exhaustion and desolation worked together to make you as miserable as possible, “I know, lovey. I know,” he assured you as tears filled his eyes.

Glassy eyes looked up at him, “I just wanted to be a mom,” you whispered, your speech slurred with sleep.

Letting his own tears fall to the white sheets of your hospital bed, Spencer nodded, “You are a mom.”

He didn’t add anything. He didn’t have it in him to make a grandiose speech about how you would always be your baby’s mother, and, luckily, he didn’t need to. Your eyes finally fell shut, final tears falling from your face as Spencer found himself grateful that sleep finally took you.

Never leaving your side, Spencer pulled the chair back up next to you, resting his chin on your bed's armrest and watching you sleep. Very slowly, color was beginning to return to your face, yet you still looked so different from when he had left the house that morning.

Unsure how long it had been, Spencer shot up straight when Penelope came rushing to the doorway, placing a finger to his lips, he nodded toward your sleeping form. Even so, the technical analyst waved him over.

Carefully, he slipped his hand out of yours and walked around your bed to Penelope, “What is it?”

Tears filled the blonde’s eyes as she looked up at him, she put both of her hands on his upper arms and cried, “They found your baby. It- they’re pulling up to the ambulance bay right now.”

Spencer’s lips parted in shock, having fully prepared himself for the day to end in undeniable heartbreak. “Are- is the baby okay?”

Penelope nodded, “They’re going up to the NICU right now to get checked out but apparently the EMTs said the baby looks completely unharmed.”

Turning to look at you, still asleep on the bed, Spencer gave Penelope a quick embrace before returning to your bedside, “Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to wake you up from sleep that you still needed. “Honey,” he said, gently cupping your cheek with his hands as your eyes fluttered open.

You hummed groggily, squinting up at him under the fluorescence of the hospital.

“The baby’s here,” he murmured to you, making sure you didn’t jump up at his words. “They’re headed up to the NICU for a quick check, and-“

“Go,” you cut him off, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Please go hold them, Spence,” you cried, voice rough with sleep.

His shoulders slouched forward slightly, looking between you and Penelope in the doorway, “I’ll stay here,” Penelope offered immediately. “You go, I’ll stay.”

You nodded up at him, closing your eyes as he bent forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “I love you,” you breathed, placing a hand on your chest as if it would slow your racing heart.

“I love you too,” he responded before stepping out of the hospital room, following the directions that Penelope had given him in order to get up to the NICU.

Adrenaline made his stomach churn as he approached the NICU, wondering what he’d say to the people there until someone recognized him as The Dad. He still had to scrub his hands, but they let him through until he saw the bassinet. Even more, he saw the tiny baby kicking its legs inside of the acrylic container.

Emily stood by on high alert, ready to pounce on anyone who even looked at the baby funny, and Spencer just couldn’t stop staring. “Come here,” one of the NICU nurses said to him, obviously having been brought up to speed on the situation. With a smile on her face, she told him, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” he breathed, walking right up to the side of the bassinet.

The nurse nodded and adjusted the hat on her head, just slightly too big for the newborn’s head, “If you want, we can get you set up in a chair here, and you can give her a bottle.”

“Please,” he responded, earning another smile from the nurse, who had him take the crying baby in his arms before handing him the prepared bottle.

It broke his heart to watch how quickly she took to the bottle; he still wasn’t sure if she had eaten anything until this. He knew the nipple wouldn’t let her take in too much at a time, but in his subconscious, he was still worried about it being too much for her.

He rocked gently, “Hi, honey,” he cooed down at her.

“She’s a good eater,” the nurse observes, writing something down on a piece of paper. “We’ll keep an eye on her for just a little while, but we know how badly she needs to get down to her mama.”

Setting the now empty bottle down, Spencer looked up at the nurse, “Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded at his concern, “She’s on the small size, but she’s full term. Of course, not everything is going to be noticeable right away, but we did a full newborn exam on her and all of the tests say she’s a perfectly healthy baby.” She looked on as Spencer gently cupped the baby’s head, “Does she have a name?”

You and Spencer had made a deal, he would pick a boy’s name, and you would pick a girl’s name. Smiling softly, he murmured her name to her for the first time, “Genevieve,” he answered. A big name for such a small baby, maybe, but it was the name you had chosen.

He started making his way back down to you, feeling like he was floating through the taupe hallways of the hospital before he finally made it back to your room. Penelope excused herself when he emerged in the hallway.

“Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him with hope in your eyes for the first time since you had woken up after surgery.

Smiling at you, he sat on the edge of your bed, “Five pounds and fifteen ounces. Seventeen and a half inches long. Perfectly healthy.” He glanced behind him as he heard the wheels of the bassinet coming toward your room, turning back to watch your reaction as you saw your baby for the first time.

He was glad for his eidetic memory, he’d never want to forget the way your face lit up with recognition, “Oh, a girl.”

With the baby settled on your chest, there was nothing better for the two of you to do than watch her sleep. Every once in a while, she’d coo or squawk and immediately capture your every attention all over again. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked you. The blood transfusions had been completed, leaving you on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, fluids, and lots of pain medication – two of which prevented you from breastfeeding. Although, because of her size and traumatic birth, the NICU doctor suggested that some formula would help her grow properly.

You hummed contentedly, “Tired. I hurt just about everywhere,” you admitted, not taking your eyes off of your newborn. “I’m so… just grateful,” you whispered, “Is that odd?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I know exactly what you mean.” For as terrible and horrifying as the entire ordeal was, it could’ve been much worse. He almost lost both of his girls in one day.

“Does the team want to meet her?” You asked, worried about entertaining guests with the baby.

Spencer chuckled softly, keeping his index finger pointed within Genevieve’s reach, testing her palmar reflex, “I’m sure they do, but we’ll wait and see how you feel tomorrow and revisit. Okay?”

Your head bobbed in confirmation, watching as your daughter very slowly woke up, “Hi, Vie,” you greeted her quietly, gently rubbing her back with your fingertips. You didn’t have the strength to fully hold her, but she was more than happy to just lay on you, “Sweet, sleepy girl.”

“Do you want me to take her, and you can get some sleep?” Spencer offered, noticing the way you were trying to hide a yawn from him. “We aren’t going anywhere, we’ll stay right here in this chair,” he reassured you based on the apprehensive look you were giving him.

Slowly, you nodded, helping as best you could and pouting in sympathy when Genevieve – Vie – cried out at the sensation of being moved from her warm spot on her mother’s chest to the warm spot in her father’s arms. Thankfully, the newborn calmed down just as soon as Spencer settled her in his arms, “Don’t go,” you whispered, letting your eyes fall shut as you allowed sleep to wash over you.

He hummed, “We won’t,” he muttered in response.

Sleep took you with little resistance, leaving him with Genevieve in the silence of the hospital room – save for all of the machines that you were still hooked up to.

She wouldn’t be up for much longer herself – newborns spent most of their day sleeping – so Spencer took his opportunity to watch her eyes wander around the hospital room. “You can go back to sleep too, little love. I’ll watch over the both of you,” he spoke to her in a reverent tone and adjusted the hat on her head.  “I’ll keep you safe, Vie. No harm will come to you, not as long as I’m your dad.”

[norrisainz33]

Glimpse || OP81

☆ summary: oscar’s long time girlfriend is rather private and always has been despite her family’s fame. slowly but surely fans start to discover more about her!

☆ pairing: oscar piastri x laeno!sibling!private!reader

☆ fc & warnings: various girls from pinterest & slightly suggestive, you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: yes! sorry it took my literally forever. thank you for taking the time to request 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynlaeno has made a post 🔒

liked by nicolelaeno, oscarpiastri, landonorris, mclarenf1, yourbff, lilymhe, and 345 others

ynlaeno: festivals with my favorite sister means we get to serve fits again ✨

view all 23 comments

lilymhe: you are so hot

ynlaeno: no baby girl that’s you

alexandrasaintmleux: the world really is your runway

ynlaeno: you are one to talk 🤤

yourbff: bestie when are you going to be a model and grace the world with your beauty

ynlaeno: sooner than you think!

oscarpiastri: 🤤🤤🤤 god you look good baby

ynlaeno: thank you handsome 😘

landonorris: gross get a room

oscarpiastri: we have and you were mad about that too

landonorris: yeah bc your drivers room is connected to mine!!

ynlaeno: boys please 🫠

nicoleaeno: i love you sissy 🤍

ynlaeno: i love you more

mclarenf1: the most iconic sister duo ever

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user2, user1, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user9, and 10,238 others

f1gossip: everyone’s favorite wag, y/n, has been featured in her sister nicole’s most recent dance video!! this is the first time she’s been seen in a youtube video so this is big news and seems she’s as talented of a dancer as nicole!! maybe this is a sign that y/n’s finally going to share more

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user1: omg she can dance????? ugh i’m in love

user2: wondering if there’s anything y/n can’t do

user3: i wish we got to see her more often

user7: ugh me too y/n seems so cool

user4: i’m so jealous of their talent

user5: oscar is a lucky man , what i wouldn’t give for one chance

user8: no fr oscar is so lucky i mean look at her

user10: i’m begging one of you guys to get accepted as a follower on her insta so we can see what’s there

user13: working on it 😭

user9: y/n will forever be my favorite

oscarpiastri has made a post

liked by ynlaeno, mclarenf1, landonorris, logansargeant, yourbff, nicolelaeno, lewishamilton, goergerussell63 and 345,194 others

oscarpiastri: a week off means i get to follow the love of my life around and support her as she crushes the NY fashion week runway. i’m so proud of you y/n 🧡

view all 722 comments

user1: FASHION WEEK?!

user2: she walked at fashion week?!?!?!? oh my GOD

user3: oscar im going to take your girlfriend

lewishamilton: congrats y/n! absolutely loved the collection

ynlaeno: thank you lew 😭

user5: y/n in her model era! lewis has competition fr

ynlaeno: osco 😭😭😭 thank you sweet boy

oscarpiastri: i love you gorgeous

ynlaeno: i love you more

oscarpiastri: simply not possible sweetheart

georgerussell63: and what can’t she do 💅🏻

ynlaeno: drive an f1 car!

georgerussell63: fair but you are good at karting! you even beat oscar last time!

user3: GEORGE DROPPING MORE LORE. she is good at karting??? y/n please let us know more about you im begging

mclarenf1: we love our fashion icon ynlaeno

user6: i knew this girl could dress but who knew she could own the runway too wtf

user7: y/n crumbs , thank you oscar

nicolelaeno has posted to her story

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user18: IS THAT Y/N?! SHE SINGS?!

user14: why is it that every day i learn of a new skill y/n possesses

user4: MOTHER Y/N

oscarpiastri: i can’t wait to see this 😍

nicolelaeno: it’s going to be a good one!! y/n FINALLY agreed to sing for me 🤍

yourbff: yesssss she finally decided to sing for a video?!

nicolelaeno: it only took a lot of bribing, begging and pleading!! ms girl loves her privacy but she’s too talented to not share

user16: just fell to the floor

ynlaeno: 👀 i’m so nervous for everyone to see this

nicolelaeno: don’t be, you’re so talented y/n/n 🫶🏻

nicolelaeno: plus the internet literally loves you

lilymhe: my talented bestie back at it again

user7: more y/n crumbs! thank you nicole

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user2, user1, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user9, and 10,238 others

f1gossip: this week on what lore are we going to learn about y/n: her and oscar were spotted out and about at an art gallery, she was in the background of an archery video that Nicole posted recently as well as a video from Nicole of y/n signing her favorite high school musical song and a video of her reading to a class of children has also surfaced. what do you all think about the ever elusive and private y/n being featured more often on social media?

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user1: i feel like in the past month alone i’ve learned more about y/n than i ever had before despite her and oscar being together for so long

user5: obsessed with this. i hope we keep seeing more of y/n

user6: y/n just casually being good at everything again

user7: talented, beautiful, kind ,,,, she is the total package

user11: oscar’s really winning with her

oscarpiastri: yes, i really am

user11: oh my god it’s him

user9: just give me one chance y/n

user13: chat i love y/n so much

user12: very demure, very mindful, very cutesy

oscarpiastri has posted a story

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user9: gnawing at the bars of my encloser

user93: oh this outfit is eating

logansargeant: ok lover boy

oscarpiastri: hehe that’s me

user56: oscar your page is becoming a y/n fan account

lilymhe: god dmn i’m in love

oscarpiastri: get in line 😭

lilymhe: NO

user7: y/n crumbs, thank you oscar!

ynlaeno: omg baby 🥹🥹🥹🥹

oscarpiastri: you’re so beautiful

ynlaeno: you’re too sweet

oscarpiastri: and you’re the love of my life

ynlaeno: and you’re mine forever 🤍

alexandrasaintmleux: please tell her to send me that skirt

oscarpiastri: only if you send me leo in exchange

user8: i get it, if she was my girl id post her like this too

user66: OMG ITS HAPPENING EVERYONE STAY CALM

user47: the way she went from 781 followers to 134,978 in 24 hours needs to be studied.

user6: this might be the most aesthetically pleasing feed i’ve ever seen

user8: the way oscar is in almost every single one of the comments saying how much he loves her and how beautiful she is 😭😭😭😭

user81: man is obsessed and i’m so here for it

user76 y/n’s biggest fan award goes to oscar 😭

user87: if my partner doesn’t hype up my every move like oscar does for y/n… i don’t want it

user32: oscar has single handedly raised my standards for men

user12: please tell me y’all saw all her story highlights of her singing

user16: don’t forget all the ones where she’s dancing 😭

user18: there’s nothing this girl can’t do

user98: i didn’t think i could love her more but honestly after this glimpse into her life,,,, i really do

ynlaeno has added to their story

view all replies

user66: HI (louder than everyone else)

user98: omg hi mother

alexandrasaintmleux: pretty girl!! i can’t wait to see you in singapore 🤍

ynlaeno: i can’t wait to see YOU!! its been too long since we had a girls night. let’s get dinner (without the boys 😉)

alexandrasaintmleux: yes please mon amor

oscarpiastri: pic credits?!

ynlaeno: thanks for the pic oscar, you’ve been trained well 😉

oscarpiastri: ☺️☺️☺️ i’m learning

ynlaeno: yes you are sweet boy

nicolelaeno: ok gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous. i miss you so much

ynlaeno: i miss you too bestie. i hope college is amazing

user56: i got a notif that you posted and got so excited

landonorris: you better text me before you drop THE post

ynlaeno: it’s taken me forever to pick the right pictures but it’ll be dropping shortly

landonorris: eeeeeeeeek

user9: first story on public omg 😭😭

lilymhe: i am outrageously obsessed with you

ynlaeno: and i’m obsessed with you my gorgeous bestie

user23: HI HI HI HI HI

ynlaeno has made a post

liked by mclarenf1, oscarpiastri, nicolelaeno, nicolepiastri, landonorris, lilymhe, yourbff, carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, and 324,184 others

ynlaeno: something so exciting happened that i had to share it with you all. welcome to the page of the future mrs. piastri 🤍

view all 987 comments

ynlaeno: p.s. everyone say thank you lando for the impromptu photo shoot!! we love you dearly muppet 🫶🏻

oscarpiastri: thank you lando!

landonorris: you are so welcome. love you both to the moon and back ❤️

user4: no this is the cutest interaction i’ve ever seen im sick

user37: lando taking the pictures of them has me violently crying

user68: knowing lando took these pictures….. this might be the best thing to ever happen to me

oscarpiastri: i can’t wait to marry my best friend!! i love you my fiancé

ynlaeno: FIANCÉ!!! i know that’s right 🤍

user38: i love love

user27: THIS IS AN ICONIC FIRST PUBLIC POST

nicoleleano: SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

ynlaeno: me too bestie

user45: icon status wow

georgerussell63: congratulations 🤍

ynlaeno: thanks georgie 🤍

lilymhe: i’m openly weeping 😭😭😭🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🤍🤍🤍

ynlaeno: 🤍🫶🏻😭

user96: she’s so real for this i’d come off private to brag about being engaged to the oscar piastri too

nicolepiastri: congrats you two 🧡

ynlaeno: thank you mama p 🤍

user46: best day ever for annoying ppl (me)

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!!! been busy with life and also having trouble with ideas. hoping to get back into the swing of things during fall break 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[cryptidotter]

Something I love about the romance in The Locked Tomb is how Gideon as our first POV narrator is like "this is Harrowhark Nonagesimus, she thrives on scorn and ambition and death" and as a seasoned enemies-to-lovers fan, my first reaction was "I love it, I support women's rights and wrongs, and I can't wait to see this cold evil character discover feelings eventually" but then the plot twist is actually that Harrow is a pathetic desperate emo who barely needs an excuse to say the most romantic shit imaginable. Which is already a good payoff and the characterization is superb, but then you see inside Harrow's head in the next book and discover that despite her trauma and 35 mental illnesses, she is so much of a fucking soft marshmallow simp that not even her DIY lobotomy can keep her from indulging in a coffeeshop AU (?!?!) to soothe her yearning soul. Which makes rereading GtN delightful because now you can read between the lines and realise like "oh wow, she was down bad the whole time and Gideon just didn't notice". It gives so much lesbian Pride and Prejudice that you can only fully appreciate during a reread. I adore it.

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine:

You hate Logan but you have a child together

You had a complicated relationship with your Logan. When he first came to the mansion the two of you hit off immediately. The typical good girl bad guy dynamic, but there always a layer of Logan you couldn't quite get to. He wanted to be with you, but he didn't want to do the work in order to keep you. He struggled with being emotionally vulnerable and you were the complete opposite. You told him you felt, you spoke through misunderstandings with him, and you were always there to listen. To try get any piece of your lover that you could. But after years of begging Logan to love you, when you told him you were in love with him. He said he was not, and that was the end of your relationship.

Or so you thought. Because your relationship couldn't end that easily, but you discovered you were pregnant. Logan tried to make things back to normal, but you rejected him at every turn. He hadn't ever wanted to hurt you, but as he realized your unrelenting anger, he knew he did. He knew that you cried when you were alone, that you'd start going to therapy again. That being pregnant with Logan's child was literally the last thing he thought you wanted. Maybe before when you were together when Logan wasn't confronted on being a coward.

He calls this karma, watching you go to Jean and Scott for support instead of him. Watching you grow progressively more pregnant with his child, and he couldn't hold you or kiss you. Logan thought about leaving, it was he had done so many times before. Even when the two of you were together, he'd leave for long periods of time. Breaking your heart over and over again but coming back asking for forgiveness. You'd given him so many chances and he had wasted them on being a brainless dick.

Little did you know how hard it was not to run back to him, not to give him to his promises. But you couldn't trust that he was going to come through for you. You didn't have any doubts about your child together, you knew that you meant something to him. You'd hope that his anxiety wouldn't pull him away from his own child. Because you knew he'd be a good dad, the way he was with Rogue, always checking in on her, making sure Bobby was being respectful. He loved her like a daughter, and you only hopped he could love your child the same.

Logan was going to have to be a part of your life no matter what now, or so you hoped. There was a hope in Logan that when your daughter was born that you would accept him again. He'd plan to tell you he loved you, that'd he give anything to you, that he'd wait for forever. It took him 9 months to grow the guts to do it.

It was a no brainer when he had their baby in his arms, you laying in the med-bay, he'd never seen you so tired but so happy. "Y/n." He murmured, looking over at you with his soft eyes. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you made eye contact with him. "I'm sorry for letting you down, I-I want to give you everything, I-I loved you for so long, I've just been too scared to say anything." He admitted, wearing his heart on his sleeve for once in his life.

You felt tears well up in your eyes at the pang in your chest, you shook your head as you looked away. "I-I can't risk it, Logan. Getting hurt by you-." You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I can't do it again, and I can't focus on you anymore and how you make me feel, I gotta focus on our girl, make sure she has the life she's supposed to."

Logan didn't say anything as he looked back down at his daughter, a shaky sigh falling from his mouth as he tried to keep the tears welling up in his eyes at bay. He didn't think he would cry if you said no, but Logan also thought you would forgive him. "I uh-I wanna name her Hazel."

"Yeah?" He grinned over at you, even just the slimmest of hope fluttering in his chest. You also spoke about his hazel eyes; it was one of your favorite things about him. Even if you didn't consciously pick it because of him, he had given him the glimmer of hope he needed to completely devote himself to you and Hazel.

Logan didn't confess anymore feelings or push you to be with him. But you grew rather annoyed by his presence always a reminder of something you wanted desperately but whenever you got it hurt you. It was like the apple that you wanted so desperately but everything was telling you to not grab the apple, don't eat it. Don't give into those green eyes and that handsome smile. Try not to focus when he was talking in that almost condescending way while his eyes flitted up and down your body. This man had no shame in showing you how much he loved you, by teasing, poking, antagonizing. But also being the first one to show up when you were overwhelmed with Hazel or you were just having a rough time. He didn't need to ask, he just did.

Being so agonizing good with your daughter that it was hard not to fold when he was such a good man. But instead of giving him a chance, you only pushed him away more, complaining about the littlest things and not giving Logan the benefit of the doubt. When Hazel wasn't around, it was you calling him some name and trying to start an argument with him.

But it was hard to act like a bitch when you saw your one and half year old on Logan's hip while he made her breakfast. It was his morning to take care of her, but you'd waken up early so you went for some coffee. "Morning beautiful." Logan grinned at you, you were suer he said those things to purposely piss you off. You ignored him as usual coming up to Hazel and kissing her cheek.

"Good morning love bug." You murmured to her, as she grinned over at you before putting a kiss on your own cheek. Logan gazed over at the two of you, imagines of you calling him that nickname, 'Love bug'. You'd explained to him how much that nickname actually meant to you, how it was favorite term of endearment. Something that you called him for a long time. He just wished it would be directed at him one day, one day he'd regain your trust again, right?

Logan wasn't a patient man.

But he was patient for his girls.

Notes: angsty moment here lmao got this idea last night just didn't have time to write it. hope you enjoy! lmk if you want a part 2

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland

[ozzgin]

I was 100% thinking of the Shinsengumi when the brainrot struck, but let us assume a more generic, unnamed circumstance for this. Random, uh, elite group of swordsmen working for the shogunate in the Edo period. Here's the awkward, horny himbo I had previously mentioned. Content: female reader, historical setting, crossdressing, NSFW

Yandere!Captain commands his group with an iron grip. Many people in the Capital know his name, whether it's fellow warriors or petty merchants, and not without reason. His unmatched skill with a sword had even reached the ears of the court, and he was quickly appointed as the head of a newly formed group of samurai meant to maintain order in the city.

As if keeping hot-blooded thugs under control wasn't enough, he is now stuck with an even bigger issue: you.

"We can't have women in here", he declares with a grimace.

"I can pretend", you counter stubbornly, pulling your hakama pants up by the sash, almost in an act of defiance. "In fact, I don't see any woman here. I came to apply."

Yandere!Captain’s reputation does not only revolve around his intimidating strength. Among his underlings, he is known for being completely and utterly uninterested when it comes to women. Will he join his group for drinks after a long day of work? Absolutely. But that’s where the fun stops. When the others begin to slip away with smiling courtesans, he remains at the table with a somber countenance. It is a running joke that nothing can deter this man from his duty.

Thus, your presence at the headquarters should make no difference. He had to begrudgingly accept that you spoke the truth when you'd said you can handle a sword. It's not uncommon for women to keep a small tanto underneath their obi for additional protection, but your knowledge doesn't stop there. You arrived with your own katana and backup wakizashi, swiftly proving their worth upon your first city round when you slashed the arm off a street hooligan.

Well, that's one less worry for the captain. Except, to his great shame, it's not as simple as that. He is the only one aware of your secret, which means that he is the only one available outside of working hours. He was terrified to discover the hesitation in his hands when bandaging your ribs after a stabbing incident, or the halt in his step when he happened to find you switching to a night gown. Oh, how deplorable! Have his morals crumbled into nothing? His latest perverted thought nearly caused him to draw a blade across his stomach.

It is with this faltering confidence that he greets you before the bath one evening.

“You don’t have to do this”, you tell him. "I can wait until you're done."

His struggles haven't escaped your observant eye. You were initially amused by his rather obvious awkwardness; then, a certain idea insidiously made its way into your mind, impossibly tempting: for how long could he keep this façade?

You find yourself going out of your way just to tease your poor captain, perhaps secretly hoping he'll soon break down and give in to his yearning.

“They will become suspicious if you never join us. I do not care for your nudity. Undress at ease”, he says, throwing away his own towel and lowering himself into the hot water. “Get in whenever you want.”

If he insists.

You nonchalantly follow suit, sitting across from him with your arms resting against the rocky edge of the hot spring. You can tell his eyes have wandered involuntarily. His face is red, and he’s wearing a humiliated frown.

“You’re awfully quiet, Sir.”

His lips are pursed indeed. The tall man shuffles briefly, avoiding your gaze. A smirk crosses your features as you decide to approach him.

"In fact, I'd go as far as you say that you're in dire need of help."

To your surprise, he doesn't protest when your hands stray to his lower half, feeling up and down his erection. The small grunts escaping his mouth encourage you to pick up the pace, now equally aroused.

Soon, you feel his heavy arm wrapping around your waist, forcefully throwing you out of the water and onto the cold ground. You open your mouth to complain, but it's quickly shut back by his hot lips, suckling and biting in a desperate hunger to have you.

“It’s improper for a subordinate to take the lead”, he finally says in a low, breaking voice.

He can only hope no one else decides to use the hot springs, though that’s as far as his concern currently goes. He’s much too preoccupied with other pressing matters, holding onto your folded legs for support as he thrusts into you in a depraved, delirious need. His movements are jerky and erratic, with an almost predatory glimmer in his eyes. You wonder how often he imagined this happening. All of his shame and guilt, coming undone at once.

Days later, during one of the hangouts, you find him whispering to one of the courtesans.

“What, you suddenly have a taste for women now?” you question discreetly, unable to hold your tongue.

You’d hoped to be on the receiving end of any future lust-driven gestures from the captain, not some common worker.

He appears to hesitate, twiddling his thumbs and glancing away.

“I was just…asking how you properly please a woman”, he finally confesses.

If he’s going to continue fucking his subordinate behind everyone’s back, he may as well do a good job while at it.

[More Original Works] | [Yan!Swordsman Concept]

[leah-lover]

Sketches. Mapi x Ingrid x reader.

Summary: what happens when Ingrid and mapi discover the sketches r drew of them.

------------------------------------------------

Doom scrolling on your phone after practice was your favorite activity of the day. You would come home exhausted, throw your kitbag in the hallway, and cocoon in your coach for about an hour.

Today was no different. You got home and did the same thing. You opened TikTok, and scrolled half mindedly. One video though grabbed your attention. It was a tik tok from the official page of Barcelona where your teammates were asked to describe you in a few words.

