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cheolaholic · 2 months ago

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bound to you; jww

summary; With a subtle fire growing between two vastly different souls, are they doomed to surrender to a bond that binds them together? Or... are they exactly what each other need?

abo universe • mafia au • arranged marriage • fluff, smut, angst • hurt-comfort

pairing; jeon wonwoo x f!reader | wc; 22k | rating; 18+ explicit nsfw

contains; mafia boss! wonwoo, florist! reader, alpha! wonwoo, omega! reader, reader knows how to fight back/stand her ground even though she’s submissive, right hand man! woozi, beta! svt members (cheol, woozi, gyu, vernon & chan), mentions of JxW, wonwoo is unhinge but not too unhinged, woozi encouraging/supporting wonwoo to be more unhinged, wonwoo wears glasses, very subtle “where is my wife!?” trope, not really sure who fell first and who fell harder, unplanned pregnancy, the honeymoon scene is sweet AND nasty

mature/trigger warnings; dom! wonwoo, sub! reader, big dick! wonwoo, knotting, biting/marking kink, size kink, use of sex toys, g-spot stimulation, breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you do the nasty), mating press, implied sex marathon when reader is in heat, somewhat of an aftercare, reader is extremely horny when in heat, wonwoo doesn’t mind bcs he’s just as horny and has really high stamina, tummy bulge, creampies, squirting, that one business proposal scene, drugs (heat inducers, heat/rut suppressants), forced drugging, weapons (guns, knives, needles etc), abduction, violence (it’s a mafia au so, yea), mentions of miscarriage, etc

petnames; his (Nonu, Alpha), hers (Doll, Babydoll)

a/n; RAHH, new fic !! hope yall enjoy this because i sure as hell stressed over this fic way more than i should’ve- was also sick as i tried to finish this out and get it out (by its very overdued deadline rip) big thanks to rae ( @nerdycheol) and supi ( @supi-wupi) for beta reading and sharing their thoughts on it hehe ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

✨ support me by becoming a patreon (enjoy exclusive perks & content) OR tip me on kofi !! 💜 if you are unable to do so, you can also show support by reblogging your favourite works of mine !!

In this universe, there exists a city called Ashville.

A modern city that’s under the rule of an infamous Mafia family that’s been around for generations.

In this universe, each individual is born into one of three dynamics: Alpha, Beta, and Omega. These roles are usually found out before they become teenagers, typically around the ages ten to twelve. Not only do they dictate one’s instincts, but it also determines their place in the social hierarchy.

Alphas stood at the very top of the hierarchy, their presence commanding and unyielding. Known as protectors and leaders, their strength and resolve made them pillars of stability and order. They exude an air of confidence, their pheromones carrying an unmistakable weight that both enthralls and intimidates. An Alpha’s instinct could be a double-edged sword – their need for dominance paired with their sense of responsibility.

Betas occupy the middle grounds, acting as stabilizers so that the world doesn’t get thrown into a world of instinctual chaos. Neither driven by the dominating urges of an Alpha nor bound by the vulnerabilities of an Omega, they serve as the mediators. The voice of reason, if you will. Their neutrality is what makes them the glue that holds society together, but could also be the cause of its downfall if they were to commit treason.

Finally, the Omegas, whose roles are often misunderstood due to their vulnerabilities. They’re the heart of the societal order, their instincts centered on nurture, connection, and to a few, rebellion. They are similar to Alphas in terms of pheromones, but what set them apart would be that an unclaimed Omega’s pheromones could attract unwanted attention from unclaimed Alphas, drawing them in like moths to a flame.

Claimed Omegas would bear the bonding bite of their Alphas. But, in the event an Omega is without a mate, either by choice or tragic events; they are forced into prostitution. It is a sad reality and possible outcome to many. Hence, many Omegas forged paths of quiet defiance, proving that they too are strong without a mate.

Click.

"Can you, please, get a bit closer?" The photographer asks, practically begging at this point.

Wonwoo heaves out a sigh while your shoulders slump, tired from having spent the entire morning posing for your wedding portrait. While it was true that you were somewhat excited to have finally found your mate, let’s just say of all the possible occupations you’ve come up with, a mafia boss was not on that list.

Hell, not even the Jeon Wonwoo was on your list.

The mob boss takes a step closer, placing both hands on your hips and the photographer beams at the sight. “Yes, yes! Just like that!” he exclaims, pulling out his camera as he continues to snap more portraits. Wonwoo feels your body tense up from the close proximity so he leans in close to your ear. “Relax, doll,” he whispers, “You’re tense and you look terrified. Nobody is going to believe that we’re ‘in love’ if you keep this up.”

Click.

“I-I’m sorry,” you squeaked, the grip you had on the bouquet of flowers tightening slightly, “ ‘M just nervous…” “Oh, I know you are, doll.” Wonwoo turns his head slightly, nuzzling his nose into your hair and you let out a quiet gasp, “I can smell it. Do I scare you that much, hmm? Having second thoughts because your mate is the infamous mob boss?” He lets out a low chuckle when you shake your head profusely, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “Keep your eyes on the camera, darling. Once this is over, you can go right back home.”

Click.

“Shouldn’t we make preparations for the ceremony?” you asked, “What about the cake? The venue? The–”

“Don’t stress your pretty head, doll,” Wonwoo says, giving your hips a light squeeze, “I’ve settled everything and your preferences have been taken into account, too. I’ll contact you for the cake tasting and venue checking.”

“And, it’s a wrap!” the photographer announces with a wide smile, “Thank you so much Mr and Mrs Jeon! I promise you won’t be disappointed with the results!”

You weren’t sure if the photographer was always this… enthusiastic with his clients. Or if he was holding himself back from pissing himself. ‘I’d be terrified too if the Jeons were my client…’

Not one soul didn’t know who the Jeons were. What started off as a small group of delinquents had eventually grown into one of the largest mobs to run Ashville. The man who started it all, Jeon Wonsoong, was a man who could send even the Devil running with its tail between its legs. While most mobsters were practically built on wealth, the Jeons’ were quite the opposite.

Jeon Wonsoong had built the mob of the Jeon family from scratch – from the literal blood, sweat and tears of his companions and oftentimes, those who had crossed him. The Jeons had their respect earned, not given on a silver platter. Many have mocked Wonsoong when he began building a name for the family – claiming that he was too ambitious, that he’d be better off as an underling.

They were the very same people he’s overthrown.

Just a mention of the Jeon family name was enough to drain anyone’s face of their colour.

Decades later, enter Jeon Wonwoo, the one and only beloved grandson of Jeon Wonsoong. Wonwoo already had the responsibilities of being the next mob boss ever since his mother’s pregnancy was announced. Wonwoo grew up watching how the “family business” worked, seeing his father fire bullets through heads after heads of rivals or anyone and anything that could be a threat to the family.

The poor boy was terrified at first but by the time his teenage years rolled around, he’s pretty much grown numb to the fear and squeamish feeling of seeing piles of bloodied dead bodies.

He’s watched the drug dealings, the smuggling – the most atrocious crimes or businesses known to man would be committed by the Jeons’, yet they would refuse to inflict any form of harm onto women and/or children for pleasure.

Wonwoo remembered bringing it up to his father when he was 16.

“Your grandpa is a family man, son. He’d never harm a child for the wrongdoings their parents have done – that’s why he takes them into the family and raises them to be his men.”

“What about crimes against women?”

“Crimes against women is unfortunately something that cannot be stopped, regardless whether or not the perpetrators are in a mob,” Wonsoong replies as he enters the room, one hand linked with his grandmother’s while the other held onto his walking stick, “We may be mob bosses, crime lords – whatever it is they call us, Wonwoo, but, causing harm to women and children for pleasure is a monstrosity I will not allow this organisation to ever commit. Your grandmother was assaulted for choosing me over some rich bastard – your uncles and I broke their arms, castrated them before making them kneel in front of her family to beg for forgiveness.”

“His heart is in the right place,” Wonwoo’s grandmother added on, “While being a mob boss or part of a mob gang is less than ideal for anyone, at least your grandfather shows some levels of decency as a human being.”

“So… in the scenario one of our members has assaulted, or caused harm to women or children in any way, what happens to them? Do they get their bones broken and then castrated?”

“That was back in the good old days, my dear grandson,” Wonsoong chuckled, “Now, they are battered and bruised, fingers cut, and castrated – before being shot thrice.”

Sure, it’s terrifying to have the entire nation’s economy in the palm of a mafia family.

Yeah, the occasional stumbling upon a body being dumped in certain areas could be traumatising. Hell, it even caused mass panic.

But, citizens soon learnt one saying, “Don’t cause the Jeons trouble, and trouble won’t find you”. A fancy way of saying, “If you don’t want to be the next corpse, don’t fuck with the Jeons”.

Because all the bodies found were individuals who have crossed them.

You stare at the wedding venue, brows furrowed as you take in the sight. You knew the Jeons had a taste for dark aesthetic, but you weren’t expecting the wedding decorations to be all black.

You weren’t exactly a superstitious person, but you did believe in the superstition that the colour black brings misfortune.

“Are the decorations up to your expectations, Mr Jeon?” the receptionist nervously asks, “We’ve followed the reference pictures and instructions you’ve given us.”

“Umm… Could I –” your breath catches in your throat when both men turn their attention to you. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, “Not to your liking, doll?”

“No! No! The decorations are beautiful and the venue itself is grand,” you began, “But… Could we add a little bit of colour?”

The alpha crosses his arms, “Colour? You want to add colour?” He gestures to the venue, “You do realise that everything here is decorated with intention, right? Black represents strength, power, control. It’s to show dominance –”

You cut him off, “This is my wedding, too. Don’t I get a say in this?”

Wonwoo’s gaze hardens at your interruption, clearly not used to anyone defying him; much less an Omega that’s his soon-to-be wife. He narrows his eyes, a way to get you to back down without being too dominating so as to not scare off the beta of a receptionist; but you stood your ground. The air thickens, charged with tension.

“A little colour won’t hurt this black theme you have going on, Mr Jeon,” you state, crossing your own arms and taking a step forward, “You can have all the power and control you want, but I also deserve a say in how this day looks because it’s also my day.”

The silence hangs between you both, the weight of your words settling in. The receptionist watches with a bated breath and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve pushed too far. But then Wonwoo shifts, uncrossing his arms and turns to the receptionist, “Accommodate whatever requests the missus has.”

The receptionist visibly relaxes, nodding quickly as he whips out his tablet and moves to stand beside you as you walk around the venue, listing out the changes you wanted done.

“I love the black roses bouquet you’ve lined up down the aisle, but please add in some red roses. Switch out the black ribbons on the vases for white ones; you can barely see anything!”

Approaching the tables, you pick up one of the black napkins that’s been folded into a rose. You turn to the receptionist, “I want all the black napkins gone. Replace them with a burgundy red.” The receptionist jots down every detail, his fingers moving swiftly across the tablet screen as you continue to inspect the venue. Wonwoo watches you silently, impressed as you move with purpose and an air of confidence – something he rarely sees in an Omega.

You stare at the chairs that are draped in black fabric. “Are we welcoming death? I get the whole idea of this wedding to let it be known that you’re a mob boss, but at least have something that shows you have taste.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at your bluntness before the corners of his mouth twitch into a small smirk. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, but his gaze still holds a steady weight, almost as though he’s studying you.

“Taste…” he echoes, his voice low, as if contemplating your word. “This is a wedding, doll, not some fashion show.”

You gently graze your fingertips over the black fabric, “Exactly, a wedding. I get that this whole… dark and mysterious aesthetic is your thing, Mr Jeon, but at least have a bit of sophistication.”

You turn to face him fully, “I’m not asking for colourful flowers or for them to be placed everywhere or even pink ribbons. Just a little bit of refinement so it doesn’t look like a funeral.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrow slightly, and he watches you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He takes a step forward, his hands shoved into his pockets as he peers at the receptionist's tablet. “You’re changing everything, aren’t you?”

You meet his gaze, letting out a shaky breath as you try to maintain your confidence, “Not everything. Just enough for it to… look more like a wedding.”

The air remains thick, but there’s no hostility; just a slow understanding that’s beginning to form. After a few seconds, the Alpha lets out a quiet breath and gives a slight nod. “Alright, doll. I trust your judgement.”

He turns and walks out of the venue, saying he has a business call he needs to answer. The receptionist turns his attention back to you, “What would you like to be done with the chairs, um… Mrs Jeon..?”

You give the receptionist a small smile, “You can call me Miss Park. I’m not yet married to him to be called Mrs Jeon.”

The receptionist chuckles nervously, “Not exactly a chance I would want to take, umm… Missus.”

“Hmm, I’ll accept that term. Back to the chairs – let’s switch the black fabric for a red fabric, similar to the napkins. Have a black sash tied into a bow at the back, is that doable?”

The receptionist nods excitedly, tapping away at the tablet as he realises his commission for this wedding may be enough to seal him a quick vacation. “Yes, of course it is, Missus! Would that be all?”

You take one last look at the venue, glancing up at the chandeliers, “Just soften the lighting and we’re all settled.”

That was approximately six months ago, which means it’s been six months since your marriage to Jeon Wonwoo became official.

Park ___. That's your name, that’s who you are.

A small corner shop florist that was everyone’s go-to for event planning or last minute flowers. Everyone knew you by your flower shop. They knew you by your smile. They knew you as "the flower lady who always got your back!”.

Never in a million years would you think that you’d now be known as Jeon Wonwoo’s wife. Jeon Wonwoo’s Omega. Jeon Wonwoo’s mate.

To be frank, you hated the fact that all your years of hard work were being overlooked now that you were married or bound to Ashville’s most nefarious and powerful mob boss.

Your name, once synonymous with ambition and independence, was now whispered in hushed tones, attached only to his. Your achievements, your sacrifices, all the blood and sweat you had poured into carving your own path no longer mattered. To them, you were nothing more than an Omega claimed by an Alpha who took whatever he wanted.

The weight of your new… identity settles on your shoulders in tons. You imagined several shackles were locked around your limbs, cold and unyielding. It didn’t matter that you had built a name for yourself. Now, you were just his.

And the entire city knew it.

You hated the look people would give you – some with fear, some with pity. Others had a look of cruel amusement, as though they were watching a wild animal realising its cage had no door. That the cage was its new home.

It made your blood boil. You weren’t some weak, whimpering Omega who would roll over and get all submissive at the mere scent of their Alpha. You fought to stand where you were. But damn it all, thanks to the stupid bind fate had planned.

Wonwoo sat beside you in the limousine, both of you having just left a dinner event that was hosted by one of Wonwoo’s allies that was meant to celebrate his wedding. Not both of your weddings, just his. The entire night, you had been paraded around as though you were nothing more than an extension of him – his Omega, his possession, his wife. No one toasted to you, no one acknowledged you beyond hushed whispers and fleeting glances.

You clenched your fists, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress.

“You’re upset,” Wonwoo states, his voice smooth and calculating, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint, amused smirk. “What’s bothering you, doll?”

“Don’t,” your tone came sharper than expected, so you took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Your voice was less hostile when you spoke again, “Don’t call me that, please.”

Wonwoo’s smirk didn’t falter, but there was something in his eyes – amusement mixed with the faintest hint of challenge. He tilts his head, studying you as if you were some artifact or priceless painting that’s been put up for display. “Don’t call you what?” he asked, his voice now softer, but the command in his words can’t be missed.

You swallowed thickly, trying to mask the storm inside you as you held your ground. “Don’t call me doll,” you repeated, this time with more conviction. There was a slight tremble in your voice, betraying the raw emotion you were trying to suppress. “I… I’m not a doll, or some object. I’m a person.”

Wonwoo’s remains unreadable, though the intensity of his gaze and his posture didn’t change. But, there was a subtle shift, a quiet acknowledgment in his eyes. “I see my Omega bites back,” he chuckles, his tone teasing but there was a hint of respect behind it. “I must say, it’s quite… refreshing… Or, entertaining, for lack of a better word.”

You frown, “Entertaining?”

His eyes scanned your face, but there was no mockery in his gaze. Instead, there was something more akin to admiration, though when it comes to Jeon Wonwoo, deciphering any of his words or looks was like trying to get pigs to fly. “Well, it’s not every day you see an Omega go head-to-head with an Alpha. Especially if the Omega is now under the Jeon Family.”

“I can play that pretty little housewife you’re picturing,” you mumble, releasing your clenched fists in favour of crossing your arms, looking out the window, “Just don’t expect me to be all pliant and submissive twenty-four seven.”

Another deep chuckle leaves his lips. Something about his words, about how he says you were the first Omega to not heel to traditions makes you feel oddly proud. It was clear he still had his guard up, but at least in this moment, you could tell he’s trying not to push your boundaries or you too far.

“Relax, babydoll.”

Hmm… Perhaps you could accept that pet name. It’s much better than being called ‘doll’.

His voice is less teasing but there was still that underlying sharpness. “You’re still you, despite what society says. That defiance you have there? There’s power in that. Not many dare to challenge the expectations placed on them. Especially Omegas.”

His words sunk in, not as an insult, but as an observation; a praise. It was one that left you feeling both uncertain yet strangely affirmed. It’s the first time in a while that someone, aside from your parents, recognised your rebellion, your defiance as something more than just a nuisance. Let alone an alpha like Jeon Wonwoo.

He reaches out a hand, finding purchase on your thigh. You tense at his touch, the heat of his hand sending a jolt of electricity through your body. But, you don’t pull away, feeling the warmth of his fingers through the fabric of your dress.

“I see that fire you’ve got in you, ___,” he continues, his fingers slowly tracing the curve of your thigh, “And it’s not just for show, too.”

Your tone came out sharper than you intended when you replied, “You think you can control that?”

A sly smirk tugs at his lips, “Control? It’d be fun to break you, sure, but… I quite like the idea of having a feisty Omega by my side. Believe me, babydoll, I know what it’s like to prove yourself to be seen and acknowledged. I had to do the same to prove it to my father and grandfather. You didn’t think I was handed this position just like that, did you?”

"I don’t doubt you had to fight for it," you say quietly. "But I’m not here for a power struggle. Not with you, not with anyone."

He shifts slightly, giving your thigh a firm squeeze. “Look, babydoll, I don’t expect you to bend over my desk or lap whenever I tell you to. But, I do expect you to listen to me when it comes to your safety or if you’re ever caught in the crossfire of my dealings. Is that understood?”

You meet his gaze, feeling a shiver run down your spine. The grip he had on your thigh had goosebumps rising, but the touch wasn’t just possessive; it was also protective. A silent reminder.

“I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself, babydoll. But being capable doesn’t mean you have to face every danger alone, and in my world, in my life, it’s not kind to the unprepared despite their capabilities to be able to stand up for themselves.”

You bite back the words you want to say, about how you weren’t some fragile porcelain doll. That you didn’t need him to look after you like you’re some helpless Omega –

“I’m not asking you to give up the control you have over your life. I can see as clear as day that you’ve been able to manage just fine without an Alpha.” Oh.

“What I’m asking from you is to trust me when it matters. I know this marriage is out of convenience, for the sake of the mating bond, but you’re not someone I’m willing to let slip through the cracks either. Not without a fight.”

His words pulled your defenses down just a little, but you still held on tight to the edges of your resolve. Perhaps it was because of the many judgemental and snide comments you’ve received from others, especially Alphas, in the past that made you want to argue with him. The way he speaks, so calm and measured, you were itching to fight back.

But, something in his eyes stops you. There was no sign of mockery, no superiority – just a raw honesty you’d never thought you’d see in an Alpha. Much less the one that practically rules over the entire city.

“I didn’t ask for any of this…” You voiced out, sounding quieter than you’d intended. “I didn’t ask for you to be my mate. I didn’t ask for you to try and protect me.”

While he doesn’t flinch at your words, there’s a shift in his posture, a subtle tense in his shoulders that tells you he isn’t completely unaffected by your words.

“I know, babydoll,” his tone now tinged with something that feels like understanding, “But, believe me when I say that I am not asking for your submission. I’m asking for your trust. If I wanted to control you, I would’ve made that clear six months ago.”

“Can’t believe those bastards had to wait six months to do this stupid party…” you mumbled, cheeks heating up as you realised you sound like a girl throwing a little tantrum.

Wonwoo chuckles, “Well, our schedules have been overlapping. I think they expected us to go on a honeymoon for a while.”

“Tch, as if I’d ever want to be on the same bed as you.”

“Moving back to the topic earlier, I’m not asking for a leash, babydoll,” his voice is low, almost soothing. “I’m asking you to let me stand by your side when the world gets too heavy. Because it will. And when that happens... I don’t want you to face it alone. All I ask for is your trust and to let me understand you.”

You’re unsure of what to say next, the weight of his gaze making it difficult to think clearly. You’ve spent almost your entire life resisting the idea of relying on anyone, but here he is, asking for something as simple as your trust.

The sincerity in his words linger, and for the first time, you wonder if you’ve misjudged the Alpha. Maybe he wasn’t like the others that were trying to force their way into an Omega’s life. Maybe he wasn’t looking to bend or break an Omega so they’d be solely dependent on their Alpha.

Maybe he too was looking for something different. Something that goes beyond fated bonds and forced relationships.

You look at him, and for the first time, you allow yourself to wonder if there’s a part of you that could trust him.

He pulls his hand away from your thigh, fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary, as if reluctant to break the contact.

“But, there’s clearly something bothering you, babydoll. C’mon, out with it.”

You hesitate, lips parting, but no words come out. You’re not sure where to start or if you even want to start. Part of you still wants to keep everything bottled up, to keep your walls firmly in place. But then there’s him, sitting beside you with that quiet patience, the intensity in his gaze softened just enough to make you believe he might actually care about what you’re about to say.

You shift slightly in your seat, arms tightening around yourself. “That… That Juyeon guy at the dinner…”

Wonwoo's expression darkens almost instantly, the warmth in his gaze snuffed out like a candle. His jaw tightens, and though he remains still, you can feel the way his entire body tenses at the mention of another Alpha’s name.

“And, what about him, babydoll?” His voice is calm, a little too calm. It’s the kind that you know he won’t like your answer.

You swallow hard, “He… The way he spoke to me…”

You sigh, “Look, I know it’s inevitable that people will start addressing by ‘title’ instead of my name. Wonwoo’s Omega. Wonwoo’s wife. But, I don’t like it being said in a condescending tone. The way he called or referred to me as Wonwoo’s little Omega felt as though I was just another weapon or gun you’ve added to your already large collection.”

You shift a little, the frustration simmering beneath your skin as you try to put your feelings into words. “I don’t want to be reduced to that. To just another thing you own. It’s already hard enough that I had to not cuss him out for trying to feel me up the entire time…”

Wonwoo stills.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

The air between you crackles with something dangerous. His expression doesn’t change, doesn’t twist in anger or morph into something openly furious, but the sheer stillness of him is enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end.

“Say that again, babydoll” he orders, and though it’s barely above a whisper, it’s the sharpest you’ve ever heard his voice. “What did you just say?”

For a moment, you wonder if you’ve screwed up by making such an accusation or statement about his associate. But, you pushed on, “Juyeon… He kept brushing up against me on the table. Placing his hand on my knee, my thigh. He’d touch my back too when he had the chance.”

Wonwoo doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

But then, he slowly exhales through his nose, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek as if trying to keep his composure.

“I see.”

Two simple words. And yet, something about the way he says them sends a cold shiver down your spine.

“Wonwoo–”

“Mingyu,” he calls out to the driver.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Tell Jihoon to pass a message to Juyeon. I’d like to have dinner with him tomorrow night. Just the two of us.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Wonwoo!”

“I told you I’d stand by you when it matters,” Wonwoo repeats his earlier statement, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “And this matters.”

You swallow, finding it harder to resist the pull of his words than you care to admit. The stubborn part of you wants to fight him, wants to tell him you don’t need his help, but you can’t deny how much relief it brings to know he won’t just stand idly as you get disrespected.

For the first time, you allow yourself to believe that he might actually be a good guy.

“You… run a clothing line?”

Wonwoo looks up from his desk, his eyes on you as you stand by one of the many shelves he’s lined up on the walls. In your hands was a photo frame with a photo of him and a blonde man standing side-by-side in front of a building.

“Is that very surprising, babydoll?” he asks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Just because my family runs the mafioso doesn’t mean I have to just run that business.”

Behind the pair was a store with the sign J&W. Wonwoo said it’s a combination of their initials, a collaboration of some sorts. When you asked why he can’t just open one under his own name, his reply was simply, “You really think people would dare to set foot into a shop that’s under my name?”

“This man… Is he a business partner? Shareholder?” A shadow looms over you and tilting your head backwards, it sits comfortably against his broad shoulder. Wonwoo hums, “You could say that. He’s… I consider Jeonghan a friend and if you know me well or long enough, I don’t offer my trust easily.”

“I’m guessing that trust also applies to the hiring process of your bodyguards?”

You’ve counted a maximum of… six bodyguards during your stay at his mansion. Well, excluding his right-hand man, Jihoon, that makes five. “Some… unfortunate incidents happened when I was younger that started my trust issues.”

His voice drops just a little, one hand coming up to rest on your waist. You don’t miss the way his jaw clenches briefly before relaxing, as though catching himself before slipping too deep into memory.

“Jihoon and I have known each other since childhood. Family relations all that so it’s natural I came to trust him.”

“The others?”

“They’ve earned their place and my trust.”

You look down at the frame before tilting your head back up, raising it a little, “And Jeonghan?”

Wonwoo takes the item from your hand, as if examining it before handing it back to you. “Ah, Jeonghan…” A quiet chuckle slips past his lips, “Let’s say he’s a different story… I actually met him through Seungcheol, one of the bodyguards. You’ve probably seen him around – buff, kind of gray-ish hair.”

“The one that’s always butting heads with Mingyu?”

A flicker of surprise crosses his features, “So you’ve been paying attention.” Amusement laces his tone, clearly not expecting you to do so. You narrowed your eyes, “Well, if I weren’t aware of my surroundings, I wouldn’t have been able to survive this long until you showed up, can I?”

He gives your waist a firm squeeze, pressing a kiss to your temple, an action that catches you off guard. “I suppose you have a point, babydoll,” he concedes, voice low. “And I suppose it’s hard to ignore the two when they’re at each other’s throat.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, they’re not exactly subtle… Or quiet. It is interesting to see Mingyu surrender or lower his head, though…”

Wonwoo chuckles, taking the frame off your hands and setting it back on the shelf. “They’re both betas, but Seungcheol does have more of a… I guess more dominant nature. We’d suspected him of being an Alpha initially, but tests proved otherwise.” He adjusts the frame slightly before turning his attention back to you. “Still, that doesn’t stop him from acting like one.”

“And Mingyu just… lets him?”

The Alpha shrugs his shoulders. “Mingyu respects strength. He may not always like it, but he knows when to back down.”

You hum in thought. “And Jeonghan? Where does he fit into all of this?”

“He and Seungcheol go way back if I’m not mistaken. I don’t know the full details, but from what I’ve gathered and from what they’ve told me respectively, they used to work together before Seungcheol decided to have a change in career paths.”

Another squeeze to your waist, “Jeonghan… plays by his own rules. Always has.”

You frown slightly, clearly confused by his words. “What do you mean?”

“He’s a businessman,” Wonwoo says simply, though there’s something guarded in the way he says it. “And like all businessmen, he knows how to get what he wants.”

That doesn’t quite answer your question, but you know better than to push too hard.

“Is he dangerous?”

Wonwoo’s lips curl at the question, but it’s anything but a smile. “He’s charming, I’ll give him that.. And that makes him the most dangerous of all.”

A shiver runs down your spine. You don’t know if it’s from his tone or the way his fingers finally slide away from your skin.

The air in the mansion felt… different.

You couldn’t exactly put a finger on it, but it just felt as though there was a shift to your surroundings. Your heart was racing despite it being a calm and quiet day, Wonwoo was out discussing a fashion deal and majority of the staff in his mansion were given specific orders to not bother you unless needed.

Your heart was racing faster than usual, your senses were heightened in a way that made your skin feel alive – and not in a good way. It was in a way that made your head dizzy. It was subtle at first, a warmth curling in your lower belly, an uncomfortable tingle spreading across your limbs that makes your skin far too sensitive to the air around you.

You ignored it at first – or at least, you tried to.

The mansion was eerily quiet. The grand halls, lined with cold marble and towering windows. Despite housing the most dangerous mafioso and his bodyguards, it felt safe. But, it could be because of Wonwoo’s presence and his pheromones.

Now, each step you took felt heavier, every breath felt sharper, and the very air felt charged with something oppressive.

You knew this feeling. You had been trained to recognise it.

But it was too soon. Far too soon.

You’ve kept track of your heat since it was revealed that you were an Omega. You’ve made sure to take your suppressants on time to prevent any mishaps, never missing a single dose. Yet, despite your careful planning and discipline…

Could it be Wonwoo’s pheromones?

It had to be – your cycle wasn’t due for another week, give or take.

You pressed a sweaty palm against the nearest wall, a sudden wave of dizziness washing over you. It started as a slow burn in your veins, a heat that swirled in your stomach and spread outwards.

It was definitely your heat. You could feel it creeping up, threatening to consume you if you didn’t act fast.

“Missus..?”

Mingyu.

“Missus, you don’t look so well,” the Beta points out, taking a step forward.

It was times like these that you were grateful for Wonwoo insisting that his staff were Betas. Before you came into the picture, it was to ensure no crossfires ever happened between him and an Alpha staff. Two or more Alphas under the same roof with some kind of “power imbalance” could lead to a hostile environment, and Wonwoo prefers peace and quiet… despite the field of work he’s in.