Cata was the first to answer and she did so by describing you as quiet. It was fair you didn't talk much if at all. It's not that you weren't comfortable enough with the team, you were just a quiet person. Irene was next and she called you kind which put a smile on your face. All your teammates called you different versions of sweet, kind, funny, quiet, and shy. You found their words endearing and it almost brought you to tears. This reaction quickly went away after you heard what mapi described you. “ Talented artist.” your face turned white and your heartbeat was accelerating. Her answer was followed by Ingrid who described you as an “ impressive painter.”

You dropped your phone quickly. “ No it can't be. No no no no. Fuck!!” You got up from the couch and tried to keep yourself busy. You put away your kit bag, did laundry , cleaned the house surprisingly thoroughly. You even meal prepped. all of this so that you wouldn't think about that video, their response, and what most likely saw.

Your alarm found you awake for the first time since the champion’s league final which spoke greatly to the anxiety you were experiencing. The thought of being face to face with them knowing that they know your secret terrified you but had to go to training so you did, and your mission was to get through the day without making contact with them because if you did you would either cry or throw up and that wasn't an option.

“ Nena what's wrong?” Asked Alexia at the meeting room.

“ Nothing capi everything is good.” You say trying to contain your tears. That's when she held your hand and redirected her focus to the coach. She rubbed her thumb across your knuckles once in a while. Once the meeting was over she pulled you gently out of the room and to a different room.

“ We are not getting out of this room until you tell me what is wrong.” Alexia looked so gentle, caring and a little bit worried. But you couldn't tell her what was wrong.

“ Nena I love you and I care about you deeply. Your anxiety is clearly through the roof. Just let me help you. We decided that you would let me help, remember.” She put her hand on your shoulder and desperately waited for an answer.

Alexia was like a big sister to you. She helped you survive your time in Barca but your issue right now was within the team not the pressure or the limelight and you know there was nothing to fix it.

“ I want a transfer. I want to leave Barcelona. I want to leave. “ You close your eyes so that you won't cry.

“ It's okay pequena everything is gonna be okay. I can fix this, whatever this is I can fix it. Trust me.” She pulled you in for a hug. Your anxiety was through the roof and the voices in your head were screaming vile and scary things at you.

“ I want to leave ale. I am serious.” You try to say sturnely.

“ You are one of your best strikers. We need you now more than ever if we want to quadruple again. And we do so you are staying.” She just held you as you cried some more.

Once you calmed down you apologized to Alexia. “ I guess you aren't gonna tell me right?” she asked again.

“ It's just about a stupid video.” You tried to stop the words as they were coming out of your mouth but it was too late.

“What video?” She asked suspiciously.

“ A video posted by the Barca page. It's nothing to worry about. Sorry capi, I didn't mean to freak out.”

“ It's fine Nena if you don't feel like training you can go home. “ She proposed after realizing you won't say anything.

“ Yeah I think that is a good idea.” You went to the locker room, grabbed your bag and left. Alexia then pulled out her phone and searched for the video you were talking about. She watched it 3 times and her teamates’s answers seemed fine, but she got suspicious of mapi and Ingrid's answers so she went to talk to them.

“ Maria, Ingrid, I need to talk to you.” Demanded the captain. They complied and waited for her at the side of the pitch.

“ Where is Nena?” Asked mapi.

“ That's what I am here to talk to you about. She went home now. I just managed to calm her down but she isn't okay. She was crying and she said she wanted a transfer from this team. She also said something about a video the social media team posted. I didn't understand anything.” Mapi and Ingrid gave one another a look they both understood. They knew what troubled you and they felt bad for it.

“ Don't worry about it ale. We will make things right, I promise you.” Said Ingrid.

“So you did something wrong. You hurt her somehow” Alexia started to frown with anger.

“ Ale calm down, I will tell you everything just not now. Everything will be alright tomorrow.”

“Well it better fucking be or you will answer to me.” added the captain before leaving.

When you arrived home your head was pounding because of the crying so you headed straight to your bedroom, got under the covers and slept almost immediately, too tired to do anything else. You only woke up when your phone was buzzing under your pillow.

“ Hola” you answered without checking who is calling.

“ Hola Nena, I need you to open the door. We are standing outside.” Said a familiar voice.

You put your phone to the side and went straight to your door not realizing what you were doing.

Once you opened the door, your eyes opened wide, surprised at who was at your door. You stood there like a statue trying desperately to calm the voices in your head.

“Nena , please let us in, we need to talk to you.” said ingrid in the gentlest voice you ever heard.

You couldn't kick them out so you stepped aside and let them get in. By the time you got to the living room your heart was beating very fast, each breath was harder and harder and the walls around you started to close in on you. Mapi was the first one to notice so she came running towards you. She took your hand, guided you to the couch and started to construct you to take deep breaths.

“ I am gonna leave. Transfer window is in 2 weeks so the coach has enough time to secure a deal with a new team. Even if they dont we can fake an injury for the media and I can just stay home until the summer where we can look again for another deal. You don't have to worry about anything. I won't cause any problems i swear. . ” you say once you get your breath back.

“ nena why do you think anybody wants you to leave?” askes ingrid.

“ I know you think I am a creep, I understand that. I don't want to cause any problems within the team so I am leaving.” you try to say as calmly as you can.

“ nena we don't think you are creepy.” replied mapi. You look at them with confusion. What if you understood everything all wrong? what if you had jumped to false confusion? What if this was all a misunderstanding from you part?

“ You said in that video that I draw really well. I never showed you any of my drawings so that means that you saw them.” you try to piece everything together.

They both look at eachother hesitantly before ingrid starts talking.

“ The other day in the locker room you wanted to talk to the physio and left your ipad open, that's when I saw a drawing of myself and I zoomed out to see the full picture. I then accidentally swiped and saw that you drew a few portraits of me and mapi separately and together.” you knew that they saw the portraits, but hearing the words come out of ingrid’s mouth made the situation much worse for you. Those drawings were something sacred and intimate to you. You expressed your every thought through them. They were your safe space and they gave solace. But now they have changed into a nightmare that would force you to leave your favorite place in the world.

“ Did you see all of them?” your voice seemed to have shrunk and as you ask the question staring at the floor.

“ yes but we don't think it's creepy. We think it's beautiful that you drew us.” mapi didn't know what to say. She was afraid that she said the wrong thing and made the situation worse.

“ mapi you saw 79 portraits of you and your girlfriend on my ipad. Very detailed portraits of the two of you that I drew when I was near you in the meeting room or training or the dinner hall or even my own bedroom and you don't think that that’s a little bit sick.” you ask the question sarcastically.

“ No we don't. look we didn't come here to fight with you or reprimand you we….” you didn't let ingrid finish her sentence, you instead got up, grabbed your ipad and displayed the portraits for them.

“ You seriously don't think this portrait is creepy.” you show them a portrait you drew of them kissing. You weren't thinking of how embarrassing this moment was, you were trying to convince yourself that they hate you because it was better than the alternative. “ Look, I hate myself for this more than you could ever hate me. That's why I want to leave. I am not going to make you feel uncomfortable anymore. “

“ can you please just shut up for a moment. We don't hate you, we don't find you creepy, we liked what we saw, and we think you are very talented. Please don't turn this into something it's not. And please don't ask for a transfer.” mapi didn't mean for her words to come out like that but she couldn't stand seeing the hurt on your face.

“ Look what Maria means to say is that it's all good with us. You don't have to worry about anything and that we are sorry we brought it up in the first place.” ingrid then extended her arms and offered you a hug which you took. You hugged her and mapi again as they left your apartment. Once you found yourself alone in your house again you grabbed your ipad and smashed it to the ground cracking the screen. You left it there on the ground and went straight to bed.

While you slept soundly the couple were the ones that would stay awake late at night.

' you shouldn't have said it like that maria.’ reprimanded ingrid.

“ What did you want me to do? I couldn't just sit there and let her insult herself.” defended mapi.

“ I don't think we handled it right. We should have talked to her more.”

“ you have seen her when she closes herself off. You can't break through when she does that. Once she convinced herself with something you can't undo it. And now she convinced herself that we hate her which isn't true.”

“ We have to find a way to convince her otherwise. She can't leave.”

“ she won't, amor.”

The next day was travel day and you were the first on that bus. You sat in the front, put on your head phones and closed your eyes. The team knew from alexia not to bother you and alexia was informed by ingrid and mapi to let them handle your situation.

You didn't hear anybody get on the bus, you only realized what was happening when the bus started moving. You weren't bothered for the first 20 minutes of the ride but that didn't last long because somebody snatched an airpod from your ear.

“ No iPad today?” asked a smiling mapi who sat next to you . Ingrid sat in front of you.

“ No, I gave that up.”

“ It's a shame you were very good at it.” she responded.

“ Since when did you start drawing?” asked ingrid.

“ since I was a kid. My therapist used to encourage me to do it because I wasn't so good at expressing what i am feeling.”

“ and these drawings help you express your feelings?” you knew what ingrid was getting to and you didn't want to go there so you went for your phone to try and increase the volume of the airpod left in your ear but ingrid’s hand got to it first.

“ Yesterday we were scared that we would say the wrong thing. But today I would rather say the wrong thing than lose you nena.” what ingrid said shocked you.

“ So you were saying that drawing helps you express things right?” continues mapi.

“ yeah. I am not very good at words. I never was so I drew all the words I couldn't say. “

“ Do you have your ipad with you?” asked ingrid.

“ No, I don't have an ipad anymore i smashed it yesterday.”

“ why?”

“ because….” you were quickly interrupted by mapi “ don't you dare say it's creepy.”

A staff member interrupts your conversation by putting an envelope on the table.

“ room 1209, 3 beds like you asked.” she said looking at mapi.

“ What did you do?” you ask confused.

“ I am making sure you are not leaving.”

The bus stopped so you couldn't continue the conversation. You weren't left any room to protest the decision that was made for you as the couple were more stubborn than you are.

Once you got in the room you were hit with the reality that you were going to have to sleep in the same room as them.

“ mapi i can't stay here.”

“ why not?”

“ You know the reason why.”

“ No we dont.” said ingrid.

“ Please don't make me go through this. I promise I won't leave, just please don't make me.”

“ I don't understand why you are so upset right now. We are just going to share a room.

The couple knew that playing dumb would anger you enough that you would start talking. The melancholic look on their faces hit the nail on the head.

“ i cant be here because of the same reason i drew those fucking drawing.. I tried to get you out of my head by drawing you and fantasizing about you but i can't stay stop whatever i am feeling from coming out when i'm sleeping and you are cuddling next to me.”

“ Why would that bother you?” they continued to play on your built up anger.

“ It bothers me because I want to be in the middle of you. I want to be with you. That's why I drew you, that's why I fantasize about it and that's why I can't sleep here.” you weren't realizing what you were saying not until you said it and it hit you like a truck.

Suddenly , you see the couple moving two beds together, taking off their shoes, and laying on the bed. Ingrid then taps on the space between them calling you over.

“ you gotta be fucking kidding me?” you say.

“ We knew what you felt the day we saw you drawing but we thought we were just reaching or projecting our feelings towards you. Since yesterday we were trying to get you to admit your feelings so that we would do too but you kept on insulting yourself which was nice by the way so we resulted in playing dumb which clearly worked. “ said mapi.

“ We care about you, we don't want to lose you. We don't have to figure out everything right now so just come and lay with us please. “ added ingrid.

You were moving on autopilot when you took off your shoes and layed in the middle of the bed between them . you stared at ingrid’s eyes for long time before you moved or spoke.

“ Your eyes are so beautiful I could never capture them in a drawing.” you then look over at mapi “ and you smile i don't think i have never seen it up close. This is too much.” you try to get up but they stop you.

“ We don't have to do anything right now.” mapi handed you a notebook and a pen.

“ Why don't you draw this moment now.” you take the pen and the biggest smile spreads on your face as you get up, look at them, and start drawing as they admired you.

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕜🧸

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖: Soft pillows

Word count: 3270

Summary: The SKZ pack finally leaves their house after a chaotic kitchen incident, filled with playful banter and teasing. As they drive to the hospital for Y/N’s doctor appointment, her anxiety grows, but friends like Felix and Han provide comfort. At the hospital, I.N stays by her side during a challenging examination, where the doctor discovers an infection. Meanwhile, the boys wait outside, sensing Y/N’s emotions and sharing lighthearted conversation, though worry lingers. Later, while shopping at the mall, Y/N and Felix enjoy their time together, supported by I.N’s watchful presence. The scene captures the mix of friendship, humor, and underlying concern as they rally around Y/N.

Warning: Angst/comfort, cursing, hate, insecurities, bruises, mini skirts.

After a flurry of Chan’s exasperated yelling and Y/N’s efforts to tidy up the kitchen with Felix and Han’s help, the pack finally managed to leave the SKZ pack house.

“It took us an hour to get out the door today,” Chan grumbled as they headed toward the neatly parked cars.

“Yeah, but at least Minho managed to get tofu out of his hair,” Han snickered, glancing at Minho, who was currently in a heated exchange with Changbin in the back.

“It wasn’t even me who used the kitchen!” Changbin protested, his arms crossed defiantly.

“I know, but I can’t stay mad at Y/Nnie. She’s too adorable and actually managed to cook a great meal without burning the place down,” Minho retorted, giving Changbin a playful smack on the back of the head.

The group’s playful banter continued, with teasing and light-hearted complaints filling the air. Chan eventually stepped in, “Okay, Changbin, Seungmin, and Hyunjin, you’re riding with me. The rest of you can go with Minho.”

Everyone responded with a chorus of affirmations. Y/N, holding Felix’s hand, remained quiet, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to Han’s lively chatter as he tried to entertain her.

“Alright, see you later, hyung,” Minho said quickly, giving Chan a quick peck on the cheek before adding, “Make sure you lot eat something; I don’t want to hear your grumbling stomachs while we’re shopping.”

“Okay, okay, I promise,” Chan chuckled, his tone both amused and guilty. He took the car keys from I.N and gave everyone a final wave. “Stay safe, guys. Take care of Y/nnie, please. If anything happens—”

“We’ll call you! Now can we go? I’m so excited, and my legs are freezing!” Han pouted dramatically, and Y/n giggled at the sight of his shivering legs peeking out from under his mini skirt.

“At least you look hot, babygirl,” Y/n teased playfully. Han’s cheeks flushed a deep red, a mixture of embarrassment and a hint of something more, making him chuckle nervously.

“Come on, say your goodbyes so we can get moving. Y/n’s appointment is soon, and I want to be there on time,” Leeknow instructed, starting up the car.

Y/n, being her usual shy self, stood rooted to the spot as Felix and Han went in for their goodbyes. The scene was a bit awkward, but endearing.

“Hey, I’ll see you soon, alright?” Chan said softly, his hand gently rubbing her arm. He extended his arms, gesturing for a hug. The polite gesture was so charming, and Y/n couldn’t help but smile.

“Yes, oppa,” she said, her eyes twinkling. As he wrapped his arms around her petite frame and kissed the top of her head, she felt butterflies flutter in her stomach.

“Bye, Y/nnie!” Changbin’s loud voice cut through the moment, startling Y/n and making her jump. She chuckled, shaking her head as she responded, “Bye, Changbin-ah.”

As the cars started and the engine roared to life, the group exchanged cheerful waves and playful jabs.

The car ride was surprisingly peaceful, but as they got closer to the doctor’s office, Y/n felt her nerves intensifying. She hated going to the doctor’s—too many germs and sad faces crowded into one place made her shiver and her throat tighten with anxiety.

No one seemed to notice her discomfort. Han and Felix were deep in conversation, Leeknow was humming along to the music, and I.N was focused on his phone, absorbed in whatever he was doing.

“Y/nnie, what do you think?” Han suddenly asked, pulling her out of her spiral of thoughts.

“Huh?” she replied, blinking at him, clearly not tuned into the conversation.

“What do you think about wolves with black fur?” he repeated, a playful smile on his face.

“Yeah... they’re whatever,” she mumbled, turning her gaze back out the window. She could feel the mood shift in the car; Han and Felix’s scents changed slightly, tinged with a sour sadness. Her omega instinctively whined in response.

Omega sad?

She glanced back at the two, furrowing her brows in confusion. “What’s wrong, guys?” she giggled at their pouts.

“You’re not paying attention to us,” Felix complained, wrapping his arms around her hand in a comforting gesture.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she chuckled, guilt creeping in. “I’m just nervous about the appointment, that’s all.” She hoped her reassurance would ease their concerns.

“Oh…” Felix’s expression softened as he processed her words. “Don’t be nervous, jagiya! Minho hyung found the best omega specialist ever. I know, because Han and I go there all the time,” he said brightly, pushing out his calming pheromones. Instantly, Y/n felt her shoulders relax as the soothing scent wrapped around her, calming her racing heart.

Han leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “And I promise, the waiting room has the comfiest chairs! You might even take a nap!” he teased, his playful tone breaking through her anxiety.

With a smile, Y/n leaned against Felix, feeling the warmth of their friendship. “Okay, I’ll try to relax,” she said, grateful for their support. 

Leeknow couldn’t help but smile as he glanced at the omegas in the back, doting on Y/n. It was a refreshing change; they were usually the ones being babied, and it warmed his heart to see them take such good care of her.

As the car pulled up to the hospital, Y/n began nervously scratching at her patches. “Stop that,” Minho said gently, taking her hand in his to still her fidgeting.

“You’ll do great,” I.N added, his reassuring voice a calming presence as they all climbed out of the car. “Just sit there,” he instructed, leading her toward the entrance.

The hospital loomed large and spacious before them, with countless hallways branching out like a maze. Nurses bustled about—some looked bored, while others were clearly on a tight schedule, their faces focused and determined. The antiseptic smell hung heavily in the air, sharp and a little bitter, mingling with the artificial fragrance of soaps and cleaners wafting from the scent ventilators. It was a necessary balance, ensuring that the hospital didn’t reek of illness, but still, it felt a little overwhelming.

Han was right; the waiting room chairs were surprisingly comfortable. As Y/n sank into one, she couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh. The cozy seating was a small relief amid her swirling nerves, and she found herself smiling at the supportive faces surrounding her.

“See? Not so bad, right?” Han chirped, plopping down beside her. His cheerful demeanor made her feel a bit more at ease.

With a deep breath, Y/n squeezed Minho’s hand, grateful for the warmth and encouragement.

“Alright, the doctor said we can come in now,” I.N announced, a mix of excitement and nerves in his voice after finishing up Y/n’s paperwork. She nodded quickly, standing up as each of them whispered tiny “good lucks” to her.

“Isn’t Minho coming?” she asked, a little confused as to why the youngest was the one taking her in.

“Nope! Hyung says only alphas can accompany betas or omegas to the doctor,” I.N shrugged as they strolled down the stark white corridor. “He thinks we don’t really know what we’re walking into—like it could be an alpha doctor trying to take advantage. It annoys me to no end!” His frustration bubbled beneath the surface as he imagined protecting his packmates from any threat.

Understanding his concern, Y/n kept quiet, her heart racing as they approached the examination room. I.N knocked lightly on the door, and a soft “Come in” floated out.

As they entered, they found a female doctor seated behind a desk, typing away intently.

“Well, good morning, I.N!” she beamed, rising to greet them.

“Good morning, noona! How are you?” he replied, his smile brightening the room as they took their seats.

“I’m alright, darling! And you?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

“I’m good! Channie-hyung sends his greetings, by the way. He couldn’t make it today.”

“Ah, okay, please tell him I send my regards too! I heard the great news about the new omega! who is this pretty omega?” She turned her attention to Y/n, her smile widening.

“Y-Y/n,” she stammered, cheeks flushing as she waved shyly. “Nice to meet you, noona.” She bowed slightly, quickly falling silent, feeling a mix of admiration and nerves.

“Nice to meet you too! I see you have a problem with your glands and you need a full body checkup. Do you mind if I check your glands out first?” The doctor asked, slipping on some gloves as she scanned Y/n’s file on her computer.

Y/n felt a flutter of anxiety, but I.N squeezed her hand reassuringly, encouraging her to trust the process.

I.N gave Y/n an encouraging look, nodding for her to sit on the examination bed. As she crisscrossed her legs, adjusting her skirt, I.N noticed and quickly removed his jacket, draping it gently over her lap.

“I got you,” he whispered, a warm smile spreading across his face. Y/n felt her cheeks heat up; his kindness felt almost angelic, leaving her wondering how she’d been so lucky to have such a respectful alpha by her side.

“Aish, what a charming boy,” the doctor teased, glancing at I.N with a playful glint in her eye. “You’ve got her all flustered now!”

“Ah, noona! It’s not like that, I promise!” I.N chuckled, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment, his ears turning a shade of pink. “Just go on, will you?” His playful dismissal made Y/n laugh, the sound lifting some of the tension in the room.

“Okay, okay! You young lovebirds these days, I swear," She shook her head while chuckling before making her way to Y/n "Now, let’s see what we’re working with.” The doctor gestured toward Y/n’s neck, seeking permission to touch.

Y/n hesitated, glancing at I.N for reassurance. He nodded encouragingly, and she slowly turned her neck toward the doctor, who gently peeled off the patches with practiced care.

“Oh no,” the doctor gasped, her expression shifting from casual to serious. The sound made Y/n's stomach drop.

“What is it?” I.N asked, panic creeping into his voice. He leaned forward, his eyes wide with concern.

“It looks like it’s really infected,” she said, frowning as she grabbed her tools. “How long have you been... um, abusing your glands?”

Y/n flinched at the word “abuse,” a wave of shame washing over her. Her omega whimpered internally, urging the doctor to stop examining such a vulnerable area. As the doctor began pricking and probing, Y/n’s grip tightened around I.N’s hand, squeezing it as if it were a lifeline.

“I’m sorry, Y/nnie,” I.N said softly, his voice soothing. “Just breathe. I’m right here. You can do this.” He shifted closer, trying to create a barrier of safety around her.

“I— I didn’t mean to,” she stammered, her voice trembling. “I thought it was just normal.” She winced as the doctor applied pressure, the discomfort causing tears to prick at the corners of her eyes.

“I get it,” the doctor replied, her tone softening. “A lot of omegas don’t realize the signs until it’s too late. But we’re going to help you, okay? Just a little more pressure here.” She focused intently on her work, her expression serious but compassionate.

Y/n took a deep breath, her heart racing, but I.N’s presence anchored her. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/n,” he said, his eyes locked on hers, filled with unwavering support. “We’ll get through this together.”

With a determined nod, Y/n focused on I.N’s reassuring gaze, drawing strength from his presence as the doctor continued her examination, the sounds of the hospital fading into the background. Each gentle prod from the doctor felt a little less daunting with I.N by her side, reminding her that she was not alone in this

“Alright, I’ll just clean it up a little and then put some numbing cream on it. But I’m banning you from using any more scent blockers,” the doctor sighed as she walked over to a cabinet, pulling out various supplies with a practiced ease.

Y/n felt a mix of relief and dread. “Okay…” she mumbled, glancing at I.N, who was watching intently, concern etched on his face.

“Your scent should start to come back in a few days, and the redness and swelling should go down by tomorrow morning,” the doctor explained, setting up a small table with the necessary equipment. She looked back at Y/n. “Does it hurt right now?”

“Yeah, it’s throbbing a little,” Y/n replied, wincing as a burning sensation pulsed through her neck.

“Okay, that’s normal,” the doctor reassured her. “I’m going to give you some tablets and a cream to help with that. Just remember, you can’t swim or let anything touch the area until it’s healed and your scent is back.”

I.N leaned forward, his voice steady and calm. “Should we clean it as well?” he asked, eager to gather all the information he could to make this easier for Y/n.

“Yes, definitely. I’ll send all the instructions to Chan so we don’t forget anything. Shall we?” The doctor grabbed a tiny cup and a piece of cloth before returning to stand in front of Y/n, who felt her heart race.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n swallowed hard. She felt a knot of anxiety in her stomach as she prepared for the doctor’s hand to start examining her sensitive glands. “Okay,” she whispered, pressing her eyes shut tight.

“Just focus on me, Y/n,” I.N said softly, reaching out to hold her hand. “You’re doing great. I’m right here.”

The doctor moved closer, her hands steady as she began the procedure. Y/n felt a jolt of discomfort, and she instinctively squeezed I.N’s hand, trying to distract herself from the sensation.

“You’re almost there,” I.N encouraged, his voice warm and soothing. “Just a little longer.”

Y/N nodded, her breath quickening as the doctor worked with careful precision. “I can do this,” she whispered to herself, trying to draw strength from the warmth of the room and the supportive presence beside her.

“Exactly,” I.N replied, his eyes locked onto hers, a reassuring anchor amidst the whirlwind of anxiety.

Once the doctor finished cleaning Y/N's glands, a flicker of irritation crossed her features, her omega clearly agitated. She took a deep breath, attempting to distract herself from the discomfort, but I.N was vigilant, watching for any signs of distress. Relief washed over him when her expression softened, the tension slowly fading.

His alpha instincts were on high alert; he fought the urge to growl at the beta in the room, wanting nothing more than to shield Y/N from any further discomfort. “Now that that’s over with, Y/N, can you stand on the scale for me?” Yuna asked with a professional smile.

With a tentative nod, Y/N made her way to the scale, her heart pounding as she stood still. Yuna read the numbers aloud, her brows furrowing slightly. “Oof, you’re really light and skinny, darling.” She sucked in her breath, jotting down the figure. “Not good at all. I may need to write you a dietary meal plan.”

I.N frowned, concern etching his features. “Is it that bad?” he asked, knowing Y/N was petite but not realizing the extent of the issue.

“I’m going to run some blood work to see how serious it is, and then we can go from there,” Yuna said, rising to grab a tray filled with syringes and needles.

“I’ll be quick, sweetie,” she assured Y/N as she prepped her skin.

I.N instinctively looked away, unable to bear the thought of seeing Y/N in pain. Thankfully, the blood draw was over quickly, and the samples were sent off without incident.

“Okay, dear, I need you to stand up and remove your shirt,” Yuna said, but Y/N hesitated, her brows knitting together in concern.

“Do you have to?” she asked, insecurity creeping into her voice. She feared revealing the bruises hidden beneath her sweater.

“Yes, I have to make sure you’re physically well—”

“Is that really necessary?” I.N interjected, his protective instincts flaring. He wouldn’t allow them to strip her down.

“Okay…” Yuna took a cautious step back, glancing at Y/N. “We can just examine you with your shirt on.”

“Innie, it’s okay. I’m fine; she’s just doing her job,” Y/N said softly, wanting to calm the storm brewing within I.N. “It’ll be quick, and you’ll be right here, see?” She held his hand, feeling his body slowly relax as he nodded.

“Sorry, noona, I didn’t mean—”

“Oh hush, jeogin. I get it. I’ve been in that position before,” she reassured him with a gentle pat before guiding Y/N to remove her shirt.

When Y/N’s shirt was finally off, both Yuna and I.N gasped at the sight of the purple, blue, and yellow bruises marred across her skin.

“Oh dear,” Yuna murmured, concern washing over her.

“I—I know it looks bad, but they’re healing,” Y/N stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Does Chan know about this?” I.N asked, confusion and worry etched on his face. What had happened to her body?

“No, he doesn’t, it doesn’t hurt—” she started, but a sharp poke at her ribs made her wince. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Yeah, that’s a lot of damage. We’re going to be here for a while,” Yuna finally decided, pulling out her phone to call Chan, her expression serious.

🌱🍄🌻🥞 (one hour later)

The boys sat outside, tension hanging in the air as they sensed I.N’s shift in emotions in the bond. Each of them was acutely aware of the unspoken rules about bonding, so they didn’t press for details. Instead, they waited patiently, the minutes stretching out like hours.

“This is torture,” Felix huffed, resting his elbows on his knees, frustration etched on his face. “I really hope she’s okay.”

“She’s fine, Lix. They’re probably just waiting on something, or Chan made the doctor run more tests, you know how he is,” Minho reassured, nudging Felix’s cheek playfully.

Leeknow was right; Chan always insisted on extra tests just to be sure everything was alright. It could be annoying, but it was comforting to know that no one in their pack would be overlooked.

“Hey, did you talk to Seungmin today?” Han asked, shifting the focus.

“Not really, just a quick hi and bye,” Felix replied, fidgeting with the hem of his mini skirt. “He seemed really distracted, so I didn’t want to bother him.”

“Oh yeah, he’s probably going through it,” Han said casually, but then furrowed his brow in confusion. “I was with him earlier, and he was saying—”

“Hey guys!” I.N’s voice cut through, and the boys turned to see him walking back with Y/n, her arm looped through his. In his other hand, he held a bag filled with medications. Felix leaped to his feet, pulling Y/n into a warm embrace, burying his face in her hair.

“That felt like the longest hour ever. Let’s never do that again, please,” she whispered, her breath warm against his ear, causing a chuckle to bubble up inside him.

“It was just an hour, silly,” he replied, grinning.

“An hour of scentless rooms is not my idea of fun,” Han growled, crossing his arms, which made Y/n pout.

“Let’s leave, guys. You both look agitated,” Y/n said, glancing at the others with a playful smile, her energy instantly lifting the mood.

As they started to head out, I.N leaned closer to Y/n, whispering, “You did amazing in there.”

“Thanks, Innie. I couldn’t have done it without you,” she replied, her smile brightening even more.

“What did they say?” Leeknow asked, taking the bag of pills from I.N and scanning each package with a furrowed brow.

“They said we just have to clean her glands and apply the cream to clear the blockage. But…Yuna-ssi also mentioned she has a few fractures and broken ribs. She called Chan and i talked to him for a bit. He said we shouldn’t talk about it around her or the omegas,” I.N explained, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Leeknow’s eyes widened at the mention of broken ribs and fractures, his mind racing with concern. “Did she say where she got them from?” he pressed, glancing around to ensure they were out of earshot.

“No, hyung,” I.N replied, shaking his head. A worried expression crossed his face. “She just went quiet when Yuna-ssi brought it up, almost like she was about to cry, and then she dropped the whole situation.”

Leeknow sighed sadly, feeling the weight of the moment. They separated to get into the car, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken worries.

Well, obviously someone must have done that, Leeknow communicated through the bond, his frustration simmering just below the surface.

Yeah, it was heartbreaking to watch. Let’s just forget about it for now and talk later. I don’t want the omegas to feel like we’re discussing them, I.N replied, his tone tinged with concern.

Leeknow nodded, refocusing on the road. He couldn’t shake the feeling of unease as he listened to the lighthearted conversation happening in the backseat. He glanced at the rearview mirror, watching as Y/n laughed at something Felix said, her smile bright but somehow fragile.

It felt wrong to let their lightness overshadow the gravity of what had just been revealed. “Stay safe, Y/n,” he whispered under his breath, wishing he could shield her from whatever darkness lurked in her past.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

"Hyungggg!" Han whined as they strolled through the mall. "Can we please get some food and sit down? My feet are killing me!" After four hours of shopping, they had collected an impressive haul for Y/N and even made a trip back to the car to drop off some bags.

"Yeah, baby, I think it’s time to head home. It’s getting late," Leeknow replied, glancing at his Apple Watch.

"You can go with Han; I’ll keep an eye on these two," I.N assured Leeknow.

"Are you sure? I don’t want—"

"Don’t worry, hyung. They’re not ready to stop shopping just yet. Just take Han. I’ll get them to calm down in a few minutes. Besides, I need to grab her phone—Channie-hyung said it’s important."

"Okay, I’ll text the group to see what they want. Make sure you get their orders too and send them to me."

"Alright, stay safe! Text if you need anything."

Y/N and Felix continued to wander the mall, with I.N trailing closely behind, keeping a watchful eye on them. The two omegas were happily lost in window shopping, while Leeknow and Han headed off to grab dinner for the whole pack.

“We should definitely get this!” Felix squealed, stopping in front of a sparkling jewelry store.

“Felix, we’ve already bought so much! I don’t think I need anything else,” Y/N teased, dramatically pretending to pant as she pulled the pouting boy away from the store.

“Ah, fine! But I’m still getting you that necklace as a gift,” he insisted.

“Felix, with the way you and the pack have been spoiling me, I think I have enough jewelry for the next ten years!” Y/N complained, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Babygirl, I know you’re excited, but you need to calm down a little. We can come back in a few weeks and continue the shopping spree, okay?” I.N chimed in, gently coaxing Felix with a kiss on his pouting lips.

“Fine, you’re right,” Felix relented, intertwining his fingers with I.N's.

“Y/N, let’s grab your new phone and then head to Leeknow and Han. It’s getting pretty late, and I think it’s time to head home,” I.N instructed, ensuring Y/N and Felix stayed right in front of him as he balanced the bags of clothes, shoes, and who knows what else. He managed it all, but deep down, he was starting to wonder just how much they had bought. Probably a whole store.

🌱🍄🌻🥞

Dont forget to reblog and follow! <3

The next Chapter will be 0.5 aka the next half of this chapter. This was so dragged i feel and i didnt really get to include chan, Hyunjin, changbin and seungmin but i will next chapter! Thank you :)

Taglist: @ihrtlix @bowsnbang @katsukis1wife @thegingerthatwaited @thicccurls @xxeiraxx @paleangelsweets @klaydohart @eastleighsblog (open)

[uncannily-handsome]

can't wait for Gwen to pull a Jon (try to fix the work of their predecessor just to discover that was the only thing keeping The Horrors™ at bay)

[xdinaryvamp]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ 🩷 ` anton "swimming team"!!

you and anton were in the same swimming team. you followed the same practice at the same times. and you even had the same "post-workout routine"...

genre : smut, kind of friends with benifits dynamics, "public" sex ( theoretically alone, but with a high portability of being discovered ), unprotected sex ( DON'T ), gn reader.

pairings : swimmer!anton × swimmer!reader.

having practice on the last shift of the day had its benefits.

first, when you got out of the water you weren't pressured by other people to hurry. second, within ten minutes from the end of your shift the pool was empty, even the lights were off.

for a couple of months now you've been following the same routine: you went to the pool, you worked out, you went to the locker room and you wasted some time on your phone, waiting for a specific message.

anton : it’s empty now :)

behind the stands, there was the boy waiting for you, still in his swimsuit and with his hair half wet, just like you. and he was just so hot.

time to be sure that there was really no one left, and you were on each other's lips.

the big problem with this arrangement was that you had to be quick, so as not to get locked in, and silent, so as not to be discovered.

you pulled down his costume, knowing that it was so tight it was impossible to simply fit your hand inside; you had tried that a few times before. as usual, you weren't surprised to find him already erect.

you began to pump his length quickly, while he bit the crook of your neck in an attempt not to moan. and he was so cute as he tried to hold back his moans that you almost came too.

“y/n…” he whispered “, please.” and you already knew what he wanted.

he removed your swimsuit with such a force that you almost didn't believe that you thought of him as cute just a minute ago.

he gripped your hips firmly with his hands as he positioned himself in front of your entrance.

you wrapped your arms around his neck as he thrust into you. fast and deep right from the start, as he always did.

you bit your lip in in an attempt not to let even a sound come out of your mouth. which got harder and harder every time you did it, because he got better and better at hitting the right spots inside you.

“fuck… anton” you whispered, your voice cracking as he penetrated faster.

“i know” he answered, the half wet hair falling down on his sweaty forehead. “i'm close”

but you were closer.

you came on his length as he continued to thrust. as soon as you finished, he pulled out of you, coming onto your stomach.

he grabbed his bathrobe, and tried to wipe his cum off of you. “sorry, i made a mess.”

“well, better here than inside.” you replied, still trying to keep your voices as low as possible.

when you returned to the now empty locker room to take a shower, you received a message.

anton : same hour tomorrow?

you : sure thing ;)

i'm not very proud of how it turned out, but i had to get that thought out of my head </3

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #61] Jinxing It

warnings: (1) mention of toe socks, chess talk, showers, a lil bit of titty luvin, lots of kisses, oral (f&m), fingering, ass play (m), whimpery koo <3, a lil cum swapping, the starluvrs are v cute!!! lots of lil clues and hints about upcoming chapters!!

a/n: there's an authors note over on a03 so I'll you spare you my nonsense! but hi, welcome back!! sorry for the wait on this one <33 if you're only just discovering bd, hello---this is part of an on-going story and includes an established relationship, to be read in context with the rest of the story, it's not a oneshot ^^. for kofi subs, there'll be a BD 62 teaser in a few hours!

wc: 13.7K

bd total wc: 560k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Life dissolves with Jeongguk. Days merge into one. 

Like a tablet in water, or stardust into the atmosphere, time melts.

So does Jeongguk, though. He sinks into the bliss with you. Crumbles. Collapses. You’d go as far to say he turns into a supernova, like stars often do when they collapse. 

He lets himself merge into a shared identity that he’s certain isn’t normal of such a fledgling relationship.

Two weeks from the auction, and days have rolled on by without much fuss. Deals have been finalised on winning bids, and Jeongguk’s had meetings with realtors, Yoongi by his side every step of the way. Everything has happened without much thought. Life has just been accepted; new plans and opportunities integrated into the trajectory you’re on. No meteors to throw you off course nor cosmic calamities to falter your future.

Your name is on the interview list for Shinwon’s position, and Jeongguk’s due to be accepting the keys for the building tomorrow. Everything is as it should be.

It’s terrifying, in a way. 

You spent so long fearing the rug being swept from beneath your feet, but with Jeongguk’s help, carpets have been laid. They’re not budging.

And nor is he as he sits across from you, legs crossed, his chessboard keeping you apart. It’s a rarity to be on his bed not wrapped up in one another—but he’s almost as serious about chess as he is about you. Almost .

“You know what to do,” he grins, adamant that his crash course in the game was easy to follow. In reality, he’d moved a few pieces, said a few words, and promised with a smile that you’d be able to beat him. 

His belief in you is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You’ve not made a single move without his gentle encouragement, most times resulting in you giving the match up on a silver platter. 

The correct terminology evades you, and so do the rules. An app sits on your phone unused, a subscription running up a small fortune from a membership never used. It was set up back in the early days of knowing Jeongguk. You swore one day you’d be able to beat him—but life got busy, and quite frankly, chess is not your chosen way to unwind.

But spending time with Jeongguk is, and so you’ll take him in any capacity you can have him.

“Which one should I move?” You pout, utterly transfixed on the chess pieces. There’s a bewildered panic to your expression, brows furrowed over your glittery eyes, hand hovering to and fro over your side of the board.

You single in on the bishop. Look his way with hopeful, wide eyes. He shakes his head.

“Diagonals only,” he reminds you of how bishops move, at which point you realise it’s blocked in by pawns. Your hand moves to one of them, and he shrugs. “I mean… you can .”

“But should I?”

“You wanna capture the king,” he says, reaching across to dictate your movements. He secures your grip on the pawn, and gently pushes it up a single square to free the bishop’s pathway. “Shift this one up, just one space. Clear the diagonal if you want to move the bishop.”

You do as he says, putting the pawn back in its original position so that you can be the one to place it. Slowly, you repeat his instructions, pushing the pawn up the board while Jeongguk nods. 

And then he grins in such a way that you just know you're about to curse him out.

He lifts his strategically placed knight. Knocks your freshly moved pawn. Claims the tile as his own.

“Rule number one,” He smirks, lip ring flipping in the corner of his pretty little mouth. “Never trust your opponent.”

“Dude, what the fuck,” you whine, looking at him with a faux sense of hurt and a very believable pout. “You’re my boyfriend . You’re supposed to help .”

“No moaning,” he dismisses your stropping, knowing he’s lost brownie points for his deception. He also knows he’ll earn your favour back soon enough, so whatever. “Now, what's your next move, baby? Go on.”

You study the board, and assess how different the opposing sides look. 

This time, he’s going easy on you. Kind of. You’ve almost exclusively been guided by him for the last half an hour, over a string of short games, all of which have ended with your very quick and immediate defeat. 

Jeongguk is too competitive for his own good. Jimin never wants to play against him, ‘cause he knows he’ll lose, too.

This is an indulgence for Jeongguk. He ought not to waste the opportunity—or worse yet, convince you never to play against him again.

He likes the idea of chess being an heirloom; the kind of skill he’ll teach his kids in the future. It’s integral to the very depths of his brain—how he works, and how his logical mind can jump and switch sometimes at the flick of a button—yet he rarely shares it with anyone else.

It’s only apt that you’d get an all-access pass.

Hovering over your now-free bishop, you narrow your eyes as you glance towards him. 

He nods. 

And so you move a pawn instead.

“I don’t trust you,” you tell him, because he told you not to. In a way, you are trusting him—just trusting that he’s a bullshitter. 

What you don’t realise is that you’ve just moved the very pawn that’s been protecting your King, and preventing Jeongguk from getting an easy win.

“B,” he sighs, looking helplessly at the move you just made. 

He couldn’t love you any more if he tried, but— fuck —he’ll never understand your brain.

“What?!”

He picks up his queen. Places it diagonally across from your exposed King. There’s nowhere for your King to go, other than in the direct line of his queen. He’s gone and fuckin’ done it again.

Check. 

Mate .

Groaning, you realise what's happening and flop down onto your back. Your brain is fried. There's no way Jeongguk actually enjoys this. 

"Not again," you whine, pretending to sob a little as you look up at Jeongguk's ceiling. It's without birds these days, but there are a few rogue strips of tape that remind you of your history within these four walls.

"B," Jeongguk laughs, clambering around the board to flop down with you. His arm rests over your tummy as his face aligns with yours. Might not have any birds above you, but the way you melt into his touch is just as deadly as it was the first time. You'll scorch a hole through his sheets with even the most innocent of encounters. His lips are a little pouty, smirk prevailing as he teases, "What did I tell you, huh? Protect your king."

"I tried!" You insist, your over-dramatic, distressed expression far too cute for him to care about playing anymore. He enjoys chess, but he enjoys you more.

"You left him wide open for me to take!"

"You could have gone easy on me!"

"I was!" He defends with a laugh, adamant that he could have taken you out in, like, two moves if he really wanted. "I swear you didn't listen to a single thing I told you—"

"I did! Listening to you is how you got that stupid pawn in the first place," you huff, putting your hand against the bottom of his throat to stop him from getting any closer. He doesn't deserve niceties in times like this.

He'd argue that the feeling of your sharp nails against his throat is incredibly nice.

He ignores your moaning. "I'll make you a deal."

"Go on."

"Strip chess."

"Pervert."

"For every move you make, I'll take an item of clothing off," he suggests with a glint in those starry eyes of his, ignoring your remark.

You assess the situation. Mentally make a checklist of his clothes. Sweats, a shirt, a (toe)sock on either foot, and underwear — that's only five moves, but then again, Jeongguk normally has your king trapped by that point.

"I think you're just trying to get me naked."

"I'm always trying to get you naked, B," he shrugs into his sheets, before tearing himself away and getting back into position on the opposite side of the board. "So are you gonna make it a challenge or not?"

"What happens if I take out one of your pieces?"

"If you do that," he hums, as if he's contemplating it. "I'll let you do that goddamn paper plane you wanna try out so bad."

Instantly, you sit up, like a puppy with a treat being teased in front of its snout. Your eyes are wide, smile incredulous. 

It's been a while since Jeongguk made those paper planes in your bedroom. Only one has ever been done, and quite frankly, you think it might have been the catalyst to your friendship's demise, because how you could ever go back to 'just friends' afterwards was beyond you. 

It's not like you didn't try to remain totally neutral about cock warming with him, but the way your heart swells whenever you do it now just goes to show how your bodies were made for one another. Like a turning of tides, or the cyclical rising and falling of the sun to make way for the moon, it's just as nature intended. He was made for you, and you him.

With a glint in your eye, you lean over to the chess board and swipe up one of his pawns at random. With a gasp, and a smile twitching at your lips, you exclaim, "Oh look! I won!"

"B," he laughs, but your expression remains entirely serious despite the light nature of it all.

"Lemme fuck your ass," You grin now, pleading ever so softly. "A deal is a deal."

"You didn't win."

"Says who?"

"Anyone who has ever played chess?"

"I've played, and I think I won. C'mon," you grin, positioning yourself on his lap. The chess piece is still in your hands as you lean down to nudge your nose up against his. "Face down, ass up for me, baby."

"You're in my way," he says.

"You could throw me across the room if you wanted to. I'm not stopping you."

"And I'm not throwing you across the room."

"Please," you pathetically beg.

"You really it want it, don't you?" He grins against your lips. "Huh?"

"Just wanna make you feel good."

"You always make me feel good," Jeongguk whispers, quietly deflecting the real reason why he hasn't let you do it yet. 

Truth be told, Jeongguk is a little scared. 

While yes, he's always been curious about pegging, he's never taken it that far before. Has never had the tools, shall we say, to explore by himself, and none of his exes or flings ever seemed too interested in it.

He wants it. Wants it with you. Just doesn't know how he'll react. Doesn't know what his body will do. Worries that things will take a turn for the worse and that you'll be so repulsed by him that you'll never want to have sex with him again, or that maybe he'll like it too much and that it'll be all he ever wants and it'd ruin just how good things are at the moment. 

His thoughts distract him as your lips press feathery kisses against the thick column of his neck. Something about you, and how delicate you can be, just makes him melt into your touch. His hands come to clutch your hair, a pretty little smile forming on his lips. 

"You don't have to do this," he quietly says, nails lightly scratching at your scalp. Your lips graze against his skin, before he gently pulls you back by the root of your hair. The sensation makes you want him even more than you already do. There's a love-drunk look of lust to your darling eyes, all glittery like they so often are as you look at him. 

Reaching to cup his jaw, you marvel at how a man who looks like him can be as tender as he is. The world would give him permission to break hearts, if he wanted it, but he doesn't. All he seems to want is to adore, and be adored in return—and how lucky you are to be on the receiving end of it.

A slight guilt settles in your stomach. You know he'd give you the world if you asked for it, but he isn't giving you this. 

"I'm only teasing," you tell him, which isn't strictly true. You do wanna do it, but your incessant begging is what you're joking about. It's not like you'll die if you can't fuck his ass (maybe). "I'll respectfully stay out of your ass unless requested otherwise."

He shakes his head. Laughs. Kisses you, 'cause he just can't help himself, then pulls you down into the sheets with him. "I give it a day until you're asking again."

Secretly, he wants you to ask again. It doesn't feel like pressure. Feels like validation; as if you want this even more than he does.

The thing is, you can't say no to a challenge. "Wanna bet?"

No. 

But he can't resist either. "You're on."

Yoongi stands with his shoulders pressed to glass front door, keys looped on his fingers. The streets in this area are always quiet until the evening, minor hustle and bustle from delivery drivers dropping off stock to businesses down the alley disturbing the peace. 

A small hotteok stall sits lopsided, supported by the building's exterior wall, red tarpaulin covering it from the weather and any inquisitive eyes. An elderly man runs it during the weekends, but for the rest of the week, it sits derelict. It's an eyesore, to say the least. Not the kind of thing that screams 'hot new restaurant' to anyone walking by.

It's as Yoongi's contemplating how to solve this problem, figuring the stallhand probably had an agreement with the previous owners, when Jeongguk comes into his line of vision. He tweaks a brow in Jeongguk's direction, almost as if to ask: what time do you call this?

Jeongguk's right on time. It's not a minute past twelve, which is exactly the time Yoongi told him to arrive. 

Sale finalised, paperwork complete, Yoongi got given the keys this morning. It's a done deal. The building is his, and in turn, the restaurant is Jeongguk’s. 

Despite his nonchalance, when Yoongi sees Jeongguk grin, he can't help but smile too.

"Shut up," Yoongi tells him. "We're serious businessmen. Don't get giggly with me."

"I'm not!" Jeongguk laughs, hands up in defence, until Yoongi puts his own hand out for Jeongguk to shake. Naturally, Jeongguk uses Yoongi's hand to pull him in for a hug instead. Patting his back, Jeongguk is almost fighting the urge to cry. He's waited so long for this. Worked so hard. Doesn't think any of it would be possible without Yoongi, but Yoongi would disagree.

"You better make the best fuckin' samgyeopsal this city has ever seen," Yoongi threatens with all the love in the world, breaking from the hug. Passing over the keys, he nods towards the doors. "Do us the honours."

Yoongi is fatherly in the way he never takes the glory for himself. Will be the kind of dad to build a lego castle and let his kid put the flag in place at the end of his labour. 

Jeongguk doesn't mention it, but he's noticed the way Seoyeon has been the designated driver for the past few weeks; how she didn't drink at auction, and how Yoongi's been even more attentive than he usually is. 

Could be nothing at all. Could just be a change in the weather.

But it could mean everything, and Jeongguk knows better than to intrude before being welcomed in on the news. 

Pushing the key into the lock, Jeongguk is quietly enamoured with the fact the premises has a lock and key instead of the typical keypad locks that are usually in place. The metal grates against itself as he twists the lock open, and pushes the door open. 

There's a separate side entrance for access to the upper floors. 

The floors Jeongguk intends to be the restaurant already have a connecting staircase towards the back of the room, which will make it infinitely easier for staying out of Yoongi's hair whenever he's in the workshop.

In the light of day, the furniture from the previous owners now removed, it's so much easier for Jeongguk to envisage how everything will look; where the signage will hang, where the bar will go, and, most importantly, where the disco balls will hang.

"It's really happening," he exhales, as if he hadn't realised it at any earlier stage in the process.

Yoongi doesn't berate him. Instead, he takes a deep breath, too. Nods. "It's really happening."

Though he smiles, Jeongguk wishes he had a hand to hold as tightly as his lips press together. Wishes you were here. Knows you're busy with work, making up hours to account for the fact you'll have some time off at the end of the week for your interview at the Ryu.

Why you need an interview is beyond him. He thinks they're being ridiculous. Thinks that even entertaining the idea of hiring someone else is an insult. Got so wound up about it, ranting to Jimin while he was making dinner, that he burned his sauce a couple of nights ago. Is now on a talking while cooking ban. Jimin says Jeongguk can't be trusted to multitask. Jeongguk says Jimin is a little prick.

The day is lost to making plans; sketches drawn up on Jeongguk's ipad, discussions with Yoongi about how to go about getting liscences for the premises, and back and forth over what should be done with the top two floors.

The idea of Taehyung using the fourth floor as a studio is considered, but both of them know how much he adores his current place. 

"Think he'd live there, if he could," Yoongi muses picking up a slice of napjak mandu with his chopsticks, dipping it into the tteokbokki sauce. They'd ordered from the place near his current workshop, and it makes him lament the idea of leaving it behind. 

Perhaps he can keep them both. Use the smaller space as his own little sanctuary, and the third floor here as his public-facing premises. Might be a bit of a waste, but if he can afford the rent, then why not?

"Tell you what," Yoongi hums as he swallows down his food. "If you don't add something like this to the menu, I'm kicking you out."

"I'll put it on the secret menu," Jeongguk offers, knowing that it definitely won't be what he offers to punters. He makes a mean tteokbokki, but it doesn't fit the vision of what he wants for this place. "Well, what about Jimin? He could start up his own interior place, if he wants. He's got the money for it, and I know the office he's in at the moment has been stifling him. Lost out on, like, three big commissions in the last quarter because the boss went with some other prick's ideas. Jimin's wasted there."

Yoongi hums in agreement as he swallows down his food. "We could always get him to help out with the design of this place. I reckon he knows all the tricks for good energy."

Nodding, Jeongguk laughs. Picks up another rice cake and chows down on it as he adds, "Should have seen him when we moved into our current place. Man had a compass out to align a sofa with the right energy."

"Sounds about right," Yoongi grins, resting his chopsticks back down against the edge of the bowl. "Well, what about your missus, then? Would she want gallery space? Somewhere for curation?"

Jeongguk chokes on his rice cake, and it's not because of the spice. 

"She's not my missus—" he corrects, but then decides he doesn't want to "—at least, not yet. And she's got a big interview with The Ryu this week. I'm not sure opening her own gallery is on her agenda, but I can put the feelers out—and like… I don't know. Wouldn't it be a bit much? We spend so much time together, already. She'd get sick of me if I was working two floors below."

"Would you get sick of her?"

"Don't be stupid. No."

"Exactly," Yoongi says as if it's obvious—which, in all fairness, he thinks it is. "The pair of you are in a perpetual honeymoon phase."

Jeongguk shakes his head, as if he isn't beaming. "Shut up. Just got a good thing going—and hey, you're hardly one to talk. How's Seoyeon?"

"Good, yeah," Yoongi nods, but doesn't divulge any further. As much as Jeongguk is dying to ask, he holds back. "She wants you all round for dinner soon, so expect an invite in the group chat."

"For any reason?" Jeongguk baits Yoongi, cause he just can't help himself.

Unlucky for him, Yoongi is as stoic as can be. "You know Seo. She loves any excuse for a dinner party. Has started making her own pasta and I think she wants tasters."

"B makes a mean pasta," Jeongguk says, because his thoughts so often wind back to you, and he just can't help himself. "I'm sure she'll be buzzing to try Seoyeons."

A sense of pride washes over Yoongi's features. "Gah, when did you grow up, Jeongguk? Practically married, aren't you?"