After you came into the picture, Wonwoo would answer that he didn’t want any unclaimed or stray Alphas pouncing on his Omega.

Mingyu sniffs the air and his ears perk up as he catches a whiff of sweetness in the air. It was sweet like candy and he instantly knew what was going on. Thankfully, his training somewhat prepared him for scenarios like this, albeit it was catered more towards Alphas.

“Missus, do you have any suppressants?” Mingyu, taking a cautious step forward so as not to agitate you. You shook your head, letting out a small sniffle, “I ran out of them… I-I was planning to get them some time this week because it isn’t due for another–”

“Okay, well, I could text Boss to pick some up for you once he’s done with his meeting,” the giant suggests, reaching out a hand to steady you when he notices the slight wobble in your stance. “In the meantime, you shouldn’t be out and about, Missus… Let’s get you–”

“What’s going on here?” Jihoon, Wonwoo’s right-hand, interrupts Mingyu’s sentence. The tall beta freezes, his hand hovering near your arm but not quite touching. His jaw clenched, glancing over his shoulder, meeting Jihoon’s sharp, assessing gaze.

Unlike Mingyu, who was all warmth and concern, Jihoon carried an air of cold efficiency, his presence cutting through the charged atmosphere like a blade. The right-hand man’s eyes flicker to you, his nostrils flaring slightly as he picks up on

Jihoon’s eyes flicker to you, nostrils flaring slightly as he picks up on what Mingyu already had. His brows furrow, and a barely-there sigh escapes his lips. “Shit,” he muttered, noticing the way you swayed slightly against the wall, trying to regain your balance.

Mingyu lowered his hand, deciding that it was best to keep a respectful distance from you. “Missus is having a bit of a… situation,” he said, his tone careful. “She’s early and ran out of her suppressants. I was gonna text Boss–”

“Call him.” The right-hand man’s voice carried an authority that was impossible to ignore. While his eyes softened just a touch as your discomfort, they still held that calculative gaze.

The tall giant was hesitant, his thumb hovering over the screen of his phone. Every one of Wonwoo’s staff knew that calling him while he’s in any sort of meeting was serious. Texting was discreet, something that could be swept under the rug or dealt with later. But a call meant urgency. It meant that Wonwoo would have to drop everything, no matter what he was doing, to deal with the situation.

But a look from Jihoon has Mingyu cursing under his breath, tapping the call button and pressing the phone to his ear.

“Missus,” Jihoo’s tone while still authoritative, was softer than before. His gaze flickered to your hands that were trembling at your sides and against the wall. “Give me your hand.”

You’re momentarily confused, blinking up at him then lowering your gaze to his outstretched hand. His voice carried a quiet but insistent command, and despite the overwhelming wave of hormones washing over you, you obediently did so.

“You’ll be okay,” Jihoon murmured, though it seems he was reminding you rather than comforting you. “All the staff here are Betas, I’m sure Boss told you that. Your heat won’t affect us so there’s no need to fear us jumping on you.”

His gaze returns to Mingyu who’s speaking on the phone. “Won’t be long before Boss gets back. I’ll take you back to your room.” You nod your head, though you weren’t sure if it was in response to his reassurance or because you knew that your legs couldn’t walk without someone guiding you.

The walk through the halls felt like an endless blur, the air thick with both the scent of your heat and the tension of the situation. Your heart pounded in your ears, your breaths coming in short, uneven pants. The mansion, usually cold, felt suffocating now.

You barely registered when Jihoon pushed open a door, guiding you inside the room. You entered without a second thought, freezing when the scent hit you.

This wasn’t your room.

Your body recognised it before your mind did – the faint traces of musk, crisp cologne, and something that was deeply ingrained in your instincts. Your entire being tenses as you realised exactly where Jihoon had brought you.

Wonwoo’s room.

You let out a whimper, the lingering remnants of the Alpha’s pheromones made your entire body tense. He wasn’t even here yet, and you were already drowning in him. You stared at the king-sized bed, your body wanting to sink into it, to bury yourself in the softness of the sheets that still held the imprint of his presence. But, the rational part of your mind knew better.

Your sluggish thoughts tried to fight through the dizzying fog, “Jihoon, this- this isn't–”

“I know, Missus,” he interrupts cooly, “But, I'm going to assume this is your first heat that's induced by an Alpha’s pheromones. It'd be best to get used to Boss’ pheromones – not just for your heat, but for your well-being too.”

“Well-being?”

With surprising gentleness, he guides you to the edge of Wonwoo’s massive bed, lowering you to sit onto the cool sheets. It was a stark contrast to your fevered skin. Your mind screamed for you to leave, to fight the Beta and make a run for it to your room – but your body betrays you as it reacts to the lingering scent of Wonwoo’s pheromones.

Before you can do anything, you instinctively crawl onto the bed, your fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you as you’re pulled towards the only source of comfort in your current suffocating haze. You somewhat collapsed onto the mattress, burying your face into it and inhaling deeply, a pathetic whimper slipping past your lips as your thighs clench with need.

Your fingers curled into the fabric, your entire body as the Alpha’s scent wrapped around you like a vice.

You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be reacting like this.

You should be fighting this, clawing your way out of this haze and demanding to be taken back to your own room where you can suffer through this alone. But your instincts don’t care for logic. Instead, you’re in Wonwoo’s room, trembling and desperate, drowning in a need so raw it leaves you gasping.

You hated how easy it was to succumb.

And then it happens.

A shift in the air.

A choked noise left your lips as his scent filled the room completely, no longer just a lingering trace but a full, undeniable presence.

You sit up immediately, turning your head back to the door behind you before you can even think. It was an instinct, your body responding to an unspoken command before your mind can even have time to process anything.

“Nonu…”

Wonwoo definitely broke several speed limits on his way back to base.

The second he saw Mingyu’s name flash across his phone screen – not a text, but a phone call – he knew something was wrong. He brought the device to his ear, nothing more than a clipped ‘Speak’. Once Mingyu announced ‘Missus is early’, he ended the call and left the meeting without a word.

He didn’t care who was speaking. Didn’t care about the confused stares or hushed murmurs as he strode out the boardroom.

The only thing that mattered to him was getting back to you.

He stopped by a pharmacy, picking up several bottles of heat suppressants and a few cooling patches before speeding the rest on his way home.

Wonwoo storms through the halls of the base, his coat thrown onto the couch, his tie loosened and his jaw set tight.

Everyone knew they had to stay the hell out of his way.

His staff, the Betas, moved to the sides, pressing their back against the walls as he passed. Nobody dared to meet his gaze, not even Seungcheol – especially when the Alpha’s scent was laced with irritation – thick and suffocating in the air.

Grabbing a bottle of suppressants and a packet of heat patches from the plastic bag, he tosses the bag to a nearby staff. “Chan, store the suppressants in the missus’ bathroom cabinet. Cooling patches go in the mini fridge for her skincare.”

Chan nodded quickly, following the instructions.

Approaching his room, Jihoon steps aside from the door and slips past him without so much as a glance back. There was nothing that needed to be said. The right-hand man had done his job. Now, it was Wonwoo’s turn.

He entered the room and his expression was unreadable as he took in the scene before him. His nose twitched as your pheromones had practically covered every corner of his room. Sensing his presence, he watches as you sit up on your knees, head turning back and making eye contact with him.

“Nonu…”

He hears your breath hitch as he draws closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate.

“You really are a handful…” His voice was smooth, almost lazy. But, there was something else beneath it, something dark. It caused a shiver to run through you. Whether from arousal or fear, you’re not sure.

He steps closer, footsteps slow and deliberate. With each step he takes, a spike of awareness shot throughout your body. Your body reacts instinctively to his presence, knees pressing together in an attempt to soothe the ache inside your stomach. But, you knew it wouldn’t work.

Nothing did.

Not the cool sheets, not the distance that grew shorter and shorter.

By the time Wonwoo reaches the edge of the bed, your entire frame is trembling. He tilts his head to the side and exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair.

“Nonu…”

Fuck. Your voice sounded so wrecked that the Alpha’s breath stuttered for just a second.

It sounded so needy, trembling with something raw that managed to slip through the cracks of Wonwoo’s self-restraint. His fingers twitched at his side before crossing his arms in front of his chest, the black button up straining slightly against his forearms and chest.

Your mind grew foggy as his scent grew thicker, wrapping around you completely. Before your mind could even process it, your body moved on its own – crawling to the edge of the bed to be closer to where he stood.

Wonwoo didn’t understand why Jihoon would bring you to his room (he does, he just doesn’t want to acknowledge it). You should be locked in your room, alone and away from him. Yet, here you were – right in the center of his personal space, clinging to the sheets like they were the only thing anchoring you to your senses.

The worst part of it all?

You looked like you belonged there.

He reaches out, cupping your cheek and tilting your head up. A small, needy whimper slips from your lips before you even realise. He orders you to stay still and you do, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. Wonwoo presses the pill to your tongue and the bitter taste barely registers past the haze in your mind.

“Swallow.”

You obey instantly, throat bobbing as you swallow the suppressant without protest. You opened your mouth again, showing him that you had done exactly as he ordered.

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened.

The fact that you took the suppressant without much fight should have relieved him, but it didn’t.

Because your lips trembled.

Because your pupils remain dilated.

You close your mouth, another whimper slipping free as you nuzzle your cheek into the palm of his hand that cupped your cheek. Both of you knew the heat won’t subside immediately, that it would take up to hours for the suppressant to actually kick in.

After a few moments, Wonwoo pulls his hand away and lets out a slow, measured breath.

“Good girl.”

Two words.

Just two simple words.

And yet, your entire body shudders.

His eyes darkened for a brief second before he stood to his full height, pulling his hand away as he took a step back. You whine at the loss of his hand against your kin, blinking up at him and Wonwoo swallows hard.

“Don’t.” His voice came out tighter than he intended, “Don’t look at me like that, babydoll.”

Like he was the only thing you needed.

Like he was the only one that could save you.

“Nonu, please,” you whined, “Make the pain go away.”

Wonwoon’s self-control snapped and before he could even think, he was on you. One hand came up to cup the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your head up.

And then he kissed you.

Hard.

It wasn’t soft and gentle.

It was desperate – a clash of heat and hunger, of pent-up frustration.

You gasped into his mouth, fingers fisting into his shirt and his grip tightened. Wonwoo presses his lips harder against yours as he swallows every whimper, every soft plea. Your heat was drowning him, making him forget every single rule he had set for himself.

He knew this was reckless. Knew that this could have dire consequences.

But when you moaned against his lips, the noise soft and needy, every ounce of logic flew out the window. His tongue slid against yours, deepening the kiss as if he was attempting to steal the breath from your lungs. His hands moved, sliding down your thighs and gripping them just enough to make you gasp again.

Wonwoo thinks he could still salvage what little control he had as he presses you deeper into the mattress – at least until he hears you whisper his name. The sound was soft, pleading – ruined, even. And he realises that it was already too late.

He’s gone.

“I’ll only help you this one time,” Wonwoo’s voice was low, dangerously low. He sounded controlled, but the way his hand gripped your thighs; the way his gaze dropped to your lips betrayed the inner turmoil he was facing. “Understood?”

You nodded immediately and he narrowed his eyes. But there was no mistaking the way your body arched towards him like it already knew what it wanted. His hands slid up your sides and under your shirt – his rough, calloused hands running against your smooth skin.

Just this once, he told himself.

Just tonight.

Just until the suppressants kicked in.

“Nonu!”

Fuck. The way you cried out so prettily for him had him curl his fingers deeper inside you. He was supposed to be in control, not let his instincts take over. But, damn it, the way you begged his name in that desperate, pleading tone had him losing focus.

Truth be told, Wonwoo always had a distaste for the heat and rut cycles. They were messy, primal; a reminder of how little control he had when it came to instincts like this. His body screamed for release, for dominance, but discomfort clawed at his mind.

But, God, the way you reacted to him. Every touch, every whine of his name, it ignited something he couldn’t deny.

Your back is pressed against his chest, the fabrics clinging to your skin damp with sweat and fever, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you could feel was how good his fingers were working inside you – skillful and relentless.

The fabrics between you only intensified the ache. Your night shorts were thrown somewhere into the corner of his room, the shirt somewhat bunched around your hips while Wonwoo, still fully dressed, sat behind you with his back against the headboard. His chest felt warm against your back, the steady breaths he let out betraying the tension vibrating through his body.

You keened, one arm thrown back to hold the back of his neck in an attempt to ground yourself. “Nonu…” You whimpered, voice cracked and ruined. “N-Need more. Please, I–”

“I know,” he growls against the side of your neck, voice strained. His lips brushed your skin, not quite a kiss, but the warmth made your entire body shudder. “I know, babydoll. Your poor pussy needs more, right? Your heat has you all hot and aching, doesn't it?”

His free hand rests on your waist, anchoring you against him as his fingers curled again – this time slower, as though he’s searching for something. “She’s begging, babydoll. Dripping and sucking my fingers in like she knows who she belongs to.”

A sharp gasp leaves your lips and Wonwoo feels your body tremble. Your legs try to snap shut and he whispers into your ear, “That the spot?”

You nodded, back arching as his fingertips continue to bully your g-spot. You could feel him pulsing hard through his pants, pressed flush against your ass. Every clothes rut of his hips against you has you crying out – needy, frustrated.

Your thighs are trembling violently now, the tension coiling deep in your gut and it was ready to break. Wonwoo continues to stimulate that spongy spot, his fingers working to open you up with expert precision. “You’re close, aren’t you, babydoll?”

You could only nod, not trusting your words as your mouth parts to let out a high pitched moan as your body surged towards the edge. He presses his fingers until they’re knuckle deep inside you, curling up right against that spot as his thumb circles over your swollen clit.

“C’mon,” he rasps into your ear, “Cum for me.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up.

White hot pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your vision blurs and your entire body seizes as you cried out, body jerking against the Alpha behind you as a gush of wetness spilled over his hand and soaking the sheets beneath you.

Wonwoo doesn’t move. Instead he holds you tighter, hands still resting between your legs but his thumb circles your clit in a manner that was meant to ground you. You're gasping and shaking in his arms, hands trying to push at his wrists, desperate but weak. You aren’t sure if it was overstimulation or if you wanted him to give you more.

His voice was low, full of something far too tender for the way his heart was racing – for the way he’d always acted. “Good girl. Did so well for me.”

Wonwoo looks down at you only to be met by you looking up at him, eyes glassy and lips parted in a silent plea. You were flushed and panting in his lap, slick coating his fingers.

Despite his distaste for these cycles, he knew he’d do it again.

He hated how much he realised he loved this, how he could pull those sounds from you.

But, he loved how he was the only one who could pull those noises from you.

Loved how you trusted him through it.

Wonwoo carefully pulls out his fingers, ready to move you back to your room – then you whimper out his name like it was a prayer meant just for him.

“Babydoll,” he growls lowly, voice rough and filled with warning. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Yet you did.

Maybe it was the scent of your heat. Maybe it was the way you clung to him, silently begging him. Maybe it was the way that nickname you called him rolled off your tongue like he was your God.

He’s quick to have you pressed against the mattress, hips flushed against yours as he finally gives in to the carnal pull. You hear him fumbling with his belt and the sound of his zipper coming undone. The sudden shift in the situation knocks the air straight from your lungs.

One moment he’s cradling you in his arms, the next you’re sprawled beneath him; his hands on either side of your head to not just keep himself up, but to keep you right where he wants you.

Where you need to be.

You gasp out his title – not his name or that cute lil nickname you just gave him, but his title. Your eyes fluttered shut as your fingers claw into the bedding, silently begging for him to just fill you up.

And he does.

In one thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and savours the way you cry out to him, body arching as your pussy clamps down on him.

He leans over you, chest pressed against yours, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “Feel that, babydoll? That’s me shaping your pussy so that it only knows how to take my dick.” He pulls his hips back, just until only his tip remains inside before slamming forward, making sure you feel him in your womb. “Wanted me to fuck you? Well, I’m gonna give it to you.”

A needy sob escapes your lips as he sets a punishing pace; and he chuckles lowly, hot breath against your neck. His lips part and he bites down on your neck, hard, claiming the spot with a bruising mark. You gasp, the sting sending a jolt of pleasure through your core, causing your pussy to squeeze him tighter.

Wonwoo growls, hips stuttering for just a moment before he thrusts even deeper, harder – making sure your walls remember every vein, every inch.

“My sweet Omega,” he grunts against your skin, voice rough and possessive. His tongue darts out to soothe the bite. You mewl, feeling the imprint of his teeth as though he was trying to brand you as his.

Your hands scramble for purchase, settling on his back and your nails dragged down his back as he fucks you through every tremble, every whimper.

“You like that, dontcha babydoll?” he sits up, knees digging into the mattress as his hands grip your hips so tightly you were sure it’d start to bruise. All you could do was nod, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes.

“C’mon, babydoll,” he coos condescendingly, one hand sliding up your body to wrap itself loosely around your throat. He didn’t apply any pressure, just letting it sit there as a reminder of his control, his claim.

And it was like a switch flipped.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips, back arching off the mattress as more slick drips out of your pussy, creating a white ring of cream around the base of the Alpha’s cock.

You didn’t mean to react the way you did, and Wonwoo felt it.

The way your walls clenched around him tighter, the sudden wetness coating where your hips met.

“Oh?” his tone was dark with approval, “You like that?”

“S-So good, Alpha,” you choked out, mind growing hazy from your heat and the pleasure, “Love.. Love it so much! Feels s’good!”

His thrusts grew rougher as something primal took over. He removes his hand from your throat, sliding it down your body to rub tight circles over your clit. Your back arches as a sharp cry tears from your throat, body trembling uncontrollably. Slick gushes out from your pussy as you squirt again, drenching his shirt and milking his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, hips stuttering at the milking compression of your cunt. “Shit, I’m close, babydoll. And you're gonna let me fill you, isn’t that right?”

You nodded through the haze, words slurred by pleasure, “A-Alpha!”

That was all it took. With one final thrust, Wonwoo buries himself to the hilt as his cock twitches inside you as he cums deep inside you.

The room was thick with the scent of your heat and sex, but all Wonwoo could hear was the sound of your soft, uneven breaths – body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure, barely conscious of anything except for the way he filled you to the brim.

He stayed buried inside you for a moment longer, reluctant to leave the warmth of your creamed pussy. But when he hears your soft whimper, noticing the way your body twitching from oversensitivity, he’s snapped back to reality.

Wonwoo groans as he carefully pulls out, a groan escaping his lips at the sight of his cum spilling out from you – coating the insides of your thighs and dripping onto the sheets beneath you. You whimper at the emptiness, at the sudden cold air on your overheated skin.

He doesn’t say anything, only tucking himself back into his pants and stands up.

For a moment, you thought he’d leave you in his room – maybe even go as far as to sleep in one of the guest rooms.

But then, you hear the faint rustling of the plastic bag before the mattress dips beside you.

Wonwoo leans over, gently brushing away the sweat-damp strands of hair from your forehead. You can barely keep your eyes open, the heat and aftermath pulling you under.

Then, coolness.

A soothing, mental chill spreads over your fevered skin as he places a cooling patch on your forehead. You let out a shaky breath, weakly reaching out for him.

Wonwoo takes them in his.

“Shh,” he murmurs, his voice no longer holding that sharp or commanding tone. Instead, it sounds softer. “I’ve got you babydoll.”

His other hand adjusts the sheets around your body, tugging the blanket up to your waist after retrieving your night shorts from the floor. He made sure your legs weren’t tangled, made sure you were comfortable.

You blinked up at him sleepily, cheeks still flushed a shade of red and lashes slightly damp. “Please stay, Nonu…”

He freezes.

For a moment, the only sound was his breath, still a little uneven. You could tell he was torn between his old habit of keeping you at arm’s length and giving into his instincts.

Without uttering a word, he eases under the covers beside you, gently pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, strong and warm, as he nuzzles his face in your hair. “Of course, babydoll. You’ll sleep easier if I’m here.”

Wonwoo never stays. Once he’s made sure you’re in good hands, he'd leave.

But, tonight wasn’t like the others.

Tonight, he stayed – not to keep his distance, but to keep you close.

Tonight, he stayed to protect you.

His.

You felt it then– the way he held you. Not like a favour, but like someone claiming what’s his.

Weeks after that incident during your heat, you and Wonwoo went on with your lives as though nothing had happened. The mansion returned to its usual rhythm – quiet mornings, the hum of the electric kettle.

Wonwoo buried himself in work, occasionally checking up on you as per his mother’s command, occasionally picking you up from your flower shop instead of leaving it to Mingyu. They were… small efforts into making the marriage look less of a business arrangement, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

You busied yourself with your own work, too. But, you’d still go grocery shopping and prepare meals for the people of the mansion (which frankly, was a task you overestimated because cooking for 6 people proved to be a difficult task). They’d thank you, of course – you went through all the time and effort – it’d be wrong for them not to appreciate it and clean up after themselves.

However, you were careful to not let yourself brush against the Alpha for too long. Nor would you let your thoughts drift back to the night where tangled limbs and breathless whispers once filled the space.

While you both went on with your lives, acting as though nothing had happened – there was a subtle shift in the air.

Mingyu was the first to notice it.

Being one of the bulkier guards, he had been stationed at the mansion to keep an eye on things during your off days. It was a simple routine he took a liking to – he gets to have a nice conversation with less scarier missus and it was considered low stake.

That morning started out no different than the others. You passed him in the hallway, offering a soft habitual “Morning, Gyu” as you balanced a basket of laundry against your hip. He nodded in return, returning the smile and his eyes followed you until you turned a corner.

His nose twitched as he picked up the smell of something… sweet. Like the first bloom of spring in the middle of winter.

It was far too faint for it to be a heat cycle, but it still lingered in the air.

Mingyu couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You looked the same, moved the same. But there was something different about your aura.

Wonwoo only noticed the sweetness of your pheromones once Mingyu brought it up.

He’d pause a little longer when he passed you in the hallway, fingers twitching just a little when your scent clung to the couch after sitting on it for hours. His jaw would flex when you leaned over him to grab something from the kitchen shelf.

Yet, he didn’t say anything.

Neither did you.

You hear the door open just past midnight.

Muted voices. Heavy boots.

You catch a whiff of the faint, metallic tang of blood and turn your head towards the front door.

Wonwoo was the first to enter, as always. His expression is calm, unreadable. His coat hung open, dark with flecks of something you didn’t need to guess. Jihoon followed close behind, quieter than usual. His shirt was stained too, though he’d slug his jacket over his arm to conceal most of it.

He looked… calmer. The tiredness in his eyes were evident, but he didn’t have that frenzied look he always had. There was no smirk, no offhand remarks about which body part he sliced off, where he left it or if he convinced Wonwoo to break every bone of their rivals.

You stayed curled on the far end of the couch, a soft blanket on your lap with a book in hand. “Hi, boys. Long night?” You asked, tone casual but laced with something warmer

“Hey, Missus,” Jihoon responds, brief but polite. “Kinda.. But, we got it under control.”

He disappears down the hallway without another word, tugging off his bloodied gloves. Wonwoo follows a beat later, slinging his coat over one shoulder, a faint dark red smear on his jaw. “Have you had dinner, babydoll?” His voice was oddly warm.

You nodded your head, “Gyu made some aglio olio with steak. There should be some leftovers in the fridge for you.”

Wonwoo nods in response. He continues to stand there, looking at you like he was still figuring out he’s supposed to get used to coming home to this – to you.

You look back at him, and he notices the subtle way your nose wrinkled at the scent clinging to his nose, how your fingers twitched against the cover of the book you’re holding.

“I’ll go shower,” he mumbles, voice lowering. It almost sounded like an apology in disguise.

He walks up the stairs, halting momentarily to look back at you. That scent of yours still hangs in the air – sweet, distracting. Wonwoo stands there for a few more seconds before disappearing in the halls of the house, leaving silence and a rising heat in your chest.

He reappears moments later, now in a loose shirt and pyjama pants – looking more like a sleep-deprived graduate student than a man capable of unspeakable violence. He heads towards the kitchen and you follow him, feet quiet against the hardwood floor.

The house felt too big at that moment, the silence stretching between the walls like it was listening. The Alpha doesn’t say anything, just moving with the practiced ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times – opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of chilled wine. It was like he belonged in the silence.

The overhead light pooled golden over him, catching in the soft fall of his hair, the sharp line of his jaw. The loose fabric of his shirt clung to the curve of his shoulder, just barely damp from the shower he just took, and you caught yourself staring – longer than you should have.

“You’re not gonna eat what Gyu made?” you asked, breaking the silence between you both before it could swallow you whole.

Wonwoo didn’t look back at first, popping the cork with one clean motion and pouring himself a glass with a kind of ease that spoke about how often he did this – like he was numbing or avoiding something.

“It’s cold now,” he answers, voice quiet but not dismissive. The wine filled his glass with a smooth swirl of deep red.

Then, without a word, he reached for another glass.

Not for wine.

He filled it with water from the chilled filter on the fridge, the sound soft and steady in the stillness of the kitchen. He sets it down on the counter near you and you blinked. There was no eye contact nor explanation, but the gesture settled somewhere deep in your chest.

You take a step closer, fingers brushing against the cool glass as you pick it up. “Thanks..” You take a sip and set it back down, leaning against the counter with your arms folded loosely. “But, just because the food is cold means it’s bad.”

“I’m not hungry.”

You watch him bring the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip before setting it down with a soft clink. His gaze lingered on the dark liquid, as though he was contemplating something.

“You didn’t even look at the plate,” your voice wasn’t accusatory, it was just gentle – just there.

Wonwoo lets out a breath, not exactly a sigh. “Didn’t need to.”

The silence that followed felt different – it felt tighter.

Then, without thinking, you moved a little closer. Just enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. Just enough for your voice to come out quieter when you asked, “Do you ever let yourself take a break, Nonu?”

Wonwoo’s jaw tensed. He doesn’t look at you when he answers, “I take a break when I sleep.”

“You barely sleep…”

You see a flicker in his eyes – you touched something.

He knew it.

You knew it.

But he didn’t run from it, at least not this time.

“Then I guess I don’t stop,” his reply was low, maybe a little bit more honest than he meant it to be.

You stood there for a beat, the glass cool in your hands – the silence wrapping around you both like a blanket that was too heavy to shake off. Your eyes dropped to the way his fingers held the wine glass, knuckles still faintly pale from tension. The condensation on your own glass trickles down your fingers, as though it was trying to ground you in the moment.

“Are you hurt anywhere, Nonu?” The question came out softer than you meant it to be – it sounded warm and it lingered in the air. You didn’t look at him directly, just watching the condensation slide down the side of his glass.

“No.”

It was clipped. Cold. Dismissive.

The kind of answer that was meant to end the conversation before it could even start. You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. Of course – you weren’t supposed to ask. You weren’t supposed to care – not like that. Not out loud.

He didn’t move at first. Just standing there, knuckles pale against the glass as his eyes locked on some distant point past the kitchen tiles. The silence stretched, heavy and humming, until he sniffs your sweetness in the air again. The sweet scent relaxed his posture, his shoulders dropping just a little and his grip around the glass loosened.

You watched him carefully, heart thudding in your chest and your voice caught before you even knew you were going to speak again.

“Can… Can I sleep with you tonight, Nonu?”

The words hang in the air, delicate and trembling.

It was too soft to take back. Too honest to ignore.

His fingers stilled around the glass, the sound of the fridge humming filled the silence that followed. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it had. Your heart thudded in your chest, loud enough to drown out the quiet.

Wonwoo stares at you, his expression unreadable. His eyes seemed darker tonight, shadowed by something you couldn’t quite place a finger on. He looked tired – not just physically-bone-deep tired, but it was like the world had taken a little more from him than he was willing to admit. Whatever he and Jihoon did out there, it still clung to him like smoke.

“Trouble sleeping lately, babydoll?” His voice was surprisingly soft, low and quiet like he didn’t want to wake the others in the house.

You nodded, looking at the glass in your hand. “The air’s been… weird lately. A-And, it’s hard to sleep without you lately.” Your fingers tightened slightly around the glass, voice barely above a whisper – shaky and raw, “I-I don’t know why but it is… Especially when you’re gone.”

He was still staring, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look up – not when you knew his expression is all it takes to undo you.

Another beat of silence.

One second.

Two.

Then, you hear a quiet breath escape him. His glass clinks on the counter as he sets his drink down.

His voice was soft, “Come on, babydoll.”

His response caught you off guard. When you looked up, he was already turning away, walking toward his room – but his pace was slower than usual. As though he was waiting for you to catch up to him.

Your heart flutters, warmth flooding your chest even as your legs carry you forward. Wonwoo doesn’t say anything when you slipped into his room behind him, the bed dipping under your weight. The mattress sighs softly when you settle in beside him – it wasn’t the first time you shared a bed, but it was the first time you asked to.

You lay on your side, back facing him as you clutched the edge of the blanket like it was the only thing anchoring you. Wonwoo doesn’t move for a while, but you could hear his breathing – steady, though it was a little too measured to be natural. Awake. Thinking.

Maybe regretting this decision.

Your throat tightens, tears brimming in your eyes as you start to overthink.

But then, quietly, just barely there, you feel the blanket shift. The mattress dips again, and your back feels warmer as his body inches close. It doesn’t touch, though it was there.

There was a beat of silence, the tension in the air so thick that you could feel it pressing against your skin.