Dismissive in how he shakes his head, Jeongguk can't help but let a bashful smile grow on his face. The soft lights overhead glimmer down him, putting those stars Jeongguk adores so much right back in his eyes. He'll never get rid of you. Will eternally carry the evidence of how utterly smitten he is.

Should you ever leave him, Jeongguk thinks he'd simply die of a broken heart. Wouldn't know how to walk if it weren't in the direction of you. Would stumble and fall until he inevitably wound up back at your door like a wounded puppy.

So perahps Yoongi is right. Maybe it would make sense to offer you the space—but you've got your own agenda. Your own dreams. Jeongguk can't just entrap you in his.

The thing is, once your shift is up, and you're heading to the restaurant premises to see Jeongguk, you can't help but feel like this is a dream come true for you. 

His ambition and drive have rubbed off on you; encouraged you up a career path you once thought was overgrown with thorns and rubble. Has shown you that all you need is a little bit of elbow grease and a pair of secateurs to go after what you want. 

It's dark by the time you arrive. Lights from the other establishments flood the streets, but the blinds are closed on the restaurant for a little privacy. A handwritten 'under new management' sign is taped to the front door in Jeongguk's signature penstroke. A little smiley face accents it; a show of how he feels, you presume. 

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you dial through to him, 'cause you've no idea how to get in, nor if he's even actually there. The building is just on the way home from the art cafe, and you'd left Jeongguk's place that morning to a very smiley boyfriend instead of his usual 'don't go' pout, so you figure he's spent all day busy with exciting plans.

"Sorry, not interested," Jeongguk's voice purrs through the speaker, as if you're some kind of cold-calling saleswoman with nothing half-decent to offer him. 

"What if I told you I'm outside the restaurant and that I'm naked under my clothes?"

"Aren't we all naked under our clothes?"

"Just open the door," you grin down the phone as he comes into view through the glass doors. 

He's got the kind of look on his face that you'd expect: pouty lips with heavy-lidded eyes. Softening ever so slightly when he notices the bunch of wildflowers poking out from the tote bag you've got hooked over your shoulder, his eyes are incapable of ever hiding his true feelings. 

Mild confusion ( did someone get you flowers?) dismissed with easy understanding—they're from the stall he always buys you flowers from, so he knows you got them yourself.

It's very conflicting to adore you and to also want to fuck you into next Tuesday, but it garners you a gaze nobody else is ever lucky enough to receive from him. You cherish it. Think about it near-constantly whenever he's not by your side.

"You're a terrible saleswoman," he scolds so softly it feels like praise.

"And yet here you are, answering the door for me," you shrug with a knowing smile, sure that'd he take whatever you sold him. Would buy sand, water, air from you. Would let you swindle him. 

"And yet here I am."

Hanging up, you mouth 'open it' through the door, and he does as he's told—kind of.

Blocking the now half-open door, he childishly asks, "What's the password?"

"I love you?"

"Ew. Gross. Get a room. No."

"Fuck you.”

"Not the password either, but I'm more than willing."

"Ew. Gross," you imitate him, gagging a little for an extra immaturity. "Hmm… Byeol is the best?"

"Ddaeng."

"Jimin sucks?"

"Ddaeng… but I approve. Good guess."

"Gimme a hint."

"It's the name of the restaurant."

The confidence that comes with the restaurant being his now is nothing short of a miracle. He's so certain of everything these days, in a way he never was before—but why shouldn't he? He got the girl. Got the dream. There's nothing he can't do. Statistically, he's two for two. A winner by all counts. A gold medalist in his very own Olympics.

"You've never told me what you want to name it!" You protest with a whine, thinking he's being entirely unfair.

It's not like you haven't asked a million times over. He's just been keeping it underwraps. Was scared that speaking it into existence would jinx it. Would refuse with a coy grin, and assurance that he'd reveal it soon enough.

Truth be told, Jeongguk's gone back and forth over names. It's probably changed ten times since he's known you, but then you said something at the fundraising auction, and everything sort of clicked into place. 

A name was coined and it wouldn't stop embossing itself into Jeongguk's dreams; the branding, the signage, everything. A new vision of what he wanted spawned like lava onto a mountainside. You sparked a volcano he didn't even realise existed, and it's solidified into molten rock. 

"I'll cut you a deal," you offer, knowing that you'll never get it and he'll never ease. Shrugging your shoulder to gesture towards the bag, you begin your enticement. "I've got cold beer and hot burgers from that place you like down the road. They're all yours in you let me in—if not, I'm going home and Danbi will—"

"Say no more," Jeongguk pushes the door open and grabs your hand, pulling you into the vacant restaurant with him. The door clicks close behind you, and Jeongguk spins you around so that you're stood infront of him, facing the large room. Arms wrapping around your waist, Jeongguk rests his chin on your shoulder, gently pressing a kiss to your neck. "Welcome in."

It's a lot to take in all at once. The room stands empty, save for the camping chairs and table Yoongi and Jeongguk had coversed around earlier, Jeongguk's ipad resting on the table with a low battery warning on the dimly lit screen. There's paperwork scattered on the surface—old utilities letters that they were using to sort out the new bills—and a bag of trash tied up on the floor from their lunch.

"I don't smell burgers," Jeongguk mumbles against your neck.

"I was lying."

"You've no shame."

Turning your head, you let him raise his nose to yours, a feathery kiss greeting your lips. 

Whenever your doe-eyed boy greets you like this, you always feel a bit like snow white; as if a dozen tiny creatures will flock to you and bestow their love upon you.

It'd be fruitless, mind you, for none of them could even come close to how deeply Jeongguk adores you. He'd sit in the corner, jealous and bratty as they fawned over you. Would hate not being the object of your affection. Would strop until your focus was back on him.

"I'll order some," you promise, but Jeongguk shakes his head. 

"Won't be here much longer. We can pick some up on the way home."

"Sure?"

"Yeah, baby," he tenderly whispers, punctuating himself with a slightly firmer kiss, before pulling away from you. Walking into the middle of the room, he holds out his arms. Grins. "Welcome."

"It's a pleasure," you grin, freely stepping into the space now, looking around with awestruck eyes knowing that this is his . "Holy shit, Gguk."

"Yeah," he agrees with your sentiment. "Mad, innit?"

"Just a little."

When you think back to the Jeongguk you first met—the one who spent hours upon hours studying for his exams, all the while working at the bar of an admittedly shitty club—you can't help but feel overwhelmed with pride. He worked himself to the bone for his dreams. 

The space is large enough for Jeongguk to go wild with it. There's no end to his possibilities. He's got an arsenal of weapons in his back pocket in the form of his friends—Yoongi can fit the place out, Jimin can help with the design work, Taehyung can make a central art piece, and Namjoon can get it featured in the paper. Of course, he won't take advantage of his access to them, but knowing how willing his friends always are to help out, it's kind of like a no-brainer. He's got all the tools needed for success.

"And right here," he points up, standing in the middle of a square marked out with tape on the floor. It's large and in the centre of the room—the intended space for a central bar and banchan preparation spot, flipping the conventions of traditional barbecue places on their heads. Wants the food to quite literally be at the heart of the restaurant. "Is where the disco balls will be."

For a second, you think you miss-hear him, but the way his smiles grows when confronted with your confusion only proves you heard perfectly fine.

Sitting on one of the camping chairs Yoongi and Jeongguk had set up earlier, you've been watching him talk you through his vision for the place. It sounds incredible—just like him, but in restaurant version. 

"Is that not a health and safety hazard?" You giggle, desperate to get up and stand with him, but feeling the need to maintain distance. He's having his moment. He doesn't need a shared stage—and yet here he is, announcing that the very embodiment of you will be centre stage for the foreseeable. 

Jeongguk shrugs. "Haven't thought that far ahead. There's gonna be disco balls here whether they like it or not, though."

Realistically, if the health and safety inspectors tell him no disco balls, there'll be no disco balls—but he won't be happy about it. Will be pouty. You both know he's just being facetious, and that he'll comply with whatever is asked of him. 

"It's my restaurant, baby," he reminds you, holding out his hands, cause he wants you closer. Naturally, you do ass requested, and join him in his square. His arm slips around your waist, a kiss firmly being pressed to your forehead before your chin leans on his chest. Looking up at him, it's a wonder that you're able to have conversations that last more than a single back and forth. A miracle, even. "I can do what I want."

There's something so incredibly sexy about this cocksure arrogance. He's not the same guy you met back in the confines of Dionysus, and while you adored him back then, you adore him even more now.

"You're sexy when you talk business," you hum, as his hand dip a little further south to squeeze your ass. "Home?"

He nods, a pretty smile hanging off his lips. "Mine or yours?"

"Yours is closer," you tell him, pulling away, linking your fingers with his as you do so, dragging him with you. Hooking your bag up over your shoulder, you're reminded of the flowers. "Oh—these are for you, by the way."

Passing them over, you're not surprised by his confusion.

"For me?"

The bunch of wildflowers looked pretty big in your hands, but remarkably small in his. You have to make a considered effort to not groan. 

"Mhmm," you nod with a sweet smile. "A congratulations."

Jeongguk's head pushes back a little into his neck, shoulders broadening as his smile forms. He quickly tilts his head to the side and then back again in the way he often does whenever his brain is processing something new. 

"Never had flowers before."

"Nice, isn't it?" You grin, knowing that nothing beats fresh flowers when it comes to small pockets of expressed admiration. 

With a bashful nod, Jeongguk feels like he should feel emasculated, but can't quite work out the way he actually does feel. All he knows is that he likes it. And that he wants to get home. And that he wants you in his bed. Naked, preferably. 

His thoughts dart back and forth to the last time you were in his room. Gets him hot. Blushing. 

Thankfully, you don't seem to notice—or if you do, you don't mention it. Why would you? It's cute. 

"What time is your interview tomorrow?" Jeongguk asks as he makes sure the door is locked behind you both. 

"One in the afternoon," you reply with a certain nonchalance, as if you're unphased, which Jeongguk knows is absolute bullshit. "Hobes said he'll work my shift if I buy him a month's supply of Sprite, so I've got, like, 48 cans arriving tomorrow."

He would have done it for free, but he's a tough bargainer and you're just an easy sell when it comes to making the people you care about happy.

"His blood will turn into sprite," Jeongguk laughs, linking his hand with yours once more as you head down the road to the nearest subway entrance. "How are you feeling about it? We can practise interview questions later, if you like."

Shaking your head, you smile. "It'll just make me nervous, and at the moment, I'm pretty calm about things. Thank you, though."

"Well, if you change your mind," Jeongguk reinforces the offer, before you redirect the conversation and get him babbling about the restaurant—projected timelines, contractors, suppliers. There's so much to do, and yet it doesn't feel overwhelming in the slightest. Not yet, at least.

With a pit stop at the burger place as promised, the journey home is effortless. Intrinsic by this point. 

Shoes off by the door, Jimin is out for a company dinner, so it's just the pair of you.

"Has he spoken with you about Nabi, yet?" You ask as you grab some condiments from the kitchen, while Jeongguk fills a vase with water.

"God, no," Jeongguk laughs. "He used to tease me all the time about you, but now he can't even look me in the eyes 'cause he's worried I'll ask about it. Idiot."

"He used to tease you? About me?" You hum, a little smug at this little snippet of information. 

"You know what he's like," Jeongguk reminds you, 'cause it's not like you've ever been spared from Jimin's teasing. "Doesn't know how to not be irritating. Character flaw. Think he was born that way."

Despite his annoying tendencies, Jimin is adored by pretty much everyone he meets. Jeongguk doesn't say such things to be mean, but rather because he views him like a sibling. 

"If anyone knows how to handle him, it's Nabi," you muse, thinking back to Pohang. "He'd have driven me insane organising the Jilympics."

"Don't call it that," Jeongguk smiles at how ridiculous his best friend is. Delicately arranging the flowers, Jeongguk's sense of perfectionism comes out once more. "He's a little narcissist. He'll sense his ego being inflated from miles away, and then his head won't be able to fit through doors." Tweaking a yellow flower to move it more centrally, Jeongguk shakes his head. "And to think the first time you were in this apartment—"

"Shut up," you groan, not wanting to be reminded of it. "Everybody makes mistakes."

"Alright, Hannah Montana," Jeongguk teases you. "It's just kinda wild, isn't it? How everything has just worked itself out?"

"Don't," you say with a glint in your eye. "You'll jinx it."

Perhaps it's foolish—naive, even—but he doesn't think it's possible. Thinks that this is all set in stone. That your names have been etched on a cliffside somewhere, and that's where you'll remain forever more. 

He forgets that cliffs erode. That the weather is unpredictable, and life even more so. 

He's always been cautious. Reluctant of counting eggs.

But he’s hungry. Ravenous. The first at the dinner table, and the last to leave. Bites off more than he can chew. Chokes and splutters in the wake of it all, every single damn time.

It’s a flaw he’ll admit to having, but why can’t vices be virtues? Why can’t he be optimistic? Why shouldn’t he hope for the best? He spent so long living in a perpetual state of fear, and it never did him any good. Wasn’t until he started opening himself to the idea of things working out okay that they actually started heading in that direction.

“I’ll do no such thing,” he assures you, reaching for a pan to start with his second course. Again, he’s hungry in all aspects of the word. Hasn’t even had his burgers yet, but he’s a growing boy, or so he’d have you believe. Better to just get it cooked first, and save him the hassle of getting up again later. “You want some?”

He nods towards the empty saucepan, but doesn’t need to explain what he’s making. You know it’ll be instant bibimyeon.

“A little,” you nod, knowing that this relationship is gonna be terrible for your waistline. Opening up his fridge, you pull a can of soda from the fridge. Jeongguk doesn’t really ever buy soda, unlike you and your minor peach soda addiction, but take-out places always chuck a complimentary can of something in with your orders, so he’s got quite a stockpile now.

“You want a beer or something instead?” He asks, as he begins to prepare the instant noodles in the most embellished way he possibly can. Spices, sauces, you name it, he’s always adding something—and it’s always delicious. 

Cracking the can open, you set it down and swipe the camera of your phone up to snap a picture of him; to document him in his element. “Nah, it’s okay. Want a clear head for tomorrow.”

Jeongguk smiles, hearing the synthetic shutter of your phone clicking. “Obsessed.”

“So?” You grin, immediately swiping across to open up Instagram and preserve the moment on your story. “You love it.”

Though he doesn’t reply, he does look in your direction with a smile that would only confirm your words.

Together, you fall into a casual rhythm, you perched up on a barstool while he cooks. Conversation darts from A to B, Y to Z. There’s no topic of conversation too obscure nor taboo for you to realm into the depths of, but there’s also something comforting about how you can just natter about the weather, how he should get his hair cut, what’s on at the cinema. 

By the time he’s eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, you’re already in the shower. It’ll be an early night. You’ve both been working today, and both have important things to get done the next day. 

There’s no objection from you as he taps on the door and asks to come in. You hadn’t locked it deliberately. Jimin’s out, and even if he’d have come home, he’d have heard the shower going—or Jeongguk would have told him. There’s no real worry there.

“Been looking forward to this all day,” Jeongguk admits as he grabs his shirt by the nape of his neck, pulling it over his head in that boyish way he so often does. Neither of you really care about being naked—it’s a daily occurrence at this point—but seeing him get undressed makes your heart feel all jelly-like and void of structure. The chambers melt, and so do you. 

It’s not just attraction, but affection. Acknowledgement that he doesn’t mind being vulnerable with you. That the things humans do to renew themselves — eat, shower, sleep — are things he wants to do with you. He doesn’t want to be full if you’re hungry, sleep while you’re starved of rest, nor wash away the traces of you. Renewal without you just doesn’t make sense to him. 

“Me too,” you quietly say as he joins you. The water pitter-patters down on you both, his hair wetting before laying flat against his forehead. When his deft hands push it away, it always falls back. 

Instinctively, your arms wrap around his waist, his around your shoulders, the embrace akin to coming home. 

“We should both just quit our jobs and do this forever,” Jeongguk muses, almost sleepy in how he mumbles his words against the top of your head. 

“Someone’s gotta pay the water bill,” you smile against his bare chest.

“That’s why I live with Jimin,” Jeongguk replies, tone cheeky and warm. 

The smile on your face sweetly settles into something a little more neutral as you outwardly consider your own living situation. “Lease is up soon, yanno. Mine and Dans.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, wet hair tangling over itself against his skin. He holds you just as tightly. “Haven’t started looking for new places, yet.”

“I’ve still got a few months left on mine,” Jeongguk says, pulling back to reposition the shower head. Just wants to hear you a little more clearly. “My bed is basically yours anyways.”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out what he’s insinuating—but it also doesn’t take a genius to know that it wouldn’t be the right thing for you both, yet. 

Your eyes are soft as you shake your head. “I’ve a whole apartment's worth of stuff, Gguk. I can’t just move into your room. Need my own space.”

He frowns, reaching for the shampoo. “You can. And I’ll even move my statues.”

“You mean your action figures?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, and then you’re giggling, and any negative thoughts Jeongguk could have about you saying ‘no’ dissolve into nothingness, like water running down the drain. He passes you over the shampoo once he’s gotten himself some, and adds, “People pay good money for a collection like mine.”

“You mean you spent a fuck ton of money on them?”

“We’ve all got our weaknesses,” he protests. “You’ve got so many clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever been into your room when there hasn’t been an avalanche of clothes on the chair, wardrobe and dressers bursting at seams—”

“Exactly,” You laugh. “Now imagine all of that in your room.”

He takes a second. Visualises it as he lathers up the foamy shampoo in his hair and almost hisses. “Yeah. You’re right. I take it back. Get your own place.”

Rolling your eyes, you flick a little water in his direction, as if it makes a difference. 

He grins, teeth on show, lip ring doing the thing that just makes you melt. 

“See,” you grin right back. “I’m always right.”

The rest of your shower is littered with dumb conversations and stolen kisses between shampoo rinses. In fact, it’s how the rest of the evening continues. Some dumb action film plays on the tv, and then Jeongguk finds a dumb youtube quiz, and you giggle into the early hours over some other dumb shit. Dumb, dumb, dumb and oh so totally in love. 

The apartment issue lingers in the back of Jeongguk’s mind, though, and questions dance on the tip of his tongue. He tries to brush them away, but the mint of his toothpaste isn’t enough to erase them. They taste sour, and he knows the only way to rid the sensation is to speak them into existence.

Gone midnight, the city is still alive. His curtains are open, because you’ve started to get used to the way he likes to sleep, and find it far easier to wake up early when the sun is giving you a warm welcome to the day. Funny, how things change. How willing he was to change his habits for you, and how seamlessly yours have changed to fit him. You’re better for knowing one another, or so it feels. 

The light pollution gives his bedroom a soft glow, and with every change of advertisement on the billboards across the street, the hue changes. Like his own personal mood lamp, it’s become a staple of his home. It’s blue, now, and so is he when he considers the fact that you haven’t yet reached the stage of sharing a home.

Your arm is looped over his waist, ‘cause he’d decided that the role of the little spoon would be going to him. Fingers interlocked with yours, he has no interest in ever letting go. 

“B?”

“Mhmm?”

“Is Dan definitely moving in with Tae?”

“Think so.”

Jeongguk doesn’t immediately reply, but you leave space open for him. A question like that didn��t come out of the blue. It’s something he’s been ruminating on, no doubt.

When he finally does speak, the weight of his soft, if not somewhat pouty, words crush down on your chest in a way that you can’t quite explain. Hell, in a way you don’t want to explain, because it would mean admitting that a man has such power over you (even if said man is Jeon Jeongguk).

“They’ve always been one step ahead of us,” he laments.

And then he leaves silence for you. Knows that you always have a response of some kind that will settle his woes. Feels guilty that you’re always cleaning up the messes of his loose lips, but would be a liar if he said he didn’t crave the sweet nothings you soothe him with.

“They’re on an entirely different path, baby,” you gently press a kiss into his shoulder. He’s so warm and powder-fresh from his shower that you can’t help but want to cling to him like a koala bear. Most importantly, though, you don’t want him to move away. Space to talk is fine, but physical space? God, no. “There's no use comparing.”

But Jeongguk is a glutton for punishment. Will continue making himself feel small for the sake of his perceived flaws.

“Loved you before Taehyung even knew who Danbi was,” Jeongguk pouts, ‘cause he’s in his head again, going round in circles when he really needn’t be. You know he does this, though. It doesn’t surprise nor concern you. If anything, it reassures you, because his willingness to share these thoughts just signposts how far you’ve both come. He used to stew and sour over things like this. Now, he shares his burdens “But they’re doing all these big milestones first. They were a couple, went on vacation, and now moving in together. All before us.”

“It’s not a competition,” you sweetly laugh. “Their relationship couldn’t be more different to ours. Plus I hardly consider a weekend in Jeju a big vacation—we can literally do that this weekend, if you want.”

You’re not sure why you’ve never been away together. Busan is always lovely, but it’s a short drive, and is somewhere Jeongguk still considers to be home. It’s not a holiday. Perhaps you should rectify that. It's better spoken about during the daylight hours, but always a little nicer to dream at night. Make silly, fantastical plans that you could always turn into reality, if you really wanted. 

“Gguk,” you softly continue. “As much as I love them both, we’re literally so different from them. Our relationship was never gonna be like theirs.”

“You think?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, lips brushing against the bare skin of his shoulder. “Well, I mean, he lets her peg him for starters—”

Jeongguk turns so quickly it’s a miracle he doesn’t fall out of bed. Even in the darkness of his room at night, the open curtains mean his shock is easy to make out. “Does he actually?!”

Giggling, you roll onto your back, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. Truth is, you’ve no idea. Just said it to be a dick. 

“Probably,” you say, admitting that you don’t know. You just knew it would cause a reaction. Ease the tension, somewhat. “He’s like, obsessed with her. Would let her do anything she wants.”

Sinking back down into the sheets with you, Jeongguk wraps his arm over your body now. Pulls you close. Presses a kiss to your neck, and says, “You lost the bet, y’know? Can’t even go 24 hours without thinking about fucking my ass, can you?”

It sounds like a complaint, but the way his lips seem unable to stop pressing wet kisses against your throat would prove otherwise. Your hand tangles in his hair, scratching his scalp in approval. 

“Cute that you think I haven’t been thinking about it all day,” you tease, biting back the small murmur of a moan that’s just begging to escape from his touch. 

You often have thoughts about him throughout the day, both pure and impure. It’s not like you mean to—it’s just that there’s something about Jeongguk that is impossible to forget. Like a class-A drug, you linger from high to high, using thoughts about him to sustain your comedown until you can see him again. 

He is your boyfriend, though. Would be weirder if you weren’t a little obsessed.

“Liar,” he scolds. “I picked your clothes up after our shower. Your underwear were dry.”

“You were inspecting my underwear? Freak,” you tease, because quite honestly the idea of him studying your underwear in the hopes of finding arousal is kinda hot, even if a little perverted. “And maybe it’s because you don’t get me excited.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeongguk ignores your insult. Instead, his hand creeps down the mound of your pussy, pausing before he sinks his fingers between your thighs. “So you’ll be dry right now, then?”

“I’ll be just like the Gobi,” you assure him with that tone of defiance he's grown to adore. “Try me.”

You don’t know why you’re offering yourself up like this, ‘cause you know it’s only gonna end up one way.

“You’re such a fuckin’ liar,” he smirks—and then is proven correct as his fingers slide between your slick folds with ease. A gasp escapes from your lips as he casually brushes past your clit, paying it no attention whatsoever. “And even if you weren’t, there’s like, five bigger deserts than the Gobi. Sounds like it’s a pretty easy drought to rectify—but fuckin’ hell, B. My pretty girl and her filthy mouth. Full of lies, isn’t it? You’re fuckin’ soaked.”

“No,” you purr, hips languidly rolling to intensify the sensation he’s facilitating. After all, he’s right. There’s nothing dry about the situation between your legs. “Never told a lie in my life.”

His teeth nip at your neck as his body presses up against your side, the thick ridge of his cock letting you know that you most certainly get him excited. 

“You’re so full of shit, B,” he quietly says, lips from a pretty little kiss against the edge of your jaw. “Told so many lies, haven’t you, hm? Like when you used to tell people we were just friends?”

The desperate sigh that escapes your mouth only fuels him on even more.

“You remember the first time I touched you like this, huh?” He husks against your ear. “Those pretty eyes of yours watching us in the mirror. You can see us now, can’t you?”

Nudging his head against yours, he encourages you to look in the direction of his mirror. You always sleep on the side of the bed closest to it, but you rarely pay it any attention these days. The pair of you are obscured—bed sheets and shadows hiding what he’s doing to you—but the eroticism is just as potent as it always was.

“Gguk,” you rasp, back arching when he strokes against your clit just right.

Restraint is something that you wish you had been gifted with, but alas—you are just a girl, and he is just the sexiest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a bed with. Of course you melt with every little thing he does.

“What is it, baby?” His index finger pushes into the seeping entrance of your cunt, just once, twice, to really get you moaning. “You like it when your boyfriend touches you?”

Something about Jeongguk referring to himself like that always gets you hot, but it’s partially because of the way he almost growls when he does it. You know it’s a turn-on for him. Know that his cock is throbbing. Know he loves calling himself yours.

Tugging on his arm, you encourage him to move on top of you. It’s late, and you should both be getting a good night's rest, but whatever. In half an hour, you’ll both be away with the fairies. If anything, this will help you fall asleep quicker.

“Thought you wanted an early night?” he husks against your lips, finishing his question with a kiss that lasts far longer than any words spoken. His firm lips part yours as your legs wrap around his hips as they grind up against yours.

“And I thought you said whoever speaks about fucking your ass next loses?” You smile against his lips, knowing that he definitely must have a twisted idea of what punishment is. “How is this losing?”

“We never set out terms,” he reminds you, unable to stop himself from kissing you between sentences. “But maybe it's not about losing. Maybe it’s about winning.”

“Okay?” You entertain his flirt, giggling between those kisses he just can’t seem to stop giving you. “So what are you winning?”

He pretends to give it thoughtful consideration. Squints his eyes and looks away as if contemplating one of life's great questions. Why are we here? What is the point of life? How do I want my girlfriend to make me cum tonight?

Jeongguk presses a kiss to your neck, nose nudging against your skin. He’s feline-like. Purry. Pathetic. Just how you like him.

“You haven’t sucked me off in a while,” he whispers, teeth nipping at your earlobe. Your hand laces in his hair, a soft moan humming from your lips. There’s a softness to the slow movements of your bodies. A comfort. A desperation. Unadulterated devotion. “So maybe that?”

You laugh at his shamelessness. Press a kiss to his temple, still scratching at his scalp. “I gave you a blowjob, like, two days ago, baby.”

“I know,” he whines like a wounded puppy, all docile and dejected. “It’s been so long I might die.”