Then, slowly his arm slips around your waist. It was slow enough to almost break you. Your breath hitches, but you don’t stop him. You don’t move, letting yourself sink into him. His hand rests lightly on your stomach, not in a possessive manner; just there, offering you a grounding presence.

“I don’t sleep well because I worry of the danger you’re in by being my mate,” he murmurs, voice almost buried against the back of your neck. “Not when I come back from that kind of work. Not unless I know you’re safe.”

You close your eyes, something in your chest tightens at the vulnerability in his voice, a kind of raw honesty he rarely ever let slip.

“I am safe, Nonu,” you whispered, “With you.”

He doesn’t say anything, but the way his arms wrapped themselves around your waist, the way his forehead lightly brushes against your shoulder… It was enough.

You didn’t say another word. You didn’t need to.

Sleep came slowly that night, but this time – when it did, it came easier.

And for the first time in what felt like weeks, neither of you woke up alone.

Wonwoo stayed late at the office one night. The quiet hum of the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows did little to distract him from the glow of his screen or the dull ache that was beginning to form behind his eyes.

Numbers blurred, reports repeated themselves – he was going through the motions, more out of habit than necessity.

His phone buzzed. His mother.

“Mother?”

“Wonwoo,” her voice was soft, but there was a certain sharp edge to it. “You’re working late again?”

“I am,” he said flatly, not annoyed – just a little confused as to why his mother was calling him.

“Go home, Wonwoo. Be with your mate. She needs you.”

The words stung more than it should have.

“She has Mingyu and Chan looking after her–”

“She doesn’t need them, Wonwoo.” Her voice firmer, “She needs you. Her Alpha.”

“What’s this about, Mother?”

“It’s hard for me to explain this over the phone, Wonwoo. Just… Just go home and be with ___, okay?”

The line disconnects before he could respond. Staring at his phone, his thumb hovers over the redial button, demanding answers.

He never got the chance.

His phone rang again – this time, Mingyu’s name flashes across the screen.

It was never a good sign when his men called him.

He picks it up on the first ring. “What?”

“Boss– Wonwoo– fuck,” Mingyu’s voice was shaking, breathless. “Where are you? Missus is gone. The door was busted in, Chan’s unconscious near the stairs and– fuck– there’s blood.”

The words don’t register at first.

“She’s gone.”

Wonwoo froze in his seat, phone pressed to his ear – Mingyu and Seungcheol shouting on the other end. Something about getting Chan medical help for a GSW to his abdomen. The office lights hummed quietly and everything around him felt… wrong. Too still. Too normal.

It was so… eerie.

Blood. Mingyu said there was blood.

“How messy is the place? How’s Chan?”

He finally stands up from the desk, papers fluttering off his desk, forgotten. His grip tightens around the phone until his knuckles whitened.

“It’s bad, Boss. This place is trashed, fuck.” Shuffling can be heard before Mingyu speaks up again, “Chan said she fought. Oh fuck, one of the guy’s face is clawed off.”

“Gyu!” Seungcheol’s voice rings through the background, “We got a survivor! Tell Wonwoo to come back quickly!”

Mingyu didn’t need to relay the message, already hearing Wonwoo starting up his car.

The Alpha’s jaw clenched so tightly that it started to ache. A sound clawed its way up his throat, something raw and ragged. But, he swallowed it down. “How long ago?”

“About an hour. Maybe less. Cheol and I went out to get some groceries and when we got back, we found the place like this.”

“Chan and Vernon?”

“Chan’s wound up pretty bad, but he’ll be okay. Vernon’s helping Cheol prepare the bastard that survived.”

Wonwoo exhales through his nose. He feels sick. His body wants to move, to run, to destroy something – but his mind was spiraling, trapped in the memory of your last interaction. Cold, casual and detached. Like you were just a roommate. Like he hadn’t felt the way you cling to him during that heat. Like he hadn’t felt you snuggle up close to him when you both fell asleep in the same bed weeks after.

He should’ve listened to his mother.

He should’ve come home.

“Make sure that bastard lives until I get there,” he ordered Mingyu, voice now low and lethal. “Tell Jihoon to get his switchblade ready.”

He ended the call and drove through the streets. The engine roars to life like it felt his fury, the sound tearing through the night as he shot out of the compound. Tires screamed against the pavement, and the city blurred past him – buildings, lights, the occasional flash of red as he burned through the intersections without hesitation.

You were his.

And someone had taken you.

He was going to make sure he’d put an end to those bastards.

Your head pounded.

The room swayed as you blinked awake, wrists bound behind your back and there was a coppery tang in your mouth. A single overhead light buzzed above you, like a spotlight focusing on the main lead, and the rest of the space was swallowed in the shadows.

Concrete walls. Damp floor. Industrial. Underground? Maybe.

You shifted, testing the restraints. You could move, but it’d take some effort to break free from them. Then you hear it.

Footsteps.

You stilled, keeping your head low as several men stepped into the room. You didn’t recognise their scents. They weren’t of anyone familiar to you. They weren’t Wonwoo.

One of them circled you, stopping somewhere behind you. “She’s smaller than I thought…”

“Yeah, but she’s feisty,” came another, his voice sharper. “Don’t let her face or size fool you. Bitch fucking bit me when we took her in. Had to knock her out to make things easier.”

One knelt in front of you, just out of kicking distance but you held back. “You’re awake.”

“Such amazing observation skills,” you snorted, blinking the haze from your vision. “What gave it away? My eyes being open or the fact that I’m glaring back at you?”

It was a shame they didn’t laugh.

“If you’re smart and behave, maybe we’ll go easy on you.”

You scoff, “Please, if you were smart, you’d know you made a grave mistake the moment you busted my front door in.”

The figure leans in slightly, expecting fear but all you offered was a tilt your head. “So, what’s the plan? Some kind of ransom? Revenge?”

The masked man tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “You’re not exactly acting like a scared little Omega.”

“Yeah, funny thing about that – I bark and bite. If you assholes think you can–”

Smack.

A sharp slap landed across your cheek as you were mid-sentence. The sting flared, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you take a deep breath and straighten your posture, licking the copper from the corner of your mouth. “Oh, my bad…” your voice was low, “But you really should’ve known better than to think I’d be the damsel in distress type.”

There were at least three of them when they returned after leaving you alone for hours. They still wore those black face masks, as if that was supposed to scare you.

One carried a metal case and the other cracked his knuckles, another move that was meant to scare you. But what was scaring you the most was how terrible their intimidation tactics were. You sat upright the best you could, back straight against the wooden chair, chin lifted like you hadn’t been bound for hours. Like you weren’t aching in places you hadn’t known could ache.

They didn’t speak at first, only opening up the case. Silver tools gleamed under the low light.

You arched a brow. “Wow. Dontcha think that’s a little dramatic? What happened to just asking nicely?”

One stepped forward and backhanded you, hard. Your head snapped to the side, cheek screaming from the impact, but you refused to give them the satisfaction of crying out in pain.

“Tell us everything you know about the Jeon clan,” demanded the man that opened the metal case. “Security. Other bases. Codes, if you know any.”

You spit at his face.

They didn’t like that.

The first hit was to your stomach – brutal and deep, knocking the breath from your lungs. Then another to your ribs, then your face again. You lost count after five, maybe six.

Still, you didn’t scream.

“Damn, this bitch can take hits.”

Pain blurred the edges of your vision, but you clung to consciousness with everything you had. You thought of Wonwoo. Of how he looked at you when you didn’t think you were watching. Of how he subtly showed his affection thinking you wouldn’t notice.

You thought about how furious he’d be if he were to see you in the state you were in. Wonwoo’s mother had previously mentioned their stand on crimes against women, how if their own had even a strand of hair plucked, the perpetrators would face dire consequences.

When they paused, panting like they’d been doing real work, one leaned in and grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging on it hard. “Last chance. Talk.”

The smile you gave had one of them flinching. Not because of how badly beaten up you looked, but because it bordered on the line of a psychotic smile.

“The Jeons don’t break, and neither do I. We fucking burn.”

These bastards sure as hell loved leaving you alone. Though you’d consider it to be a mistake on their end.

Your body was wrecked – ribs aching, lip split and bruises were already to form everywhere. But you were still breathing, still alive and that was enough.

You tilt your head back, blinking up at the ceiling through the haze of the pain. Blood dripped down your chin, but your hands were slick now – whether it was from blood or sweat, you couldn’t tell. You twist your wrists again, angling against the metal cuff just the way Wonwoo had shown you during one of his late-night, paranoid self-defense lessons. “If they bind you with steel, look for tension. Give it slack, then break it where it’s weakest. Everything has a weak point.”

It hurt like hell, but you kept going. The metal bites deeper into your skin before it snapped.

You stifle a gasp as the cuff breaks loose with a sharp clink. Your left wrist was bleeding freely now, but you didn’t waste a second. You made your way to the door, and to your surprise, it was unlocked. Either they didn’t you’d try, or they thought you couldn’t.

You slid out silently, stating low. You hear footsteps and muffled voices somewhere down the hall. Realising you needed a weapon, you decided to find their weapons storage. Your head spun, but you pressed forward and duck into the first door you saw.

Luck must’ve been on your side because it led you exactly where you wanted.

Guns were lined up on the tables, the overhead lighting making it seem more ominous than it already was. Your fingers shook as you picked up a semi-automatic handgun – sleek, back, loaded. Wonwoo’s voice echoed again, “Don’t ever hesitate to shoot. That gives them a room to attack. You pull the trigger the moment they come into view.”

You hear footsteps approaching and pressing your back up against the wall, breathing through your nose, waiting. You hold the gun close to your chest, and when the masked man steps inside, you don't hesitate.

Bang.

He dropped like a sack of potatoes, the sound of the shot echoes through the hallway.

There was no going back now.

Shouts echoed down the hall and you made a run for it. Turning a corner, you came face-to-face with two more men. They hadn’t expected you to be armed, by the time they noticed the gun in your hand and reached for theirs, you had already pulled the trigger.

You ran past their motionless bodies, trying to figure out where you were. The layout and interior – you knew you were in some kind of warehouse. Then you smell it – the night air, you were close to an exit.

You burst through a door, grunting in pain from the sheer force you had put on your shoulder to get the damn thing to open. Your knees almost gave out, the adrenaline making your hands shake.

You kept the gun raised, every shadow looked like another threat.

But you didn’t stop.

Not until you were safe. Not until you got back to Wonwoo.

But you weren’t able to get far.

The alley had opened into a dead-end loading yard and your heart dropped the second you saw the rusted fence, the padlocked gate.

A black van screeched to a halt behind you. You spun, gun raised – but hands grabbed you from both sides before you could even aim. You bit, clawed and kicked, but there were too many. They slammed you face first down onto the ground, a heavy knee to your back following. Your cheek scraped against the pavement and the gun slipped out of your hand.

“Hello, ___.”

You froze, your blood went cold.

Juyeon.

You turned your head enough to see him step into view. His suit was stained, fingers missing from both hands – four gone entirely with pink scars crusted where they’d once been. He flexed what was left, grimacing slightly as if the sight offended him.

Wonwoo had done that. You knew it because Jihoon had told you – how he encouraged your Alpha to cut off the fingers on his left hand so they were more… symmetrical.

“You fucking bastard,” you spat, “I’ll have them dismember you–”

His laugh cuts you off. “Still got some fight in you, I see,” he mused. “That’s what my men meant by you’re no ordinary Omega.” He crouches down, eyes glinting with a dangerous edge. “But you’re more useful to me if you shut the fuck up.”

You snarled, bucking under the weight holding you down. One of his men shoved your head back down as Juyeon took out a syringe from his suit. The liquid was thick, glowing a faint blue under the alley lights.

“You know what this is, little Omega?” he asked conversationally, “The labs call it Phase Nine. It’s new. Not on the market nor the black market.”

You went still.

“It’s a liquid heat inducer that’s designed to have your primal instincts override your rationale. It could even break bonded cycles.”

You thrashed, “Don’t you fucking touch me with that! I swear I’ll–”

“Hold her,” Juyeon ordered.

“No!” You kicked wildly, but the hands clamped down harder.

“I said hold her!”

You screamed when he jabbed the needle into your neck and depressed the plunger.

A cold, burning sensation spreads through your veins like ice catching on fire. Your limbs trembled violently and your lungs burned with every breath you take. You heard Juyeon chuckle as darkness begins to swallow your vision.

“Take a little nap,” he whispers, “And when you wake up, your body won’t resist anymore.”

You wake to the sound of voices – low, mocking laughter. Your head throbbed, and your body felt… wrong. It felt as though weights were chained to your body and your head felt fuzzy. The heat inducers were still coursing through your veins, but you fought the haze, clinging to the remaining sharpness you had in the chaos of your mind.

You feel the fire burn from inside out, every nerve in your body screaming for release.

The door to the room opened and Juyeon stepped in, his fingers twitching where they were still missing. He wore that sharp, predatory grin on his face and how you wished you could slap it right off of his face. His presence was suffocating and the pheromones he was releasing stank up the room so bad you wanted to throw up.

You gritted your teeth and pushed yourself up from the cool, concrete floor. Your limbs felt like lead, but you couldn’t let him get close.

Only Wonwoo could touch you.

Not this disgusting bastard.

He notices the faint fight in your eyes and pauses, a cruel smile crept onto his face as he observes your struggle. “Shit, you are a tough one to break. Lucky for me I got more of those inducers to break you.”

He takes another step forward and your body tensed. “C’mere, Omega,” Juyeon coaxes, his voice so syrupy that it twists your stomach the wrong way. “Let me help you with that heat of yours, yeah? I’ve got something far better than the inducer you’re desperately fighting. Something real.”

You growl, throwing your body into him. Your actions startled him – he hadn’t expected you to fight, not with the drugs clouding your senses. But you didn’t need to be at your best. You needed to make him understand that you were more than just an Omega.

You got a punch in, a brutal hook to his jaw and knocking him back. Juyeon staggered, but he didn’t fall. His men moved, one lunging towards you; but you managed to catch his wrist, twisting it behind his back with a vicious snap, making him grunt in pain.

Another went for your throat, but you kicked up, shoes hitting him in the stomach that had him doubling over, gasping for air. It’s a shame you weren’t wearing your heels, would’ve left a mark on the bastard.

You moved again, a blur of motion and rage. You weren’t thinking nor did you care, you only had one goal – to survive.

Another man reached for your arm. You spun, elbowing him in the face then slamming your knee into his ribs. He staggers, gasping for breath. You were covered in sweat, heart pounding as your body rebels against the inducers.

One of Juyeon’s man was quick enough to grab you from behind, pinning your arms to your sides. “That’s enough,” Juyeon sneers, wiping the blood from his mouth. He grabs another syringe from the table, the liquid inside glowing a sickly blue. “You want to fucking fight? Fine. Let’s see how long you’ll last.”

You hissed, struggling against the man holding you, but the inducers were still tearing through you. The heat was unbearable, your vision swimming in and out of focus. You were starting to lose control.

“Fight all you want, sweetheart,” his voice was mocking as he approached with the needle. “But you’ll break eventually.”

Your hands were still unrestrained, and in that final moment of desperation, you grabbed an old pipe that lay on the ground. You swung it with all your might, hitting the nearest man across the skull. He collapsed with a sickening thud, and you barely had time to register the victory before Juyeon was on you again.

Your body was trembling, soaked in sweat as blood was smeared across your face and hands. The pipe clattered to the floor beside you, slick with someone else’s blood. Juyeon stood across from you, staggering as his face twists into something monstrous. The second that syringe slipped from his grasp during your scuffle, it shattered across the cement.

“You little bitch,” he spat, pulling out a switchblade from his pockets. “You think you’ve won?”

You didn’t answer, hands scrambling for the gun from one of his men on the floor. Your hands shook, but you raised the weapon anyway. Just like Wonwoo taught you.

Never hesitate when it comes to your life.

Juyeon takes a step forward and you pull the trigger.

Bang.

The scream that tore out of his throat was inhuman.

He dropped to his knees, clutching his crotch as the front of his pants soaked red. He writhed, gasping and cursing through clenched teeth. It wasn’t a clean shot, but you didn't want it to be.

Your hands were still trembling as you kept the gun trained on him. “Never… Never underestimate an Omega. Especially me.”

The door slammed open behind you. Boots thundered in, guns drawn and you hear voices yelling commands.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t have to.

You already know who it was.

“Clear the room!” Seungcheol’s voice echoed like thunder. “Get the Missus to safety and lock up any survivors!”

Vernon was quick to reach you, kneeling beside you as his hands tried to gently guide the gun down. “Hey, Missus…” he said quietly, “You’re okay now. We’ve got you.”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to lower the gun. It was as though you feared that if you did, Juyeon would get up.

Then you smelled him.

Wonwoo appears through the smoke of bodies, his eyes immediately locking on yours. The sight of you, his mate – bloodied, shaking and bruised – had him on his knees by your side in the blink of an eye. Sure, you were alive; but you were hurt.

He doesn’t say a word, only pulling you into his arms and holding you like you were the last thing in the world that mattered. You didn’t even realise how cold you were until Wonwoo wrapped his arms around you.

His warmth crashed into you like a wave, and what very little strength you had left was gone as your body collapsed into his. You could feel the way his body shuddered as he held you, his breath ragged against your hair, like he hadn’t been breathing until that moment. His hand held the back of your head, fingers tangling in your messy hair like if he let go – you’d disappear.

“I’ve got you, babydoll,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’ve got you now.”

You dropped the gun.

And finally, your body let go.

Wonwoo carefully knocks on the door, a way to announce his presence before sliding it open. His eyes meet yours and his shoulders slump when you give him a small smile. “Hey…” was all you managed to say before his giant stature envelops you in a tight embrace. The Alpha nuzzles into the crook of your neck, a quiet whine leaving his lips as he takes in your scent. It’s grounding, calming – proof that you’re here, safe, and his.

You melt into his warm embrace, your hands instinctively finding their way to his broad back. His tense muscles slowly relax under your touch, his soft whines turning into soft hums of contentment.

“I… I was so scared,” Wonwoo admits, “Scared I couldn’t find you, couldn’t reach you in time… I –”

“Nonu,” you call out softly, one hand moving up to comb through his dark locks, “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

He nods and pulls away, the crease in his brow not fully gone. “Yeah, but… I can’t help to think of the worst case scenario of what could’ve happened had we gotten there any later… ___, the doctors said you were practically battered. There’s even still traces of that heat inducer in your blood.”

You shudder at the memory of having the liquid injected into you, Wonwoo tightening his hold on you. “They didn’t touch you did they?”

“Well, it depends on what you mean by touch..?” It was more of a question than a statement, “They didn’t put their dicks in me if that’s what you’re wondering. I was drugged up and a little woozy, but I managed to fight them off until you guys showed up.”

“So, they did touch you,” he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your template. “I’ll deal with those bastards once I head back.”

He cups your face in his large hands, his eyes scanning your face as if committing every detail to memory. “How are you feeling, babydoll? Feeling any better?”

You manage a faint smile at Wonwoo’s concern, your fingers brushing gently over the back of his hand where it cradles your cheek. “I’m feeling better,” you murmur, though the ache behind your ribs and the lingering exhaustion paints a different story. “Just… Just need to pee real quick…”

Wonwoo looks hesitant, but he nods, reluctantly removing his hand from your face.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and push yourself up, determined to manage the short walk to the bathroom without assistance. But the moment you stand, a sudden jolt of pain rips through your lower abdomen. You let out a strangled gasp that makes Wonwoo instantly alert. Your knees give out before you can even call out to him.

You clutch your stomach as your body crumples to the cold tile floor.

“___!” Wonwoo is quick to drop to his knees beside you, arms wrapping around you before you hit the ground. “Babydoll, hey, what’s the matter?”

“It hurts,” you wheezed, eyes squeezed shut as another wave of pain twists through you. “Nonu, it… My stomach hurts.”

He feels his heart shatter at the sight of you writhing in pain, his arms tightening around your waist as he gently tries to ease you onto his lap. “Fuck, okay. I’m calling the nurse–”

“No, don’t go,” your breath was shallow, hand clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly. “Stay. Please.”

“Shit, shit… I’m here, babydoll. I’m not leaving.” Wonwoo’s voice is firm but trembling, his free hand fumbling for the call above him. He presses it repeatedly, urgency written all over his face. “Nurses! Doctors! We need help in here!”

He cradles you closer, rocking you slightly as if trying to soothe you through the pain. “You’re gonna be okay,” he murmurs over and over, lips brushing against your forehead. “I’ve got you, babydoll.”

Moments later, the door bursts open and nurses rush in. Wonwoo doesn’t let you go, not until they gently urge him aside to check your vitals and prepare to move you. Even then, his hand never leaves yours.

And when they wheel you away for tests, his gaze follows you – haunted and fierce – already blaming himself for letting you get off the bed in the first place.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs Jeon… It seems you had a miscarriage.”

The words hung in the air. The silence that followed felt suffocating, like a weight pressing down on your chest. Wonwoo’s and your mother wrapped their arms around you in an instant, offering you comfort; but everything felt so… distant. Their voices were muffled and the doctor’s face was blurred as the word ‘miscarriage’ echoed in your mind.

Your hands instinctively moved to your stomach, as though you were trying to hold onto something that was no longer within reach.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s tense body stood behind you as if he were a statue that’s freshly carved from stone. His emotions were frozen in place and his silence was louder than anything else in the room.

Suddenly, the pieces began to fit in place.

Why his mother kept nagging him to return home instead of doing overtime in the office.

Why his father kept urging him to look into a bigger home.

Why his mother and mother-in-law kept visiting you while he was away.

Hell, that even explained why Jihoon was more tame.

You were pregnant.

Pregnant with his child.

Your mom and Wonwoo’s mother tried to comfort you with soft reassurances murmured in your ear, but they couldn’t pierce through the thick glass that’s been erected around you. Your mom’s hand stroked your hair, a gesture that was meant to soothe you. But it only reminded you of the ache, of a loss so sudden that it felt as though a piece of you had been ripped away.

Wonwoo’s shaky voice brought you back to reality, “How… How could this have happened? W-When– How long has she been pregnant? She wasn’t displaying any symptoms or even showing!”

The doctor shifts, looking at the clipboard in his hand. “Mrs Jeon was around… seven weeks into the pregnancy. It’s not uncommon for the symptoms to be minimal, especially in the early stages. We suspect that what Mrs Jeon had experienced was a cryptic pregnancy, where the pregnancy goes undetected or unnoticed.”

You feel the Alpha shift his gaze from the doctor to you. “Seven weeks…” His voice was laced with confusion and guilt as he tries to recount every moment he’s spent with you, searching for signs he might have overlooked. He runs a hand down his face, resting it over his mouth as he mutters, “Fuck… No wonder your scent was sweeter…”

“As for what could’ve caused her miscarriage… We can only assume that it was due to the recent… uneventful incident that the Missus has experienced. The emotional, mental and physical distress coupled with the absence of an Alpha must’ve increased her stress levels to a point where it significantly affected her well-being.”

The doctor lowers his head in condolences and exits the room. Both yours and Wonwoo’s parents left soon after, deciding to give you both some privacy.

“Nonu…” you croaked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your broken voice seemed to crack something within him and his rigid frame finally moved. Wonwoo sinks down to his knees in front of you, his hands hesitantly reaching for yours. He held them gently, and despite his warm touch, you could feel the tremble in them.

“Babydoll…” You finally forced yourself to look at him, and the sight added another weight to your already heavy heart. His jaw was clenched as his lips were parted slightly, his lips trembling slightly while his eyes glistened with unshed tears. He’s quick to cup your face when you sniffle out his name again, wiping away the tears that began to spill from your eyes.

“No, no, no…” he murmurs, wiping away your tears. “Don’t cry, babydoll… This isn’t your fault, yeah?”

His tender words only made the tears fall harder. The pain in your chest was unbearable, and the sound of his voice made it harder for you to hold yourself together. You shook your head, “N-No… Nonu, it was my fault. I-I should’ve been more alert or at least aware as to why I was –”

“Hey, hey…” He interrupts gently, “Don’t do this, babydoll, please. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You didn’t know, and even if you did, this is something out of your control.”

His thumb continues to stroke your cheeks, wiping away the endless tears that streamed down. “B-But… I-I should’ve.. hic… told you that I wasn’t feeling… hic… like myself.. M-Maybe i-if you’d known, you could’ve –”

Wonwoo presses a gentle kiss to your lips, leaning his forehead against yours once he pulls away. “Babydoll, please, don’t blame yourself… I… I should’ve been a better husband… I shouldn’t have just left you all alone again after your heat. I shouldn’t have kept my distance from you thinking it’d be a good decision… I should’ve been paying more attention to you, been home with you..”

His confession made your heart ache further. You reached up, your hands trembling as they covered his. “No, Nonu… Please, don’t say that… You've been the perfect husband and –”

“Babydoll, I wasn’t there to realise something was up. Our parents knew it before we did and –”

“We could… We could try again, right..?” Your voice was shaky, filled with uncertainty and carried a weight as though speaking it out loud could shatter what little hope you were clinging to. Wonwoo’s breath hitches, his eyes carrying the same raw, aching vulnerability you felt.

“Oh, babydoll…” he whispers, his lips trembling as he pecks your lips, “Of course we can. We can try as many times as we want, but that’s for when you’re ready – when we’re ready. Right now… Let’s… I… Let me make sure you’re okay.”

You nodded, hands moving from covering his to clutch the fabric of his shirt; as if holding onto him would stop the pieces of your heart from falling apart any further. “We’ll try again,” you echoed, voice trembling but filled with a quiet determination. “When we’re ready.”

Wonwoo hums, tilting his head to the side so he could capture your lips in a tender kiss. His lips moved against yours gently. It was soft, unhurried, and full of unspoken promises. When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours once again, and his hands move to cradle your face, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks.

Snow muffled the world outside the cabin, layering the landscape in a blanket of silence and softness. The fire crackled lowly, casting shadows on the wooden walls and painting flickers of gold across the thick blanket tangled around your legs.

It’s only been days since you left the hospital, body still aching quietly – your ribs would hurt just a little when you breathed in too deeply, you could even feel the stiffness in your limbs when you moved too fast. But here, tucked away in the mountains with no one but Wonwoo, the pressure to be okay all the time faded just like the hush of falling snow.

Wonwoo sits beside you on the edge of the bed, his presence warm and steady. He’d just come back from gathering more firewood, snow melting in his hair and a few flakes clinging stubbornly to his coat. You watched him shrug it off, mouth watering at the way his muscles ripple under the thick sweater as he crossed the room to tend to the fire.

God, he looks so good you just wanna pounce on him.

He returns to the bed, slipping under the covers with you like he belongs there – like he’d always been there. One of his arms snakes around your waist, drawing you against his side with practiced ease, careful to not press too hard against you.

He smells like warm cedar, a touch of pine, and that deep, grounding Alpha musk that seeps into your senses like a balm. He exhaled softly, rubbing slow circles into your hip with his thumb.

“Is it too cold?”

You shake your head, almost purring into him. “Not with you here.”

Wonwoo’s expression softens, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good. I was worried it’d be… well, something you wouldn’t like. The snow, the isolation…”

“You picked it for a reason,” you whispered back, nuzzling into his chest. “It’s quiet up here. I like that.”

He held you closer, his heart beating steadily beneath your cheek. “I needed us somewhere no one could reach. Just for a little while.”

“Because I’m still healing?” Your voice was smaller than you meant for it to be.

“No.” His answer was immediate. “Because I need time with you. Alone. Not shared. Not interrupted. Just… us.”

You hum, closing your eyes and letting yourself be embraced by the most fearsome man of the city. In this moment, where the world was blanketed in snow, where nothing existed but the steady beat of Wonwoo’s heart and the feel of his body against yours, you were safe.

“Nonu?”

Wonwoo looks down, still curling against his side beneath the blanket, hand pausing on your waist. “Yeah, babydoll?”

You hesitated, feeling your pulse thudding against your ribs. You feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours and the subtle way his scent thickened the longer you laid together in the quiet cabin. Maybe it was the isolation, or the cold outside – or maybe it’s just him.

The sense of safety he gives.

You swallowed, “What… What do you think about knotting me?”

Wonwoo stills, his hand splaying wider on your waist as a means to ground you in place, as though you’d float off if he didn’t. He leans down slowly, brushing his nose against your cheek. “Are you asking me if I thought about it?” his voice is now laced with some darker, thicker. “Or if I want to?”

Your face burned, and you tried to look away, but his hand caught your chin, gently coaxing you to meet his eyes. His gaze flickers down to your lips, then lower, and back. “You know I’ve thought about it, babydoll. Especially that time during your heat, but I had to stop because we were still getting used to each other.”

“What about now?”

His voice drops, “You’re still healing. Not now, okay?”

You let out a shaky breath, “I feel okay, Nonu. Better. And… I want it. I want you”

His hand tightened slightly at your hip, not enough to hurt, but just enough to let you feel the echo of what he was holding back.

“You sure, babydoll?” he asks quietly, “Because once I do that, there’s no going back to pretending I don’t need you. I’m going to be all over you, y’know?”

You reach for your Alpha, fingers curling into his sweater, voice barely steady. “Then let it.”

For a moment, Wonwoo just stares at you. And then the alpha in him stirred – quiet and hungry – as he shifts to hover above you, mouth grazing yours. “My feisty Omega can’t help but to be all soft for me now, hmm?” his voice was rough with barely checked restraint and it was enough to have you dripping. His breath ghosts over your lips, his nose brushing yours as his eyes darken. “Always biting back, but the second I touch you like this…”

His hand slides down your thigh, his touch possessive and curls it under your knee, spreading you open just a little more before pulling down the pyjama pants you were wearing.

“...you melt.”

Your breath catches, fingers curling into his sweater as heat coils low in your belly. Wonwoo wasn’t just teasing, he was marveling.

“Oh, babydoll,” he continues, enjoying the way your thighs tremble when his cold fingers trail up the skin of your bare thighs. “I’m going to bury myself in you and let my knot swell so deep that you’ll forget where I end and where you begin.”

“You’ll take good care of me, right, Alpha?”

Wonwoo groans softly, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll take good care of you, my sweet Omega.”

He kisses you slowly, soft at first – the deeper, hungrier, like the dam had cracked and he could finally taste what he’d been starving for. His palms slid down your sides, memorising every curve, every shiver. He doesn't rush, deciding to not strip you out of the sweater you were wearing to keep you warm.

Pulling away just enough, Wonwoo slides off his glasses and settles them aside on the nightstand. His eyes, dark and intense, were focused entirely on you. The familiar weight of his gaze sent a shiver up your spine. It was as though without the barrier of his glasses, he could see straight through you.

“You’re so beautiful, babydoll,” he murmured, breath brushing against your lips before he kissed you again, deeper, like he couldn’t stop himself. He groaned against your mouth, the soft drag of his lips against yours. His fingers traced the line of your jaw., down your neck and over the curves of your body, like he was committing the shape of your body to memory.

You let out a shaky whimper, hands trembling as you reached for him, tugging him closer. His entire being invades your senses, filling the space between your bodies as his kiss grew more intense, more desperate. You can’t help but respond to his hunger with your own, pulling him closer against your body.

You barely registered the way Wonwoo moved, only the warmth of his body that left yours for a moment. You hear the quiet click of the drawer opening beside the bed. Your voice wavered between surprise and something breathless, eyes widening just a little as your Alpha pulls out a slee black toy from it. It gleamed in the firelight, deceptively elegant. It wasn’t flashy, obviously neither you nor Wonwoo liked flashy. It was plain black, smooth, curved, and obviously meant for one purpose.

"You brought a vibrator on our honeymoon?"

Wonwoo shrugged, “More like Jihoon and Mingyu told me to. They’re… invasive to say the least.”

“How did they even know we’d be doing this?”

Wonwoo gives you a dry, amused look, like you’d just asked why the sun rises. “They’re nosy and overconfident. Honestly, since that night of your heat and when you’d ask to sleep with me, Mingyu said he can smell some kind of budding romance.”

You stared back, “That’s… That’s not a real thing, right?”

He shrugs again, “God knows. Jihoon just enables him. I have a feeling they packed it themselves when I wasn’t looking.”

A pause.

“You don’t check your luggages?”

“They probably hid it under my clothes.”

You snort, “I’m surprised it even made pass customs.”

Wonwoo chuckles, “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they’ve smuggled through airport security.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Do I even want to know?”

He tilts his head like he’s genuinely considering it. “Probably not.”

You stare at the vibrator in his hand, “So… What use is this to us and did you at least sanitise it?”

Wonwoo sits back on his heels, the firelight casting him in gold and shadow as he pushes the sleeves of his sweater up to his forearms. “Of course I sanitised it, babydoll. As for what use, I’m sure you have that figured out.”

You let him part your legs slowly, his eyes instantly dropping to your wet cunt. He caresses your thighs, coaxing them wider and when his scent changed, thickening with quiet arousal, your body responded like it knew what was coming.

“I’d consider my knot to be big,” he said, voice low and even. “It’s gonna take more than just my fingers to open you up.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He eases two fingers into your cunt, tongue darting out to wet his lips when your breath gets stuck somewhere between your ribs and your throat. The drag of his knuckles felt cruel, like he wanted you to know exactly how he’d take you apart.

When he pushes in a third finger, you whimper. The stretch burns at first, before it fades into a more consuming ache. Your hips buck instinctively, his hand on your waist kept you pinned down like you were nothing more than a body to be used.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, shifting closer so his lips brushes against your jaw, “You keep clenching like that and I’m going to think you like being stretched out like this.”

His fingers curled again, and you choked on a cry.

“Atta girl,” he praised, smiling against your skin.

The air was heavy with the smell of sweat, arousal, and something more dangerous. You were trembling underneath him, not just from pleasure but from the oppressive weight of his presence, the way he looked at you like you’re something fragile yet can’t help but want to break you at the same time.

Every curl of Wonwoo’s fingers leaves you breathless, the coil in your lower belly growing tighter. “You’re dripping, babydoll,” he says flatly, drawing his hand back just enough to spread your wet folds with two of his fingers before plunging them back inside. “You’re making a mess and I barely touched you.”

With one final curl of his fingers, your back arches involuntarily as his fingertips press hard against your g-spot over and over. “C’mon, babydoll,” he murmurs, voice filled with arousal. “Cum for me.”

Your body obeys, a loud cry of his name tearing through your throat as your body seizes, pussy walls fluttering around his fingers. Your nails dig into his arm, thighs trembling around his wrist, and all you can do is ride it out as he coaxes every last tremble from your body. He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, breathing hard, and sweat sticking to your skin.

Only then does he ease them out, slowly. He lifts his slick covered fingers to his lips, tongue flicking out to taste you as he keeps his eyes on your ruined expression with a dark glint.

“You taste sweeter than I thought,” he mumbles. Leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss on your lips before spreading your thighs again. “Gimme one more and I’ll knot you, yeah?”

He turns on the vibrator, the black toy humming to life. You watch with wide eyes as he brings the toy to your slick, pulsing entrance. The moment the curved tip presses inside you, your hips jerked. It zeroed in on that spongy spot deep inside you, making your vision blur and your thighs tremble.

One hand keeps your hips still while the other begins to move the toy inside you. Your breath stutters, back arching as the toy presses up and in, vibrating relentlessly against your gspot. Your legs twitch, thighs trembling as you try to squirm away from the intense pleasure, but Wonwoo won’t let you.

He keeps you in place, spread open while he grinds the toy mercilessly against your gspot, your pulsing walls clenching and unclenching around it rhythmically. Slick, wet sounds fill the room, echoing between your moans and the relentless hum of the vibrator. Your knuckles turned white as your hands clutch the sheets, the coil in your lower belly tightening up again.

“Nonu!”

“Gonna cum again?” he asks, voice low and taunting. He pushes the toy deeper and your vision goes black around the edges. A broken sob claws its way out of your throat as the pressure becomes unbearable. “C’mon, babydoll. Show me how greedy this pussy is. I want you soaked for my knot. Wanna feel you gush all over me.”

He twists the vibrator just right, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit and your body convulses around the toy. A loud cry rips from your throat, sharp and raw as your pussy squirts, hips arching off the bed – drenching his wrists, the toy and the sheets beneath you.

Wonwoo groans, eyes dark as they lock on the way your body submits to him so beautifully. “Fuck, babydoll” he breathes, tossing the wet vibrator aside. “You’re ready to take me now. Gonna stretch you around my knot just how you’re meant to.”

He doesn’t even bother to wipe his hand, sliding them under your thighs and guiding them around his waist, lowering himself over you. You can feel the heat of his cock, flushed and heavy, grinding his length against your slick folds. “Gonna knot you so good, babydoll. Fill you so full that everyone who smells you knows you’re taken.”

You lick your lips at the weight of his knot that’s already swelling at the base. You lock your legs around his waist, heels digging into the curve of his back pulling him closer.

That was all the permission he needed.

Wonwoo lines himself up, holding back a growl as the blunt head of his cock bumps against your clit. His jaw clenches, holding back a guttural growl as he pushes in, inch by inch. Your eyes flutter shut as he stretches you, your slick walls sucking him in greedily.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grits out, kissing your jaw. “So fucking wet. Pussy feels so warm that I could die happy right now.”

You whimper, back arching as he bottoms out, his knot pressing against your entrance. He rolls his hips experimentally, letting you feel every vein of his cock, the way his cock drags against your soaked, swollen walls.

His head dips to press his mouth against the curve of your jaw, your throat. “Taking me so well. Fuck, you feel so good.”

His hands tighten on your thighs, pushing them up so your knees are pressed against your chest, angling your hips just right so he can sink even deeper. His leaking cockhead bullies your sweet spot, making you cry out with each thrust.

“Feel how deep I am, babydoll?” He slides a hand between your bodies, pressing down on your lower belly. You moan at the pressure, nails scratching down his clothed back and Wonwoo starts to roughly thrust into your sloppy cunt. The drag of his cock against your walls sends aftershocks through your twitching body.

Wonwoo groans loudly, biting down on your shoulder – not hard enough to break the skin nor the sweater you wore, but enough to have your wet walls squeeze around him. “Shit, babydoll. Your pussy tightens up when I bite you. You like that, huh? Like it when I mark you up?”

You can’t answer. You’re shaking and gasping, all thoughts wiped out by the way his leaking cockhead grinds into your cervix with every thrust, body starting to bounce from the sheer force.

He presses down on your belly again, palm flat and firm. The pressure makes you clench reflexively, his eyes focus on the way your pretty cunt is stuffed snugly around his dick – entranced with the way your puffy lips coat his thick cock with your sweet cream.

“Nonu,” you whine out, feeling a jolt of electricity run up your spine when his abdomen rubs against your clit. “Please! Want your knot!”

Wonwoo growls, forcing his knot past your rim with one brutal thrust and stretching your pussy wide. You cry out in pleasure and pain, nails digging into the fabric of the sweater that he thinks you’d shred it into pieces. You feel it pop past your entrance and lock inside you, your vision going white.

He pulls out halfway only to slam back in, so addicted to how tight and wet you are around him. He loves how your gummy walls are taking his knot, how the lewd sounds of skin slapping and the wet squelching of your pussy fills the cabin. Wonwoo’s thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it hard and fast; grunting in approval when he feels your arousal drip out your stuffed cunt.

“N-Nonu, ‘M gonna cum!” you moan, head thrown back against the pillows as he fucks you harder into the mattress.

“I know, babydoll,” he murmurs, “Can feel your pussy milking my cock.”

Your walls flutter wildly against him. His knot throbs, snug and swollen inside you, ready to fill you up. “Cum for me, my Omega,” he groans into your neck, planting wet kisses as he chases his own climax. “Make a mess on my cock.”

Your orgasm slams into you, white, hot and all-consuming. Your entire body convulses underneath him, pussy creaming his dick. Wonwoo curses under his breath, hips jerking as your pulsing walls trigger his own release.

“Take it,” he pants, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he spills his cum deep inside. Ropes and ropes of hot cum flood your womb, and you mewl as your mind wanders back to the first time he filled you up.

Your Alpha stays buried inside you, knot locked tight as he releases your legs, hanging them over his forearms. One hand has a possessive grip on your hip while the other rubs your overstimulated clit in slow, teasing circles with just enough pressure to make you jolt.

He grinds his hips against you, knot fully lodged inside you. It’s said that Alphas cum more than they usually do when knotting their bonded mates, and sure enough, Wonwoo was indeed filling your pussy with load after load of his hot cum. Not that you were complaining though. You happily take every drop he gives you with a blissful smile.

The fire had burned down to glowing embers, casting the room in a dim amber. You’re still lying beneath Wonwoo, still stretched wide around his knot, both of you soaked in sweat and slick. You could still feel him twitching inside you, some of his cum slipping past the tight sleeve of your cunt around him.

He releases his hold on your legs so he can bury his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin, teeth nipping over your scent gland. His voice was soft when he praised you, “My babydoll did such a good job at taking my knot.”

His hands slide under your sweater, caressing your body in gentle touches. You both stay like that until his knot deflates. But, your body hasn’t had enough yet. Your hips shifted without thinking, instinctive, needy.

Wonwoo chuckles when he feels it, pulling back to look at you – his eyes dilated and darker than before. “You still want another round, babydoll?”

You bit your lip, squirming just a little as your walls flutter helplessly around his girth. “Well, you’re still hard, Nonu~”

His grin is wolfish, but there’s a glint of fondness in his eyes that makes your heart flutter. He hums, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel the slow drag of his length still nestled inside you. “That’s ‘cause your greedy little pussy won’t let go of me.”

He leans down again, pressing a kiss just below your jaw, tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin. “Keep squeezing me like that and I’ll knot you again, babydoll.”

You purr, bucking your hips up to meet his.

Wonwoo hisses, shifting his weight and hooking his forearms beneath your knees. In one swift motion he folds you in half, sinking his cock deeper into your pussy. He kisses you hard, tongue sliding against yours as he pounds your soaked cunt, thick cockhead repeatedly knocking against your cervix so hard it knocks the breath right out of your lungs too. You gasp into his mouth, body starting to tremble from the stimulation.

“Fuck,” he moans, “Pussy still so fucking tight. Look so fucking hot full of my cock.”

You cry out when you feel his knot start to swell inside you again. You can only moan and cry as he keeps hammering his cock into your sensitive hole. “Bet you’d take every load I give you, huh? Stuff you so full you’ll be dripping for days.”

Your head lolls back against the pillows, lips parting in a breathless moan. You feel everything – the stretch of his knot forcing you wider, locking you in place, the way his cock drags along your swollen walls.

“Nonu–” you whimpered, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. “Full! Too full–”

“But you can’t help but to want me to fill you again,” he groans, gripping your hips with a bruising grip. He shifts the angle of his thrusts, feeling him in your guts as his thick cock pummels into you relentlessly. Wonwoo groans when he feels your pussy constrict around him again. “Ohh, fuck, babydoll. You gonna cum again? Gonna squirt all over my cock like the needy little Omega that you are?”

You can’t answer, the only sounds leaving your lips are your filthy moans. You wail every time he drives his dick in and out of you, grinding his thick knot right against that spongy spot inside you until you reach another climax.

Your whole body seizes as you cum hard, the air being punched out from your lungs. You gush around your Alpha, liquid splashing between your thighs – soaking his sweater and the sheets beneath you. Wonwoo is mesmerised by the sight of you squirting all over his cock, how your eyes screwed shut while your sweet cries filled the room.

“Fucking hell, babydoll,” he growls, throwing his head back as he feels his own climax approaching. “Squeezing my cock so fucking good.”

The milking compression of your walls around him, clenching and unclenching around his knot, like your body was begging for him to creampie you was what drove him right to the edge. With a loud roar of your name, his whole body goes tense. His fat cock twitches and throbs inside you, flooding your already wrecked cunt with spurts of his hot cum. His knot swells further, making sure to keep your soaked pussy filled to the brim.

You cry out, nails digging into his forearms as you feel droplets of his cum drip down your thighs. Wonwoo groans when he feels your walls flutter around his length, grinding his hips slowly to try and push his cum deeper.

When he releases your legs from the mating press he had you in, you let out a moan of relief. Your muscles are barely able to hold up after being held up in that position for so long. Your thighs fall limp on the bed, trembling, and slick with sweat and a mixture of your bodily fluids.

Wonwoo doesn’t move, his cock still buried inside you as he continues to release more ropes of thick cum, coating your walls. He places his palm flat against your belly again, right over the small swell of where his cum is filling you – where his knot is. Then he presses down on it.

You gasp, your entire body jerking.

Your cunt tightens reflexively, milking his cock for more of his cum, and he groans at the squeeze. You whimper, eyes glassy, and droplets of tears cling to your lashes.

Your body goes limp beneath him as Wonwoo hovers above you, back hunched as he tries to come down from the delicious high he had just experienced. He’s still sheathed inside, cock still pulsing, his cum sloshing inside your pussy that he can already feel it dripping down your thighs.

But, fuck, the way you were tightly holding onto him – his pretty Omega all wet and stretched and stuffed to the brim, it had his instincts just snarling beneath the surface.

“Shit, babydoll,” he murmurs, voice thick with pride and affection, “Knotted you twice and you’re still squeezing me like you want a third.”

You let out a shaky chuckle, looping your arms around his neck. “I might,” you whisper, giving him a dazed smile.

Wonwoo shakes his head, “You’re insatiable.”

When he leans down to pepper kisses to your throat, you whimper out his name. “Shh, I got you, babydoll. Let’s wait til my knot deflates before we do anything else.”

You hum, clinging to him as your legs weakly wrap themselves around his waist, body still trembling from pleasure and emotions.

And as the snow continues to fall outside, blanketing the surrounding world in white, you and Wonwoo stay tangled together in the heat of the cabin, arms holding each other like you’d never let each other go.

taglist @livelaughloveseventeen @mrsjohnnysuh @luvjichang @peachytokki @arusio @wooingmandy @scoupsonlycherry

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lili-home-to-embraces-and-hugs · 1 month ago

Text

Jason knew damian from the league BEFORE he knew he was his little brother and it is… so much worse

Okay so. listen.read.

jason todd. 17. freshly lazarus-pitted. feral. the human embodiment of “i lived bitch” with rage issues and a 72-hour insomnia streak. the league takes one look at this hot mess of trauma and goes “yes. this is exactly the energy we need in our murder boy band.”

enter: tiny baby assassin gremlin™ damian wayne. 6 years old. fluent in six languages, can kill you with a butter knife, has already named his sword and buried a man for disrespecting alfred the goat.

and someone. SOMEONE. in the league decides, “you know what would be funny? pair the murder toddler with the zombie disaster and see what happens.”

Heres how that went

ra’s: jason, your assignment is to supervise damian.

jason: you want me to babysit.

ra’s: guide.

jason: babysit.

ra’s: test.

damian (deadpan): i don’t need a babysitter. i need a better sparring partner. the last one cried.

jason: okay i like this kid.

they do missions together. which is to say, they cause crimes while technically completing the mission. jason teaches damian how to actually knock people out without breaking his own fingers. damian shows jason how to poison a blade using pomegranate juice and pure spite.

they bond over shared trauma and mutual hatred of everyone else. jason steals food for damian. damian teaches jason new ways to dismember people. it’s beautiful.

damian (6, holding a flaming knife): i’m going to defenestrate that man.

jason (17, holding a mango): hold on i’m eating.

damian: that’s MY mango.

jason: finders keepers.

[30 seconds later jason is bleeding and laughing]

but then jason leaves the league. rage. escape. redemption arc pending. damian stays.

and they don’t see each other for years.

until jason storms into the batcave like:

jason: not here to bond. just stealing med supplies. don’t talk to me or my trauma.

damian (offscreen): you dare show your face here, todd.

jason (freezes): oh my god. oh my god. i KNOW that voice. i KNOW that gremlin growl. there’s no fucking WAY

bruce (tired): jason, meet your little brother. damian.

jason (SCREAMING INTERNALLY): THAT’S MY EX-TINY MURDER ROOMMATE?!

damian (smirking): i see the pit didn’t fix your face.

tim (whispers): what is happening.

from that day forward: chaos.

damian starts following jason around like a very stabby duckling. calls him “akhi” in the most possessive tone known to man. sharpens jason’s knives without being asked. threatens the replacement on his behalf.

jason pretends to be annoyed but teaches damian how to make homemade explosives and saves him the last slice of pizza.

jason (grumbling): you’re still a brat.

damian: and you’re still emotionally unavailable.

jason (softly): shut up.

one day jason finds a drawing on his fridge.

it’s two stick figures. one has a red helmet. the other has a sword. they’re both labeled “BROTHERS – THREAT LEVEL: MAXIMUM.”

jason doesn’t talk about it. but he frames it.

bonus: group chat

dick: wait. you guys KNEW each other before this family?

jason: yeah. i babysat him once. worst two years of my life.

damian: i tried to stab him over a mango. it was glorious.

tim: that’s the most terrifying sentence i’ve ever read.

cass: ❤

bruce was like “you’re brothers now” and they were like “we BEEN brothers?? get on our level B/father”

#they were roommates #and they had knives #and now they have matching trauma #siblings who stab together stay together #they are each others emotional support war crime #batfam headcanons #siblings but make it knives #jason todd #damian wayne #league of assassins #the pit did not cool him down #feral children united #trauma bonding is real.

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daryltwdixon · 4 months ago

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Joel Miller x Reader drabble

Fluffy Jackson!Joel, age gap mentioned but not specified, angsty Joel thinking he doesn't deserve you I'm gonna vom I'm so emotional about Joel Miller this morning. Yeah it’s a little corny idc. Lightly inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's Slim Pickins

You never cared much for the boys in Jackson.

It wasn’t that they were all bad—not really. Some were decent enough, kind in that overeager way that made it clear they wanted to be seen as something more than just survivors. The younger ones, the ones your age, all had something to prove. Like they thought the end of the world meant they had to carve out their place in it with their fists, their bravado, their talk of patrols and takedown counts.

You weren’t interested.

You wanted someone steady. Someone who didn’t feel the need to boast, who didn’t make survival a contest, who wasn’t fumbling to figure out who they were even after all these years.

And that’s why your eyes always found Joel Miller.

He never tried to be charming. Never played the fool. Never talked just to hear himself speak. Matter of fact, you hardly heard him speak at all unless Ellie or Tommy were around. In any other conversation you managed to overhear, he was polite but always a man of few words.

He was older, rough around the edges, sharp where others were soft. He was the kind of man who knew how to build things, how to keep them standing. You admired that. Admired the way his hands were always busy, fixing things, sharpening knives, reinforcing weak spots in the town’s defenses. Admired the way he looked after Ellie without making a show of it, the way he always sat with his back to a wall, eyes scanning like he could predict trouble before it came knocking.

The only problem was getting him to see what had been so obvious to you from the start.

Joel had been stubborn.

The first time you flirted with him—really flirted—he’d just blinked at you, like he thought he misheard. The second time, he’d scoffed, muttered something about "findin’ someone your own damn age." The third time… Well, that one had been his mistake.

Because you’d caught him looking.

It was just a flicker, just a second. But it was real. You’d seen it in the way his eyes lingered, the way his jaw tensed like he was biting down a thought he didn’t want to have. That was when you knew.

It was only a matter of time.

And now—now he was here.

Warm and solid beneath you, his arm heavy around your waist, his fingers tracing absentminded circles against your bare skin. The room smelled like both of you, like sweat and shared warmth and something slow-burning, something that had taken its time getting here. You were tangled up in each other, bare bodies draped together in the low morning light, catching your breath as the quiet hum of Jackson began to wake up just beyond the window.

“Tell me somethin’,” he muttered.

“Anything,” you murmured, your lips pressing gently into the warmth of his neck.

He sighed, the sound more exasperated than anything, his head turning on the pillow to look at you. His big eyes were so full of tenderness, but something flickered in them—a hesitation, a question he’d been holding onto longer than he wanted to admit.

“Why me?”

You stared at him for a long moment before a smirk twitched on your lips, and you ran your fingers through his graying curls, watching the way his eyes fluttered at the feeling.

“Haven’t you heard?” you teased, voice laced with playfulness, “It’s the end of the world, Mr. Miller. It’s slim pickin’s around here.”

Joel huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head, rolling his eyes like he wasn’t gonna let you get away with that answer.

But before he could grumble something about being an old man, you slid your hand down, fingers trailing over his chest, slow and sure, until you could feel the steady thump-thump of his heart beneath your palm.

"Good thing," you murmured, voice softer now, "you’re exactly the man I want."

Joel exhaled, long and slow.

And maybe, maybe that should have been enough to satisfy him.

But it wasn’t.

Because you knew he had lived too many years and lost too many things to believe in easy answers. He had spent too much time walking through hell to believe he had come out on the other side deserving of this.

His fingers curled against your hip, like he was testing it. The weight of you against him, the warmth of you in his bed. Maybe still half-convinced that this was something he’d wake up from.

You sighed, nudging your nose against his jaw. “Joel.”

He hummed, but it was barely a sound, like he didn’t quite trust himself to speak.

So you tried again. Softer this time. “Do you really think I would ever want anyone else?”

He didn’t answer.

You traced your fingers along his chest, slow and thoughtful, your mind drifting somewhere neither of you had ever dared to go before.

“I wonder sometimes,” you admitted, “what it would’ve been like. If we’d met before.”

Joel hesitated, his brows furrowing as he looked at you, eyes scanning your face.

You let the thought settle between you, warm and quiet.

“Think about it,” you mused, your voice dipping into something thoughtful, something wistful. “Would we have even met? In a normal world?”

You could see the flicker of something behind his eyes. A life that could have been. A life that was gone before either of you had a chance to claim it.

“I was just a kid in Texas when everything happened,” you murmured. “Would’ve grown up, maybe gone to college, gotten some easy job that didn’t mean anything. You would’ve still been…” you swallowed, “you.”

A father. Maybe a husband at some point. A man with a life already built.

“Maybe I would’ve walked past you somewhere,” you continued. “At a store. A gas station. Maybe you would’ve held a door open for me, and I wouldn’t have thought twice about it.”

Joel’s fingers tightened against you like he was grounding himself in this moment. His voice was steady when he spoke. No hesitation, no doubt.

“I would’ve noticed you.”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, breath caught in your throat as your hand slid higher, up to the side of his face, thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “Would you?”

Joel exhaled softly, leaning into your touch without thinking, his eyes tracing over your face like he was memorizing every piece of you.

“‘Course I would’ve,” he murmured. “Doesn’t matter when or where. Could’ve been another life, another world—" his thumb stroked absently along your waist, voice dipping into something quiet, something certain—"I still would’ve found you.”

The words settled into you, warm and heavy, threading through your ribs, curling tight around your heart.

Then, suddenly, he was smiling—just a little—as his hand came up to your face, cupping your jaw, his thumb sweeping along your cheek.

“Maybe in a normal world, I’d be the one pesterin’ you instead of the other way around.”

You laughed, tilting your chin up as you leaned closer. “I only ‘pestered’ ‘cause you’re too damn stubborn.”

Joel huffed softly, shaking his head like you were trouble, like you’d gotten under his skin in a way he’d never be able to shake.

But he pulled you closer, his fingers curled beneath your chin, tilting your face up just enough. His gaze flickered over you—your eyes, your lips—like he was taking his time, like he wanted to make sure you were committed to his memory.

And then he kissed you, slow and deep, breathing you in. Like a promise. Like an answer to a question neither of you had to ask.

His hand moved to the back of your head, lacing into your hair, the other tracing a slow path down your spine, pulling you against him until there was no space left between you. You sighed into him, melting, your fingers tangling into his hair as he deepened the kiss, as he drank you in like you were something precious, something he never wanted to lose.

When you finally parted, just barely, your forehead resting against his, his breath was warm against your lips.

“See?” you murmured, softer this time, “Slim pickin’s or not, I still would’ve found my way to you, Joel Miller.”

He exhaled, low and content, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips before murmuring against them—

“I know.”

And this time, he did believe you.

#joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #jackson!joel #jackson tlou #jackson joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluffy #angsty joel miller #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller drabble

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yandereunsolved · 8 months ago

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Yandere Batfam pining over Bruce's reluctant darling—why are you so frightened? is it because Tim is cyberstalking you?

cw(s): trauma and trauma responses (Batfam), family dysfunction, and stalking

Yandere Batfam aren't subtle about their obsessive nature. They are already aware that you are cautious around them and have tried to leave several times, so what is the point in hiding it? Every unhealthy behavior of theirs stems from their trauma and vigilante status. They hope if they are more open about it, then you'll have more of a willingness to stay with them.

Vulnerability isn't exactly a word in any of their vocabularies.

So they are reaching out and showing you their true selves. You were going to figure it out eventually, and it would have only made you more skittish.

Come on. They aren't that bad.

Yandere Batfam just has a few unique quirks. They take away any semblance of privacy you had. Whether it be stalking in the flesh or on the internet. Both a set of cameras and eyes are always trained on you.

They see it as a way to appease both of your anxious natures. They get to know you're safe. They get to learn more about you so they can better please you. You get—them.

You never have to worry about anything ever again!

Yandere Batfam makes sure to give both you and Bruce time 'alone'. They hate that word, especially Damien. What do you mean by alone time? It's asinine. You have managed all their attention and affection poorly thus far! Giving you more time away from them all is only going to decrease your ability to love them all. Which Damien is fine with, as long as your ability to love him doesn't wane even a point of a percentage.

With that in mind, they all know you were Bruce's first. If you aren't comfortable with him, then how are you going to be comfortable with the rest of them?

So they give you that illusion of you simply dating Bruce. He works on wooing you. He tries to.

He doesn't know how to react when you suddenly shut down from his advances. When you pull away from his touch, all he can feel is hurt. A type of hurt that exceeds any he has ever felt. It's like multiple knives twisting into his heart while his soul is crying out in anguish.

He still tries. He gives you your space and little by little breaks down those walls of yours. In return, you end up doing the same with him. He doesn't even realize how much he loves you until you're absent from his presence, even if only for a mere moment.

Yandere Batfam end up learning how hard it is to share. Bruce is the head of the family, so it feels natural to allow him the largest sum of your time. However, how do they split the rest of it? How much time is too much time with you? Who goes first? (Damien insists it should be Dick and then him.)

They could always ask you, but you seem hesitant enough when just asked base-level questions about yourself.

So it's often a hot topic between all of them. If you are closer to one family member than another, the other's are instantly jealous and try to copy the tactics of that member. They'll even go as far as to abuse their power in the familial hierarchy to give themselves a disadvantage.

(Jason really doesn't give a single fuck about schedules. So you'll most likely see the most of him second to Bruce. He is mostly silent in the time he spends with you. He's just content to be in your presence, even if it is farther away than he would like.)

Yandere Batfam aren't going to strip you of your freedoms, yet. You're like a fawn just learning to walk. They can't have you running. You'll get yourself hurt. You can't protect yourself.

Bruce just wants you to love him like you did when you first met him. He's still that same man, albeit a bit more stalkerish. His family is still the same bunch of loving idiots, just more obsessive.