“Hmm?” You hum in response, pushing on his waist ever so slightly until he gets the message to roll onto his back. He does as he's told, because he really is just a puppy dog beneath it all. Well-trained and desperate for a treat.

Following the movements of his body, you naturally ease into position on top of him. Legs straddled either side of his waist, you raise yourself up into a seated position, earning you a grunt of approval from Jeongguk. 

The way his hands immediately reach up to play with your chest is curious, considering he still plays himself off as an ass guy. Strong with his movements, he grips the softness of your tits, his hips gently pulsing up against you.

“These might help prolong my life expectancy,” he says. “Best stress balls known to man.”

He seems quite content like this. Eyes closed, a smile hangs off his lips like he’s in a serene state of bliss. You cock your brow, unable to fight a smile, too. 

“Did you just call my tits… balls?”

One of his eyes cracks open. “No?”

“You definitely did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did—”

“Byeol,” he reprimands your diversion of the topic. “C’mon. Business, baby.”

“Is that all I am to you, huh?” You say, reaching for his wrist so that you can pull your hairband from it. He lets you do so and looks on with salacious curiosity as you begin to tie your hair up in a ponytail. “Just a transaction?”

“Mhmm,” he nods, his own hair tangling against his pillow as he does so. “A bird for a bird, remember?”

“Are we not past the point of the birds?”

“Well, yeah,” he says as if it’s totally obvious. “Thought we were gonna do a plane?”

Jeongguk’s reference back to the paper planes that he crafted in your bedroom makes your heart seize. You know what he means by that. Knows that it’s permission, in a way. That he wants what you want, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“Are we?”

“Well we’re not gonna do anything if you keep up with the small talk,” he fondly teases you, pulling you back down so your chest is against his. One of his hands wraps itself in your ponytail and tugs ever so gently. A soft moan escapes your lips, much to his enjoyment. “I like your hair like this.”

In all honesty, he just likes being able to pull on it. Loves your hair no matter how it’s done. 

“You’ll like it even more in a few minutes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw before you embark on your journey south. 

It’s intrinsic, how you work his body. A routine so well learned it’s not even given a second thought anymore. You know how to make him tick. The way he groans when you press pretty kisses down his collarbones and the way his hips roll when you drag the pink of your tongue over his pebbled nipples.

His hand clutches in your hair, keeping you in that position, encouraging you to pay a little extra attention to his nipples for a change. It’s not often that he wants too much focus on his chest, but he’s so turned on that even the slightest touch is making him go feral. 

“Shit,” he hisses when your teeth gently press down around his nipple before you suck it ever so gently. “You’re so fuckin’ good at that.”

He’s never cared for it before. In all honestly, he actively didn’t like it when previous partners did it. There’s something about you that subverts all his desires. You’ve changed him. Altered his understanding of his body. Opened him up to so much more than he’d ever considered before.

Still, you’ve got an agenda, and unfortunately for him, it doesn’t involve his chest. He lets you move down, one hand lazily hanging by your head, the other resting over his chest. His thumb strokes over his pebbled nipple, still wet from your tongue, the pleasure of your touch sending him into a state of ecstasy.

Your body shuffles down, and you both reposition yourselves. No longer are you straddling, but rather you’re between his legs. His thighs are dappled in kisses from you, before your palms rest flat to his inner thighs, spreading him just right.

Alternating between slow kisses and languid drags of your tongue, you teeter ever so close to his thick, solid cock, but never quite touch it. Every time you get close, he whines, cock twitching.

There’s a satisfaction to be found in the way his body responds to your touch. His desperation is painful. Visceral. All he wants is you. 

And because you can’t bear to see him in pain (whether or not because he’s so turned on he might just die), you concede. Give him what he wants. 

Hands on his thighs, you let a little spit pool on your tongue before slowly dragging the tip of your tongue up his shaft.

“Fucking hell,” he curses, writhing from the contact.

You smile, and the lightness of your breath against the wet streak of your tongue makes him shiver. 

The tip of his cock is already leaky with precum, his eagerness to be inside you so pathetically obvious. You avoid it, instead opting to repeat your previous moves. Slowly, you lick up his fat length, tongue flat as can be. You want him to feel as much of you as he can. Want him whining— begging —for your pussy.

If the precum seeping from his tip is a sign of desperation, then heaven only knows what the fuckin’ mess between your legs is. Every stroke of your tongue against him only serves to make you want him just as badly as he wants you.

Your hand reaches to wrap around his shaft, gently stroking his foreskin. Your tongue flicks against the base of his tip, right where you know he’s the most sensitive. 

It’s no surprise when his grip on your ponytail tightens. 

But it is a surprise when he lets go. 

“Hm?” You chirp, looking up, just to make sure he’s all good.

He is—he just isn’t looking at you to confirm it. Instead, his upper body twists ever so slightly as he reaches for his bedside drawer. 

You know it’s got a host of indecent artifacts—his sex toys, condoms, polaroids of you that are for his eyes only—but don’t give it much thought. Figure maybe he’s after a condom to make himself last longer, until you feel him tapping at your shoulder with the side of a small plastic bottle. 

He doesn’t say anything. 

Not immediately, at least. 

What he wants is something he can’t really bring himself to ask for. Hopes that you’ll work it out for yourself. 

As you take the bottle from him, a small chirp echoes from your throat, as if you’re asking for clarification. Again, Jeongguk hopes you’ll work it out. That he won’t have to shamelessly tell you what he desperately wants, cock twitching and leaking precum on his stomach.

The way you pause as you study the bottle, trying to read the text in the dim light of Jeongguk’s room, only adds to his apprehension—until he hears a soft smile exhaling from your lips when you realise exactly what it is: lube .

Never usually required, thanks to the fact Jeongguk makes you resemble a waterfall from just a look in your direction, you know the lube isn’t for you. It’s for him. 

And given the state of conversations around sex over the past week or so, you know what he’s asking for.

After all, he’s the one who wrote that damn airplane in the first place. Told you straight up that he liked ass play way back in the days of the sticky notes (some of which remain on his wall, yet to be conquered).

His drawer only really has his things in it, though. You’ve not got any of your toys at his place. This is a preliminary. A follow-up, almost, to the night spent in the Min’s garden, doing things that probably scared a few dozen nocturnal animals.

“Yeah?” You encourage, lips pressing to his upper thigh. His body adjusts ever so slightly, as if he’s shy. Your hand wraps around his shaft, slowly rolling his foreskin up and down his length in just the right way to get his hands gripping his sheets. 

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he rasps through the pleasure of having you touch him. “Just want you to do it.”

“Talk about what?” You tease, ‘cause there’s no way he’ll actually enjoy what he’s asking for if he keeps being this uptight about it all. Relaxation is key.

“B,” he groans, this time out of frustration—and so you know you need to be the one to take the lead.

It just doesn’t feel right to take the lead, knowing he’s a little bit tense. You’ve always been so clear and consistent with each other when it comes to consent, and while you know what he wants, you wanna hear him say it first. 

So you leave the bottle of lube next to his thigh and clamber up his body. Legs straddling his waist, you’re pleased that his hands come to stroke your thighs without a second thought. Conversely, your hands softly hold his cheeks, bringing him in for half a dozen pretty little kisses.

“Words are important. I’m not gonna be crude about it,” you tell him, ‘cause it makes a change to the way you joke around with one another. “I just love you, and I want to make you feel good.”

Jeongguks nose nudges back up against yours, as if to plead for more kisses (of which you give him, willingly).

“I love you more,” he argues into your lips, earning a giggle from you that somehow melts all of his worries away. 

“Chess is always an option,” you remind him, but he shakes his head.

“Just… Fucking hell,” he groans as if it’s some sort of laborious task he really can’t be bothered to see through, which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s just embarrassed. It’s all rather cute. Or at least it is until he continues. “Just finger my ass.” 

He bashfully half whimpers, half laughs, and then adds a pouty, “Please.”

A smile sinks into your lips, and the way he seems almost shy makes your tummy feel all funny. He’s disastrously cute like this. 

“I’ll make you feel so good,” you promise, lips brushing against his ear.

He nods. Knows you will. Lets his hands stroke up and down your back, bringing them around to cup your boobs. Squeezes. Smiles. Can’t resist himself when he questions, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” You nod, pulling back to sit upright just for his viewing pleasure. His hands are still holding your tits, gently caressing. He’ll never not love the sight of this. Of you. Of the way you respond to his touch. 

“C’mere,” he grunts, pulling you back down, ‘cause he can’t let you go just yet. Your hands grip onto his bedframe as his lips eagerly latch onto one of your nipples. One of your hands drops to tangle in his smooth hair, a pretty little moan escaping your lips.

He takes it as a sign he’s doing something right. Switches up his sucking motion to flick his tongue against your hardened bud. Get you moaning all over again, the position of your legs spread over his waist, letting him know just how pleased you are to have him like this.

And while Jeongguk might have been asking you for favours, all he can think about is returning them.

Tapping on your ass, he’s a little breathless as he lets go of his latch on your nipple, and husks, “Up, baby. On my face. You before me.”

“Hm?” you languidly hum—not because you don’t know what he means, but because it goes against what he was asking for just minutes earlier.

Still, Jeongguk doesn’t care to explain his thought process (mainly because he doesn’t have one (he just likes having you in his mouth in any and all capacities)). Instead, he just continues tapping your ass until you get the message.

“You’re so impatient,” you lightly scold him while you do as he requests, but barely have time to position yourself before his arms are hooking over your legs, pulling your pussy to his mouth. “Oh fuck.”

He wastes no time suctioning his lips around your clit. He doesn’t care to be quiet about it. Eats you like it’s his last fuckin’ supper. Laps up against you. 

It’s not just his tongue, though. It’s like he wants his whole fuckin’ face in your cunt. His nose rubs up against your clit, while his tongue greedily licks your entrance. There’s no such thing as perfect, but the way he’s proportioned is as close as it gets, you think. Your hips grind, a hand tangled in his hair, the way you both move entirely primal. 

Hands squeezing at your ass, he encourages your movements. Wants you all over his face. Loves nothing more than being coated in you. 

His tongue begins to focus now, though. He positions himself just right. Flicks against your clit at such a speed it’s hard to comprehend—and then he’s moaning. Vibrating against you. Delivering a sensation that could never be replicated.

“I’m close,” you rasp. Whine. Moan. “Don’t wanna cum. Not yet.”

And while he wants you to, Jeongguk knows why. Knows you wanna fuck him. Knows you wanna cum around his cock instead of on his face. Multiple orgasms have never been an issue, but it is late. You do need a somewhat early night. 

He nods, easing up his tongue, slowly sucking on your clit. The movements of his head as he sucks only serve to make you feel like you might cum regardless, so you shakily (and regretfully) pull away. 

When you reposition yourself, he pulls you against his lips for the messiest, most obscene kiss possible. It’s all tongue, and little else. The taste of your cunt. The sweetness of his whines. The filth of how much he loves sinning with you. 

There's nobody else he could be like this with. Only you. Only ever you.

Straddled over his hips, you grind gently, his thick cock perfectly snug between your lips. Wet and swollen, they feel like silk against him. Jeongguk knows, given the chance, that he’d be able to cum like this. Easy.

That’s not what he wants, though, so you retrace your steps. Sink back down. Don’t fuck around this time. Instead, you take him in your mouth without hesitation. Return the favour he’s just bestowed upon you.

Head bobbing up and down his fat length, your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Pulling back, you spit against him, using your hand to spread it, gaining momentum. Loose with your grip, you focus on the tip of his sensitive cock, jerking him until he’s whining. Whimpering.

And then, you let your tongue stroke against his balls. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whines, his hips pulsing beneath you.

It’s all the approval you need for your hand to get a little tighter, and for your lips to take one of his balls in your mouth. It’s a sensation Jeongguk fuckin’ loves, if done right—and of course, you know how to do it perfectly for him. 

You take his ecstasy as a chance to move things along. Know he’s feeling good. Know he wants more. 

Pulling back, you sit on your heels. Neither of you speak, but Jeongguk does slowly nod when he sees you reaching for the bottle of lube next to his body. Trepidation hangs in the air. This territory is uncharted, and it’s been a little while since you last ventured so far south—but you’ve got a roadmap. Know the way. Even if you didn’t, you like to think intuition would guide you, regardless.

Warming it a little bit in your hands, you’re slow. Cautious. Careful, knowing that he’s probably feeling a little more vulnerable than usual.

Hands slick with the gel, you wrap a palm around his shaft. Ease him into the feeling. It’s not like it’s a new sensation, but the pair of you rarely ever use lube. You’re always wet enough. He nods. Lets his eyes close as your other hand gently massages against his balls.

A little further south, you venture. He’s not a stranger to your tongue against his taint, but your fingers are less frequent. He's not as well acquainted with the sensation, but he likes it. Legs spreading a little further, Jeongguk makes himself available for you. 

Smiling at just how cute he looks, you’re a curious mix of enamoured and outrageously turned on. Just like nobody could ever make him feel the way you do, nobody could ever make you feel the way he does. 

“You’re so hot,” you tell him, gently wanking his cock as two of your fingers stroke up and down his taint. You apply a little more pressure. Replace his bashful smile with a wanting gasp.

Slick with lube, you let your middle finger go lower. Slowly, you press against his rim. Watch him closely as his brows furrow. There’s that look of desperation once more, and the assurance that yes, he wants this. Wants you. 

You count in your head. 1, 2, 3… make sure he doesn’t stop moving his hips. If anything, he’s edging himself down. Encouraging you to apply more pressure. 

And so you do. Slowly, eyes trained on his pretty, pathetic face, you push your middle finger against his tight hole, until the muscle eases.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, the penetration of a single finger overwhelmingly pleasurable for him. His eyes flicker open, landing on yours as your finger begins to curl ever so gently. Just a little. Just enough.

Chest heaving, Jeongguk looks beautiful in a way that’s hard to put into words—and when you slowly pull out, he looks ruined in a way that’s also hard to comprehend.

His lips hang slack, chest heaving as his eyes burn into you like the heat of a thousand stars. Face dewy with sweat, hair sticks to his forehead, the storminess of his gaze quickly triggers a whirlpool within your stomach. There’s a neediness to him as he swallows back a breath, lips coming together so that he can lick them, before his pout forms that pretty little o-shape once more.

Breathless as he speaks, Jeongguk rasps, “Again.”

The corner of your lips twitch into a smirk. “Yeah, babe?”

“Yeah,” he pathetically nods, fucked out but somehow still painfully desperate for more. Of course he is, though. It’s you. No one gets him like this. No one ever will. His brows furrow together, his tongue flicking against the silver hoops in the corner of his mouth, as his eyes drop to his pathetically weeping cock. He’s so hard. So keen. So needy—and what he needs right now is you. “Please, B. More.”

You tease against his entrance, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. It’s like a reward, to hear him like this. As if you’ve done something truly remarkable.

Your other hand wraps around the base of his cock, adding to the electricity surging through him. He reaches down. Wraps his hand around yours. Encourages you. Wants more. Needs more. And so you give him more.

Finger pushing into his tight entrance, you’re slow. Painfully so, though you aren’t causing any actual pain. Jeongguk just wants you to hit that spot. 

“Yeah?” You check in.

Breathless, nodding his head even though his eyes are closed, he says, “Yeah.”

Your finger curls. Strokes. Searches. Finds.

And Jeongguk moans in a way you don’t think you’ve ever heard before. It’s a whimper, almost. A plea. Or rather, a confession, maybe.

Your hands work in tandem, your finger stroking right against the spot that makes him whine, while your other hand strokes him in tempo. He’s stimulated in a way he isn’t used to. In a way he never really thought was possible. 

There’s a vulnerability that comes with penetration. Far easier to fuck someone than it is to get fucked.

When he looks down towards you, it's like looking through a telescope; galaxies in his big brown eyes. Wide and wanting, he'll give you all the stars in his eyes, no questions asked, no fee charged.

It’s when your head dips to press wet kisses against his taint that his whines really begin to get desperate. Has always loved your mouth. Loves it when it does things it shouldn’t. 

A girl like you shouldn’t have your nose pressed to a ballsack or her tongue mere millimetres away from an asshole, but the way you focus on delivering him pleasure would suggest otherwise. You’re made for this. Made for him. 

It’s when you whine, though, obsessed with his body's response to you, that he really begins to get twitchy. His hips pulse ever so gently, encouraging the movements of both hands.

“Yeah?” you breathlessly whisper, smirking at how a man so strong is just absolute putty in your hands. “You fucking yourself with my hands, huh?”

Jeongguk is beyond the point of pride. Has no need for dignity. Just wants to feel good.

“Yeah,” he admits between desperate breaths. “Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard.” 

Everything is moving in the same chaotic rhythm: his chest, his beating heart, his pulsing hips. Jeongguk’s cock is twitching, the sensation of you massaging his prostate taking him closer and closer to the point of release. He isn’t gonna last, and you don't want him to. 

Your hand grips even tighter around the base of his cock, the stimulation impossible to fight against. There’s only so much he can take.

“B,” he whines. “Oh, fuck.”

“Cum for me,” you tell him, not even caring for your lost orgasm from earlier. He can make it up to you later. You keep the pace of your finger consistent, but wank him off faster. He whimpers and he writhes, but he doesn’t ease up. “C’mon, baby. Show me how good I make you feel, yeah?”

If there’s one thing that drives him wild, it’s when you call him sweet little names. 

“Please, baby,” you beg, because you know just the right buttons to press. His hands grip his bed sheets, eyes struggling to stay open. He’s seconds away from death, or so it feels. A little death, at least. His legs begin to twitch. The onslaught of what is about to happen is unmistakable. “That’s it, baby,” you coo. “Show me how good it feels.”

“B,” he tries to speak, but can’t. All he can do it succumb to the pleasure. Whine. Mewl. Moan.

And then it’s happening; the evidence of how fucking good you are for him painting his abdomen. His cock is pathetic as it spurts ropes of thick, hot cum onto his belly. White and wet, it’s never-ending. He cums and he cums; gasps and gasps. 

It’s not until he begins to twitch, chest heaving, cock spent, that you withdraw from him. Immediately, you gently begin to trail your tongue across his hard abs, cleaning up the evidence of how much he likes having you in his ass. You're keeping his secrets. Promising you'll never tell a soul.

“Shit,” he curses, all breathless and fucked out, one arm over his chest, while his other hand reaches down to stroke the side of your head. “Fuck.”

Giggling now, you clamber up to join him, and Jeongguk cares not for the fact your cum is still on your tongue. In fact, he deliberately stokes his against yours, swapping the evidence of his pleasure between you both. Moaning into your lips, he’s spent in a way he never has been before. 

“God, I love you,” he whines into your mouth. Gets needy all over again. “You know that, huh? You know how much I love you?”

With a bashful nod, you find yourself giggling. “You know I know.”

“Good,” he nods, pulling away to face the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to get a little breath back. You snuggle into him, all rather sweetly considering what you’ve just done. “‘Cause I do. And I mean it. You’re literally, like, the love of my life.”

“Who knew all it would take was a little ass play to get your saying such soppy shit,” you tease him, pressing a kiss against his chest. “Should have done this months ago.”

He laughs now, too. “Just cause I didn’t say it back then doesn’t mean I didn’t think it.”

The pair of you descend into a comfortable warmth, giggling and joking, until you get up to wash yourself up a little. Jeongguk protests. Says he needs to return the favour—but ultimately agrees to wait until the morning. 

“Need to sleep at some point, babe,” you tell him as you both meander to the bathroom. Jeongguk makes a mental note to get a place with an en-suite when he moves out. In a pair of boxers, he watches you fondly as you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, all love drunk and bleary-eyed.

You’re in one of his shirts, and it drapes over your body in a way that it would never drape over him. He likes it better on you. In fact, he likes most things in his life better with the addition of you.  Thinks life would be impossible, if he were ever to lose you. 

“I think I’d die, yanno,” he mindlessly says, watching you plait your hair to stop it from tangling in the night. “If we ever broke up or weren’t together, I’d think I’d just die.”

You laugh, because it’s absurd. Both the concept of dying of a broken heart, and the idea that you would ever break up. 

“Don’t speak it into existence, then,” you tease. “It’s a full moon, Gguk. Can’t be manifesting things like that on a night like this.”

“I’m not,” he assures you, because if anything, he’s trying to do the opposite. Not once does he think to tell you that the full moon has nothing to do with it, or some other belittling remark about believing in the stars, like you know most guys would. Why would he though? A star is the closest thing he knows to religion, and he’s looking at it right now.

“Well, good,” you hum, turning to face him, hair now secure. “Let's just agree to not break up, and that way you won’t die.”

“Sounds good,” he sleepily smiles, tugging on your hand, guiding you back to his bedroom. 

It’s a ridiculous conversation for a ridiculous concept. 

Or at least, in the warmth of lust-drunk night, it is.

In the cold light of day, stark and sterile, everything has the potential to change. 

After all, bad decisions are your forte, are they not?

[xwritingdixonx]

To Kiss or To Kill. | Daryl Dixon |

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Masterlist

Summary: You and Daryl's relationship did not start kind. It did not begin as a friendship that turned sour over a quarrel. It began with fists and insults and continued this way until unforeseen circumstances leave you discovering that maybe Daryl and you were cut from the same cloth.

Warnings: rivals to lovers trope, daddy issues, language, descriptions of fights + bodily injuries, brief mentioning of homophobia, attempted SA, Reader is mentioned to be bisexual.

Word Count: aprox. 10k

Era: Prison to Alexandria

A/n: This is not my proudest work and I definitely think I could've done better with the material but I hope it can still be enjoyed!

Song recommendations: Ultraviolence - Lana Del Ray, Daylight - David Kushner , Sun Bleached Flies - Ethel Cain

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A lemon is sour from the start and rots with age.

The relationship you shared with Daryl could be described as said lemon.

It was nearing the end of summer. And though this meant the end of scorching heat, the winter proved to be a difficult season for survival. This morning at the prison had begun like any other. Daryl, Maggie, and Glenn we’re set out on a run to find any supplies necessary for the growing community. With all the new folk after the fall of the Governor only a few weeks before, it put more pressure on the group in their endless searches.

The town in which the prison resided did not hold many options when it came to scavenging but there was one place not yet explored. Pike County High School, the only high school in the small town of Zebulon, Georgia. Daryl thought the plan was futile. What was he to find in a high school besides dusty textbooks and inappropriate drawings in the bathroom stalls?

But none the less, Rick sent the trio on their way with a list of items in hand.

The school was as Daryl expected. Papers were thrown about the floors. Windows were broken leaving glass shards to crunch underneath their boots. Desks and chairs were thrown about. And worst of all, there was an eeriness that loomed the chaotic halls. But there was something else hanging in the air, stillness.

Maggie banged her gun on the rusted lockers and waited for any walkers to make themselves known. But the silence that followed was so loud you could practically hear the wind gliding through the shattered windows. Daryl took it a step further and threw a chair down the hall, creating a loud clattering noise as it collided with the wall. Yet still, nothing.

"Alright," Glenn muttered, his uneasiness just as high as the others. "Let's get what we need and get the hell out." Glenn pulled the list from his pocket, "Daryl find the nurse's office, take whatever you find no matter how unimportant it seems. Rick asked us to find some good books for the kids." Glenn passed the list over to a very unamused Daryl.

"Guess I ain't smart enough to find some books."

Daryl walked the halls of the school, crossbow in hand, keeping his ears peeled for any movements that weren’t his own. The silence unsettled Daryl for two reasons. There could be someone residing here which would make sense with the absence of walkers. But he could not shake the thought that there were once children who roamed these halls. Kids who were Carl’s age now. Kids who were planning who they wanted to be, and what they wanted their lives to be. But now their dreams were just as grim as these empty halls.

He spotted it as his gaze wandered from the walls to the floor.

Droplets of deep red stained the tile, varying in size and opacity. Daryl dragged his fingers along the droplets, smearing the coagulated blood. The blood was not as dry as Daryl had hoped.

Daryl drew his bow closer to himself, resting his finger on the trigger, and slowing his steps as he followed the trail of crimson dots. They led him exactly where he needed to be, the nurse's office.

The wood door creaked open, the natural light from the windows lighting the room. The scene worsened in the room. There were now blood smears staining the floors, cabinets swung open and drawers left agape. Someone had obviously barged in in a hassle, with desperate need to help themselves.

What concerned Daryl was the adjoined room to the far left, he could not see into the area unless he approached it directly. Keeping his bow up, he proceeded. Just as the tip of his bow peeked its way around the corner, it was knocked from his hands with a single blow.

Daryl had not known what knocked his bow from his grasp but he sure as hell felt the hit to his jaw.

The punch you had thrown sent a throbbing through your right hand, and the tendons in your arm fizzled with the sudden force. The man reacted quickly, grabbing you by both arms and pulling you away from the wall you had been hidden behind.

You ripped an arm from his grasp quick enough to unsheathe the blade on your thigh. The struggle continued, both of you equally pulling at the other in an attempt for dominance while simultaneously avoiding the cut of the blade. Random objects clattered to the ground in the tussle, including an old coffee mug falling and shattering.

The wound you had acquired on your leg was not helpful in this situation. Had your adrenaline not been so high, you would have dropped long ago. While you struggled to keep yourself standing, Daryl was simply shocked at the brute force of the woman in his grasp.

You paused for a moment, your grip on your knife tightening until your knuckles turned white. Just then you were able to look at him. Daryl saw the determination in your eyes. And though there was determination, there also seemed to be a pleading.

But with one forceful shove, you fell back, your leg buckling under you and your head hitting a cabinet.

A painful gasp left you, feeling the poorly done stitches rip your wound open again. Dropping your knife, your shaking hands grasped at the wound on your thigh as you pulled your back up against the cabinets. Your chest heaved with a mixture of adrenaline and pain. The skin on your thigh seared hot, every nerve around the wound throbbing.

Had you been paying attention, you would’ve noticed the man grip up his bow that was now aimed at you. It gave him time to examine you. You did not look dirty and unkept as other survivors had. Your hair was pulled back into a messy braid at the back of your head. Clothes black, all the way down to your boots. Holsters for weapons hung from your hips and thighs. And a pair of dog tags dangled around your neck.

“Daryl!” Maggie and Glenn came rambling through the door, weapons drawn. Daryl held a hand up to them, signaling that he was fine. The school was not one of great size, it did not surprise Daryl that they’d heard the tussle.

With the arrival of two new faces, you made an attempt to grab the blade you’d drop. But Daryl was quick and kicked the blade away leaving your hand to smack against the tile floor. Now left with no weaponry and not even a stable body to defend yourself, you’d figured you’d start begging to them or praying to God.