So please join them before their patience runs dry. If you push yourself too far away, then they suddenly won't care if you have any reluctance towards them or their methods.

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bettystonewell · 5 days ago

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Whatever This Is

Read on AO3 || Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester x Reader

You’ve been sleeping with Dean for weeks. You never established what you were doing, just going with the flow, until a vulnerable moment makes for an awkward tangent to ask and find out 2.3k words

Tags/Warnings: fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers, miscommunication, menstruation, cramping, embarrassing moment for reader, lil bit of humour, Dean is unfazed and an absolute sweetheart, set somewhere in Season 3

Four AM and you’re freezing your tits off. Miserable. Cramping. You give Dean a petulant pout as he waits patiently on the sidewalk for you. Instant regret when you remember he’s currently the sweetest man on earth, navigating through your wrath in his stride, and doesn’t deserve whatever this is.

It’s not his fault your ovaries are punishing you for another successful thwart at reproduction. Not his fault your body is replicating a thousand knives, stabbing you at once in the same spot, even though you’ve had a dose of tylenol.

Except it is.

He’s half to blame because he wanted the sex, too. There’s an IUD shoved up in there because you decided long ago that taking the pill was far too risky in this business, and he gets to go in without suiting up thanks to past you.

You cannot have a kid right now. Not only are you both too young and this is far, far too new, but there’s the little detail about him being sentenced to hell to top things off. And you, stopping at nothing to stop it, when you’re not a whimpering puddle of hormones.

You’re quite the pair.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” He pries your bundle of soiled clothes from your tight grip and offers out his other hand.

“I can manage from here,” you say, but he shakes his head. Pulls you out Baby’s door and through the one belonging to the laundromat, setting you down on the row of chairs in the middle without another word.

He drapes his leather jacket over your shoulders, wrapping you in warmth and whiskey. Sweats, also his, that had hung off your hips, now balloon at your sides.

He’s wearing what he went to sleep in. His hair, still road worn at the back as he feeds your laundry into the machine.

Your cheeks are warmer. You were all for throwing a tonne of salt on your pjs and lighting them up, but his superhuman powers of simply existing had him rapping on the bathroom door before you’d so much as rinsed the evidence away under the faucet.

He saunters back over to you and sits down with a groan. Makes a spectacle when he throws his arm over yours and kisses your temple. “You good?” he says, and all you can do is nod. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. S’only natural.”

You lean into him. Let his body further warm yours and your nostrils with the added fruity smell of Tide. “You didn’t bleed all over the place.”

“Not this time.” He shrugs.

But you’re still not convinced. The blood on the motel sheets didn’t come from your arm or your leg. It came from your hoo-ha, and while he’s right, it’s nothing to be ashamed of because it is perfectly natural. It happened in the same motel room you were sharing with Sam. In the bed you were sharing with Dean. And it happened even though you’d been prepared.

Worst of all, he’d put his hand in it, and while he insisted it wasn’t an issue, you’ve only been sleeping with him for three weeks. Came about after a drunken confession that he was scared shitless ‘bout going to hell, and it kind of stuck. You don’t even know if he is that to you, which makes this ten times worse.

“Hey.” He nudges you with his hip, squeezes his arm tighter. “We’re busting out of this place today. It’s not like they’ll even remember you if we stay here again.” He tries like that’s the problem.

You know it’s to make you smile, and you appreciate it, you do, but, “That’s not what I’m worried about,” you say.

“Then what is?”

He releases his hold on you. Leans forward and back at the same time. Finds the angle that works for him and narrows his gaze at you.

Green eyes pierce your mortified ones, because now you have to tell him, ask him, and you’re licking over your lips, trying to moisten them so the words have something to slip on.

You’re an adult. You got this. Asking what you are to him should be the easiest thing in the world, but there’s that stigma that you’re not worthy. Just a little girl who messes up her bed. Drags her guy friend out in the middle of the night to clean up said mess and watches on as he cleans it up.

“This.” You splay your arm out in front of you. Wave it around the general expanse of the room you’re in.

“What? The laundromat?”

“No.” It’s not the place you’re pointing out. Not the wall of washing machines ahead, thirteen of them empty, bar that one, top centre, tumbling your clothes through its big barrel. Not the driers on the other wall, just as big.

It’s the being here with him. Him sitting here with you waiting. Him acting like boyfriend material, when you don’t know where you stand.

“This,” you say. “Us.”

“Me and you?” His brow furrows. Voice normal, because he still doesn’t get it.

“Yeah. Us.” You exemplify the you-and-him part with your still flailing arm.

“Me helping you with your clothes is the problem?” He sits up, though you still feel his eyes on you.

“Yes.”

Thank god he gets it now. Only, “How?” he’s asking next, and you could shake him. Why do guys have to be so dumb?

Your hand is moving back and forth between you. You’re stretching to sit up and match him, but it’s cramping your cramping and you’re trying desperately to calm yourself down before saying, “We’re just fooling around. But you’re helping me with my period? It’s a little—”

“You think I’m fooling around?” Dean stands, and though he doesn’t turn around, you don’t need to see his face to know he’s angry. His bowed legs are twitching like they do when he gets mad.

“It’s not like you’ve asked me out,” you say, defensive. His hot-temper and the pain are a little too much to handle together, but it’s also a little too late to back off now. “We haven’t sat down and talked about this.”

“About us?” He turns, jaw cutting the air. Sharp lines cross his whole face, actually. His brows, the crease between them, his lips, and god those are perfect, and you’re about to lose whatever this was that allowed you to touch them. Taste them, and all you can do is nod.

“What were you expecting me to do? Take you out to some fancy five-star restaurant and buy you lobster?”

Your head rocks to the side. Cheeks rising to squish your lashes as you stare back at him and blink through it. If they were warm before, they’re as hot as the heat pack you’d used earlier during the night before all this occurred.

“Why—”

“Saw it in a movie once,” he says, words coming out the quickest you’ve heard him speak. The usual gruffness dissipated like he’s de-aged a couple of years by simply standing there. “Snails look gross.”

“Another movie?”

He nods.

You wanna ask what the hell he’s been watching, but you’re more concerned by his unusual demeanor. His hands are fidgeting, smoothing his sides. His eyes have dropped to the floor and there’s the whole eating shell…fish thing?

“Look at me,” he says next, but you are.

You’re seeing his tentative step forward. His arms splayed out like he’s showing you something more than what’s there, and that’s when you realise you’re the one that’s dumb. You’re the one that’s not getting it.

He didn’t fuss once. Didn’t screw up his nose at you when he realised you weren’t hurt from the hunt like he originally thought. And you’re not saying all the men that have ever been in your life have been grossed out by periods and bodily functions, but Dean exceeded whatever expectation and stereotype you had.

He’d insisted you stay at the motel while he came here for you, but you were too embarrassed to allow that. Too prudish to let the guy who’s seen all of you up close and personal do something even more intimate than even you’d prefer and now he’s standing there suggesting he’s not good enough?

“I am looking at you,” you say. “Guess I wasn’t before, but I am now.”

And even though it still cramps your cramps, you’re standing up and walking over to him. Feeling his jacket clip your sides where his sweats have fallen. You’re clinging to his shirt and pulling him in close so you can kiss those lips of his and taste.

You’d put your all into it, but his hands are hovering at your waist and you know his eyes are wide open, watching. So you lean back, chew on your cheek, smooth the fabric of his shirt back from where your grip scrunched it up, and, “Sorry,” you whisper. You’re not sure what else to do, but what you’re apologising for is lost on you, too.

It’s not like it’s the first time. He’s kissed you plenty, and not just the peck on your forehead minutes earlier. His mouth has touched every inch of your body, and every inch of him has touched yours, so why is this so damn hard now?

Your chin drops like a scolded child. May as well have with the silence between you. Can’t say the same for the room, but the tumbling of the drum is only making things worse because the clicking of your clothes is acting like a countdown for the timer on the machine and whatever he’s going to do next.

Do you say something? Do you wait for him? Your cheek is going to have a hole in it soon if someone doesn’t say something and thank god, or not, his mouth opens to, but, “Forget I said anything,” you cut in. Shake your head and step away from his space. “I should’ve—”

“Would you just shut up?” His voice booms, and great, there’s that gruffness you were missing.

Your nose tingles from his stare, and you’re opening your mouth again, but the look he gives you? Eyebrows to the heavens, green eyes looking more amber, like they’ve been lit by a flame? Yeah. You close it, chest heaving as you wait and listen.

“I just,” he says, and it’s quieter. “I thought we were on the same page.”

His fingers reach for yours and he pulls you back. If you were on a boat, you’d be dealing with motion sickness right about now, and truly, it’s how your stomach’s fairing. Just adding more to the discomfort of your middle, and why not? You’ve already given Dean a conniption. What’s one more grievance between the two of you?

“I’m no good, sweetheart. I’m going to hell.”

You want to interject with why that is. That it was a selfless act, but his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand, teed with the softness in his voice and the continual ‘I’m talking here’ glare keeps your lips tight.

“Can’t say I’d be happy if I saw you picking up some other douchebag at the bar. Like to think I’m the only guy that gets to do your laundry. Least until,” he shrugs. Gives you a rueful smile, “y’know?”

And you do know. You’re swallowing the ache in your throat, waiting just a little longer to make sure he’s finished before you try again.

You nod, and it’s solemn, slow. You don’t want to think about it, but the truth is there, hanging over both your heads. An elephant in the room who’s laughing at you and your complaints. Where Dean’s going, he’s going to be feeling a lot more than any tylenol could alleviate, and it really puts things in perspective.

So, “Yeah,” you say, and though you want to add you don’t want to pick up anyone else but him, ever, it’s a little too real, too involved than whatever this thing is now. You’d rather be trying that kiss again, but first you add, “As long as you’re not doing the same.”

“Cross my heart.” His mouth opens wide as he tugs your arm. Pulls you in and plants his mouth over yours.

It steals your breath away. The way he holds you. Wrapping his arms around your torso and squeezing, gentle enough to not cause you anymore discomfort, but present enough to soak in his warmth and solid form.

His tongue clips your teeth, spreads his morning breath and a taste that you know only from him over your lips.

Your gut calms. The cramps overpowered by the tingles from his nose, his fingers, chin and arms surrounding you, touching you, and you don’t want it to end.

But Dean lets go, only by a little. His face stays hovering inches from yours as he stares into your eyes.

“So have I made myself clear?” he asks. Chuckles when you rap his shoulder. His hand lets go and swipes at a strand of hair that’s probably been sticking out since you woke. Tucks it behind your ear.

You’re a bigger mess than you’ve been letting on, but the gesture returns his grin.

“Not fooling around?” you say, and he repeats it. Places a kiss on your forehead again, and drags you back to the seats.

His arm wraps around your shoulders once more and your head leans into his.

Four AM, and you’re no longer freezing your tits off. Cramping? A little, but the pouts, no longer there. There’s a warmth in your cheeks and one in your heart, though, and you’re sitting with the sweetest guy in the world.

You won’t label it. There’s no need. You know he’s hanging around, at least as long as he can. You just gotta find that loophole. Keep him here with you and Sam, and then who knows?

Maybe one day you’ll leave this life of visiting laundromats at odd hours because you’ll have a place of your own.

And then, the only red you’ll see will be the one you’re dealing with now, and the shade that crosses Dean’s nose when he says something real and important.

This started out as another idea for Couple Things involving Dean and his red gym teacher shorts, also at the laundromat, but it developed into what it is now. I’ll probably still write the other version as a part two to this eventually.

Dean Taglist #1

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

@reluctanthalfwayoptimism @supernotnatural2005 @jackles010378 @kaz-2y5-spn @applelovesposts

@jaydensluv @foxyjwls007 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @waynes-multiverse

@kazchester-fanfiction @maddie0101 @ladykitana90 @luvr4miya @amyjam78

@stoneyggirl2 @winchesterwild78 @missywinchester15 @deansbbyx @kr804573

@lyarr24 @salemslostwitch @mostlymarvelgirl @ladysparkles78 @multiversefanfics

@31miw-inkpsycho @yoursrosie @Theantisoci-alone @roseamie13 @krazykelly

@my-stories-vault @amberlthomas @levine-23 @ultimatecin73 @district447

@hobby27 @aylacavebear @stellawritesstories @middleearthlife @yeehawgiddyup13

@redwinexsupernova @artemys-ackles @kimxwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @impala67rollingthroughtown

If you’d like to be added, you can add yourself HERE, or if you’d like to be removed, please let me know ☺️

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #x reader #reader insert #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic

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ruesol · 7 months ago

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Part 2 of Ghoap watching you eat fruit.

Notes: suggestive (sorry for leading you on), I know I called Ghost Simon in the last one but it was too late until I realized that. AFAB!reader is called doll. Not proofread.

main masterlist

The day was hot. The sweltering heat had gotten to everyone. Except for Johnny MacTavish of course.

He was borderline skipping on his way to the common area, dull rattle coming from the plastic container of strawberries in his hand. His cheeriness irritated all the soldiers on base.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Ghost asked as he joined his walk. He probably already finished sharpening his knives so he joined Johnny, not having anything else to occupy his spare time.

“You’ll see,” the younger man simpler smirked, too excited to even look at his senior. Blue eyes sparkling with a momentary glance at the container in his hands. “I got a present for our friend.”

The two burly men entered the lounge space and the entire room suddenly felt too small despite two windows shinning ochre rays of the sun. You were no victim to the heat either; with your normal fitted t-shirt swapped for a thin tank top and pants switched for workout shorts.

You were quick to turn away from your meaningless task at the sight of their imposing presence. “Oh, hey, guys. What are you doing here?”

Johnny raised the box of strawberries in his hands. “I know you like fruits so I snagged these. Let’s share some,” he winked. Ghost was starting to understand what Johnny had planned.

He pulled his mask half way up his face. To cool down, of course.

Much to Ghost’s hidden dismay, you conveyed your gratitude to Johnny by hopping up to his face and kissing his scruff cheek- leaving a thin film of fruit scented lip balm.

The base you all had been stationed in was the one that received the least amount of funding- which explained the tiny lone couch with a sad box tv from the 80s. It even had a storage unit for cassette tapes, making whoever who used it feel like they had travelled through time. The two men took the only two seats on the couch, giving you no space to rest your legs. You couldn’t even squeeze in between them if you tried because of how they had their expansive thighs spread. “That’s fine, I’ll just-“

Ghost was quick to pull you down, holding you on his firm thigh. “‘S’alright, love. We can’t let you stand while we relax.” Johnny said as rubbed his rough paw on your knee, nearly engulfing the area.

Your blood ran hot as you observed the scene from an outsider’s perspective. Two burly men, sitting side by side with a pretty doll on one lap. Surely, it was all innocent. Surely there wasn’t an ulterior motive on their minds. They were your best friends so you trusted them with everything. That included your body.

You could sleep in nothing but an oversized t-shirt between them and you knew you’d be alright. Fleeting touches, unwanted flirtation, and uncomfortable proximity was never a problem because it just never happened.

You hadn’t thought of them in that sense until this moment right now, where both of them were looking like they wanted to eat you more than the fat, plump strawberries.

Johnny opened the box of strawberries and placed them on the cardboard-box-turned-coffee-table. The strawberries looked like they had dropped from the shrubs of heaven- huge and swollen to the point of seemingly saccharine ripeness, begging to be bit into.

“Here, love, you get the first and the biggest,” the more talkative of the two didn’t even wait for you to extend your hand before placing the fruit right on your lips. He didn’t move it until you took a bite. “Go on.” His bushy eyebrows were unnaturally raised. You could see the sheen of sweat forming on his forehead- a part of you wanted wipe it for him.

With your eyes staring into his eager ones, you took a bite. It tasted unlike any strawberry you had eaten before. Mostly sweet with a kick of tartness. You unconsciously let out a small moan of satisfaction, prompting Ghost to shift in his seat a little, rattling you in the process.

“How is it?” Ghost rumbled from under you. You hadn’t noticed when he had pulled close to his chest. You could smell the gun powder and sweat permeating off him. “It’s sweet,” you said.

“Really? Let me check.” You thought the man was going to grab the same strawberry, but you were surprised to see his hand move to your neck instead.

“What are you-“

And you were interrupted again- but this time by a searing kiss on your lips. Ghost took your surprised gasp as a chance to enter your mouth. His wet muscle explored you, tasting whatever was left of the sweet fruit. You couldn’t even fight off the sudden attack of his mouth with how he held you tightly in his arms. You had no room to move.

After what felt like ages, he pulled away. “She’s right, it’s sweet. Here, you try.” Ghost effortlessly picked you up and placed you on Johnny’s lap. Much to your confusion, Johnny didn’t mention that he already had a strawberry in his hand. But you didn’t bring out your concerns- Ghost’s kiss had you dazed.

Johnny didn’t waste any time and planted his desperate lips on yours. Gasping every time his mouth opened, licking up remnants of the little juice Ghost left for him.

He pulled away, arms around your waist to make sure you wouldn’t leave (though you couldn’t bother escaping- your wobbly legs would probably give out on you if you tried).

“There’s nothing to taste. You took it all,” the Scot inveighed. “Have to try another one. These were expensive to get, y’know.” He rolled his eyes as he grabbed a few, not enough to be a handful but enough to satiate his much larger appetite. “Fuck, there goes seven pounds down the ground.”

Ghost made a mental note give Soap a good hard smack on the back of his head afterwards. Seven pounds per strawberry? Somebody give him a fucking break.

Soap took the strawberries to your lips once again but you looked at him with a confused expression. “I thought these were for you? I can’t fit all of them in my mouth.”

“Yeah, they’re f’me, but I’m gonna have ‘em like this.” The man crushed the strawberries over your mouth. You sucked in a breath of surprise, it was all so sudden. Your eyes closed as the pieces of fruit burst on your face- droplets beneath your eyes, cheek bones, and of course, mouth. The juices dripped down your lips to your chin, eventually trailing down your neck. Johnny eyed the pink stains left behind by each trailing drop.

“Soap, what the fuck?” You went on to wipe the juices off your face but Ghost grabbed both your wrists with a single hand and held them behind your back. “Relax, he’s just tryin’ to taste it.”

You turned back to look at Ghost with a shocked face, but as always, his blank eyes conveyed no emotion. Not even an apologetic glint.

Soap’s calloused fingers gripped your jaw as he turned you to face him while he used his other hand to hold you down by your waist.

You only remembered the crazed look in his eyes before he leaned down to devour you. Wet tongue painting your mouth and cheek, mopping up the tart juice. The hand gripping your jaw went down to join his other one that was holding on to you, kneading your sides.

You moaned (voluntarily) at the feeling of his fingers roughly pushing and poking your skin.

It was all so hot. Literally. You could feel your sweat dripping down your back, reaching the little peek of skin below the hem of your top, where Ghost had your hands pinned. Something about his gloved hands touching your bare skin had you grinding against Johnny’s thigh.

“Fuck, now it tastes sweeter,” he chuckled against your lips. His mouth trailed down to your chin, licking up the remnants of the sticky juice there. Your ears felt like they were on fire when you heard him loudly smack his lips, savoring the taste.

His mouth continued to go down further, moving towards the column of your neck, squeezing more strawberries and licking up their juices. At this point, the smell of your sweat mixed with the taste of strawberries had him intoxicated.

Ghost was beginning to get agitated. He wanted to touch the pretty doll on Johnny’s lap too. With a cautious gaze, he slowly loosened the grip to see if you would get up, but you didn’t move an inch away from Johnny. Hell, your hands were still placed against your back, too blissed out to notice that Ghost had freed them.

He moved closer towards you and Johnny and slowly trailed his hands up your thighs to your breasts, lifting your tank in the process. Johnny complied with his lieutenant’s movement and put his hands on your thighs instead. You realized that the man needed to touch some part of your body while having his mouth on you.

Ghost began to massage the area right beneath your breasts and left small kisses on your temple as you mewled reluctant protests of wanting to be left alone.

“We can’t stop. We need to finish all the strawberries. Captain can’t find out that we spent food ration funds on this,” Johnny mumbled between leaving deep burgundy hickeys on the swell of your cleavage.

Ghost hooked his fingers beneath your sports bra, hoping to pull it off along with your scrunched up top, but froze when a familiar voice barked at the entrance of the lounge.

“Which one of you bastards bought gourmet strawberries?” It was Captain Price.

But as soon as the three of you looked at him, his angry gaze faltered to a curious one.

His eyes landed on the box of now almost empty container of strawberries on the makeshift coffee table.

Then on Johnny’s face- scarlet stains all over his mouth.

Ghost, the man who didn’t even show a single fingernail, had half his face visible to the world, pressed up on your cheek

And then of course, he looked at you- best for last. Lips swollen, clavicle littered with irregular purple spots, and the most delicious sight of all- your clothed breasts pushed up (courtesy of Ghost’s hands.

“All of you in my office. I have the perfect punishment.”

—

I- yeah, idk what I wrote either.

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itsabouttimex2 · 7 months ago

Note

Fun fact: In China, Chinese criminals were marked on their faces for life. Hot knives cut the flesh of prisoners, engraving characters on their foreheads. Later the ink was inserted into the open wounds to form words like “murderer”, “thief” and etc.

That’s such a morbidly neat fact, and thank your for sharing it with me! It actually got me looking around online, where I found a few articles about it!

It certainly provides some “encouragement” for Y/N to play along with whatever the kings want, after they tried to steal from the royal kitchen- there’s always the threat of a permanent criminal marking on the table.

(They wouldn’t actually do that to a kiddo, but Y/N doesn’t know that.)

Or worse- Y/N has already been punished for their former acts of theft, without the jurisdiction of either king who would have absolutely vetoed the notion of essentially mutilating a hungry child for stealing scraps from a graveyard or windowsill.

MK learning from his loving baba that only “bad people” get these tattoos and growing very, very upset no matter how his fathers try to comfort or soothe him, and for all they remind him that it “only happens to bad people”, it just pushes him closer and closer to the brink because-

“Y/N is not bad,” the boy wails, tears gushing from his big black eyes, sopping uselessly away into his golden father’s robe, both monkeys gently trying to comfort him.

“Shush, shush, shhh… Xiaotian, baby, please! No one said anything about Y/N!” Macaque tries to soothe, bouncing his son lightly.

“You did,” he bawls, kicking his little feet like any other toddler throwing a tantrum. “You did! Y-you said “bad people” have those tattoos! And- and- and Y/N is not bad!”

“Y/N has… someone gave them a penal tattoo?” Sun Wukong queries, unknowingly tightening his grip on the gilded handles of his throne. “…someone gave a starving orphan the mark of a dangerous criminal?”

“…I think we need to take a trip down to the village.”

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Sun Wukong #Yandere Macaque #MK #Monkiefam #Eclipse Kings #TW: Mutilation

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mother-honour · 1 year ago

Text

Actions have consequences (Simon 'Ghost' Riley X GN Civilian! Spouse! Reader) Part 1

Summary: In a heated argument between the two of you, Simon says something he will regret for the rest of his life.

CW: Simon being an asshole, Swearing, yelling, emotional hurt, heavy angst, car accident, descriptive writing of injury, Character death (?)

Simon truly wanted to be a good husband.

But nothing ever seemed to go smoothly in his life. From his fucked-up childhood, his own demons, to his role as the infamous Ghost. Everything had to eventually come to bite him in the ass.

You, his loving spouse, had always tried to ease his pain in any way that you could. It would vary from cuddling on the couch, to taking him somewhere to lay in the grass and watch the clouds go by. However, he'd been away longer. The world beyond the walls of his cozy home made him more bitter, jaded, and cruel when he returned home.

It was today that he finally snapped.

It was a small disagreement at first, something that had already felt foreign to you. Then it escalated. The both of you kept just kept going back and forth, spitting venom at each other from a supply with an unknown source.

"All I have been trying to do this whole time is make sure that you don't have to deal with the pain alone. I'm only trying to fucking help, Simon!" You yell with hot tears streaming down your face, the grip on your shirt so tight it makes your knuckles turn white.

"Marrying you was a mistake." He snarls. The way your face twists into an expression of pure horror at his words makes him want to take it all back. A choked sob leaves your trembling body as you bolt into the direction of the door. You ignore the frantic calls of your husband as you snatch your jacket and the car keys in one swift motion, not even bothering to look back as you slam the door in his face.

You make your way to the red sports car, unlocking the vehicle before plopping yourself down in the driver's seat. There was no going back now. You start the car, glancing to the side at your shared home with Simon one last time before you hit the gas.

"Fuck…" You whimper while running a hand over your tear-stained face. Simon's words echo through your mind over and over again, the feeling of knives stabbing into your heart becoming more and more evident with each and every loop.

'Marrying you was a mistake.'

Your eyes dart to the side as you catch a flash of bright lights, the booming horn of a truck being the last thing you hear before everything goes dark.

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

Simon sat on the couch, fingers dinging into his hair, as the tears finally stopped. It had been an hour since you stormed out the door, the look of pure horror on your face branded into his mind like the scars that decorated his body. How could he have said that to you? You, the love of his life, were the only person who had let him feel human in the times he needed it most.

"I'm such a fucking idiot." He scolded himself while smacking the sides of his head. The sound of his phone buzzing on the coffee table was the only thing that brought him out of his self-pity. He reached out to the obnoxious device that tried to get his attention, turning it around to find the word 'unknown' flashing readily on the screen.

Alarm bells began to go off in his brain as he pressed down to answer the call. A sweet elderly voice was greeting him from the other side. "Hello? Is this Mr. Riley? I am calling from the Clementine Churchill Hospital." The moment the word 'hospital' registered in Simon's brain, he immediately froze.

"Sir?" The voice on the other side called again, to which this time he did respond. "Yes, you are speaking to him. Why did you call me?" Deep down, he already knew why. "Your spouse has been in a car accident. Do you have the possibility to come over?"

Simon's heart stopped beating.

The time between him rushing to the hospital and finally reaching your room was all but a blur to him. He now sat at your bedside, tears streaming down his face as he looked at the damage he had caused. You looked so frail, all wrapped up in bandages, with all different types of tubes and machinery hooked up to you.

There was only one thought that crossed Simon's mind at this very moment. It was all his fault.

If he hadn't yelled at you, if he hadn't let you walk out of that door, you would've been cuddled up on the couch together. You would be smiling at him, those beautiful eyes he came to love looking up at him with pure joy when you told him about your day. But you weren't. You were lying here, fighting for your life. All because of him.

"Sweetheart? I don't know if you can hear me… but I-" Simon had to swallow as he felt his world crumble around him. "I'm so sorry, baby. I should've never allowed myself to say something so fucking horrible to you." Hot tears streamed down his face as he reached out to caress your cheek. "Please… please don't go. I can't-I can't lose anyone else." Simon wept as he held onto your hand, his lips brushing against your bandaged knuckles.

"Please…" He kept begging. He was hoping that someone, anyone, would hear his plea not to take you away from him.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x reader #cod x reader #gender neutral reader #no use of y/n #MotherHonoursWriting

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imsojules · 2 months ago

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Imagine surviving a zombie apocalypse with JJ

Hey y’all! So I had a dream a few weeks ago after binging The Walking Dead and The Last of Us, and it inspired me to get back to writing after a long time! While I’m working on the actual fic (I would like to make it into a series), I’d like to share with you some headcanon teaser-imagine-type thing. 1.2k

Any feedback is really appreciated!! ♥

TW for typical zombie apocalypse violence, established relationship, mentioned extreme violence/death, hurt/comfort, Pogue fem!reader, English is not my first language!

masterlist

• The day they announced it as a pandemic, JJ rushed home and waited for his dad to come home; he never did.

• When everything went to hell, JJ was already running on instinct. He heard the news, saw the panic, and didn’t even stop to think. He found you in your driveway, confused and holding your phone like it still mattered. He didn’t even say hello, just grabbed your wrist and said, “We need to go. Now.”

• His voice was shaking. JJ Maybank does not scare easy — so when he looked at you like the world was ending, you believed him.

• John B hotwired a truck. Pope showed up with a first aid kit and four cans of soup. Kie had a machete and murder in her eyes. Sarah was already screaming at rich people to get off their yachts. And just like that, the Pogues became your apocalypse family.

• You’ve all got roles. Pope’s the tactician. John B’s the scout. Kiara’s the fixer. Sarah’s the backup. JJ’s the shield. You? You’re the glue. You’re the reason they haven’t splintered. You remind them there’s still something worth fighting for. Even if it’s just each other.

• JJ's survival strategy? Vibes and violence. He’s got no long-term plan, no route on the map, just a baseball bat, a stolen switchblade, and the promise he made to you: “I’m not leaving without you.”

• You’re in charge of rations, because JJ is not to be trusted around the food, and he’s not too proud to admit it.

• He deadass wants to go live in the mountains until all this has passed, and you’re like ?? “I’m not starving to death, Jay, forget it.”

• You constantly have to remind him he’s not Bear Grylls.

• He names his weapons. It’s dumb, but you let him have it. The bat is "Lucille 2," and the knife is “Karma.” You once caught him talking to them like they were teammates. “Nice work today, Karma. You really showed that corpse who’s boss.”

• You once found an abandoned community center with an old projector. Pope rigged it to work off a car battery. You all watched The Goonies while eating expired popcorn. It was the first time you saw JJ cry. He blamed it on “zombie dust.” No one called him out.

• Every new safehouse, he carves a tiny mark into the wall. A tally of the days survived. He never talks about it. You only saw it once—his name, yours, and a little plus sign between them.

• He taught you how to throw knives using an old road sign as a target. You beat him once. JJ claimed the wind was emotionally targeting him. “That was sabotage. Atmospheric betrayal.”

• Kiara taught you how to use a crossbow. JJ said it was hot. John B agreed. Sarah threatened to throw both of them into a walker pit if they kept being annoying. They shut up. (But JJ kept sneaking glances.)

• You kept a Polaroid JJ found—two strangers, smiling in some sunny-before-time. You call them "the ghosts." It’s silly, but sometimes you imagine they made it somewhere safe. That you will too.

• If there’s a tree in your path, you bet JJ’s going to fucking climb it. Passing an abandoned playground? Before you can blink, he’s on the jungle gym like “Look at me!!”

• He will insist he’s “scouting.”

• And it’s the little things that keep you sane.

• You both use humor to cope with the world.

• He can joke about the end of the world all day, but when you’re laughing, you’re reminding him that there’s still some piece of it left.

• You joked once about who’d be the first to die in a horror movie. “Definitely me,” he said without hesitation. “I’d trip saving you and get eaten with zero regrets. Classic heroic dumbass move. Five stars.”

• You started calling yourselves Team Cockroach—because no matter what came at you, you were still standing. JJ said it made you sound invincible. “Sexy little apocalypse cockroach power couple.”

• He made up a game called “Guess That Gunfire!” where you both guess what kind of weapon is being fired in the distance. Winner gets a protein bar. Loser has to cuddle him during night watch. You always lose. Mysteriously.

• You keep a small, battered notebook filled with sketches of places you’ve passed and letters you’ll never send.

• When things are quiet, the Pogues talk about what they miss most. Kie misses her garden. Pope misses his dad’s pancakes. Sarah misses showers. John B misses his freedom. JJ says he misses peace. You know he means it. He means you’re the closest he’s come to finding it again.

• At night watch, JJ exercises to stay awake. Like, you wake up in the middle of the night because you think you heard a zombie groan, but it’s just JJ doing sit-ups next to you.

• He senses you stirring and starts muttering, “Hundred and six, hundred and seven, hundred and—” but let’s be real, he only did like twelve.

• And you’re like, “How? Why? You’ve only had a can of tuna to eat in two days, where do you even get the energy??”

• “Gotta stay in shape if I’m gonna keep saving your clumsy ass.”

• JJ is the king of petty, spite-fueled motivation. “I’m not dying before I get to punch Rafe one more time.” “I didn’t live through the end of the world to starve to death. Not happening.” “I got bit by a duck, babe. A duck. I’m surviving out of spite.”

• He is terrified of losing you. Every time you two are apart, JJ is borderline homicidal.

• “I need to know you’re breathing. That you’re right there.” If he loses sight of you for more than ten seconds, it’s search mode activated. No one’s allowed to joke about it.

• There’s a comfort in knowing he’ll always fight for you. When the others doubt, when they hesitate, JJ’s always the one who steps up first, his fists clenched in a promise he’ll do whatever it takes to keep both of you alive.

• When you get to shower for the first time in a while, you suggest you just shower together and make the best of what little water you have.

• Imagine cuddling for comfort and warmth.

• Or patching him up after another close call.

• You once told him he was your home. He didn’t say anything, just looked at you like it physically hurt to love someone that much. That night, he held you like the world was ending all over again.

• You forget what day it is. Once, after spotting wildflowers sprouting through asphalt, you decided it was your anniversary. You didn’t know the real date, but you both agreed it felt like love.

• You have to be the responsible one, the decisive one, but in return, JJ will be your rock, your protector, steadfast and strong. Not even the weight of the world ending can faze him when he has you to worry about.

• When he says “I got you,” it’s never just words. It’s a promise. It’s a prayer. It’s a desperate, messy vow he’s never going to break—even if it kills him.

• After almost losing you once, he confesses that without you, he doesn’t have a reason to keep going. He survives to protect you.

• Never whines that he’s hungry or tired because he knows you are too, so whenever you ask if he’s alright, the answer is always going to be that he’s “okay if you are.”

• You once asked him what he’s fighting so hard for. He didn’t even blink. “You.” Then added, with a grin, “…and, like, definitely revenge on the duck.”

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peachesandfictionalmen · 11 months ago

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Jason Todd x best friend!paramedic!reader- gn

You always supposed you and Jason had become so close simply because your schedules synced.

You both occupied so much of the night you were bound to run into each other eventually. Sharing burgers and stories on rooftops with this man who is so gentle yet domineering to most helped to break up the graveyard shifts.

Your shared laughter broke the silence of lonely nights between calls and crimes.

The Red Hood quickly became a familiar face when he had helped you up to a rooftop or carry a patient and saved your life a dozen or so times. But you only got so close after you had to save him, hiding your identity becomes considerably harder when you’ve got a gunshot wound and a nasty concussion.

After that Jason sought out your company freely, and it started a rooftop routine that quickly turned into a friendship. Eventually Jason was cooking meals in your kitchen because he says leftovers are better than ramen every night, and having karaoke dancing parties in your living room. Spontaneous movie nights (more accurately mornings) that have your legs draped across Jason’s lap, him massaging your calves with his restless hands.

At some point Jason started being there all the time, he filled your nights and joined you the mornings that your friends couldn’t make brunch or when you both just needed the company. He became a constant comfort, the man your friends teased you about, a presence you craved when he was gone, and even though his smirk could make your stomach flip, neither of you wanted to risk your friendship to turn it into more.

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

It was one of those nights were you trudge up to your apartment at the end of a draining shift and fall straight into bed, assuming you make it that far. Swinging your front door open after fumbling with the key in the lock, the first thing you notice is the breeze that flows through the apartment. A chill going down your spine as the air hits you, you notice the open living room window. You carefully put down your work duffel, scanning the apartment with the flashlight off your belt, you find the answer to the open window.

A pair of familiar black boots, the same ones that normally end up next to your shoes at the door, give way to the rest of the familiar man, Jason, slumped over your coffee table in his currently disheveled Red Hood suit.

"hey doc" Jason lets out a grumble as he tries to move, the cuts across his body becoming more obvious as he clamors.

"careful, careful" You move to turn on the coffee table lamp before helping him get to the couch "sit, i'll grab my kit" sighing as your body wakes up from its groggy state.

Coming back to the couch you kneel in front of Jason to start with the wounds on his legs after making sure he didn't have any major injuries. "you gonna tell me what happened?" He was fine a couple of hours ago, when he'd brought you coffee between calls.

"Just a few scuffs s' all, i'm okay" He shifts on the couch at the sting of antiseptic.

"it looks like more than a few scuffs to me-" You continue to dab antiseptic into the wounds, noticing that a few might need to be stitched since their open and weeping.

"the guy was fond of knives" Jason shifts again, stiffly reaching over to push the hair out of your face. He hooks his finger behind your ear, lingering longer than necessary before leaning back. "thanks doc, i apologize for the intrusion."

You scoff lightly "Jay, you damn near live here, your hardly intruding." You finish one leg and start carefully looking over the other.

"I love you" He whispers it as casually as if he'd been asking what you wanted for dinner.

You glance up at him, startled, because you've never heard those words come from him, he's never used the word love towards anything. "love you too Jay", you try not to sound too nervous or desperate as your voice warbles with the unfamiliar phase, hands continuing to dab antiseptic at dried blood.

"no", suddenly your being hoisted up from your crouched position and into Jason's wide lap, his gun holsters digging into the side of your thighs. His calloused fingertips incline your chin so you're meeting his eyes. "i mean, I. Love. You." He punctuates each word and you're sure you've never heard him sound so scared.

Your hand settles against his chest and you feel every breath he takes. The familiar scent of leather, cologne and night air envelops you and you blink, finally responding. "I love you too"

His lips meet yours softly, like he's afraid you'll crumble. His grip on you tightens as you respond to the kiss and when your lips part from each other he lays his forehead against yours, repeating himself like the beginning of a mantra, "I love you".

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood #dc #dc comics x reader #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd imagine

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geneviveleocardius · 6 months ago

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arthur morgan romantic headcanons

extended

to the loml..

Arthur isn’t the type to fall in love easily, but when he does, it hits him like a freight train. He fights it at first, thinking he doesn’t deserve you or that his life is too dangerous. But once he accepts it, his love is unwavering.

Arthur’s love language is rooted in action. He’ll sharpen your knives, mend your clothes, and leave little surprises in your belongings—a flower he picked on a ride, a small drawing tucked into your satchel. These gestures are his way of saying..

“I’m thinking of you.”

Arthur would walk through hell and back for you, no questions asked. If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, they’ll be met with a cold, steely glare—and if the situation escalates, Arthur won’t hesitate to step in.

Arthur notices everything about you—how you like your coffee, the way your eyes light up when you laugh, the small things that bring you comfort. He stores this knowledge away, using it to make your life easier without drawing attention to himself.

Arthur finds it hard to express his feelings verbally. When he tries, he stumbles over his words, his cheeks flushing red. Instead, he’ll write you letters or let his actions speak for him. The few times he does manage to say “I love you,” it’s raw, heartfelt, and unforgettable.

Arthur is big, strong, and often a bit rough around the edges, but he’s incredibly gentle with you. His touch is always careful, his words soft, and he treats you like you’re something precious in a world full of chaos.

Arthur has a deep respect for you and your ability to hold your own, especially in the harsh world you both live in. He’ll often tell you, “You’re tougher than most folks I know. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Arthur cherishes the rare times when it’s just the two of you—sitting by a campfire, watching the stars, or riding side by side in peaceful silence. These moments are what keep him going when life feels too heavy.

Arthur doesn’t get jealous often, but when he does, it’s subtle—a tense jaw, a quiet grumble, or a pointed look. If someone flirts with you, he’ll casually sling an arm around your shoulders and mutter something like, “Don’t think they know you’re already spoken for.”

Arthur loves to sketch you. He’ll pretend he’s drawing landscapes or animals, but you’ll often find small doodles of you hidden in his journal. If you ever catch him in the act, he’ll act bashful, muttering, “Just drawin’ what I see..”

Arthur’s protective nature runs deep. He knows the world is dangerous, and he’ll do anything to shield you from it. At the same time, he trusts your strength and doesn’t try to control you—he just wants to be there when you need him.

Arthur believes in being upfront with you, even when the truth is hard to hear. He doesn’t want to hide anything, especially from someone he loves. His honesty might be blunt, but it’s always rooted in care and respect.

Arthur doesn’t expect perfection from you. He knows everyone has their flaws, and he loves you not despite them, but because they make you who you are. He’s always quick to remind you, “Ain’t nobody perfect, least of all me. But you? You’re just fine the way you are.”

Arthur dreams of a better life for the both of you—maybe a little farm, far away from all the chaos. He’s hesitant to share these thoughts at first, afraid they’ll sound foolish, but when he does, his voice is full of hope.

When life gets overwhelming, Arthur is your rock. His presence is steady, his voice reassuring, and his arms feel like the safest place in the world. No matter how bad things get, you know you can always count on him to stand by your side.

Arthur loves to poke fun at you in the gentlest way. If you trip over something or make a small mistake, he’ll smirk and drawl, “Reckon I should start callin’ you Grace.” But if anyone else tries to tease you, he’ll immediately shut them down, saying, “That’s my job, not yours.”

Arthur’s a nickname kind of guy. Whether it’s “darlin’,” “sunshine,” or even something a little more playful like “trouble,” every nickname he uses is laced with affection. If he’s in a particularly good mood, he might tease you by saying, “What’d I do to get stuck with someone like you?” only to follow it up with a soft smile and a quiet, “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Arthur’s got a sharp sense of humor, and he’s not afraid to use it. If you’re being stubborn or overly dramatic, he’ll cross his arms and grin. “Oh, so that’s how it is now? I’d better get outta your way before you start runnin’ the whole gang.” He knows exactly how to get under your skin in the most endearing way.

Arthur loves a little friendly competition, whether it’s a shooting contest, fishing, or even racing horses. He’ll mock you playfully the entire time: “You sure you don’t want a head start, darlin’? Hate to see you lose so bad.” But if you beat him? He’ll act all grumpy before grinning and saying, “Alright, alright, you earned that one. Don’t get too used to it.”

After a round of playful banter, Arthur always makes sure you know he’s kidding. He’ll pull you close, brush his thumb over your cheek, and murmur, “Y’know I don’t mean half the nonsense I say, right? Just like seein’ you smile.”

Arthur’s life hasn’t left much room for softness, but he finds ways to be romantic in his own understated way. He’ll carve your initials into a tree, braid wildflowers into your horse’s mane, or bring you little trinkets he finds on his travels. If you ever call him out on it, he’ll shrug and say, “Just seemed like somethin’ you’d like.”

Arthur has a habit of pulling you into sudden dances when there’s music around the camp. He’ll take your hand with a teasing grin and say, “C’mon, we ain’t got all day. Let’s see if you can keep up.” Even if you’re terrible at it, he’ll just laugh and say, “Guess we both got somethin’ to work on.”

Arthur’s protectiveness often shows up in his actions rather than words. If you’re out riding together, he’ll always place his horse slightly ahead, shielding you from any potential danger. If you call him out on it, he’ll grumble, “Ain’t nothin’. Just keepin’ an eye on things, is all.”

When you’re feeling unsure of yourself, Arthur’s softer side shines through. He’ll tilt his head, his voice low and earnest: “Ain’t no one like you, and don’t you dare forget it. World’s better ‘cause you’re in it.”

Arthur can’t help but stare when you laugh. Whether it’s a soft chuckle or uncontrollable laughter, it always tugs at his heart. He’ll grin and tease, “Reckon I should make you laugh more often. Suits you better than that serious look you like to wear.”

Arthur’s flirting is subtle but effective. He’ll lean in close, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart skip a beat: “You keep lookin’ at me like that, and I might start thinkin’ you’re sweet on me.”

After a long day, Arthur treasures the quiet moments with you. Sitting by the fire, he’ll wrap an arm around your shoulders, occasionally breaking the silence to tease you softly: “Think you could stand another day of me? Don’t answer too fast, might hurt my pride.”

Arthur isn’t just your partner; he’s your anchor. Whenever you need comfort, he’s there without hesitation. He’ll hold you close and murmur, “Ain’t nothin’ we can’t handle. Long as we got each other, we’ll be alright.”

Arthur doesn’t brag much, but he can’t help himself when it comes to you. If someone comments on how lucky he is, he’ll smirk and say, “Damn right I am. And she’s lucky I’m lettin’ her stick around.”

When things are tough, Arthur’s voice carries a weight of quiet determination: “Whatever happens, I ain’t goin’ anywhere. You’re stuck with me, like it or not.”

pretty boy

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur x reader #van der linde gang

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mxmollusca · 2 years ago

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A critique I've heard of season two is that we’ve lost a lot of our symbolic objects, archetypes, and motifs. Season one gave us the lighthouse, the kraken, the red silk and the unicorn, the seagull, the auxiliary closet, Gnossienne no. 5, Pinocchio…

And then I think back to Samba sharing a quote from writer Alex Sherman during the ECCC panel:

“Season one is Stede going from a puppet to a real boy, and season two is Stede becomes a man.”

And that’s it, isn’t it? The transformation from object to subject, from something that has things done to it versus someone with agency. We see that transformation throughout season two. Almost every significant object is discarded, every symbol realized in flesh.

The process starts at the end of season one with the throwing away of all of Stede’s things. So much has been written about Stede’s potential response to that act, and so many folks (myself included) held on to the idea that perhaps Ed kept a little bit, maybe the auxiliary closet. Stede literally no longer cares about those things. He originally brought all the things he loved with him to sea because he didn’t have significant personal relationships. That’s why we hear Gnossienne no. 5 as he goes through the empty cabin pulling out all of the knives. The discordant love motif shows how his priorities have changed, how his love has transformed.

The red silk is gone as well, but instead we have Stede, real and in the flesh wearing the exact same color, clutched in Ed’s hand in the moonlight.

The kraken, a giant monster capable of rending a ship in two? Ed becomes that, literally, disassembling the Revenge to sail her into a storm and destroy her.

The lighthouse? A warning, Ned Low in his silver suit, a beacon in the dark warning Stede of what he will become if he continues on his course.

The unicorn, the destroyed masthead, literally becomes Izzy, a man taken apart and rebuilt piece by piece out of the parts of Stede Bonnet to become a beloved and respected member of the crew, and perhaps one of the strongest examples of self-actualization so far.

The attempts at reversing the process are demonstrated to be ineffective. The catalyst is when Buttons becomes a seagull, which shows Ed that the process of change is possible—that someone can become something or someone else. And he tries, he throws away his leathers, dons Button’s old jacket, tries to become an archetype. Stede tries to become a “real pirate”, despite the warning from Low. Even in Ed’s vision of Stede as a merman, Stede is being reduced to the role of symbol—a mythical being rather than a very real, very flawed man. They are both still trying to be the object when they need to be the subject. They need to take action, to realize themselves. And it’s a gruesome process. Jim’s version of Pinocchio is about the horrific transmogrification from wood into flesh and the horrors that need to be faced in order to make that transition.

We, the audience, are experiencing discomfort in this process. We are being held right up against the lighthouse lamp, and it burns. This is the emotional equivalent of body horror. It feels like all of our beloved belongings are being thrown overboard, but I promise they aren’t.

They are becoming.

#ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd meta #our flag means death

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megalony · 2 months ago

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Make The Jump

This is a new Four/ Tobias Eaton imagine from Divergent, I hope you will all like it.

Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05 @creat1venat1onn @devilslittlehelper @darlingcharling-blog @bear8585 @nickie-amore @elliott-calls @person-005 @mbioooo0000 @amara-mars @itsmimi16

Main Masterlist

Summary: While out patrolling the wall and trying to do her work, (Y/n) ends up getting hurt. But she tries to look after herself and make her own way back to Dauntless.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rain had finally stopped. (Y/n) liked it when it rained; at least when she was inside and it was raining out. Lying in bed like this, listening to the sound of the rain battering against the windows and beating along the old building they lived in, it was soothing. The rain was sensory.

The only time (Y/n) didn't like the rain was when she was out and trying to work. Climbing buildings or trying to climb up scaffolding to get on the train to get back to Dauntless was harder when it rained. Hands slipped, shoes lost their grip, it was easier to plummet down and break bones or gain cuts or sprain limbs and it was much harder to get back to their faction when they were hurt.

The other factions weren't as dangerous as Dauntless. They didn't have to run and climb and scale buildings to get back home. They didn't have to climb the fence to guard the city. They didn't have to try and shoot targets and aim guns and weapons and throw knives when it was raining. The rain made it harder to find targets and see clearly.

But right now, as (Y/n) laid in her room, it had been calming to listen to the rain before it finally ceased.

The clouds were starting to clear now, and the sun was just beginning to rise. It wouldn't be long before she had to get ready; Dauntless always rose with the morning sun.

With her head angled down and her right elbow propping her up, (Y/n) stretched her left hand out towards the other person laid in bed with her.

After starting off as an initiate and having to share a dorm with over ten other people for weeks on end, going back to having a room of her own almost didn't seem real. It felt odd. But (Y/n) didn't have a room of her own, not technically. She shared a small apartment with Tobias, now that she was officially in Dauntless and not at risk of becoming factionless.

(Y/n) liked it. She liked having the apartment to themselves, a space they could call their own that they didn't have to share with anyone else and where they could be alone. And having a proper bed rather than a flimsy cot bed that was crammed in between other bunks, it was so much better.

And the view. Their apartment had windows, something the initiates didn't have in the dorms and although the view of the city was both beautiful and haunting, being able to witness the rain or see the sun rising and setting behind the clouds, it was something special. Tobias liked the view too, despite his well hidden fear of heights.

(Y/n) tried her best to be quiet and careful when she trailed her hand out towards Tobias. He was laid on his front with his face buried in the pillow and one leg dangling off the side of the bed. And with the cover halfway down his back, it allowed (Y/n) a good view of the ink displayed across his back.

Her touch was light, almost like a feather gliding over the lines penned into Tobias's back. She traced the straight and slanted lines like she was drawing over them or colouring them in before the pad of her index finger pressed down against each of the five circles going down over the columns of his spine. The factions. Each a part of Tobias, each a home he could have chosen to go into if he wanted to.

When she traced her hand back up over each of the symbols, (Y/n) switched back to drawing over the lines which curved over his shoulders and crept around his neck like snakes. (Y/n) liked the way the lines crept around Tobias, they were almost like armour to protect him. And she liked that it curved around his waist and over his hips too and how the pointed end of the lines rested on his abdomen, but she couldn't see those points with how Tobias was currently sleeping on his front.

She wondered what it must have felt like when Tobias got this tattoo done, the pain must have been overwhelming to get all of this ink done in one session. And she wondered what he told the artist who did this for him. Did he tell them that he got this because Dauntless protected the rest of the factions?

Surely he couldn't have told them the truth. If someone knew he was Divergent, they wouldn't keep it to themselves. He would be taken to the inner city and locked away if people knew what he was.

"What're you doing?" Tobias didn't bother to open his eyes as he muttered the words under his breath.

His words caused (Y/n) to take a sharp breath and she paused her administrations, keeping her hand lightly placed on his shoulder where she had been tracing the top of his tattoo.

After a moment, (Y/n) glided her hand down from his shoulder so she was tracing along his bare arm instead. She didn't answer because they both knew what she had been doing. She had traced his tattoos a few times before and he always caught her staring whenever he got dressed. It was artwork, after all, and (Y/n) loved admiring art.

"That tickles, you know." This time, Tobias finally opened his bleary eyes and tried to look up at (Y/n) but it was a strain since she was sitting up and he was burrowed down into the pillows. He didn't mind, but she had started to tickle him.

(Y/n) murmured a quiet "Sorry," as she pushed off her elbow and shimmied down until she was laid back down beside him again.

Her hands rested on her chest and began to fiddle with the loose threads on her shirt while her head turned to the right so she was looking over at Tobias. And her feet began to press down and tap into the mattress while her knees pushed up into the air.

It wasn't often that (Y/n) would wake up before Tobias, or indeed before their alarm. But when (Y/n) partly woke up earlier and heard the rain, she decided to stay awake and watch the weather.

"Never said it was bad, just that it tickled. You okay?"

With little effort, Tobias stretched his right arm out until it was draped across (Y/n)'s waist. He used her as an anchor, shuffling closer until he was almost laid on top of her with his head shifting off the pillow and onto (Y/n)'s shoulder instead. He let his eyes fall closed as he inhaled her scent and wrapped himself around her like a blanket, threatening to fall back asleep even though he knew they both needed to be up soon.

"Yeah… wish we didn't have to get up soon though." It wasn't that (Y/n) didn't like the work they did here in Dauntless or that they got up early, that didn't bother her. But when they both got peace and privacy here in their apartment and they were so settled with each other, getting up and leaving this sanctity to go out into the city was a lot of effort and it was draining.

She felt Tobias murmur "Me too." into her neck which he pressed a subtle kiss to while he draped his leg over her thigh as if to ensure she couldn't escape his embrace anytime soon.

"What have you been assigned today?"

"Guarding the walls. You're training, aren't you?"

When Tobias hummed in agreement, (Y/n) turned her head a little more so she could attach her lips to his temple.

She didn't like going on guard duty, she found it boring. The city had large walls encasing them in for safety, and electric fencing and barbed wire. Dauntless were tasked with patroling the walls and making sure that no one tried to get out, and no one could come in. Not that there would actually be many people able to survive out there on the other side.

(Y/n) found it tiring to be switching from post to post around the walls, climbing the different look out points, checking the fencing. It wasn't as entertaining or fulfilling as going and getting supplies or cooking or making weapons and essentials or training the initiates.

But at least (Y/n) didn't have to do it all the time. If her job each and every day was to guard the walls, (Y/n) would go insane. But she got to do lots around the city, just like Tobias switched between training and getting supplies. They liked to keep Tobias mainly to training and learning the initiates because he was one of the best.

"It'll be over before you know it." Tobias knew it was the least favourite job (Y/n) liked doing, and he knew it could feel like the day was dragging on into an eternity. But at least it was just one day, and (Y/n) wouldn't be scheduled on that job again for days, probably even weeks.

(Y/n) hoped he was right. She hoped it wouldn't drag out into an eternity today. She just wanted an easy shift with no drama.

Her lips stayed pressed against Tobias's temple and her hand began to feather up and down his arm from his shoulder down to his elbow and back up again. At least for now, they could stay like this until the sun was higher in the sky and it was time to go.

***

Was boring the right word for this job? (Y/n) wasn't sure, but it seemed rather appropriate right now.

Her arms folded over the metal beam in front of her and her back arched out as she leaned forward, looking out onto the horizon. (Y/n) crossed one leg over the other as she stared down at the city that stood out like a bright shining star against the back drop of the wilderness behind them.

(Y/n) didn't like to turn around and look in the other direction, look on the other side of the wall she was currently stood on. There was nothing but dry, deserted land and crumbling buildings, long forgotten and ignored. Darkness stretched out on the other side of the city walls even in the middle of the day.

There was no point looking that way when there was no one out there and no one would be trying to break into the city. (Y/n) preferred to look this way, to keep an eye out for anyone who might try and sneak out of the city or cause havoc and mess around this close to the edge of their world.

She had been up here for a while now, observing and watching like a predator trying to find some prey to stalk.

There were a few other Dauntless scattered about on the other platforms lined along the city wall and even more doing patrols down on the ground on foot. They would rotate soon, someone would come and take (Y/n)'s place and she would get to have a wander about before she could finally go back home.

(Y/n) could feel her mind wandering away without her as she stared aimlessly ahead of her, not really looking at anything in particular.

But her senses came flooding back to her and her interest peaked when she heard the beginning of raised voices. Her head turned to the right and she narrowed her eyes, scanning her surroundings until she realised what was going on.

There were three teens, looking not much older than sixteen or seventeen, and they were trying to climb up one of the other viewing platforms along the city wall.

It wasn't clear from this distance what they were trying to do, whether they wanted to climb up and see the view, whether they thought they could mess around and try to be on patrol up here too. Or if they were trying to find a way to get over the wall. (Y/n) wasn't sure, but she knew that they needed to leave. No one was allowed out here, only the few people from Dauntless assigned to guard the walls could be here. No one else in the city could just wander this far out into the desolate areas and hang around or try and break out. It didn't work that way.

With a sigh, (Y/n) straightened up and clicked her back into place before she turned and climbed over the edge of the platform.

It didn't take her long to scale down to the floor and once she was down, she jogged towards the next platform. The closer she got, the more comotion she could hear and it made her sigh. At least this would make her day more interesting.

(Y/n) flexed her fingers and began the climb up the tower, it was much like climbing the scaffolding to get onto the train platform. Dauntless were known for not taking the easy route, they climbed and hiked and used unusual methods. Stairs were too simple for them.

She heard them arguing before she saw them. Halfway up the platform, (Y/) could hear the teens, and she could hear Jay telling them to go back to where they had come from. Jay was a new Dauntless member who had barely gotten past the first phase by the skin of his teeth. (Y/n) wouldn't have put him on guarding the wall if it had been her choice.

"Come on, let us go and take a look."

"We wanna go past the wall. What's out there?"

"Nothing's out there." Jay didn't sound very convincing, which was odd in itself when he wasn't lying but he didn't sound like he was telling the truth either. There was nothing out there. Nothing that could be seen by the naked eye and it would take hours, days, possibly weeks to even find any sort of remnant out there.

Once (Y/n) finally got up the side of the platform, she climbed through and looked at the three boys. From looking at them, the only thing (Y/n) could tell was that they weren't from Dauntless. She didn't recognise any of them, and their clothing was very mix-matched with dark colours and a small hint of white peaking through. Maybe they didn't want anyone to know what faction they belonged to.

"You can't find anything exciting out there. You go over this wall, you don't come back so you'd better go home and pack a bag if you're serious."

(Y/n) folded her arms over her chest and angled her head to one side as she stared at the three of them, unamused.

If they wanted to go over that wall, they couldn't come back. Those were the rules set out by the Government and Dauntless had no choice but to uphold those rules. If they wanted to go, they needed to go and get some supplies because they wouldn't last very long out there.

One of them, the one who seemed to be the ringleader, looked (Y/n) up and down with a grimace before he shrugged and tried to look unabashed.

"We want to look."

"At what? The sun sets on the other side of the city." (Y/n) pointed behind them to signal where the sun would be setting in just a few hours. It set directly opposite them, if they wanted to watch the sunset from a view they had to go climb a building on the other side of the city. And there was no rubble or broken buildings or any form of life to see from here if they looked over the wall.

When the three of them peered over the wall, straining on their tiptoes to try and see absolutely nothing but dirt and sand, (Y/n) sighed.

"You've had a look, now go home."

(Y/n) wasn't sure which one of them started it.

She didn't know which one uttered 'or what?' under his breath and which one made the first shove, but it didn't matter in the end. What mattered was that one of them shoved Jay, another swung for (Y/n) and the third managed to get on the edge of the platform and climb onto the fencing on the wall. He scuttled rather slowly up the metal fencing, as if he would somehow be able to worm through the barbed wire without any tools or scissors or anything to help him.

And when (Y/n) looked across at Jay, she found herself sighing when he looked up before he turned away and reached out for one of the other boys closest to him. He didn't want to climb up the wall.

This was his post, this was his drama to deal with and yet (Y/n) was now embroiled in because she had been bored and she knew he couldn't handle this on his own.

With a grunt, (Y/n) took the gun off her back and rammed it into Jay's hand so she could climb up onto the side of the platform and clamber onto the fence. It had been a long time since she had tried to climb the wall and (Y/n) forgot just how much it hurt and dug into the palm of her hands when she gripped and started to scale the wall.