“I-I just want to leave. I’m-“ The sudden sharp tingle in your thigh cut your words short. You clenched your jaw tight and shut your eyes waiting for the muscle spasm to pass. “You’re not going anywhere on that leg.” Maggie holstered her gun and met you on the floor. There was a hesitation to her but in her heart she knew leaving you would be a death sentence. “My daddy can help you.”

“Maggie…”

“Glenn.” Maggie’s tone was stern, sending her husband a threatening glare.

While Maggie began to ask you questions, she motioned for the two men to scavenge the room. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n…”

Maggie pulled a handkerchief from her back pocket, scooting even closer to you. She motioned for you to lift your leg, “I’m Maggie. That’s Glenn and then Daryl.” She slipped the fabric beneath it, tying it in a tight knot around your wound. You winced at this, resisting the urge to pull her hands off of you.

“How many walkers have you killed?” Your eyebrows furrowed at the question. Had you known you were meant to keep track, you would’ve started long ago. “I don’t…know…a lot?” Your words were stuttered and shaken considering the pain you felt. You saw the man you had just fought glance at you from the corner of his eye. You began to debate if you should feel guilt for attacking him.

“That’s okay,” Maggie gave you a kind smile, “How many people have you killed?” She watched your face falter and your eyes shift to the ground then back to her. “Eight, I think.” Maggie gently nodded, her tone becoming slightly more serious “Why?”

“I’ve been alone for a long time.”

Maggie’s eyes met yours and for a moment, while you held each other's gaze, there was an understanding. An understanding that only another woman could begin to fathom.

Your arrival at the prison was nothing short of chaotic. The run starting as three and returning as four, though a possibility, was not expected.

A man with a beard pulled Daryl aside beginning to hound him with questions, Maggie supported you as you stood while Glenn ran off shouting the name Hershel. Much of everything after that was blurry. You could remember the man with the white beard mainly due to his kindness and gentle touch while he took care of your wounds. And you remembered the name Rick being tossed about in conversation.

"Let her rest." Hershel patted Glenn on the shoulder, muttering him a thank you for his help.

You lay flat on your back, your head and leg propped up with a pillow. You could not say it was the comfiest bed you'd ever laid in. You weren't even sure it was cozier than where you slept the night before. You fought the tiredness away, unsure of falling asleep in an unfamiliar community. But the medicine Hershel gave you made you drowsy. And soon every muscle felt heavy and your eyelids heavier.

You were unsure of how long you'd slept, only being startled awakened by the clank of metal. Rick noticed his mistake immediately pulling his hand away from the door of the cell, now standing with a guilty look on his face. "I'm sorry. I forget how loud these things are." You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm your beating heart. Rick entered the cell, opening the foldable chair Hershel had previously been sitting on.

"Was gonna drop these off for when ya woke up." Rick held up a glass of water and some type of protein bar. You adjusted yourself into a more proper sitting position, sending Rick a nod. As your mind awoke you became very conscious of your lack of pants, pulling the blanket farther up your waist. You were grateful that Ricks seemed to avert his eyes.

"I'm Rick.” His accent was noticeable.

“Y/n.” Just like your own.

“Maggie and Daryl told me a little bit about you but I wanted to speak with you directly.”

Rick held a certain type of authority to him. He spoke to you politely while still holding himself with dominance. A certain awkwardness became present when Rick spent a tad bit too long racking his brain for a question. “M’sorry about attacking, uhm… Daryl.” You decided to cut the awkwardness yourself.

To your surprise, Rick chuckled at your apology. “Please don’t apologize.” He looked at you, still with a smile on your face. “You were doing what you thought was right.” Rick shifted in the metal chair, resting his elbows atop his knees. "Did you serve?" Rick pointed to your neck, "Is that how you learned to fight?" You instinctively reached for the dog tags hanging from their chain.

"No no, they were my dads." You rubbed the smooth metal anxiously, feeling the indents of the letters and numbers imprinted. "I was an only child, only daughter at that, so my dad was rather protective of me... He had me in every boxing or self-defense class he could afford." A chuckle followed your words, reminiscing on the memory. Rick could understand your father's need to protect, having two children of his own.

"Rick." A gruff voice interrupted your conversation. The man named Daryl took up the doorway. When his eyes met yours, he seemed to falter under your gaze. He nudged his head in the opposite direction, asking for Rick to come with him. "Alright." Rick stood from the chair with an exasperated sigh, "Imma leave this right here for ya." Rick placed the water and protein bar on the chair in his place.

On his way out, he turned to you, "Maggie's gonna bring you up some clean clothes and help you get washed up. That alright?" His kind, yet tired, eyes sought an answer. You nodded and muttered a quiet thank you in return.

Your time in the prison since then could only be described as isolating. The injury on your leg kept you mostly restrained to the bed in your newly appointed cell. So, most of your time was spent with Maggie, Hershel, and occasionally Rick coming and going. Maggie cared for you in any way she could, nourishing you with food and assisting you in showering and changing. She had seemed to take a liking to you, as you did her, and you assumed you could now call her a friend.

However, there was another you don't think you could call much of anything.

Maggie helped you outside to the courtyard after you’d expressed that you were going mad looking at the same four walls. She’d left you with the book of Little Women, a blank leather journal, and a blue ink pen. “Holler if you need me, okay?” Maggie gently patted your shoulder before departing to meet Glenn only a few yards away.

Being outside after your imprisonment for the last 5 days, revived something in you. The heat from the sun's rays provided warmth on your skin but the cool breeze prevented you from overheating. You could not remember the last time you'd been outdoors without your head on a swivel or without the fear of being someone's dinner.

You could not focus on your book or your journal with the people who walked about the courtyard throwing glances your way. Everyone had heard about, the girl with the leg injury, with time. Random passers-by flashed you smiles, small waves, or even shy hello’s all of which you felt inclined to return.

“Y/n?” Though the voice was familiar, it did not stop the annoyance of having to put your pen down once again. You looked to the man, “Hi Rick.” Rick gleamed with a smile on his face “I’m glad to see you out here.”

Rick took it upon himself to take a seat at the table across from you making it obvious he desired to continue this conversation.

"Were you able to think about what we talked about?" Rick came by yesterday evening with a proposition for you. He invited you to join in with the group of people who went on runs for the community. Once you were fully healed, of course.

The only downside to this was who your main run partner was to be, Daryl. Rick saw something between you that you weren’t quite sure you saw yourself.

Daryl felt a wave of awkwardness standing behind Rick as he spoke to you. The same awkwardness he felt only a few days before standing in that doorway. Daryl knew of Rick's plans having been talked to about it only a few hours before.

He felt no need for a run partner. He was perfectly fine going about on his own but Rick thought the opposite.

What if something happens to you?

What if you get stuck somewhere?

We can’t afford to send search parties out for you.

All valid arguments from Rick. But Daryl had no desire to hear any of it. His stubbornness made him deaf.

Daryl could very clearly see you now. Whatever dirt and grime washed away revealed a remarkable woman. Your hair appeared soft and your dark eyes almost sparkled with the sun. He could see the definition of muscles on your biceps, highlighted by the short sleeves of your shirt. How you composed yourself screamed confidence as if you knew you were too pretty for a world so ugly.

And it infuriated him.

“Yeah, I uh...I wanna help any way I can.” Rick seemed pleased with your answer though the person behind him did not. You shifted in your seat, feeling Daryl’s eyes burn into you. In an attempt to redeem yourself, you spoke again, “If there’s anything I can do now, I want to.” Rick nodded at this, “We’ll find ya something.”

You could hear Daryl scoff from behind Rick. And though you tried to ignore it, you could not help the sour look you gave him in return. Daryl saw this as an invitation to continue his pronounced distaste.

“Don’t need someone who can’t walk holding me down.”

"Don't need someone who couldn't fight a girl holding me down."

Your response was quick-witted and more degrading to Daryl's masculinity than his insult to your injury. If you weren't mistaken, Daryl's eye twitched.

Rick stood from his seat to begin their exit, knowing the lengths of Daryl's temper. "You ain't nothing I couldn't handle." The chuckle you responded with and the glint of excitement in your eyes at the looming argument tested Daryl even more. "Sure, Daryl."

It was the first time you'd ever spoken his name to him. And he never stopped thinking of it for days to come. The way it rolled off your tongue and sounded with that southern twang. It left him restless at night and irritable during the day.

When your leg had healed and you'd grown tired of cleaning the library or serving daily meals, your first outing with Daryl was set. And it started just as rocky as it ended.

"Ya get bit, I ain't gonna hesitate to put a bullet in yer head."

"Why wait? I'm standing right here."

You remained quiet after that, not wanting to push the tension even more. But even the simplest of questions left Daryl huffing and puffing. It started with you asking how his morning was going. And it ended with you asking why he was such a prick.

It was a silent ride home.

You'd like to think you'd tried to find his good side in those beginning days but you soon began to question if such a thing even existed. Any time you were kind to him, he retaliated with anger. It brought out a certain type of frustration in you that you didn’t know was possible.

Within your time at the prison, you'd made yourself an esteemed part of the community. You used your [now useless] degree in agriculture to help build the gardens and begin the planting of any seeds you could find. Rick took a heavy trust in you and appointed you a seat on the prison council. And you'd shown your skills in scavenging, even when you had Daryl breathing down your neck.

It was difficult to pinpoint exactly when this whole charade started. Perhaps it had started in the nurse's office, in the courtyard, or on your first run together. But it did not matter where it began because there was one thing for sure, there seemed to be no end.

You both had a hold over another, in a way no one else did.

Daryl hated your confidence because he lacked his own. He hated that you were quick to go toe to toe with him. Because many others were too scared. He despised that you were so smart, a college graduate. And he especially hated when you spoke so highly of your father. Because he didn’t have a father to talk about at all.

But there was always a ting of something in all of his hate. Jealousy.

You hated his ego. You hated the fact that he contradicted everything you said. You hated when he called you names. Princess, he’d say or, miss college graduate. You hated that he never even tried to get to know you; to know that you weren’t this pretentious brat he painted you to be. Despite being with each other on a regular basis, there was a lacking of personal connection.

It was a day familiar to any other. Your hot morning tea whirled about in your mug, your feet gliding gently around the grounds of the growing garden. After all your laborious hours in the Georgia heat, it was gratifying to see the various plants take bloom. Knowing there'd soon be a garden big enough to feed the community gave you satisfaction and perhaps a sliver of peace.

"You comin' or what?"

And there goes another blissful morning pissed down the drain.

Your long braid fell from your shoulder to your back when you looked at the disgruntled man. "We might need to find you a new mattress." You made your way to him, shoving your mug into his chest, "You can't ever seem to find a good side to wake up on." He scoffed, involuntarily taking your mug. The two of you, along with Michonne and Glenn, were set out on yet another run. Not one of great importance nor would it take that long of time but nonetheless it was still time spent around him.

Daryl followed behind you as you continued your way back to the prison, mug still in hand. "Michonne and Glenn are waitin' while yer staring at some fuckin' bushes." It was your turn to scoff, "They're not bushes. It's food. And a lot of fucking work."

Oh, Daryl knew how much work it had taken from you.

In the weeks he'd spent out in the gardens, his eyes worked more than his hands. He couldn't not look. You wore a tank top every day with the same black gardening gloves and dog tags dangling from your neck. The muscles in your biceps were always highlighted from the hours of digging. The blistering sun always had you drenched in sweat leaving your skin constantly glossy. Words couldn't describe the way he felt when it was dripping down your neck and into the crevice of your breast.

He was outraged for the entire three weeks.

"Whatever."

The mug in his hand became very apparent to him. "When the hell ya give me this?" He now strode beside you, approaching the car at the gates. You smiled to yourself, "A while ago."

Daryl would have preferred to ride his bike to avoid being trapped in such a confined space with you. But it was, “A waste of gas” as Rick would say.

You weren’t exactly sure what Daryl had done. But he had particularly did you in today. So greatly that you almost walked home. Glenn had to beg you to come back. Perhaps it was the way he glared at you that threw you over the edge. So cold and hostile. Or the way he stepped all over your feet, cutting you off mid-sentence, always thinking that he was right. You were simply always wrong.

This particular run would change the trajectory of your relationship forever. 

You and Daryl had split in the strip mall, deciding to cover more ground separately. The strip was usually overrun with a hoard of walkers but as of late, they seemed to be diminishing one at a time. It had become clear enough to begin digging at the stores it held. Some random clothing stores, liquor shops, a CVS pharmacy, and dead restaurants.

You were rummaging about the pharmacy, most of it already picked through. 

Examining the bottle of prenatal vitamins in your hand for Maggie, you heard footsteps. Thinking it was Daryl you spoke. "It's not like these expiration dates even matter anymore." Blind to your danger, you turned to face him.

Before you were given time to react to the two strange men, you were grabbed by the back of your neck, pulling at the nape of your hair, a blade held to the side of your throat. The bottle dropped from your hand, clattering to the floor. You grasped the man's arm attempting to keep the blade from your skin but you'd failed; cuts appeared on the delicate skin.

"Stay." The other man reached for your gun belt, unholstering your weapon and keeping it for himself. You kept your calm but your eyes widened with fear. "Scream and you'll die." The short man with the knife moved it away from your throat, his hand freeing your neck. The other man, who had taken your gun, now had it pointed at you.

It was loaded. You knew because you were the one who'd loaded it that very morning.

"Ya can't just come into the place we've worked so hard to clean up and start taking things...we need some form of payment."

"I have my bag." You offered hoping they would merely steal your things and go. Slowly, not taking your eyes off them, you moved your pack off your back. "There's food and ammo and other supplies." Your bag was snatched from your hands with haste. "Thank you." It wasn't genuine, just taunting.

"But that's not what we want." Their eyes looked at you more hungry than any walker. Once you realize what they meant, tears begin to blur your vision. You could feel them begin to come closer to you. Feeling helpless and too stunned to cry out for Daryl, you weren't sure if you should start fighting or begging.

Daryl heard your continuous screeches from down the way, dropping his bag of clothing. "Y/n!" His feet carried him to you swiftly. You cried his name shoving one man off of you from your pinned spot against the shelves. It was foolish of Daryl to begin shooting so wildly.

Luckily you moved to the floor in avoidance of the bullets, covering your head and blocking your ears.

You kept yourself crouched on the ground, deaf to what was happening around you. Until a hand grabbed your bicep and hoisted you from the ground, "Come on, we gotta go." For once you were relieved to see Daryl.

But you wouldn't be for long.

"We shouldn't have split up!" Daryl shouted. He was walking too fast for you to keep up, as he did at times. You trailed behind him stumbling your way over the branches and leaves in an attempt to make it back to the road with his bike. "You always got stupid fuckin' ideas!" Daryl's adrenaline was still pumping, too ignorant to think of you. He muttered to himself, “Course there was people, walkers don’t just clear out by themselves.”

He marched onto the blacktop.

"Ya talk big game just to not do nothing to help yourself." Daryl was angrily throwing the green brush off his bike, removing it from its hidden spot in the treeline. "Always talkin' 'bout yer daddy and what he did for ya." Daryl said this more to himself but it didn’t fail to reach your ears.

"Well, where was he now yuh?" Daryl turned around to face you, his chest heaving. Only to catch you in the midst of buttoning your pants. Guilt dreaded him.

You didn't care to hear his insults. And you had no desire to get on that bike and be so close to him right now. 

"I.." Words couldn't find themselves in your mouth. All you could focus on was the way everything felt frozen yet moving at an intense speed at the same time. Daryl saw the way you struggled with yourself.  

There was a twisting pain within your chest as your panic only grew. "Y/n." Daryl put his frustrations aside, the situation becoming clear to him now. He swallowed down his pride and reached a hand out to you. Before his fingertips could even graise the fabric of your shirt, you took a step back. "No." You spoke gently, looking out to the woods instead of to Daryl; all you could fathom now was the desire to escape. 

"Y/n," Daryl repeated more soft, "We gotta go home." 

"I don't want to." You turned back to him abruptly. He could see the tears irritating your eyes. Where your hands lay across your chest, you could feel your rapid heart. 

"Why not?" Daryl couldn't understand why you wouldn't want to go home. It was safe, it was comfortable. Two things you desperately need right now.

"I can't, I…I can't get on the bike right now." Your frustration with yourself was growing. 

Why couldn't you just get on the bike? 

Why couldn't you breathe? 

Why didn't you listen to Daryl and not split up? 

Why was Daryl being so kind to you suddenly? Was it pity? You hated pity.

"Alright." Daryl watched the tears begin to roll down your cheeks. "We can walk, it's alright." There was no way of making it back to the prison on foot before sundown. Daryl knew this. But it was a sacrifice he was willing to make for you.

Daryl gripped the handles on his bike, walking the heavy machine down the road with you in tow. You were seemingly able to calm yourself down. The only thing remaining now was shame. You were embarrassed that Daryl had seen you so vulnerable. And you were even more embarrassed that he had to save you.

All the countless years felt wasted. All that time spent in the ring or on some thin gym mats. All those tireless nights where your father wouldn’t allow you to rest until you got one more. It was a phrase all too familiar.

You knew Daryl was annoyed having to walk, his huffs and buffs gave it away. The sun was beginning to set. "Daryl we can drive." You tried to persuade for the third time. "S'fine." 

"Daryl, it's getting dark." 

"S'fine!" He shouted back frustrated with the disappearing sun. You stopped in your tracks. "I know somewhere we can sleep."

You could hear the soft sounds of the water flowing down the river bed. The moon allowed a glow onto the water, gleaming with the current. Crickets and cicadas chirped in the night air like music to your ears. Despite the struggles of being in the wilderness alone, nights like this made you miss it. 

"What ya doin' over there?" Daryl asked sitting a few feet behind you at the fire. "Nothing."

You pushed yourself from the ground, making your way back to him. Daryl bitterly smoked his cigarette. You didn't need to ask to know why he was so irritated, you could already imagine. Perhaps catching the fish for dinner was what did it. Or the hundreds of pounds of metal he walked for miles. Or maybe he actually was mad about having to save you. Or the simple fact that he was stuck out here with you. 

You couldn't pick one.

No words were spoken, just the sounds of the wilderness and the crackling of the fire. It allowed you to think.

You began to wonder if you'd ever actually hated him. Because how could you hate someone you'd grown such an attachment to? How could you hate the person you screamed out for in your time of need? There were countless days where he'd anger you so much you thought you might actually strangle him. But somehow you always went right back. You always met him at the gates or stumbled upon him at breakfast. 

Staring off into the fire you began to accept that you all along had been trying [and presumably failing] to win him over. "You okay?" Your eyes looked from the fire to him. His cigarette no longer present, "M'fine." You replied. 

Daryl would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about you. Just because he didn't care for you at times, didn't mean he doesn't care about you. "It happened a couple times out on the road. I could handle it then...I just..." You shifted where you sat, "Got surprised today was all." To hear this wasn't the first time but a time of many, gutted Daryl. 

You had become more afraid of encountering a man than a walker. 

Daryl was never angry with you. He was more angry with himself, unable to protect you from finding yourself in such a situation.

"Wasn't yer fault. M'sorry." Shockingly, Daryl's guilt overshined his ego.

You let out a deep sigh looking back out towards the water. You knew his apology was sincere but you couldn't find the courage to acknowledge it. "I was just thinking about how I miss it out here sometimes. The sounds, the views, the peace."

Your confidence and sharp tongue did not seem present at this moment. Looking back to him, he seemed completely entranced by this newfound gentle side of you. "But that's only one percent of it, isn't it?" Daryl never took his eyes off yours, the fire casting an orange glow within them. "Yeah."

The other ninety - nine percent was the actual survival. All the bloody fights. The permanent anxiety. The sleepless nights due to fear. The painful emptiness of your stomach. The constant blisters on your ankles [that never healed] from running or walking. And the unbearable hopelessness. 

"Were ya always alone?" Daryl had always been curious. You shook your head, "No." He nodded his head and looked away, leaving it at that. He had no desire to make your night even more miserable by talking about the ones you'd lost.

"It was just me and my brother for awhile."

"Meryl?" 

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows knowing he'd never mentioned him before. 

"Maggie's talked about him briefly." 

"All nice things?" Daryl asked sarcastically. 

"Not really." Your attempt to stifle your laugh was a failure, the smile lingering. But this did not anger Daryl the way you thought it would. Instead, he had his own small smile, scoffing and shaking his head. "He wasn't the best at times...but he was my brother ya know?"

You nodded muttering a, yeah. 

Daryl flicked the butt of his cigarette into the dying fire. Knowing this was the first and potentially last time you'd ever speak to another so tenderly again, you continued. 

"I was an only child. My mom died in childbirth when I was eight…so I never got siblings." 

"M'sorry."

"Don't." You didn't say it to be cruel. You grew up hearing sympathy after sympathy, you did not need anymore. "I was never alone though. I had my Dad. And my aunt and uncles helped take care of me so I was surrounded by my cousins all the time...I guess I did have siblings in a way." A nauseating wave of nostalgia rose in your throat, silencing you for a mere second. 

"My mom died when I was young too. 'Cept my Dad was just some drunk asshole, didn't care 'bout nobody but himself." Daryl couldn't deny his slight envy towards you. You grew up with a father who cared for you and your safety. It made him wonder how you'd ended up alone in the end.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't need yer apologies Y/n."

"I know."

The fire was no more. Only red hot embers burning on the rocky gravel. And it made you think that perhaps it was symbolic that the fire was slowly diminishing as your conversation grew more gentle. 

A few minutes of silence had passed before either of you spoke again. "Look at us, talking to each other, treating each other like human beings for once." You joked with a laugh in an effort to replace the depressing mood. 

You actually heard Daryl chuckle even though he lowered his head in an attempt to hide it. His eyes glanced at you, your own cheeky smile dimpling your cheeks. If this is what having a personal connection with Daryl was, it was dangerous.

Why did it take so long? 

Was what you wanted to scream at him.

I could've loved you if you'd just given me a chance. 

"Maybe we have more in common than we ever allowed." 

Daryl broke eye contact with you, staring down at the glowing embers, chewing on his bottom lip. And he did the only thing he ever learned how to do when he felt something. "Night Y/n." 

You didn't know why you expected anything different. 

"Goodnight Daryl." 

Daryl took his vest off, rolling it up and using it as a makeshift pillow. He turned away from you, his back tauntling in your face. 

You stayed up a little while after, too overwhelmed by thoughts to rest. Unbeknownst to you, Daryl could not rest either. In fact, he did not sleep that entire night, only allowing himself ten-minute naps here and there. The only sense of relaxation he felt was when he'd check over his shoulder and see you in blissful sleep. As if nothing and no one had ever touched you. 

When Rick asked what'd happened, Daryl lied. Saying you'd been outrun by a hoard and had to crash somewhere safe for the night. The days continued on, and what happened that day was not spoken of again. But there had come an understanding that Daryl and you were indeed, more in-common than ever allowed.

Patrick approached Daryl and you at breakfast as you mapped the run for the next morning. "H-hi!" Patrick greeted sheepishly, giving a small wave to the table. Maggie and Glenn greeted him first. Then you, pulling your attention away from the map on the table to him; give a polite smile and nod. "Hey Patrick, everything okay?" Rick asked from where he sat beside Daryl. "Yeah..." Patrick was nervous on his feet, awkwardly pushing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. "I wanted to ask Daryl and Y/n if I could join them out there?" 

There was suddenly a stiffness in the air. Glances were exchanged between the lot of you. "Patrick I-" Rick scratched his beard awkwardly, finding a response for the boy.  Patricks's confidence plummeted. He had spent hours building up the courage to ask, only to be met with stiff glances. 

"How old are you Patrick?" It was an odd question for you to ask but it did not come without reason. "Uhmm fifteen." 

You rose from your seat making your way over to him as gently as your feet would allow. Come, you spoke gently reaching an arm out to him. 

Patrick began to walk with you. 

"I was younger than you when my father began to enroll me in fighting classes."

Pausing your words, you continued your stroll until you stopped just before hitting the grass. "He told me that you could never be too young to know how to protect yourself...What does that mean to a little girl who only wanted to play with her Barbies?"

Patrick listened to you intentively, entranced by the way you spoke.

Looking out to the green gardens, you seemed lost in thought for a second.  "I don't think your question is outrageous. I just don't think you're prepared." Patrick seemed to understand this answer more, nodding his head.

You knew the day would come when the prison folk grew tired of looking at the same walls and more curious about the world beyond. Especially the children. You'd seen the group of kids over by the fences, close enough to look at the walkers but far enough away for safety. It was often that they were scolded by the adults. 

"I know I’m not a fighter. I’m not like you or Daryl or even Carl. But I just wanna…” Patrick paused, “be brave for once.”

You couldn't help but smile at the innocence of the boy. 

"You can't go out there knowing nothing Patrick." He had finally begun to accept defeat but the long face and disappointed eyes tugged at your sympathy. 

"I can teach you. Just as my father taught me." Patrick's eyes lit up with hope. "Th-thank you Y/n." He gleamed with excitement, reaching a hand out to shake yours. You were truly at a loss of words with no choice but to shake it in return. 

You'd spent day after day out in the field with Patrick. You taught him how to block blows, how to hold and use daggers, and much more. He was skittish and shaky most days but he was trying. In place of your days with Patrick, you were skipping your usual days with Daryl. You truly hadn't thought he'd mind much. If anything, you assumed he'd be happy to finally have a break from you.

"I feel like this wouldn't hurt that bad." Patrick commented. Carl was punching the book Patrick held, having begun to invite himself to the practices. Thick index books were the closest thing you'd find to a punching bag. You chuckled, "It hurts more than you'd expect."

Daryl approached the three of you. You could hear his footsteps. They were gentler than normal as if he wished to not disturb. "It hurts more if you have rings on." Patrick looked at you curiously, "Did you used to wear rings Y/n?" You nodded happily. "All the time.”

You turned to finally face Daryl. "Hey." You greeted, taking the last few steps to meet him. "Hi." Daryl looked about, chewing on his bottom lip. "You ain't been showing up for runs." It almost, almost, sounded as if this upset him. "I've been here," you motioned to the young boys, "You know that." 

Daryl nodded.

Of course he knew. He saw you every day, always wanting to come over and join but never allowing himself to. 

"You really serious 'bout all this?" Daryl nudged his head to Patrick and Carl. You let out a deep sigh. You asked yourself the same question. Was this serious? Did you really plan on taking a kid outside the gates? There was a chance this was all for nothing at all. But what you did know was that it kept your mind at peace and your days busy.

"I don't know. I thought we could at least take him down to the river. It's nice down there, it's not far, would get him outta here for a few hours." 

The river.

"Alright."

"Alright."