"Don't be an idiot." (Y/n) called out as she managed to catch up to the teen rather quickly.

She could see that he was out of breath already and he was struggling to keep climbing with how rough and sharp the fencing was and just how much further he would have to go if he truly wanted to make it to the top.

(Y/n) gave him a chance. When he looked down at her, she paused and let go with one hand so she could point down and signal for him to start going in the other direction. She wouldn't give him a hard time if he started to climb down rather than scale up.

He didn't seem to agree. He had committed and therefore he would try to continue. But it didn't work. He took another two feet up before (Y/n) simply grabbed him by the ankle and tugged. It was clear he wasn't the best with agility or balance and one yank on his foot caused his other foot to slip. Clinging on by his hands was too hard when the metal wires that made up the fence bit into his flesh from the strain.

With a scream, the boy let go and started to slide down the fencing, grappling for something to cling to without causing himself anymore pain.

It was pure luck that his foot got caught and (Y/n) looped her right arm through the fencing so she could reach her left hand out and grab his arm. She tugged on his arm until he got the hint and scrambled to hold onto the fencing again.

"Get down." She punctuated each word while she let go of him and started to slowly clamber down because she knew he wouldn't try again.

(Y/n) kept going ahead so she was beneath the boy, just in case he slipped or lost his balance again and she would be able to slow his fall and reach out for him. But he did better going down than he did trying to climb up.

That was, until they reached the platform.

Just as (Y/n) reached her foot out to try and stand on the wooden edge of the platform that was now vacant- since Jay had gotten the other two boys to get down to the ground- the boys above her slipped.

A screech left his lips and this time he let go of the fencing completely. His arms flailed out at his sides and his legs swung out to try and kick something or hook into the fencing, just do something to slow his fall. But all he managed to do was send his foot crashing into (Y/n) before she was safely on the platform.

The boy landed with a thud on the wooden platform, crashing into his back as he winded himself and lost the ability to breathe.

(Y/n)'s eyes snapped closed when his whole leg crashed into her shoulder and arm and he sent her crashing off balance. All the air in her lungs escaped her lips in a scream when she tumbled over the side of the platform and there was absolutely nothing (Y/n) could do or reach out for.

She had no choice but to fall.

Her arms encased to her chest and she twisted in the air. It felt like she was on the zip rope, gliding through the air, coursing through the city, in between buildings and through abandoned houses. For half a second, (Y/n) felt like a bird in flight.

Until she landed.

It felt like she landed on a bed of nails, and (Y/n) heard a definite crunch tear through her ears and tremble through her body. Something had broken and everything suddenly felt useless.

Tremors rattled through (Y/n)'s body and a broken cough spluttered past her lips along with a vain attempt at breathing which sounded more ragged and desperate than ever. It took more effort than (Y/n) would have liked for her to move her arms which had been pinned against her chest and when she flopped from her left side onto her back.

Her legs were shaking up and down and her body writhed as she coughed, tears streaking down her face. She couldn't pinpoint where the exact pain was, it felt like pain was just circulating through her blood making every inch of her body ache and twinge and feel like they had been severed.

By the time (Y/n) managed to sit herself up, a girl called Callie who had been on foot patrol around the wall, had rushed over. (Y/n) figured that Jay had set off after the boys since none of them were here anymore, they must have run and he followed after them. She wondered if he knew she had fallen and had run off anyway or if he had been in pursuit by the time she hit the ground. Not that it really mattered anymore.

"Oh God, (Y/n)! Are you alright?!" Concern dripped from Callie's voice as she slumped down to her knees.

She tried to reach out for (Y/n), but she coiled away before she could be touched. (Y/n) bowed her head forward and closed her eyes, still gasping for breath as she swayed from left to right, desperate to gain her sense of balance again as she tried to figure out what injuries she had.

Her right wrist felt tense and when she tried to twist it from side to side, a horrible shooting pain tore right up towards her fingernails. She had definitely sprained it.

She moved her hand towards her chest and started to feel around, but touching the left side of her ribs created a horrible burning pain like flames licking at her skin and she whimpered. So that had been the crunching noise; one or two ribs had snapped like twigs.

"H-help me up?" (Y/n) hated how quiet and desperate her voice sounded and she coughed and croaked, trying to seem more like herself again as she looked over at Callie.

She held her hands out, grateful when the blonde moved to crouch rather than kneel at her side and carefully stood up, pulling (Y/n) up with her.

Once she was on her feet, another blinding wave of pain tore through (Y/n) and she morphed a scream into a choked groan when pins and needles flooded her left leg. One hand reached down to feather across her knee and up her thigh. It might have dislocated in the fall, and something didn't feel right with her upper thigh, possibly another damaged muscle or tendon.

A muttering of "Oh fuck," spat beneath her breath and she bent her left foot until only the toe of her boot was touching the floor. All of her weight shifted onto her right leg and (Y/n) coiled her arms back to her chest, trying to balance herself on one leg.

"We need to get you back to Dauntless."

"I- I'll get someone to help me back, but you need to get him back to his Faction. Smart-arse tried climbing the wall." (Y/n) pointed up to the platform where the young boy hadn't bothered to get up or attempt to climb down yet.

He needed to be escorted back home so his parents and his faction knew what he had been trying to do. And if he was hurt, he would need to be taken to a doctor too.

(Y/n) could make her own way home, and if she found someone from her faction along the way who would help her get back, then that was okay. But (Y/n) didn't want to call out and ask for help. Everyone was busy and she could hobble back.

She was Dauntless, getting hurt didn't gain them the same sympathy and help that it did in other factions. Being in Dauntless meant powering on even when they were in pain. It meant doing their jobs and making their way back home or back into the city. Dauntless were the people that everyone relied on for strength and protection. It took a lot for (Y/n) to get into this faction and call it her home, she didn't want anyone to think or see her as weak.

Callie seemed sceptical about leaving (Y/n), but when she heard the young boy up on the platform weakly call out, she didn't seem to have a choice. She watched (Y/n) for a moment or two, making sure she was indeed alright hobbling away from the wall and trudging along the path before she climbed up the platform to help the boy.

(Y/n) stopped wiping the tears from her eyes after a while. She just let them fall because with each step of her right foot, she had to drag her left foot along the floor and yank her leg along behind her like a useless limb, a weight slowing her down. Baggage.

Her arms bound around her chest which seemed to both help and ignite the pain in her chest, but she didn't care. Her leg was her main issue and it was slowing her down. Although she was leaving her post early and heading back home, so it didn't matter how long it took her to get back. All that mattered was that she got herself back home. Somehow.

Getting back to the city streets rather than being in the grassy outskirts was a relief, but all the noise and the comotion made (Y/n)'s headache ignite.

It was getting harder to keep her eyes open and stop herself from squinting due to the headache behind her eyes. Everything was aching and pulsing, she could feel her heartbeat throbbing under every inch of skin and pounding in her ears like a drumbeat trying to block out all the other noises around her.

Screams built up at the back of (Y/n)'s throat but she managed to keep them at bay by sinking her teeth into her tongue and bowing her head so she didn't get too many strange looks from the few people she passed by.

She wanted to sit down, but she knew if she did, she wasn't going to be likely to get back up again and she couldn't just sit and wait for someone to find her and take pity on her and get her back home.

Dried and fresh tears stained her cheeks and her nose was running by the time she got back to a familiar street. Back to the scaffolding that held up the train line.

But when (Y/n) tilted her head back to look up for the train platform, a sudden thought crashed into her like lightning.

Oh God, how was she going to get up onto the train?

There weren't any stairs around here. She would have to walk at least a mile if she wanted to get to the one platform in the city that was still standing and still had stairs and a ramp to get to.

The train was only used by Dauntless, it took them home and circled around the city, everyone else used cars and the main streets, but the train was much quicker for Dauntless. And they all just climbed up. They each knew where the train would stop along the tracks so they could get on and this was one of those stops.

But (Y/n) was going to have to climb up the scaffolding to get onto the train.

She shook her hands out at her sides, feeling an ache in her chest that started to pulse now she didn't have her arms bound tight around her middle. Her right wrist clicked and spasmed but (Y/n) kept trying to move and rotate the joint. With a damaged leg, she needed all her upper strength to pull herself up there.

"Pretend Four's watching." (Y/n) mumbled to herself as she continued to stare up at the scaffolding.

If she thought about Tobias, it might make it easier to drag herself up there. Whenever she trained in front of him, (Y/n) always wanted to do her best. She wanted to show him her worth and make him give that small smile and the curt nod of his head that showed his approval.

Maybe if she imagined Eric watching her too, she might do this a little better. (Y/n) always hated when Eric watched because he wasn't like Tobias, he would pick out the problems with everything (Y/n)- or anyone else- did. Eric would tell her where she went wrong and when he observed her, (Y/n) felt like she made a million mistakes. He made her nervous, Tobias made her calm.

Her left hand was her stronger one right now, so (Y/n) reached up for the highest beam she could. And with her right hand, she looped her arm around the back of a pole, using her elbow to hold herself up rather than her hand or wrist.

Once her right foot was resting on a beam, (Y/n) glanced down and decided it would just be best to let her left leg hang limp like it was paralysed.

She tried to work in a rhythm, grab with her left hand, hook her right elbow and then hoist herself higher. But each time she moved up, her left leg banged against the scaffolding and sent shockwaves through her that almost made her let go and topple to the ground. Again.

"No, no please!" She could hear the train.

The scaffolding was starting to vibrate with that familiar sense of the train rumbling along the metal tracks further down the line. If she missed the train she would have to wait over half an hour for it to come back round again. She would have to stay up here like a sitting duck, waiting for the train to roll back around to her.

(Y/n) tried harder to go faster, but she was gasping and mewling at the agony pulsing through her entire body. The tracks started to shake even harder just as (Y/n) poked her head over the top of the beams.

Spit froffed past her lips and her nails scratched into the metal as she spread both arms out in front of her and gripped the beams. She used whatever muscle and force she had to drag herself up, banging her chest against the beams which made her cry out and scream.

Her right leg hooked over the side and she shuffled along her stomach until she was at the edge of the platform.

The train didn't come to a stop, not fully, but it slowed down significantly and that was all (Y/n) needed right now. She pushed up onto her right knee with her left leg stretched out behind her and with a deep breath, she lunged forward and army-rolled into the open door.

Broken sobs left her lips and her body was vibrating and pulsing on the floor of the carriage that was thankfully empty. Not another soul except (Y/n)'s broken form laid on the floor like a murder victim.

Her head ground back into the damp, cold floor and her arms bound around her chest as her legs stretched out and laid flat against the floor.

It took less than five minutes for the train to roll around to the Dauntless building where (Y/n) would need to get off.

How do I jump without gaining another injury? What about my leg?

A wave of sickness rolled through (Y/n) and she turned her head to one side, taking deep, bubbling breaths as she tried to calm herself down, but it wasn't working very well.

She would have to jump to get off the train. It wouldn't stop at Dauntless, it never did. But if she jumped, she was undoubtedly going to hurt her already damaged leg and she couldn't afford to do that or to gain another injury. And it wasn't as if she could just roll out of the train either, there was a gap between the track and the building. She would plummet to her death.

(Y/n) might need to stay on the train and loop around the city this time while she thought of a plan to get off.

It wasn't going to be easy.

***

Tobias rolled his head from left to right and clicked his neck into place while he pushed his weight onto his right foot that was pressed forward. He could see the train rolling around and his hands curled into fists as he got ready to climb aboard.

He took the plunge and jumped as soon as the first open door was in front of him. It wasn't the same as jumping on or off the train from the Dauntless building. That was a much bigger leap with a risk of falling, whereas it was near impossible to miss the train from here.

Once he was on, Tobias rolled his neck again and shook his hands at his sides. It had been a good change to venture out into the city today on a last minute errand rather than being stuck training the newest members of Dauntless.

But when Tobias just happened to glance around the train he thought- or rather presumed- would be empty, his brows furrowed and a slight jerk rolled through his system.

(Y/n).

What was she doing on the train this early? Why was she on her own? More importantly, why was she laid on the floor?

"Baby… what are you doing?" Apprehension flooded Tobias's voice as he quickly moved over to kneel down beside (Y/n). She was sat on the floor with her back up against the wall and her arms cocooned around her waist, but it was the fact that she was trembling which set Tobias on edge.

And when he leaned a bit closer and realised tears were drenching her cheeks, he felt his heart seize and miss a beat.

He reached his hand out and gently cupped (Y/n)'s chin so he could tilt her head back so they were finally looking at each other.

"Are you okay?"

(Y/n) wanted to nod, but she couldn't bring herself to lie to him, not when she knew Tobias wouldn't buy it for a moment. She settled on tilting her head down into his hand while she moved her hand out to curl around his wrist. She tried not to cling to him too tightly and she sat forward just a little so she wasn't slouched against the wall anymore.

Her eyes dragged up and down his frame, noticing the way he was crouching beside her with his knees parted out to the sides and his head inclined further towards her until their noses were almost touching.

"How long have you been on here?" Something told Tobias that (Y/n) hadn't gotten on this train at the stop before him. It was too far into the city when (Y/n) had been guarding the walls- if indeed that was where she had been this morning and she hadn't been diverted somewhere else like him.

He watched the contemplation in her eyes, mixed in with a flood of pain that made the unease inside Tobias multiply.

"A circuit, I think." (Y/n) lifted her other hand and spun her finger in a circle near her head to imply that she had gone around the whole loop on the train.

The train was an endless track, it went round and round the city and if you missed the last stop which was Dauntless, you had to wait and go round the whole track. (Y/n) had tried to think of a plan of action to get off the train, but all she had done was cry a little and rest and close her eyes while the motion of the train made her feel sick with every jostle and shake.

"Okay, care to tell me why?"

Confusion was the main thing Tobias felt as he tried to balance his weight from his toes to his heels. His head angled to the side while his thumb traced along (Y/n)'s cheek.

She had gone round a circuit on the train, something he knew his girlfriend would never do. She wasn't one for sitting and dwelling, especially not on the train. It wasn't exactly a fun ride to go round and (Y/n) wasn't sat here to think things over. That wasn't what she did.

His thumb continued to glide across her skin while he held his breath ad tried to calm his system down. He could feel himself starting to panic because something was clearly wrong and he didn't know what to do about it or how to make it better.

"Had an accident today, couldn't find the energy to make the jump." (Y/n) couldn't look up at Tobias as she spoke, so she moved her free hand to point to her leg which was stretched out in front of her.

Tobias hadn't thought to look for injuries. With the way (Y/n) was sitting, he presumed she was panicking about something or upset.

He shuffled a few paces back so he could reach down and look at her left leg that was next to him. He couldn't help but wince when he carefully rolled up the cuff of her trousers as much as they would go. Her ankle had twisted, it looked like it was swelling and the lightest touch made (Y/n)'s breathing pattern change.

But her knee looked worse. Her knee was swollen and clearly dislocated and locked in place so Tobias didn't want to risk touching or trying to move her leg. He hadn't done any medic training, he wouldn't be the best person to put her joint back into place and he didn't want to try.

"Well the knee is busted. Any other injuries I need to know about baby?"

When (Y/n) muttered "Maybe a broken rib," and moved her hand to her chest, Tobias rolled his lips together to supress a sigh.

She had gotten quite a few bad injuries today, and Tobias hadn't even been there with her. She had been going around on this train with a busted leg and some broken ribs and Tobias dreaded to think what might have happened if he hadn't of turned up when he did. She might have gone around a few times trying to come up with a plan. She may have tried to brave the jump and gotten hurt again or worse still, she could have missed the jump and fallen.

"Then I guess we'll have to make the jump together, won't we?"

(Y/n) cast her eyes up towards Tobias and looked between him and the window. They didn't have long before the train would reach their stop, and they would have to move quick but be careful at the same time. If they jumped wrong (Y/n) could hurt herself further or land on Tobias and hurt him by mistake.

Reaching out, (Y/n) moved her arms and carefully looped both arms around the back of Tobias's neck, reeling him in closer. She took a moment to rest their temples together and pressed a kiss to his lips. If he hadn't of gotten on the train, if Tobias hadn't been moved at short notice to come into the city for an errand, then (Y/n) would have done this alone.

There was always a chance she wouldn't have managed it, and she didn't want to speculate what could of happened to her. But it was a saving grace, a relief, that Tobias was here now.

He wasn't going to tease her like some of the others in their faction might. He wouldn't roll his eyes or huff or be cruel like Eric and tell her to do it herself without help and prove herself, even though she wasn't an initiate anymore.

Tobias would help because it was in his nature to look out for others, and because he loved her. (Y/n) hadn't asked for help, but she didn't need to. He wouldn't watch her suffer or try and get through this on her own when she didn't have to. He was here and he was going to help her.

He almost lost himself in the feeling of her fingertips grazing along the back of his neck and scratching at the short hairs up and down his neck and the back of his skull. He could of stayed there for hours, crouching in front of her with her arms around his neck and their lips becoming bruised as their kisses got deeper and harsher.

But he pulled back, struggling for air and feeling like his lips were swelling up and his dark eyes stared into (Y/n)'s while his mouth formed one of those sensitive smiles that only (Y/n) got to witness.

"Let's get you up."

(Y/n) kept her arms looped around his neck while he settled his hands on her waist and tried to balance his weight on his toes. Once Tobias pushed up, (Y/n) tried to lean some of her weight forward onto him so it was easier to stand on her right leg. As before, she had to bend her left knee, causing the joint to creak and pulse like it was being stabbed directly into the cartilage and (Y/n) smothered a groan as best she could.

She pressed her face down into Tobias's shoulder, breathing through clenched teeth as she bent her foot so the toes of her boot were pressed down into the floor to stabilise herself.

"Are you good?" Tobias kept his voice so quiet (Y/n) could barely focus on what he'd said and the gritty edge to his words would of made her knees shiver if one of them weren't locked in place.

(Y/n) tried to nod, despite the way Tobias pressed his lips against her temple for a second.

"Our stop's coming up." (Y/n) ticked her head to the left towards the window; they didn't have long before they would have to try and move or wait another circuit to try again.

"Alright, come on." Tobias let go of her hips to take a step back and look (Y/n) up and down. "You can't jump or push off on that knee, so climb up and I'll jump off."

For a moment, (Y/n) wasn't sure what Tobias meant. But then she watched him turn around so his back was towards her and he was looking at her over his shoulder. He bent his knees and hunkered down so (Y/n) got the hint. She couldn't jump, she could barely walk and Tobias couldn't jump and try and pull her along with him at the same time.

But he could jump with her on his back. He could do the jump for her and hold her as long as (Y/n) helped to stabilise his landing so he didn't fall or land on her and cause any further damage.

(Y/n) felt bad, she didn't want Tobias to have to jump across the gap while carrying her. But she didn't have much of a choice and she knew he could manage it.

Hobbling forward, (Y/n) gripped her hands on his shoulders and leaned her chest onto his back. She pushed up onto her toes until she could jump a little and sit herself on his hips. Tobias gripped the back of her thighs and grinned when he turned to look up at her.

It was encouraging when (Y/n) kissed his cheek and he whacked the button to open the doors before he stepped back towards the windows opposite the open doors.

"Alright, here we go."

Tobias leaned forward while (Y/n) secured her arms around his neck and pressed her lips and nose against his neck. She held her breath and tried to steady herself.

Her thighs squeezed against his hips and she kept her right leg hooked around his front while her left leg stayed limp behind her. She made sure her leg wouldn't be in the way when Tobias started to move, but she couldn't bend her knee or lift it high on his hip.

The moment Tobias saw the familiar landmark building coming up, a slight grin took over his features and he lunged. He sped forward, his boots crashing against the floor as he surged forward, pushing off his right leg once he was on the edge and he leapt across the ledge.

It always felt like flying, but this time, with (Y/n) attached to him, it felt different. It was almost like taking a strange leap of faith together. She trusted him enough to cling onto him and let him jump and risk both of them plummeting to their deaths.

The grit beneath his boots crunched and scraped when Tobias cleared the ledge.

Usually he would land differently. He would reach a hand down and steady himself against the floor or he would tuck and roll or do a strange army roll on his side. He couldn't do any of those with (Y/n) on his back or he would give her another injury.

Their landing was strange. One foot hit the ground, his body leant forward and just as his other foot scraped the floor, (Y/n) slid from his back and landed on her good leg, keeping her hands on Tobias's shoulders so she could pull him back. She was his leverage, leaning him back and weighing on him so he wouldn't topple forwards or fall.

Once she was no longer attached to his back, Tobias stretched his arms out to gain his balance before he looked over his shoulder.

He tried to catch his breaths back, but he couldn't refrain from smiling. They cleared the landing, and (Y/n) didn't have any worse injuries. That was a win in his eyes.

His heart almost seized up in his chest and stopped working altogether when (Y/n) leaned her chest against his right arm, despite the ache it caused in her ribs. And when she gripped his shoulder and reached her other hand up to cup his cheek, Tobias almost melted on the spot. He could barely breathe as her fingers caressed his skin and she pushed up on her good foot to kiss him so sweetly.

"Thank you," She murmured softly against his lips before she kissed him again and again.

She felt Tobias twist in her arms so he was properly facing her, their chests pressed together and his hands firmly placed on her hips again.

"You don't have to thank me, you know I'm always gonna look out for you." Tobias would do anything and everything for (Y/n), he would never leave her when she needed him and if she needed help she didn't even have to ask.

His eyes dragged up and down (Y/n)'s frame once again, and just looking at her knee made his stomach clench. "But I think we need to get you inside baby, someone's gotta look at these injuries."

The longer they waited, the worse (Y/n) was going to feel. They needed someone to check her knee and put it back into place before the swelling got any worse or it fully seized up in place. And her wrist and ankle would need to be bandaged and her ribs would need checking. Not to mention some pain relief to make her feel more at ease and comfortable.

With a nod of her head, (Y/n) shuffled her weight onto her right leg again and tried to take a step forward.

Tobias watched her hobble for a few paces, trying her best to walk without him and prove she could. After all, she had gotten to the train and got herself up onto the track without help. But that wasn't the point here. She did that because she had to, because she didn't have any help. Tobias was here now, and it would be quicker and easier and less painful if (Y/n) let him help.

A smile graced Tobias's lips as he stepped forward and carefully took (Y/n)'s left arm. He looped it around the back of his neck and deadlocked his right arm around her waist. He carefully hitched (Y/n) up, taking her weight so she was only resting on her right leg. This way, they could walk in tandem and he could take some of her weight so she could walk easier.

"I've got you." He murmured against her hair as they headed towards the door leading to the stairs.

It was going to take them a while to get downstairs, but that didn't matter. They were doing it together, and Tobias was going to look after (Y/n) and make sure she was okay.

#imagine #divergent imagine #four divergent #divergent series #divergent #tobias eaton x reader #tobias eaton imagine #tobias imagine #four x reader #four imagine #four

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uhhidkkenny · 2 years ago

Text

𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

𝕁𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕃𝕦𝕗𝕗𝕪 𝕩 𝔽𝕖𝕞 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

☀︎︎𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: 𝙻𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢/𝚗, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟸 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗?

☀︎︎𝙲𝚆: 𝟷𝟾+ 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃. 𝙹𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙻𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚢. 𝚂𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙳𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚕. 𝙿 𝚒𝚗 𝚅. 𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙾𝚛𝚊𝚕 (𝙵 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐) 𝙲𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚙𝚒𝚎. ☀︎︎𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟹.𝟸𝚔

Ever since y/n joined the straw hats over 2 years ago, Luffy was attached to her hip. Luffy was always intrigued with y/n. The pair were always with one another, sharing secrets, getting a little too close, but they were just friends. Luffy was never sure why he was so infatuated with y/n. Maybe it was the fact that she smelled like sunflowers and vanilla, maybe it was her pretty plump lips, was it her curvy figure, or was it cause she was funny, caring, and sweet? He didn’t get it but y/n was always on his mind. He needed to focus on achieving his goal of becoming king of the pirates, he didn’t need to have most of his head filled with thought of y/n, but no matter how hard he tried his thoughts always circled back to her. He didn’t know why.

He was also very unsure why he felt like he could murder Zoro right now with his own swords, or the fact that he wanted to cut Sanji hands off with the kitchen knives he uses to cook his meals daily. The way Zoro wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer during the late night party the crew was having after leaving fishman island. Or the way Sanji has constantly been trying to get her attention. Granted that seems like basic Sanji behavior, something is just different after being separated for 2 years.

Luffys friendship with y/n wasn’t exactly classified as a friendship. Not with all the lingering touches, kisses on the cheeks, holding hands, even sneaking into each others beds at night just for cuddles. People didn’t just do these things with friends, they both knew that, but according to Luffy anytime he was asked, that’s all you were to him. A friend.

Luffy began to get frustrated with everyone asking what the relationship was between the pair. Luffy being asked the same question so many times made him feel like a bear being poked during hibernation. He wasn’t ready to accept any feelings he had for y/n himself, let alone admit it to the crew. Finally, Luffy snapped after Ussop asked for the last time what he thought about y/n. He looked down at the ground and said in a stern and serious tone, “She’s just another crew mate. You guys are annoying.” and walked away.

Y/n heard it. She never thought that words could hurt but it felt like her heart was ripped out and stomped on. She didn’t have the right to be upset though, they weren’t together, Y/n had said plenty times before that they were only friends. She didn’t know why her heart felt this way or why her face suddenly felt wet as she turned around to walk the other way. Maybe Luffy was having a bad day. Maybe y/n was overreacting, but the way her fists clenched until they turned white said everything she couldn’t say herself.

After a few days had passed since y/n heard how Luffy truly felt, and she began to distance herself from Luffy. She found things to do that weren’t next to or around him. She made sure she sat in at the opposite end of the dining table. She stopped sneaking into his bed and began locking her door at night. Was it petty? Yes. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet.

The day y/n was gonna confront Luffy on what he had said was the day that the crew first made it to Sabaody. There were immediately more important things to worry about. Ultimately the start of the adventure to the new world resulted in the separation of all the straw hats. Luffy could still remember the look in y/n’s eyes before she was sent to another island.

2 years passed at this point. The whole crew had changed with their looks, but nothing changed in anyone’s love and care for each other. Life basically just resumed for everyone. Aside from Luffy and y/n. Luffy and y/n were still lively but we’re doing some things together again. Laughing, doing stupid shit, and helping one another, but there was still unspoken tension from before they were separated. Luffy and y/n both looked more mature now but neither of them had the courage to talk about what was happening 2 years ago. The whole crew was so busy once finally getting on the sunny and making it to fishman island that there was no time for either of the two to speak their mind.

The crew had made it to Fishman island successfully and defeated Hody and his minions. On the voyage back up to the surface of the new world the crew decided to catch up, tell their stories, and drink in celebration of their victory. The night was lively and everyone was enjoying themselves, except Luffy. Sanji was overjoyed making y/n her drinks, giving her compliments, and basically just drooling over y/n and it was quite frankly, pissing Luffy off.

Y/n had a drink or two or three herself and felt pretty talkative. She made her rounds making an effort to talk to everyone about their own adventure and Luffy was happily waiting for y/n to notice him. Luffy had time to talk with everyone already but her. When she made it to Zoro, who had way too many drinks, the conversation was just too much for Luffys liking. Zoro was laughing too hard at her jokes, y/n was blushing too hard at some of his remarks, but the worst part was the “subtle” touches. Luffy watched as her hand found a spot on Zoros shoulder and Zoros arm snaked around her waist. Luffy was heated.

Luffy was reminded of all the times that those laughs and touches were for him. The times when story telling turned into cuddling, or the times the subtle touches turned into gentle kisses on the blush of cheeks or the tip of a nose. He was gonna go insane just thinking of y/n with anyone, let alone his best friend.. Luffy didn’t have the right to be mad though. You were just his friend, but Luffy thought you were acting like this on purpose, just to get under his skin. After slamming down his mug on the table, he stormed into the kitchen. Luffy didn’t even notice he caught the crews attention, not even y/n’s.

Luffy had been acting out of character ever since leaving Fishman island. The crew just assumed it was due to how much blood he lost from the fight and he was still trying to recoup from it. Y/n however, knew it had to be more than that. Without a second thought she removed Zoros arm and began to follow Luffy. She didn’t even look at Zoro much less give him an explanation, too focused on Luffy and making sure he was ok. Y/n was scared something had happened to Luffy, maybe he was still hurting, maybe someone upset him, but what about when he upset her? Mind filling up with tipsy thoughts, y/n’s anger from 2 years ago returned. Finally reaching the kitchen door she swung it open to look for Luffy.

Luffy was sitting at the bar in the kitchen, he looked up momentarily to meet y/n’s eyes before getting up and walking away without saying a word. Y/n couldn’t help but laugh. How stupid could he continue to make her feel? Why did she even come in this kitchen? Was it to comfort him or confront him? He wasn’t even trying to see what you wanted. Ever. Everything was always about Luffy. Y/n wasn’t about to let him just walk away. Not this time. Fuck that, he needed to know everything. And her liquor filled brain was going to make sure of it.

Y/n quickly followed Luffy. “Where ya headed captain? You didn’t miss your crew?…Aww big man can’t even talk to his crew mate?” Y/n continued on but Luffy was ignoring her. “Does your boo-boo hurt that much?… I just find it crazy that you can talk to everyone but me. Why is that cap?… Why is it just me you can’t talk to? You embarrassed of me Lu?” Luffy was walking away gritting his teeth and y/n was only getting angrier. “I’m sorry am I annoying you captain? I guess someone who’s just a crew mate should realize their place right?” Luffy had finally made it to his room without a word and opened his door. “Ya know maybe this was all a mistake. I should’ve just stayed on the deck with Zo-“ Y/n was immediately cut off by Luffy grabbing her arm, pulling her into his room, and slamming the door with her back pressed against it. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by her captain finally speaking.