You sat alone at dinner that night, needing quiet time after hanging out with teenage boys for the majority of your day. You poked about your rice and veggies, still working on the copy of Little Women. "Hey." Daryl greeted. The day was growing late, the sun beginning to disappear from beneath the trees; he'd presumably just gotten back.

"Hi." You looked from your page, secretly happy he was giving you an excuse to put it down. Daryl's eyes looked anywhere but your own. "I-uh...got something for ya." Daryl dug into his front pocket, grabbing the handful of metal. He placed the rings on the table, making their own clattering noise together as they fell.

You seemed bewildered at this. "What...uh." Daryl chewed nervously on his thumb. He'd searched through this town and the next to find them for you; which could mean nothing at all. “You didn't have to."

"S'fine." You nodded, the smile finally creeping it’s way to your features. "Thank you, Daryl." You were flattered. Flattered to think that for once, he'd actually listened to you. "Do you wanna go get dinner and come sit?" You offered.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

A certain closeness was growing. The arguments slowly became banter. And the war of dominance diminished. You began to work together as partners, mapping runs and brainstorming improvements for the prison. Instead of using your skills against each other, you’d began to find the perfect balance between.

Daryl joined you most days with Patrick. He found that he had no desire to go beyond the gates unless you were in tow.

There were moments when sheer frustration retook hold of you. But never did it reach the lengths as before. It came with reason, with a pleading, instead of merely arguing of who was right and who was wrong.

You turned the rings on your fingers about as you walked to the dining area outside. Daryl was a ways away, smoking his morning cigarette. “Morning.” You greeted, crossing your arms and taking your spot beside him. “Morning.”

The end of summer was near, mornings were chillier than usual but days still hot from the sun. There was a curtain of peace over this particular morning. The smell of Daryl’s cigarette filled your nose along with the morning dew. His presence comforted you. “I think it was around this time last year when you guys picked me up.”

Daryl blew the smoke from his lips, “Yeah, biggest mistake ever.” He joked. This earned a laugh from you. Daryl watched the joy on your face; it scrunched your eyes and accentuated the apples of your cheeks. “Yeah, I bet.”

He couldn’t take his eyes from you and a heaviness weighed within his chest. Because he knew, just as you did, that it was not only friendship lingering. It was more.

“I think I’m gonna go out, make sure the path to the river is clear.” Daryl knew what this insinuated. “We’re taking him out today?” Daryl had begun to hope that all of your time with Patrick was nothing, that it was merely something to fill up the days. “It feels like a peaceful day…” You could hear the uncertainty in his voice. “Besides, Patrick’s not been feeling good, I doubt he’ll even want to go. It’s the effort that means something to him.”

Hmm, Daryl hummed. You nudged your elbow into him, “Keep an eye on him for me, okay?” Daryl hummed in response again. “D…” You nudged him again as if needing a more reassuring answer for your verbal contract. The nickname perked his ears and heated his cheeks. Looking to you, he nodded.

You gave him a thankful smile. “Be safe!” Daryl shouted to you as you began on your way.

Arriving back to the prison you could feel within your gut that something was wrong. The sympathetic eyes that Michonne greeted you with solidified this.

Daryl recognized your footsteps entering the cell block.

“What's happened?" Daryl rushed to stand in front of you, blocking your path. It was eerily silent. “Come on.” Daryl placed his hands on your shoulders trying to turn you away. You shoved his hands from you, slipping past him.

"Y/n.” Daryl could not stop you from continuing on. Your expression was stuck in a state of confusion and shock as your feet guided about the chaotic cell block. It smelled of metallic blood and bitterly sour. Almost as though you'd stuck your nose in a gaping infected wound. When you'd turned your head to glance into a cell, you saw him.

Patrick lay still on the ground, an arrow lodged in his skull. An airy gasp left you, clutching your hands to your chest. It was as if you couldn't take your eyes away. Your eyes still not yet communicating to your brain what you were looking at. But when it did, the only thing you could seem to focus on was the arrow. An arrow.

Daryl watched the realization settle on your features when you turned to him. For once, Daryl felt a sense of fear. And it only worsened when you began towards him. 

It was as quick as a breath. You unsheathed the dagger on your hip and aimed it at him. 

"Y/n no!" 

Daryl caught your wrists, the blade mere inches from his right eye. Though he stopped the blade, your brute force did not stop him from being shoved into the closest wall.  

"I told you to look out for him!" You yelled through your glassy eyes.

He had no words for you, pure guilt blocking any defense or insult.

"I had to." You scoffed at this, "I can't trust you to do anything." 

"Y/n it's not his fault. It was an accident." Rick reasoned with you.

With his back pressed against the wall, he had fully submitted himself to your wrath. His guilt would let you kill him now if you'd like. His hands around your wrist did not hurt nor squeeze to withhold your strength, they began to merely rest there.

Your rapid breathing began to slow to deep inhales and exhales, ones that moved your entire chest. Your eyes remained steady on his, the world drowning out around you. 

While his eyes showed remorse, yours burned with anger; eyebrows furrowed, hot tears slipping down your cheeks.

With one forceful shove, you ripped your arms from Daryl's grasp, his back bumping the cement wall. The dagger made a clattering noise to the floor, having been lost from your grasp in the process. You stood there for a moment looking to Daryl as if waiting for something.

"M'sorry."

His apology only seemed to anger you, your face once again turning hateful. You took a few steps back before making your exit.  

When time came to take care of the ones lost, you helped dig their graves; in defiance of everyone telling you not to. Your hands covered in splinters from the blistering wood of the shovel’s handle. The once thriving and growing prison become melancholy, a heavy cloud of sorrow always above.

You and Daryl had not spoken for days. You'd ditched any planned runs that had been scheduled. But without fail, Daryl waited every morning for you, on the off chance you'd join him again. And when you never did, he kept an eye on you from afar. 

You had become quiet and distant. He seemed to only find you chatting with Maggie or Glenn and on the off chance, Rick. You were on fence duty every day presumably taking out every bit of anger on those poor dead bastards.

You'd been out there day after day, nothing but water in your system, running off of pure spite and grief. You'd be out there till your adrenaline wore off and your body gave up on itself from exhaustion. If Daryl wasn't mistaken he had spotted you crying on some days; but that bloody pipe never left your hands.

You had begun to wake up earlier than Daryl, always managing to slip away from him just in time. You ignored him at every meal and walked by him as if he was a ghost. 

Daryl couldn't deny the itch of missing you. He longed for you to look at him again, to smile at him and call him names. He began to even miss when you yelled at him, as cruel and loud as you could be. 

Daryl couldn't continue on like this. You were torturing him.

He had awoken particularly early this day, ensuring he was in the kitchen long before you; knowing you never skipped your morning tea.

Exhaustion was all you could feel. Your body raged against your decisions every day. Your arms were sore, hands red and raw from gripping the damn pipe so hard. But you could not allow yourself to be around him. You couldn't stand to be trapped in those cells, indulged with pity.  

Wrapping the strap of the fingerless gloves around your wrist, you wandered into the kitchen. Glancing up, you saw him, stopping your steps. The kitchen was dark on this early morning, the sun not yet fully risen. 

Every thought Daryl had vanished from his mind. Every speech he'd rehearsed or apology left him in an instant. He hadn't known seeing you face to face, alone, would leave him so breathless. Daryl could see your exhaustion even in the dim light. Your usually neat braid had been done in haste, it was sloppy and hairs fell messily into your face. The constant emotional distress dragged on your features.  

"I had to see ya."

You crossed your arms over your chest, closing yourself off from him. "So you just waited for me here." Your tone was venom to him. Daryl swallowed sharply, second-guessing his actions. "Ya get yer tea every mornin'." It would be flattering to think he'd memorized your everyday routine if it was any other time. But you couldn't find that now. 

"Was gonna go out..."

He wasn't. Daryl would only go if you were in tow.

You scoffed at him. Had he truly gone through all this effort just to ask you to join him on a sleazy run? 

Your attitude hurt Daryl more than he'd like to admit. "Just wanted to see if ya wanted to come with me?"

You knew why he actually was here. Scratching the skin on your arm nervously, you said, "No Daryl." 

“Why the hell not?” Your mouth dropped agape. Astonished at his mere audacity. “Why not?” You repeated back. Daryl looked at you blankly. Should he apologize? Or should he begin his stubbornness rant about all the ways it wasn't his fault? You shook your head, "You're pathetic."

The fire was lit once again.

You'd insulted his ego and his efforts to meet you here. But most of all, you'd insulted any feelings he'd developed for you.

Daryl's face switched from hurt to a hateful glare in a second. You didn’t care to continue on with him, turning and disappearing into the hallway. Daryl’s anger took hold of him as he rushed after you. “M’pathetic?” He followed after you, stomping like a child.

You ignored him, continuing on, letting the door slam in his face when you exited outside. Daryl following suit in your path did not falter. Carol and Rick turned their attention to the commotion.

Daryl and you spewed insults at each other. You'd reached down in yourself, past the grief and guilt, and pulled any degrading thing you could manage to say to him. And he did the same. No words you said could possibly cut him as deeply as his actions cut you.

"I shoulda left ya out there!" 

"Yeah I wish you fucking would've..." You took a step closer to him. "But you couldn't because you fucking needed me." 

"I don't need you." 

"You fucking need me." You repeated. 

"Yeah? Then you need me!"

"I don't fucking need you! I never needed you."

Daryl lowered his tone, narrowing his eyes. "Ya didn't need me out there, hm?" He watched your furrowed eyebrows falter. Daryl knew he was crossing a line but couldn't find it in his heart to stop. "Where was yer daddy that day, yuh?"

Your glassy eyes looked up at him attempting to form your own degrading insult. "What? Say it, come on say it Y/n." He egged you on.

You only think about yourself, just like your father.

But you refrained, swallowing your words along with your tears. "Fuck you." Daryl watched you walk away, wiping at your face. "Fuck you!" Regret dreaded him. He could have run after you then, apologies spewing from his mouth but his stubbornness kept him still.

The prison fell that same day.

Amid chaos and destruction, Daryl could only find himself to look for you. And when he finally accepted defeat, he could only pray that you'd made it out.

You had fled on your own. Fighting your way through to return to the comfort of the wilderness. After a few strenuous days on your own again, you'd found Carol and Tyreese; joining them with the girls. The blisters on your feet had returned as did the heaviness deep in your chest.

You thought about him more than you'd like to admit. And Carol did her part in reminding you of him on the daily. You'd begun to dwell on how you'd treated him in those final days.

"I regret it deeply now." You'd say to Carol.

"I'm sure he feels the same." She'd respond.

A longing for your life to return as it was among those prison walls struck you down every hour of every day. The wish to go back to that morning and accept his offer. To take his hand and go beyond the walls. Maybe one more day together would’ve fixed everything. And you wouldn’t be left with the guilt of leaving things off on a bad note; never to see him again.

The smoke rose above the tree line, only making you more anxious. With Tyreese and Judith safely at the cabin, you kept guard at the road. Keeping an eye for anyone making an escape.

Kill them if they weren’t one of us. Carol instructed.

But the sound of gunfire made you unsure of anyone’s survival. Fuck, you muttered to yourself out of frustration. You glanced constantly down the road and amongst the trees, hoping for a familiar face.

You turned your last surviving ring anxiously about your finger. A rustle in the woods grabbed your attention. You gripped your gun closely in your hands, stepping towards the tree line. When it was deemed clear, you continued on, your boots crunching on the leaves.

Your ears perked at a sudden crunch of a twig. Whipping your body around, you pointed your gun.

Daryl aimed his bow to you, the tip of your weapons mere inches from the other. Your breath caught in your throat. His eyes were tired, his face bruised. But you couldn't say you looked any better.

Both your fingers lingered over your triggers, though neither of you would shoot. Daryl lowered his bow. Looking at you with teary eyes. You lowered your own weapon, looking to him with the same unsure gaze. There seemed to be a mutual understanding that neither of you had the energy to fight. "Y/n?" Maggie snapped you from your daze. “Maggie?” You rushed to embrace her, discarding Daryl.

The weeks spent on the road proved to be difficult. Everyone grew more hopeless by the day and this hopelessness only grew when it became loss after loss. There was truly no time to heal from one loss before having to mourn another. First Bob, then Tyreese, and then Beth. You’d glued yourself to Maggie after Beth just as she did for you after Patrick.

Daryl mourned Beth in private. You wanted to be there for him, to provide him a shoulder to cry on. But he’d shut you out, just as you’d done to him. And besides, you never even tried, too focused on Maggie to consider it more than a thought.

You and Daryl had become strangers once again. There was no room for forgiveness, no time to spew apologies to each other, and no space to coddle each other through the pain.

Alexandria came to the suffering group, shining a new light of hope and a more secure future.

But this meant you could not hide from him anymore nor him you. The known could no longer be left unspoken.

You’d slipped away from the main house to the house next door that belonged to the group but was yet to be used. Daryl was first to notice your absence, asking where you’d gone so late. When he was told, the urge to follow after arose.

The front door was left unlocked, allowing Daryl entry. “Y/n?” The house was dimly lit, an amber glow looming from across the room. You saw your figure sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace. A liquor bottle sat atop the coffee table reading, Honey Whiskey, along with an empty glass seemingly for him. The other was in your hand, resting on your thigh. He couldn't help but think how perfectly you the liquor was; bitter yet soothing and sweet.

Daryl didn't know what told him to sit beside you but he did not resist the urge.

Nothing was said, the both of you staring off into the gas-lit flames. Your eyes studied the fake logs that were engulfed by flames, comparing it to how real wood burns. Daryl craved for you to speak to him. He didn't care if it was hurtful. Any words, cruel or no, were better than this silence. "Y/n..."

"I forgive you." Daryl went still. You hadn't given him time to breathe.

"What?"

Just then you turned, your freshly cleaned hair falling over your shoulder. The fire cast a glow on your features; highlighting the bridge of your nose and emoting a sparkle within your eyes.

“I said I forgive you.” It was the gentlest tone you’d ever spoken to him in.

“I don’t think I had reason to be angry in the first place. I was just trying to blame someone that wasn’t myself.” You reached forward, popping the cap from the bottle and pouring Daryl a glass. You handed it to him, along with a slight smile. It tugged at his heart.

“M’sorry…bout what I said that day. 'Bout your Dad...Wasn’t right.” Daryl swirled the liquor about his glass, wondering where you’d found it. You took a deep breath before speaking on, “My daddy disowned me.”

The dog tags around your neck suddenly felt as though they weighed fifty pounds. It was a burden you carried around your neck every day, hoping the weight would be lifted lighter if you just spoke highly. "Why?" Daryl couldn't help but ask. You hesitated, your mouth gaping but no words following. "Because I loved a woman." You flashed Daryl an insecure smile, unsure of how he'd react. "I lost her about a month before you guys picked me up. That's why I was alone."

Daryl felt a whirlwind of emotions hit him at once.

Would he have to continue to love you from afar? How many times had he thrown your father in your face like some jealous brat? "I think I resented ya a lot. Thinking ya had a father that rolled out the red carpet for you." Daryl had found his own courage. "I know, D."

"M'sorry."

"I know that too."

After that, a soft silence fills the room. The two of you sit peacefully, content with the weight slowly lifting from the shoulders of your friendship. But there was another topic to relive before you could truly sweep up all of the choked-off fragments and furnish them with conclusions.

“Patrick uh…”

“Ya don’t gotta talk about that Y/n.”

“No, I need to.”

The liquor wasn’t persuading you to talk nor to act a certain way, you’d barely drank any.

A deep sigh left you and you rested your back against the couch. “Patrick talked about his parents a lot. He said that his mom wanted him to be brave…That’s why he wanted to go out, he said that he felt like a coward. He’d always been safe in Woodbury then the prison.” Your words were quick and shaken.

Daryl listened attentively, taking sips of the honey whiskey in hopes it would calm him and his mind. “He thought that if he went out, even once, he would be brave… like us.” You motioned to you and Daryl. A smile rose on your face. “He also just really wanted to impress you, he was so excited when you started joining us in the mornings.” You took a sip from your own cup finding courage in the liquid.

“I know you always thought it was silly but…Patrick reminded me a lot of my cousin. He was my best friend until my aunt moved to a different state. I promised to keep in touch but I started college, got distracted, and only saw him on holidays.”

Your words trailed as if unsure of what was to be said.

“Until he jumped off a fucking overpass.” You could feel Daryl’s sympathetic eyes looking at you. “In his note, he said he knew he was a coward but he couldn’t be here anymore.” Your lip began to quiver but you quickly covered it with a swig of liquor. Daryl was left to think while you choked your tears down.

"They were brave." Daryl said.

You placed your glass on the table beside the couch. "And dead they are." The tears could no longer be drowned in whiskey. You covered your face with your hands. Your body trembled violently, sobs racking your chest. Daryl put down his own glass. “C’mere…c’mere please.”

Daryl scooted closer to you, grasping for you to meet him halfway. You met him gladly.

“You’ve never hugged me before." You said with sadness, your words mumbling against the fabric of his shirt. "I know. M’sorry.” He could hold you all night if need be. You gripped your arms around him tighter, resting your head on his shoulder. A deep sigh of relief left both of you, melting into the other's embrace.

He smelled of pine from the soap he'd used to wash. But the familiar scent of motor oil and cigarette smoke could never be washed from his skin. At first, it annoyed you. You'd complain that the oil gave you headaches and scold him about his unhealthy habit. But now, no four walls of any house could provide you the safety and comfort of Daryl's broad figure.

You pulled away from him but your hands did not leave him. They dragged down from his back to rest comfortably in his own. Your soft skin caressed his calloused hands. Your forehead rested against his. He did not remove himself from you but merely looked down, avoiding your gaze. "Ya been drinking a lot Y/n, ain't in the right mindset right now." You shook your head, "No Daryl...I love you."

Your nose bumped his own as you scooped your head down, capturing his lips in yours. You taste of the bitterly sweet liquor, your lips still slightly damp from the tears that fell only moments ago. He resists before giving in to his longest desires. It made his nerves feel fuzzy.

The kiss turned from gentle to desirable in time, lips moving in sync together. His hands moved to either side of your face, ensuring to keep you close. You began to lay back, hoping Daryl would follow. He was quick too, ensuring his body weight did not crush you.

Needing a moment to breathe, you parted from him. Your back relaxed against the plush couch all your tense muscles turning to putty beneath him. Daryl's head fell to your chest. He felt your own heartbeat, just as quick as his own. "Love ya too."

Daryl's hands freely wondered you. He gripped your thighs, feeling the jagged scar on your thigh through the thin pajama pants; remembering the day you met. "I fell down a hill." Daryl stopped his lingering hands, "What?" There was a ting of a smile on your face. His eyes sparkled with admiration. "I was fighting a walker and I fell downhill. I think I got stabbed by a tree branch or my own knife, I never knew." You admitted shamefully. Daryl dropped his head to your chest again, chuckling.

His laughter sent vibrations through you, triggering a laugh of your own. You bring your hand to the back of his head, stroking his messy brown hair. “Why don’t you stay here with me tonight?” Daryl lifted his head, the fire dimly lighting the right side of his face. He nodded.

"I'd like that."

[daceydeath]

I Want to Watch (part 7)

Pairing: Wooyoung x reader x Yeosang Word Count: 2.2K Genre: Pure Filth 🔞 Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Explicit Activities

a/n: not as spicy as the last one but they cant all be that spicy x

Since sharing you with a few of the members Wooyoung discovers yet another thing that he likes with the help of another guest

“I’m sorry, did you want to repeat that?” Yeosang coughed violently as you wandered out of the bedroom into the kitchen, his phone discarded on the seat beside him.

“Hey Sangie, are you ok? Did you need some water?” you asked concerned as you watched him cough and turn tomato red, his eyes wide.

“I’m ok” he reassured you, dropping his voice to whisper sharply at your boyfriend. Shrugging you just continued into the kitchen turning on the kettle and getting out a cup for the hot chocolate you were going to make.

“I said are you interested in fucking my girlfriend? I mean if you don’t want to that is totally fine neither of us will be offended”. Wooyoung cackled as you rolled your eyes and kept your back to them both hoping to give Yeosang the impression that he had at least a little privacy while they had this conversation.

“She is right there you idiot” he hissed trying to keep his voice down “Why would you even ask me something like that?”.

“Oh well, it’s sort of a thing we are trying out. Like a kink we're exploring” Wooyoung started to explain, obviously unsure of how to get Yeosang to understand. You continued making your hot chocolate stirring the mixture noisily as possible to cover their voices.

“Eww, I didn’t need to know that!” Yeosang interrupted hastily.

“Shut up. Anyway she has already fucked San, Yunho and Jongho so it’s not like you are the first one I’ve asked also I’m not going to fuck you she is so don’t get all stroppy” Wooyoung continued.

“It is entirely up to you Sangie, I would never be offended if you aren’t interested or too weirded out by the whole thing” you smiled softly leaving the room to go back to Wooyoung’s room sipping the chocolate concoction happily.

“You’re both serious? Like this isn’t a weird friendship test or anything?” Yeosang cautiously asked his voice closer to normal at this point which made you breathe a sigh of relief, you were going to have to tell Wooyoung that he couldn't just ask his friends by dropping the old do you want to fuck my girl on them.

Returning to your book you continued to sip and read for another two chapters before there was a tentative knock on the open door. You looked up to see Yeosang standing there nervously with an excited looking Wooyoung behind him.

“Would it be ok if I kissed you to see if I want to go through with this?” he asked gently, stepping into the room but not coming any closer to you.

“I would like that if it would make it easier for you to decide” you nodded, getting off the bed to meet him in the middle of the room swaying your hips just enough to get his eyes to dart down your body. Placing your hands softly on his chest you waited to see if he was ok with you touching him. After a moment his hand moved to cup your cheek stroking your cheekbone with his thumb carefully, you couldn’t help but smile at how sweet he was being, looking up at him through your lashes you almost thought he was going to turn you down until he swiftly pressed his lips to yours causing you to gasp and tighten your grip on his clothes.

Delving his tongue between your lips he licked into your mouth sensually letting his tongue dance with yours before tightly gripping your hip and pulling you closer. The involuntary whine that left your throat made him groan deeply as you let him continue to take what he wanted from you if it would lead to him being able to make a decision. Breaking for air you couldn’t help feeling a little dazed at how intense Yeosang had kissed you when he seemed like such a sweet and soft boy.

“So what can’t I do again?” Yeosang asked, turning back to Wooyoung who was watching on with a shit eating grin.

“Anything she wants you to except eat her out only I get to decide if you can taste my pussy” Woyoung ground out his voice much deeper than before. A shiver running up your spine in anticipation of what Yeosang was going to do to you.

“I’d say it’s about to be my pussy” Yeosang snorted his hand sliding down to squeeze your arse before kissing you again roughly his teeth tugging your lower lip teasingly. Walking you backwards towards the bed the kiss only ended when your calves collided with the bed frame and you fell backward Yeosang catching you at the last moment to prevent you crashing into the mattress. Yelping in surprise he gave you a devilish grin pulling his shirt over his head before grabbing your pants and tugging both them and your underwear off before he climbed over you his hands slipping under your shirt to squeeze and tease your breast as his lips found yours again his tongue tangling with yours.

“Shit” Wooyoung breathed huskily. You could hear him moving closer to the bed but you couldn’t concentrate with the way Yeosang was kissing you your fingers tracing the beautiful planes of his chest.

“This needs to come off” Yeosang mumbled kneeling up so he could pull your shirt over your head immediately latching onto one of your nipples through the fabric of your bra, biting it carefully before suckling on it.

“Fuck Sangie” you gasped your hands clutching at his biceps to keep yourself grounded your hips rolling again him with abandon.

“Good girl let Sangie treat you like the good little slut you are” Wooyoung cooed, unzipping his own jeans and tugging at his cock. 

“Can’t taste you but a can get you wet” Yeosang smirked darkly moving so that he was kneeling back on his heels his tongue running over his teeth before he leant over your core a fat drop of saliva falling from his lips landing on your clit and making you jolt smearing his spit all over your folds he continued to stare another glob of saliva dripping from his lips onto your entrance he began pushing it inside you with two of his fingers stretching your walls roughly as he pumped them into you.

“Sanigie, holy shit” you gasped your body responding to him faster than your brain could catch up. 

“Wooyo, get her shirt and bra off. If you’re going to watch, at least be helpful” Yeosang grumbled his eyes piercing you to your spot on the bed as he continued to drag his fingers against your walls, his thumb now pressing against your clit pressing and circling your bundle of nerves your hips rolling against his fingers.

“I will kick you out Sang don’t test me” Wooyoung snapped even though he followed Yeosang’s request to get you completely nude for him.

“You won't, you want to watch me own her” Yeosang grinned pulling his fingers from you to show your boyfriend how your arousal almost dripped from the digits. “Open your mouth for me pretty girl” he raised his eyebrow at you challenging you to disobey him but you were more than happy to let him do whatever he liked with you holding your chin firmly he dropped a thick hot sting of spit onto your tongue making Wooyoung hiss from his spot on the bed. You swallowed with a flourish opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out to show him that it was gone.

“Dirty little baby” Wooyoung whined, his voice already higher than usual you preened under their gaze.

“On your front pretty girl I want your boyfriend to watch me destroy your messy little cunt” Yeosang instructed you smoothly, his smokey voice making you groan in anticipation as you faced Wooyoung, his face already looking dazed while he pumped himself rhythmically. You heard Yeosang unzip his jeans before his hand harshly pressed your shoulders down leaving your arse in the air as he placed one hand on your hip to hold you in place. Without warning he sunk into you his cock stretching you more than his fingers had and punching the air from your lungs as he bottomed out. Pounding into you roughly his hips slapping against your skin loudly with each thrust, the power of them almost pushing you forward if not for the tight grip he had on your hips making you flop your head to the bed starting to feel dizzy from the feeling of his cock splitting you wide open.

“Fuck you're going to split her in half” Wooyoung complained halfheartedly his hand moving in time with Yeosang’s hips.

“Does she look broken?” Yeosang snickered, the only other sound in the room besides skin crashing together and Wooyoung’s heavy breathing was the constant string of moans and mewls falling from your lips.

“Ah… Ah… Sangie” you gasped in between the noises you couldn’t help but make you heard him grunt his fingers digging deeper into the plush flesh of your hips another glob of saliva landing on the tight ring of muscle that wasn’t being filled slowly once of his thumbs began circling it pressing against you until he could sink it inside you. 

“Doesn’t your boyfriend look like he’s enjoying himself?” Yeosang rasped his voice shaking with his exertion as he continued to relentlessly bury himself in your wet plush walls.

“Woo… Wooyoung” you whined lifting your head to meet his eyes, his hooded eyes dark and his lips pink and swollen from biting his lip as he watched you. You let your eyes drag down his body stopping at his rock hard leaking cock that made your mouth water. 

“Look at you baby looking so pretty” he slurred while Yeosang huffed out a short laugh letting his other hand fall around your waist to tease your clit mercilessly making you keen loudly, your eyes squeezing shut while your legs began to shake. “Open your eyes baby”.

“Do as your told pretty girl” Yeosang ordered his voice low as he waited until Wooyoung grunted again before his fingers returned to your puffy and abused clit each sharp movement of his fingers making it hard for you to focus on anything other than the way his cock felt dragging almost painfully against your walls as your arsehole tightened around his thumb.

“Oh my god Sangie… Fuck it’ too much” you keened pushing yourself back against him to force him deeper inside you. Your mouth fell open as his angle changed and he was now kissing your cervix with each thrust of his hips pulling his thumb from you he held you hip again bruisingly pulling you back to meet each snap of his hips.

"At least have her suck you off Wooyoung! Don't waste such a pretty little mouth" Yeosang grunted as you tightened further around him the smoldering in your belly beginning to spread.

“Shit baby, shit, shit, shit” Wooyoung wailed his hand furiously pumping his length, the precum on the head of his cock glistening in the light as he fucked his hand faster only moving to shove himself down your throat when you opened your mouth and let your tongue fall out over your bottom lip. You could taste the salty musky tang of his nearing release as he harshly fucked as deep as he could into your throat you jaw relaxing instinctively to fit him.

“You take me so well pretty girl, fuck I could get you pregnant like this” Yeosang moaned his voice deep and smokey “would you like that? Like me to fuck a baby into this tight little cunt”.

“Yes…Yes Yeosang… Please. Please ” you sobbed desperately letting your boyfriend's cock fall from your mouth, coming undone around him, the muscles in your legs shaking violently as your walls fluttered and pulsed with almost painfully intense pleasure. Yeosang kept his pace to prolong your orgasm, your eyes rolling as your entire body felt like you were crackling with electricity. You felt him stiffen slightly before his hot seed flooded you, his hands holding your hips flush to him as he groaned loudly, rolling his hips with less urgency as you milked him dry. Wooyoung followed only a moment later thick ropes of his cum dripping down your throat and flooding your mouth as he continued to slide himself along your tongue.

“Fuck” Wooyoung mumbled carefully pulling himself from your swollen lips and wiping the few droplets that escaped the corner of your mouth “I think I just discovered I have a breeding kink”.

“Of course you have Woo” you swallowed panting, feeling the cool air hit your tender and sticky folds as Yeosang pulled away from you and reached for the tissues beside Wooyoung’s bed. 

“To be honest I assumed he already had that one” Yeosang scrunched up his nose, helping you to lay on your back and also clean you up being careful to be gentle with you.

“I’d be more surprised if he found a kink he didn’t like” you shrugged, making room for Yeosang to lay down to recover and bask in his post nut glow for a moment.

“Actually fair” he agreed, both of you looking towards your still spaced out boyfriend “Is he alright?”.

“Um, probably? If he doesn’t move in the next fifteen minutes we will worry” you sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.  

“Have to admit I didn’t expect this was going to be happening today. But you are incredible” Yeosang yawned softly.

“You aren’t so bad yourself Sangie” you mumbled shyly pulling the sheets over the both of you so that you could keep warm until you got the energy to get up and shower. Wooyoung finally moved handing you a bottle of water that sat beside the bed Yeosang helping you to sit up and sip slowly.

a/n: Thank you for reading lovelies I adore you all and I am so grateful for your likes, reblogs, comments and support you are amazing xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

@tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie @krishastumblernow @mrsseals16 @fawnpeaks

@leeknowinggg @tanzen-ist-gold @taz-97 @ocean-dreamer-sky-chaser @everythingboutkpop @tunafishyfishylike

@londonbridges01 @bkimrose @pancake-freckle @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

@skersey33 @jintastic-day @hwxbibi @onmykneesforateez @skittyneos @thjksnsh

[gladoswantscake]

Condemned to Repeat - Dracula x Reader (DBD)

Summary: You haven't quite escaped from him.

Warnings: Horror, blood, and mild suggestive themes (the blood makes him freaky lol)

A/N: Continuation as the previous one, but you don't really need to read the previous story unless you want to. This can serve as chapter two or a standalone.

Enjoy @nathscalet 😌 The wait is over. I hope you and everyone else like it.

(It's a shame they didn't add his castle to the game 😔)

Available on AO3

"𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯��𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺." (𝘙𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 21:4)

The warm tears grew heavier when you realized there was no escape from him. The gentle grip on your jaw eases as you lower your head to hide your tears from him.

"Please look at me." The tone of his voice saddens. "It greatly pains me to see you in such distress."

You shook your head in reply. Words couldn't come out of your mouth as you were losing more of your composure. You then felt his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his embrace.

"It'll be alright." He whispered.

That's when you lost it. You sink your loud, muffled cries into the crook of his neck, and your hands reach for his shoulder, tightly gripping him. You felt his sharp nails run through your wet hair in an attempt to calm you down.

"Please don't weep." He kisses the top of your head. "I promise you after tonight, you will no longer shed tears. For you will be contented with me forever."

The last thing you remembered that night was he guided you to a spare bedroom to help clean you up and rest, and then you blacked out.

After that, you woke up in the middle of the dark forest laying against a tree. A woman named Claudette was the first person to discover your unconscious body. A few other survivors were sitting at a campfire upon being brought.

There were many others, you were told, but they were in different realms serving their 'trials.' That's what the others called it. Realms created by "the Entity" to watch for enjoyment. You remembered seeing the supposed Entity right after your car accident. It must have gotten you before you had the opportunity to escape. You learned of the other's names from the campfire: Nea, Alan, and Gabriel. They somehow came from different alternate worlds that you never knew existed. They briefly filled you in on what you needed to know and what to expect. Most importantly, they reminded you that getting everyone out of the trial was the number one priority.

Unfortunately, it doesn't always happen.

It didn't take you long to be transported to a trial for the first time. But this realm felt too familiar to you.

Then it hit you.

You found yourself back in Dracula's castle. Your heart sank at the familiarity. That meant he was here, too.

The castle this time was eerie, dark, and much colder. The occasional running footsteps of your teammates and generators drowned out the silence of Dracula's home.

Your teammates were getting slaughtered fast, which meant there was a possibility of no one escaping the trial, but you were lucky you hadn't run into him yet.

You remember one of your teammates mentioning a hatch. It only appears when one survivor remains, guaranteeing an escape from the trial. Their only advice was the fastest way to find the hatch was to keep your ears peeled.

All three of your teammates were massacred. There was one last blood-curdling scream before the castle went utterly silent. Only you and Dracula remained in the trial. You had to find the hatch and fast.

You ran and ran until your chest was heaving, lungs were burning, and legs growing heavier the longer you ran. The castle felt like a maze. You swore you had looped around the main entrance twice. Your heavy footsteps and panting alerted your presence, but you were more focused on escaping. The quicker you find the hatch, the less time you'd spend in your captor's manor. You prayed for this to be the last time you had to relive it.

There was a faint sound in the distance. A high-pitched rapid clicking sound was drawing closer to you down the hallway. You turned around to investigate the noise. A swarm of bats were heading your way. You took off again. Running with whatever energy you had left in you. The sound of bats soon became fast footsteps. With your stamina used up, a hand reaches for your mouth and pushes you up against the wall.

The force of your body being thrown against the textured wall causes you to yell out in pain. You look up at the person who did it.

Dracula.

It almost looked like he was a rabid animal within the state he was in. His eyes were now a red crimson color, and his mouth and white beard was covered in blood. His fanged grin was mad. "I was afraid I would never see you again."

His clawed hand finds your jaw and tilts your head to examine your neck. He leans into your ear to listen to your pulse. His bloodied tongue then drags against your skin. The uncomfortable grip on your jaw tightens.

"If I let your friends escape, I wouldn't have any alone time with you." You could smell the sweet metallic scent of your teammates' blood from his breath.

"Are you going to kill me too?"

He looks back at you, chuckling. "I would have done that earlier if you were another worthless mortal."

He takes a moment to listen to the pounding of your heart in your chest. His gaze darkens as he grins. "I hope your heart is pounding because you're delighted to see me."

Tears trickle from your eyes. "Please let me go." You beg.

He ignored your cries. Instead, he takes in the rhythmic beating of your pulses and the feeling of your body close to his. The sensations were driving him mad. He wanted to take his time. He wanted to express how much he was devoted to you. The Entity can wait.

"I cannot let you go, I'm afraid." His hot breath hits your ear. "You have no idea how long I've yearned for you, my love." His kisses are applied with more emotion. His kisses travel from your jawline to your shoulder. His breathing becomes irregular as his arousal grows. The blood of your teammates was making it worse. Their blood was good, but not as pure and rich as when he tasted yours for the first time. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep himself from losing self-control.

His intimate thoughts abruptly stopped when he heard your voice.

"Vlad…" He listens close when he heard you call him by his real name. Your warm hands reach for his pale, cold face to force him to look at you. He stares deeply at you, feeling inattentive and relaxed by your touch.

"Please…" Your eyes glisten. You were tired and exhausted. You were ready to get it over with. You've come to terms once again with the fact that there was no way out. Maybe dying by his hand was a better option than to be sacrificed to the Entity. It would be quick. You prayed that your death would take you to the afterlife.

He hesitated for a moment with your request. He couldn't let you go nor kill you. It would hurt him deeply. He couldn't live without you. Instead, he pulls you away from the wall, gripping your waist.

"Forgive me…my love." He slightly lowers your back.

He presses his lips against yours. A mixture of blood and saliva enters your mouth as his kiss quickly deepens. The sharp nails of his fingers lightly dig into your scalp as his fangs gently poke your upper lip. Your back lowers more, and your hands grip the neck of his cape to prevent yourself from falling.

Suddenly, your eyes widen, followed by gasping pain coming from you. Your body froze as you now realize his teeth are plunging deep into your neck. The ringing in your eardrums grows louder as you lose sight of your surroundings.

"V-Vlad…" Your voice quietly croaks. "Stop… Please." Your voice slowly trails off.

He felt your body go limp. He accomplished what he wanted to do. "You will join me soon." He kisses your forehead. "I promise to keep you safe."

[darlingofdots]

Hello lovely people, I come before you humbly requesting recommendations for very specific flavours of romance novels! I don't much care about trad/indie/self-pub, but I am equally humbly requesting that self-pub recs should be of similar quality standards re: grammar and punctuation as trad books, I know this makes me a snob but in this particular instance I really don't care.

I am particularly looking for:

paranormal romance featuring m/m or f/f protagonists

historical romance with f/f protagonists that is not Olivia Waite

contemporary romance with m/m protagonists, bonus points if it's in a specific subgenre of contemporary like sports romance

Some stipulations:

published after 2010

preferably written by an American author for reasons of My Degree Is In American Studies, but PLEASE recommend me BIPOC authors if you can!

currently in print or available electronically

needs to be an actual romance novel, which means the romance is the main plot and there's a Happily Ever After

high heat level is fine but should not be crossing the line into erotica, that's just not what I'm looking for in this context

for bonus points, I'd also love to discover some non-contemporary romances with trans protagonists, the funkier the better!

I am trying to fill in some gaps in the corpus of novels I am assembling for academic purposes, which is where these very specific descriptions come from, and I don't trust Goodreads review scores at all, so I come to you, lovely tumblrites, instead.

Thank you all, I am looking forward to your suggestions!

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw

You have an important document from your work that needs to be fixed now, but your poor boyfriend König already got worked up the moment you leant down to retrieve your book from a lower shelf moments ago, your ass in full display to him, so you compromise when he look at you with that heavy cock hanging between his thighs, “liebling, please, I won’t interrupt you doing your work.” he says while pulling you onto his lap, your core rest just against his growing erection. How can you say no when he pleads so nicely?

Your arms wrapped around his neck, typing on your phone and dealing with the job, while König humping like a dog in heat against your clothed pussy, groaning and growling just beside your ear as he prods his tip repeatedly at your clit, still cheekily trying to let you lose control and finish whatever you’re doing now. But he needs to be a good boy, he already promised you he’ll hold back until you have time, so he settles with grinding his cock along your pussy for now.

You hum in approval, sparing a glance at him and his dick when he slide it between your pussy lips, your panties’ already a mess after he pulled down the hem of your panties and pumped a load inside, clinging onto your skin and showing the curve of your mound.

“I can’t wait anymore, Süßer…bitte bitte…” A grin decorates your lips as you see his face, all flush with the desire burning in his body, can’t even think straight and talk coherently, because sweetie, he just wants to sink his cock inside your drenched cunt and fuck you so good, overwhelm you in pleasure so you can forget about your job.

So you finally set down your phone. Actually, you already finished correcting the mistakes in your documents minutes ago, but the sight of him blabbering and moaning, like all he wants in this world is you and your pussy, is just too entertaining.

“Oh…oh my god…” Your teasing words don’t even have a chance to make their way out of your lips, the moment you put away the phone, he already stands up and flip you onto the mattress, slamming his cock inside you in one swift move, legs pressed back to your breast for mating press, pounding into you with the full force of his hips that you’re practically screaming his name in ecstasy.

Just don’t let him discover that you pretend to be occupied by work for a few more minutes, just to see him eagerly rolling his hips against your slick folds, unless you want to walk side to side the next day, from how he teach you a lesson with his weapon that he calls his cock.

[dalessandra01]

I will throw rocks at your window

By @dalessandra01

Summary:

“Kate goes to visit Sophie’s room the night before her wedding, officially welcoming her as a sister. The two share an heartfelt conversation before they hear someone throwing rocks at Sophie’s window.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

She hadn't slept in such a comfortable bed for years. Or simply retired for the night without feeling pain from head to toe.

Sophie let herself fall onto the mattress with the same excitement as a small child, giggling for no reason other than just being happy.

She still couldn’t believe that by this time tomorrow, she would be married.

To Benedict Bridgerton, no less.

The man she had dreamed of every night since that unforgettable evening.

Was she really this lucky?

It felt like living in a fairytale.

Or perhaps a dream.

Would she now wake up and discover it had all been a figment of her imagination?

She turned over on the mattress, resting her head on the pillow.

It felt natural to touch her cheeks, and she realised how warm they were.

She felt a little shameless thinking about what would happen the next day when the celebrations would be over, and she and Benedict would leave for their honeymoon. Alone.

And this time, without worrying about anything.

She was free to be with him and no longer fear the arrival of children—in fact, at that moment, it was all she desired most.

She bit her lower lip at that thought.

She had agonised over the idea of a child so many times, even more so when she and Benedict had given in to passion, but now she could think calmly about their arrival. Was she perhaps rushing things?

She wasn’t even married yet, and she was already imagining what their children would look like.

And above all, how much she would love them.

This made her remember how much she longed to see her fiancé at that moment.

When they had returned from his apartment, Lady Bridgerton had not been particularly pleased that her request to be home by seven had been ignored.

But judging by her expression, she must have expected it.

Especially since Sophie hadn’t been scolded at all—Benedict had taken all the blame.

It had made her smile, even though she knew she had wanted it as much as he did.

But she certainly hadn’t expected Violet to be a vengeful person.

Not in a truly malicious way, but it was clear that she had done everything she could to ensure that the two of them were never alone in the same room.

And apparently, she had also involved the young Viscountess in the process.

It was actually a very sensible decision; Benedict might have been able to get around his mother, but never his sister-in-law.

Sophie had noticed from the start how tenacious the young Lady Bridgerton could be, but she hadn’t thought it would go this far.

She would almost swear that she found it amusing.

She lifted her head when she heard a knock on her door. For a moment, she almost fooled herself into thinking that Benedict had managed to sneak into Bridgerton House to visit her.

She held her breath, waiting for her visitor to reveal their identity:

“Sophie? May I come in?” Her smile faltered when she heard Kate’s voice from the other side of the door.

She took just a moment to recover from her disappointment and sat properly on the bed.

“Of course, come in,” she replied, not wanting to appear ungrateful for her visit.

Even when she was only a maid, Kate had always been extremely kind to her. If Sophie refused one of Violet’s invitations to join her and her daughters for tea, especially when she had visitors herself, Kate would insist she come.

Sometimes she even offered to make her chai, in case she didn’t feel like having English tea.

Besides, seeing how quickly little Edmund had become attached to Sophie must have made the Viscountess even more protective towards her.

And, very likely, Kate had been one of the first to notice Benedict’s feelings for her.

It was a universal rule—after the servants, the high-society ladies always knew everything, and Sophie considered Kate one of them.

The title suited her as if it were a custom-made dress; she moved and acted with such elegance that even if she had married a simple wealthy gentleman, it would have been a shame not to grant her husband a title so that Kate could continue being the noblewoman she was meant to be.

A role Sophie never saw herself in, to be honest.

Even if her father had recognised her as his daughter, giving her noble status, she could never have endured the pressure that came with it.

Of course, her life would have been easier, and perhaps she and Benedict could have courted properly, but… would he have courted her if she had been the daughter of an earl?

She and Benedict would never have faced financial problems, that was certain, but it was also true, at least from what she had gathered from reading Whistledown, that firstborn sons were always the most sought after on the marriage market.

And only once they were married did attention shift to the second sons.

Belonging to a family like the Bridgertons had certainly made Benedict a desirable match, but if Anthony had still been single, he would have taken second place.

And in this fantasy world where Sophie was a legitimate daughter, would he still have tried to approach her? Or would he have felt unworthy?

Her life had been horrible, yes.

But at least… it had brought her to this point: to that night, just a step away from saying the big “yes” and marrying the love of her life.

At that point, titles and social conventions no longer mattered.

From tomorrow on… it would be just her and Benedict.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Kate asked her with a teasing smile. Sophie raised a hand to her face, feeling it flush again.

“Is it that obvious?” she squeaked, unable to meet the other woman’s eyes.

“A little,” Kate laughed. “I’m sorry for keeping you two apart these days, but I won’t deny that I’ve enjoyed teasing my brother-in-law.”

“I imagine… I admit it’s satisfying to see him suffer a bit,” Sophie joked in return. After all, Benedict had spent much of the time she had worked for his mother tormenting her, trying to convince her to become his mistress.

He had apologised, true. But it was only fair he suffered a little for what he had put her through.

The only downside was that now, having him completely, being apart from him was torture for her as well.

“But I miss him terribly…” she ended up admitting.

“It’s only a few more hours,” Kate reassured her, gently stroking her arm. “And, in the meantime, I’ll take this moment to officially welcome you.”

Sophie’s eyes widened in surprise at those words.

“Welcome?” she asked.

“Yes, from tomorrow, you and I will be sisters,” Kate said, taking her hands. “You know… Anthony and Benedict are very close, being the eldest, and I’m glad he’s found a good match in you, Sophie. I’m sure we’ll spend a lot of time together.”

Sophie gave her a wide smile. All the Bridgertons had been incredibly warm once Benedict had announced their engagement.

In truth, she had felt like part of the family even before that.

But being welcomed by someone other than Violet warmed her heart, especially because Kate, more than anyone, knew what it was like to marry a Bridgerton.

“Thank you, Kate, really. That means a lot to me,” she said, smiling at her the whole time.

The Viscountess looked at her with an almost motherly expression before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” she asked gently. It was obvious that, for all the family might have discussed it, only Benedict knew her full past. What Kate could know was limited.

“You have no idea,” Sophie replied.

“If you ever feel like talking to someone, I’m here.” And it took all her willpower not to break down in tears.

Yes, Posy was her sister.

Now that she was away from Araminta, she was free to call her that, but Posy would always remain more of a little sister to Sophie, being the youngest.

What Kate was offering her, though, was what Rosamund should have been, but her vanity had always prevented her from being anything else: an older sister.

Without realising it, a tear had slipped down Sophie’s face, and her new sister promptly wiped it away, reassuring her.

“You’ll be a magnificent bride,” she said, and Sophie didn’t know whether to cry or not.

She wasn’t used to having such a figure in her life. For the first time, she felt truly loved and appreciated.

But the thought of where Benedict was kept tormenting her. She so longed to see him, even if just for a minute.

From what she understood, gentlemen prepared for their wedding day differently than brides did.

This was also because not all unions were as wanted as hers.

But from what she had gathered, while she had been pampered with beauty treatments, Benedict had gone somewhere with his two brothers. When it had been Anthony’s turn, they had simply stayed in his study, but since they were just a few doors away, the chance that Benedict would find a way to escape Anthony and Colin’s clutches was too plausible for them to remain at home.

Although Sophie had to admit that she would have liked that.

“Do you know where they are?” she ventured, lowering her gaze, wondering if she sounded too forward.

“At Mondrich’s. Anthony told me they were going to spend some time there and then bring him back home.”

The idea that his brothers trusted Benedict so little that they even volunteered to escort him back to his own house just to make sure he didn’t try to see Sophie the night before the wedding was almost laughable.

By now, it must have amused everyone, seeing how determined they were to ensure the two didn’t come together before tomorrow.

Suddenly, she blushed.

The thought crossed her mind that perhaps all that frustration could have some specific effects once the ceremony was over. Certainly, it would be enjoyable, and perhaps she should thank her new family for—no.

That was too much.

“Is everything alright?” Kate asked, with a knowing look.

“I think I’m just a bit warm,” she replied—strange to say, since it was autumn.

And indeed, it was clear that the Viscountess didn’t believe her one bit. Without saying another word, she got up and left.

For a moment, Sophie thought she was retiring for the night, but a few seconds later, she was back by her side, with the same composure that characterised her.

“What’s going on?” Sophie asked, confused.

“I’ve sent for a bottle of whisky from Anthony’s study,” Kate replied matter-of-factly.

Sophie’s eyes widened.

“But I’ve never had whisky.”

“Neither have I,” Kate replied. “But I have a feeling it’ll be one of the first experiences we share together.”

Meanwhile, the bottle had been brought on a tray with two glasses. The butler offered them his respects with a bow and then disappeared.

“Won’t Anthony mind that we’re drinking his whisky?” Sophie asked as Kate poured the liquor into her glass.

“Perhaps, but it’s a problem I’ll deal with when he finds out,” she replied.

“Welcome to the world of married women, Sophie Baek.” She couldn’t help but laugh at Kate’s satisfied expression.

After all, it was highly likely that Benedict was in a similar situation right now, so what was wrong with indulging in a bit of alcohol?

“I’m not sure if Benedict and Anthony will be happy to know we’re getting along or…”

“Afraid that we might team up against them?”

At that point, Sophie burst out laughing.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"I must do it."

Benedict declared, stepping forward with determination. Anthony quickly grabbed him by the sleeve.

"Hold on," he reprimanded, "You've waited this long; you can wait until tomorrow to see her."

Benedict looked at his brother in frustration.

They had just come from Mondrich’s, and perhaps it was the whiskey clouding his judgment, but he felt an overwhelming need to see his bride-to-be. Just for a minute. He was certain he wouldn’t be able to sleep unless she gave him one of her radiant smiles. One of those smiles that could rival the brilliance of the stars.

"Please, brother, just for a minute," he pleaded, realizing how desperate he sounded for begging Anthony of all people. "I swear, I have no ill intentions."

"I highly doubt that," his older brother replied, rolling his eyes.

"Please, I just want to do something foolish," cursed whiskey, making him talk like an idiot, but if it meant seeing Sophie, he didn’t care.

"I never got to court Sophie properly, and to make up for it, I want to go stand under her window."

At that moment, Colin had joined them, clearly holding back laughter.

"Are you planning to recite her a sonnet, brother?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"I might," Benedict was seriously considering it for a moment. He wasn’t sure what exactly he would do once he got under her balcony,

"Something—anything, I don’t know, but I just want to see her."

Anthony sighed,

"Alright, but don’t make too much noise."

Before he could continue, Benedict had already thrown his arms around his neck.

"Thank you, thank you!"

"Dear God, I swear this is the last time I drink with you."

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Maybe Sophie should have realized that since it was her first time tasting alcohol, she would start feeling strange after just the second glass. Even Kate seemed to have let loose a bit, and they ended up talking about everything, the inhibition from the liquor making them laugh at every silly thing they said.

"Wait, wait—! What do you mean he bought her a horse?"

"I swear, he showed up outside our house with a horse."

"And this was just to convince your sister to marry him?"

"He's very competitive."

"I can see that."

They both burst into laughter like two little girls, and when Sophie finally caught her breath, she naturally blurted out:

"And did he ever buy you a horse?"

"No, and I keep holding it against him," Kate replied with a smirk.

"Then I need to find something to hold against Benedict," Sophie joked.

"Great idea," Kate replied. "Maybe the fact that he didn’t recognize you?"

"Isn’t that a bit too cruel?"

"It’s useful when you need to negotiate," Kate shrugged. "You’ll need it when you have children."

Sophie felt her face flush again, but before she could respond, a tapping sound on the window made her turn.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, hoping the alcohol hadn’t made her imagine things.

Kate nodded, and Sophie moved to check.

When she pulled back the curtain, a small stone hit the window, making her jump.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"Have you gone mad?!"

Anthony half-yelled at Benedict.

"How else am I supposed to get her to look out without shouting?" he retorted.

"Stop that, you’ll break the glass," his brother ordered, trying to stop him, probably cursing the fact that Colin had decided to head home, leaving them alone. You had to wonder if he did it on purpose.

"They're pebbles, not rocks," Benedict protested.

"It’s still my house!" But before Anthony could argue further, Sophie peeked out from the window.

Benedict grinned like a fool, forgetting whatever quarrel he had with his brother. She was stunning, and how he wished he could climb that damn wall just to steal a little kiss from her.

"Sophie!" he exclaimed.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her expression happy, though he noticed a slight flush on her cheeks, but paid it no mind.

"I wanted to see you."

She let out a small laugh. What a melodious sound.

"You would have seen me tomorrow."

"I couldn’t wait any longer," he said brightly, "I wouldn’t have been able to sleep without seeing you, even for just a second."

He saw her place a hand on her chest, her smile growing wider. It made him proud that his words touched her, but he knew he could do better.

"You are more beautiful than the moon and stars, Sophie. I can’t wait to be your husband."

"Oh, Benedict," she murmured.

"I want a kiss from you. Please, just one," he begged, completely forgetting Anthony was right there.

And, unbeknownst to him, not alone.

"Benedict! Don’t you dare!" Anthony shouted.

But before Benedict could take even one step toward the wall, they both found themselves soaked.

Kate had appeared next to Sophie, holding an empty pitcher—the one usually kept on the nightstand for water—in her hands.

"Go to bed, Benedict. You’re getting married tomorrow!" his sister-in-law said in an authoritative tone before shutting the window.

Benedict looked at Anthony, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead by now.

"Remind me never to cross your wife."

"And you remind me never to drink with you again."