“You talk a lot. Ya know that?” Luffy said pinning her against his door. His hands wrapped around her wrists to keep her in place while his knee made it between her separated legs. “I had peace and quiet for 2 whole years while we were separated..” Y/n felt herself heat up from embarrassment. She began to pull away before her tears could fall from her eyes. Luffy began to lean into her ear while still holding her in place “and I fuckin hated it…” her eyes widened as she released a tiny gasp while his body was pressed against hers in a sudden movement. “God I missed you so much y/n and you’ve been too busy with Zoro all night to even see me.” He began to muzzle his face if the crook of her neck. “Luffy I-“ y/n began but was cut off. “You’ve done enough talking don’t you think? Prancing around on the deck in those tight shorts, flirting with everyone like a slut, and you couldn’t even wave at your captain.” Slowly bringing his knee higher up to her clothed mound between her thighs. Y/n feels instantly sober at the touch. “You have no clue how long it took me to think about what I would say to you when I finally saw you again…” his lips began to leave light feathery kisses along y/n’s jaw, as his grip tightened “but I guess I can just show you what I feel.”

With those words Luffy pulled his face back and leaned his lips closer to y/n’s. Moving her head forward she closed the distance. It was sweet and slow. Lips slowly moving with one another finding a steady pace. His hands released their grip on her wrist and slowly slid to her waist, placing both hands on her hips. As y/n began to lean in farther, the kiss heats up. Tongues sliding along each other. Biting at each others lips. The kiss is becoming feverish as the pair are practically sucking faces at this point. Hands roaming each others bodies as y/n bends her knees slightly to rest her clothed pussy fully on Luffys knee. A shaky breath leaves her lips at the friction. Slowly grinding her hips down onto his knee as the kiss continues. Her arms are wrapped around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer as her breathing falters. Luffy pulls back, pressing his forehead to hers. “You gonna ride my leg to show me how much you missed me? Hehehe…Come on you can do better than that.” Luffys hands begin to guide her hips along his leg. “T-too many clothes” is all she could manage to say. Y/n couldn’t cum like this even though it felt nice, but Luffy was never a quitter.

“You’re right..” he said with a smirk. Luffy reached for the hem of y/n’s shirt, pulling it over her head and then doing the same with his. “That’s better.” He said with a chuckle. His hands came up to play with her hardened nipples. Gently coming to rub at them while she continued to dry hump his leg. Y/n leaned in for a kiss but Luffy pulled his face away. She whined in resilience. “Cum for me and I’ll give you what you want. Come on you missed your captain right?” He leaned in to lick and suck at her nipples. Y/n continued to drag herself on her captains leg and truthfully on the stimulation was getting her close. Her hands tugging at his hair while letting out breathy gasps and whines. Y/n could feel the heat building up in her stomach. Her movements began to stutter and Luffy took this as a sign. “Nobody can make you feel this good but me.” Moving his arms to wrap around her waist and lifting his knee higher, he began to suck on one nipple while tugging the other. Switching back and forth, Luffy began bounce her on his knee.

Eventually it all be came too much for y/n. The friction of Luffys knee, the bouncing, his hands on her, his mouth sucking at her nipples. The tight heat in her belly finally overflowed as she felt herself shaking on his knee. “Good job. I knew you could do it pretty girl.” He said picking her up and walking over to the bed gently laying her down. Luffy began removing the reminder of clothing y/n was wearing, leaving her bare in front of her captain. Blushing she moved her hand to slightly cover herself before Luffy moved her arms away. “Don’t get all shy on me now. I just wanna show you how much I missed you…” he’s on top of her spreading her legs again with hands folding her in half while moving his face closer to her wet pussy “this is what you wanted right? Some attention?”

He licks a fat stripe up y/ns pussy and she can no longer keep her voice down. Her whines and moans escaping without a second thought as Luffy continues to lap at her cunt. Flicking his tongue fast on her clit while taking two of his fingers and jamming them into her sipping wet hole. Y/n’s back arched off the bed as she gripped the sheets. “T-too much Luffy.” She said breathlessly. He ignored her keeping her folded in half with one hand on the back of her thigh, he sucked on her clit while his fingers pumped in and out. His fingers found a spongey spot inside her cunt and the cord in y/n’s belly snapped again as she spasmed on Luffys face.

He slurped up every single drop of her slick that leaked out until she was clean. Luffy slowed his pace a little bit but didn’t stop. Continually pumping his fingers in. Still lightly suckling at her clit. Y/n was breathless and twitching. The overstimulation was killing her but it felt too good to even stop him. Her hands slowly in gripping the sheets as she tried to move her hands to Luffys head that was still between her thighs. Once her hands made contact with his head he pulled away.

His face was covered in her wetness. His eyes were lidded and cock was begging to be released from his shorts. He looked just as pathetic as you. Luffy wanted her just as bad as she wanted him. Leaning up on her elbows Luffy met y/n halfway with his bare chest pressed against hers as their lips collided in a slow but needy kiss. Both parties releasing moans and groans from just how much they missed each other. They needed each other. Was this an extreme way of showing it? Yes but actions speak louder than words. “Captain?” Y/n finally pulled away to question the man she’s been after for 2 years. “Yea baby?” He responded breathlessly. “Please fuck me” she begged.

Tugging his shorts off, he laid on his back next to her. Her eyes wouldn’t leave his cock. It was so pretty. It was long with a dark pinkish brownish tip that was glistening with precum. “Why don’t you get on here and apologize instead?” he said with the biggest smirk, already pulling y/n up and hovering her pussy over his cock. Hands on her hips as he glides her soaking pussy over his aching cock. “F-fuck y/n, go ahead and say you’re sorry so I can fuck you how you want.” The pleasure was intense but y/n didn’t forget that Luffy started this. Grinding her hips down to meet his as his tip kisses her clit perfectly each time they meet one another’s movements. “I think you should apologize C-captain, fuck. You’re the one who said I’m only a crew mate to you.” They were both stupid and moaning in desperation but they were equal in stubbornness. “You know and I know that’s a lie y/n. I’m sorry I ain’t say it sooner ~fuck~ but you never told me you felt some type of way.” Luffy isn’t making this any easier for himself, he would cum right now if he didn’t wanna fuck y/n so bad. The lewd wet noises were getting to them both. “That’s all I needed to hear Lu~ I’m sorry for ignoring you earlier, I just wanted to-“ that’s all Luffy needed to hear before lifting y/n’s hips off of his to bring her back down, impaling her with his cock.

Both letting out a whine. The stretch was so good y/n couldn’t help but start to bounce immediately. “Fuck captain I’m so sorry” y/n was moaning like a whore. Having already cum three times, her g spot getting hit every time her hips met Luffys, and the pure emotion behind it all she was already close. Luffys feet found a firm spot on the mattress to lip his hips to y/n’s continuously. “I’m sorry too baby. Mmm please forgive me.” Luffy was thrusting up into y/n at an ungodly pace. His tip was hitting her g spot perfectly. “Gonna cum Lu~” she said breathlessly as she began to clench around his cock. Luffy let out the sluttiest moan, which half the crew could probably hear, as they both came with each other. Immediately y/n slumped forward with Luffy still inside, laying her head on his chest. Luffy wrapped his arms around her torso and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I love you Lu” y/n admitted softly closing her eyes. “I love you too y/n” Luffy said before drifting off.

The crew was very much still awake and awaiting the return of the pair. “Should we go check on them?” Chopper worried since the two had been gone for so long. After hearing the loud moan escape from Luffy, the rest of the crew decided to pretend that y/n pranked Luffy and they must have went to bed. Even though the tears from the chef and the scoff from the swordsman didn’t go unnoticed, the tension was finally at ease.

A/N: 2nd fic I’ve done!! I did this one a little differently so please let me know how you guys feel🖤 GO READ MY NEWEST FIC! Out now “angel in black”

𝑻𝒂𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @soobunni @astahsvea @asheyy

@kingofthe-egirls @fanficwriter5 @scarwicht

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urdreamydoodles · 7 months ago

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X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

You are being mind-controled by a villain and you believe your lover cheated on you (Part.1)

A fog has settled between you, a cruel illusion woven by unseen hands. You now look at your beloved with wounded eyes, twisted by whispers that cloud your trust.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier & Bobby Drake

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- You stormed into Logan’s quarters, your heart pounding and your fists clenched, fury mingling with disbelief. You’d seen what you thought was proof—evidence that he’d betrayed you with someone else, leaving your heart cracked and bleeding. Logan’s stoic expression softened the moment he saw your face, but the pain and mistrust in your gaze threw him off. The look in your eyes seemed to strip him of his tough demeanor, revealing a wounded vulnerability as you accused him of something he couldn’t even fathom.

- “Darlin’, you know me better than that,” he said, voice rough with confusion and the beginning tremors of hurt. His hands were up in a calming gesture, yet you took a step back, unable to bear the thought of him reaching out to you. The raw agony in his voice almost made you falter, but the accusations burned too brightly in your chest. His face contorted with frustration and sadness, but he let you finish, taking each verbal blow without pushing back.

- Days passed, and the silence between you two felt like an endless canyon, too wide to cross. Logan tried reaching out once, showing up near your room or during training, but you brushed him off coldly, unwilling to let him anywhere near your heart again. You knew you’d hurt him, but the thought of betrayal consumed you, filling your mind with a vicious loop of lies you’d unknowingly been fed. Logan’s presence felt like a haunting reminder of the love you’d once shared, now tainted by supposed deception.

- When the mind control lifted a week later, the weight of the truth came crashing down, leaving you stunned and guilt-ridden. The realization hit hard: he’d never betrayed you; he’d never once given you a reason to doubt him. The villain’s twisted manipulation had clouded your mind, robbing you of the trust you had once shared so naturally with Logan. Shame settled like a stone in your stomach as you processed the damage you’d caused, your accusations like knives you’d driven into him.

- You found him in the training room, his shoulders tense as he focused on striking a dummy with restrained but undeniable fury. He paused when he noticed you, his hardened expression flickering with something softer, perhaps hope, though it was tinged with hurt. As you approached, your voice came out small, shaky, an apology tangled in each word as you tried to explain the manipulation you’d been under. “I’m so sorry, Logan… It wasn’t real, I—” you stammered, voice thick with remorse.

- Logan didn’t respond right away; his jaw clenched as he looked down, processing your apology in silence. But then, with a heavy sigh, he pulled you into his arms, the warmth and familiarity of him enveloping you, melting the tension from your body. He whispered, “Next time, come to me first, darlin’. I’d fight the whole world before I’d ever hurt you.” There was forgiveness in his voice, even if the pain lingered, but he held you close, and you felt the pieces of trust slowly knitting back together.

- That night, you lay beside him, listening to the soft rumble of his breathing, finding comfort in his closeness as he traced gentle patterns along your arm. He didn’t speak much, but his steady presence reassured you that, though scarred, your relationship could heal. You both knew it wouldn’t be easy, but Logan’s quiet strength gave you hope, his forgiveness a balm for your wounded heart.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- You barged into Remy’s room, the image of him with another woman branded into your mind, his playful smirk twisting into something cruel as you confronted him. Your heart ached, not understanding how someone who’d once held you so gently could betray you like this. Remy’s easygoing demeanor faltered as he met your gaze, surprise replaced by hurt when you spat accusations, your voice trembling with sorrow and anger.

- “Chère, I swear to you, it ain’t true,” he tried to insist, his tone serious, stripped of the usual teasing warmth. But you didn’t let him finish, words spilling out like poison as you described the pain his supposed betrayal had caused. Remy listened, mouth set in a line, his dark eyes clouded with anguish, but you turned away before he could respond, ignoring the way his outstretched hand dropped back to his side, fingers curling in frustration.

- A week went by, each day feeling like a splinter under your skin as you avoided him, memories of his charming smile now laced with bitterness. Remy, ever the gentleman, respected your space, though you often caught glimpses of his devastated expression from afar. You overheard others speak of how he’d thrown himself into training, his usual flair dulled, his laughter absent. Yet, every time you passed him, his gaze still followed you, a silent plea hidden beneath his usually confident gaze.

- When the villain’s hold on your mind finally dissipated, clarity returned, bringing with it a crushing wave of guilt and self-reproach. You realized the image of his “betrayal” had been a malicious trick, a deceitful seed planted to tear you apart from him. The weight of your harsh accusations pressed on you, a constant reminder of the pain you’d inflicted on him without cause. Heart pounding, you steeled yourself and set out to make things right.

- You found Remy in the rec room, the lights low as he tossed a deck of cards absentmindedly, flipping each one into the air with his usual deftness. He didn’t look up right away, but when he did, his gaze softened, and his lips curved slightly, though you could see the shadow of hurt still in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, you poured out your apology, explaining the mind control that had twisted your perception, your voice filled with regret.

- He listened in silence, watching you with an unreadable expression until you finished. Then, a small smirk crept onto his lips, though his eyes were still vulnerable. “Chère, you broke my heart, y’know,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. But then he pulled you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his embrace as warm as it had always been. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna make me stop lovin’ you, though. Just don’t make me wait so long to fix things next time.”

- That evening, as you curled up in his arms, Remy gently traced circles along your back, his familiar scent and warmth calming your guilty heart. His fingers laced with yours, and the soft whisper of “I love you, chère” melted away the last remnants of doubt, grounding you in his unwavering affection.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- You found Kurt in his room, your voice trembling as you confronted him, eyes filled with tears. The image of his supposed infidelity haunted you, the kind-hearted, compassionate Kurt you loved now tainted by betrayal. His golden eyes widened as he listened to your accusations, his expression crumpling with shock and heartbreak. He reached for you, his voice soft and pleading, “Liebchen, please… I would never…” But you pulled back, too hurt to listen.

- Kurt stood there, his tail swishing nervously, torn between reaching out to comfort you and respecting the painful distance you’d created. He watched helplessly as you turned and walked away, leaving him alone, his prayers for understanding left unanswered. The sadness in his eyes stayed with you, even in your anger, like a haunting reminder of what you’d shared, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal weighing on your heart.

- Days passed in agonizing silence, Kurt’s usual warmth missing from your life, replaced by a cold emptiness. You avoided him, and he, respecting your wishes, didn’t try to bridge the gap. Yet, you could feel his sadness from afar, a sense of sorrow that tugged at you each time you caught a glimpse of his shadow in the halls or heard his voice. The playful spark you’d once shared was gone, and the regret began to gnaw at you, though the pain of betrayal still held you back.

- Then, the fog lifted, and the truth of the mind control emerged, crushing you beneath a tidal wave of guilt. You realized how the villain’s manipulation had poisoned your mind, distorting the love Kurt had shown you into a twisted illusion. Heart aching, you felt the sting of your unfounded accusations and the weight of the hurt you’d caused him, each memory of his pained gaze lancing through you.

- You found Kurt in the chapel, praying, his silhouette outlined by soft candlelight. He looked up as you approached, his face a mixture of hope and trepidation, his usually joyful smile subdued. As you explained everything, your words laced with remorse, he listened intently, his golden eyes shining with unspoken forgiveness. The apology spilled from you, a torrent of sorrow and regret.

- Kurt took your hand in his, squeezing it gently as he spoke, “I forgive you, liebchen. My heart knew it wasn’t true.” His voice was tender, each word a balm to your guilty heart. He pulled you into a tight embrace, his warmth soothing the ache of your mistake, and you felt the comfort of his unconditional love envelop you. “Let us leave this behind us,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

- That night, as you lay beside him, your fingers entwined, Kurt’s laughter returned, soft and comforting. His playful smile reappeared, and the joyful glint in his eyes sparkled anew. His forgiveness, given so freely, renewed the light in your relationship, reminding you of the deep, unshakeable bond you shared.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- When you stormed into the war room, your anger boiled over as you accused Scott of betrayal, the stoic leader you’d trusted having seemingly shattered your faith in him. Scott’s face fell, his usually composed demeanor shaken as you poured out your pain, describing how you’d seen him with someone else. His lips parted in surprise, but you didn’t give him a chance to explain, too hurt by the thought of him being with someone else.

- Scott’s initial shock shifted to pain, his jaw clenching as he listened, unable to find the words to defend himself against accusations he didn’t understand. His eyes—so often shielded behind his visor—seemed to reveal a vulnerability he rarely showed. He tried to reach out, his voice low and steady as he denied your claims, but your trust had been severed, leaving you feeling distant and alone.

- The following days felt like a hollow void, each passing moment amplifying the absence of Scott’s steady presence in your life. Scott continued his duties with the X-Men, though his usual precision and focus seemed dimmed. You caught glimpses of him, his shoulders tense, his face etched with a sorrow he tried to hide, and though a part of you ached to believe him, your mind remained clouded by distrust.

- A week later, the fog lifted, and with it came the crushing reality of the villain’s manipulation. Realizing you’d been deceived into doubting Scott tore at you, guilt consuming you as you remembered each harsh word you’d thrown at him. You’d wounded him deeply, casting him out in your pain, and now the weight of that regret sat heavily on your heart as you prepared to make amends.

- You found Scott in the danger room, his focus intense as he trained, his body moving with practiced precision, though there was an underlying tension in every motion. He paused when he saw you, his face a careful mask as he waited, giving you the space to speak. Your apology tumbled out, words spilling over each other as you explained the mind control you’d been under, your voice breaking with regret.

- Scott’s face softened as he took in your words, nodding slowly, though a hint of hurt remained in his gaze. “I understand,” he said quietly, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. His hold was gentle yet reassuring, a reminder of the unshakable trust he placed in you. “Next time, talk to me first,” he added, his voice a mix of relief and gentle admonishment, and you nodded, knowing the advice was well-deserved.

- That night, as you lay with him, his calm, steady breathing beside you, Scott’s familiar hand rested over yours, anchoring you in his quiet strength. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, and with that simple gesture, the sense of peace returned, his unwavering loyalty rekindling the trust you’d thought you’d lost.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- When you confronted Jean, the weight of betrayal and disbelief surged through you, making it hard to catch your breath. Your accusations spilled out, each word sharpened by hurt, as you described seeing her with someone else. Jean’s emerald eyes widened, her expression reflecting your own pain as you accused her of infidelity. Her mouth opened as if to defend herself, but the words didn’t come. You could feel her shock and sadness pulsing back at you, a faint psychic echo that only deepened the ache in your heart.

- “Please, you have to believe me, it’s not true,” she murmured, her voice gentle but edged with hurt. Jean tried to reach out, fingers trembling as they stretched toward you, but you pulled back, retreating from her touch. Her face fell as you turned away, her pleading expression remaining etched in your mind as you left her there, feeling shattered and alone. The telepathic bond you once shared now felt cold, a reminder of the trust you thought had been broken.

- For days, Jean kept her distance, though you’d catch her watching you with a quiet sadness whenever you passed each other. Her usual warmth, the fiery passion she radiated, seemed dimmed, like she’d wrapped herself in a barrier to shield from the hurt. You tried to push her out of your mind, but her absence left a hollow ache, one that only deepened each time you remembered the way her eyes had softened as you walked away.

- When the villain’s manipulation lifted a week later, the truth hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you reeling with guilt. You’d been tricked into believing Jean had betrayed you, but in reality, she’d been loyal to you, her love unwavering. Shame washed over you, knowing that you’d hurt her without reason, tearing apart the trust she’d cherished. You could only hope that it wasn’t too late to make things right.

- You found Jean alone in the gardens, her gaze distant as she sat in silence, a small frown creasing her forehead. Her shoulders tensed as you approached, but she didn’t look up. Heart pounding, you poured out your apology, explaining the mind control that had twisted your perception. She listened, her expression unreadable, though a glimmer of hope began to soften her gaze as you continued.

- After a long pause, Jean reached for your hand, squeezing it gently as tears brimmed in her eyes. “I wanted to reach out, but I could feel your pain too deeply,” she whispered, voice trembling. She pulled you into a soft embrace, her presence like a warm blanket around your heart. “Please, let’s promise to trust each other from now on, no matter what,” she added, and you nodded, feeling the first glimmers of relief.

- That night, as you held each other, Jean’s fingers gently traced along your arm, her psychic presence soothing and warm as she shared her feelings with you. The silent bond between you two, once bruised, began to heal, mending the hurt that had divided you. You found comfort in her arms, her forgiveness a balm that promised a fresh start, her love as unbreakable as ever.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Your voice shook as you confronted Ororo, disbelief and betrayal twisting inside you as you accused her of infidelity. Ororo’s calm gaze held your own, her eyes wide with shock and a hint of sorrow as your words struck her like thunder. You saw her usual composure flicker, her regal presence momentarily faltering as you laid out your accusations, heart aching with each word you threw at her.

- “I… I don’t know where this is coming from,” she replied, her voice soft, laced with heartbreak. She reached for you, a gentle attempt to reassure you, but you stepped back, hurt mingling with anger as you turned away. Ororo watched you go, her hand still outstretched, her usually warm expression now marred with the anguish of unspoken words. Even as you walked away, a part of you felt the sorrow radiating from her like a storm brewing in the distance.

- Days passed with silence filling the void between you two, the peacefulness she usually brought into your life now replaced by a cold emptiness. Ororo respected your space, though you’d catch glimpses of her from afar, her shoulders tense, her face etched with the sadness she struggled to conceal. Every time you saw her, it felt like the calm before a storm, the ache of loss lingering as the reality of her absence settled around you.

- When the fog of mind control finally lifted, understanding hit you like a gust of wind, and you felt the weight of guilt pressing down on you. Ororo had never betrayed you; her loyalty and love had remained steady. The villain’s manipulation had twisted your perception, turning the warmth you shared into bitter suspicion. Heart pounding, you knew you had to find her, to make things right and ask for her forgiveness.

- You found her in the garden, surrounded by blooming flowers and a soft breeze. She stood with her back to you, eyes closed, as if in quiet communion with nature. When she sensed your approach, she turned, her expression unreadable, a mixture of hope and lingering hurt. Words tumbled from your mouth, the apology spilling out as you explained the mind control that had manipulated your mind, your voice breaking with remorse.

- Ororo’s expression softened, her serene gaze meeting yours as she listened. After a moment of silence, she placed a gentle hand on your cheek, her touch soothing as she whispered, “I forgive you. I know the heart can be clouded by lies, but our love is stronger than that.” Her words were a calm reassurance, her forgiveness like a gentle rain that washed away the doubt and guilt that had lingered in your heart.

- That night, you sat together beneath the stars, her hand entwined with yours as she told stories of her childhood under the open sky. The peaceful presence she exuded settled around you like a comforting blanket, and as you rested your head on her shoulder, you felt the scars of your doubt fading, replaced by the steady strength of her love.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- You stormed into Rogue’s room, accusations slipping out before you could even consider the impact of your words. Rogue’s eyes widened in disbelief as you described what you’d seen, your voice laced with pain and anger. She shook her head, stepping back as you continued, your heart aching as you accused her of something you never thought she’d do. Her lips parted, her shock transforming into sorrow, as if each word was a blow that left her more vulnerable than you’d ever seen.

- “Ah wouldn’t ever do that t’ you,” she whispered, her voice thick with hurt, her Southern accent laced with a trembling sadness. Rogue reached out instinctively, her gloved hand hovering as if to reassure you, but you pulled away, the ache of betrayal too fresh. The sight of her slumping shoulders haunted you as you walked out, her sadness lingering in your mind even as you tried to push her from your thoughts.

- The following days felt hollow, the vibrant spark that Rogue usually brought into your life now replaced by a dull ache. Rogue didn’t try to push her way back in, though every time you saw her, her gaze lingered, a mixture of hurt and confusion visible in her green eyes. You’d catch her in training, her laughter absent, her confidence dimmed, each glance at her a reminder of the trust you’d once shared, now seemingly fractured.

- A week later, the villain’s hold on your mind lifted, leaving you reeling with regret. The image of Rogue’s “betrayal” had been nothing but an illusion, a trick meant to sever your bond. The guilt weighed heavily on you as you remembered each accusation, each moment of doubt you’d forced on her. The damage was done, but you knew you had to try to mend the hurt you’d inflicted, to apologize and hope that she’d understand.

- You found her on the mansion’s balcony, gazing out at the sprawling landscape, her expression pensive. She turned when you approached, her gaze wary, the pain still fresh in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, you offered a heartfelt apology, explaining how you’d been manipulated, each word laced with sorrow and remorse. Rogue listened, her expression softening as you spoke, though a hint of hurt remained.

- She was quiet for a moment, studying you, before her lips quirked in a sad smile. “Ah figured somethin’ was off, but it hurt, sugar,” she murmured, her voice raw with the vulnerability she rarely showed. But then, in true Rogue fashion, she pulled you into a tight embrace, the warmth of her hold seeping through your guilt. “Just promise me you’ll trust me next time, alright?” she whispered, her voice thick with forgiveness.

- That night, you lay side by side, the moon casting soft light across her face as she told you stories of her past, her gloved hand tracing gentle patterns on your arm. She forgave you with a grace you hadn’t anticipated, her love steadfast and undiminished. As you held her, you felt a renewed trust blossom between you, a bond that had withstood the storm, now stronger than ever.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- When you confronted Erik, anger and heartbreak mingled in your words as you accused him of betrayal. His normally sharp, guarded gaze softened, showing a flicker of vulnerability you’d rarely seen as he absorbed your accusations. Erik’s face darkened with pain as he denied your claims, his usual calm and confidence faltering as you recounted what you’d seen. He reached out, trying to make you understand, but the hurt clouded your judgment, leaving you feeling shattered and disconnected.

- “You know me better than that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, a hint of desperation in his tone. Erik’s hand dropped to his side as he watched you turn away, his shoulders tense with a restrained sorrow that only deepened the ache in your heart. He didn’t chase after you, respecting your choice to walk away, though the look in his eyes haunted you, a mixture of regret and confusion that lingered long after you’d left.

- In the days that followed, Erik returned to his usual demeanor, his powerful presence now tainted by an unspoken sadness. Though he resumed his work, his moments of quiet solitude grew longer, the stoic mask he wore cracking slightly under the weight of the distance between you. You saw him standing alone on the mansion grounds more often, his expression hardened but with a flicker of sorrow that betrayed the pain he carried within.

- A week later, as the fog of mind control finally dissipated, the truth hit you with a crushing force. The betrayal you’d seen had been nothing more than an illusion, a cruel trick meant to drive a wedge between you and Erik. Regret flooded through you, the weight of each harsh word you’d thrown at him settling heavily on your heart. Determined to make amends, you knew you had to find him, to confess the truth and ask for his forgiveness.

- You found Erik in the metal workshop, his focus intense as he worked, manipulating metal with quiet precision. When he noticed you, his hands stilled, his face carefully guarded as he met your gaze, waiting for you to speak. Taking a shaky breath, you apologized, explaining the mind control that had twisted your perception and pushed you to doubt him. Erik listened silently, his eyes never leaving yours, a mix of hurt and understanding etched on his face.

- Erik stepped closer, his hand reaching out to rest against your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. “I know the world often gives us reason to doubt, but I hoped you’d trust in me,” he murmured, his voice heavy with both forgiveness and a lingering sadness. He pulled you into a strong embrace, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt protective, as though he’d keep you close, despite the pain you’d caused.

- That night, as you lay beside him, Erik’s fingers traced gentle patterns on your arm, a soft reminder of his silent devotion. He held you close, his presence both reassuring and grounding, a quiet promise that your bond was stronger than any villain’s lies. In his arms, you felt the forgiveness you’d feared you’d lost, a renewed trust settling between you as the weight of doubt faded away, replaced by a love that defied all odds.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- When you confronted Charles, the words spilled out in a painful rush, your heart aching as you accused him of something you’d once thought impossible. His calm blue gaze wavered as he listened, the hurt in his eyes clear as he took in each painful accusation. Charles tried to reach out telepathically, his gentle voice brushing against your mind, but the hurt pushed you to block him, leaving him standing there, stunned and sorrowful.

- “Please, if you’d just let me explain,” he pleaded, his usually steady voice faltering as he took a step toward you. Charles’s outstretched hand fell back to his side when you backed away, his face softening with regret and a sadness that tugged at your heart. He watched you leave, his expression a mixture of sorrow and helplessness, a silent question lingering between you that neither of you could answer.

- In the days that followed, Charles kept his distance, his presence around the mansion more subdued than usual. Though he carried on with his responsibilities, his usual warmth and reassuring smile seemed dimmed, a hint of sadness in his eyes whenever you passed each other. You noticed him sitting alone in his study more often, his gaze distant, as though wrestling with the hurt of your accusations in his own quiet way.

- When the villain’s manipulation finally lifted, the realization of the truth hit you hard, guilt flooding your heart. You’d been deceived, twisted into believing a betrayal that had never happened, and in doing so, you’d hurt the man who had trusted you so deeply. Shame filled you as you remembered each accusation, each cold look you’d given him, and you knew you had to make things right.

- You found Charles in his study, his gaze focused on a book but distant, lost in thought. When you entered, he looked up, his expression a mixture of surprise and guarded hope. Stumbling over your words, you explained the mind control that had been used to deceive you, your apology spilling out as you begged for his forgiveness. Charles listened, his expression softening as he absorbed your words, though a trace of hurt lingered in his eyes.

- “I understand, my dear,” he replied gently, reaching out to take your hand in his. His touch was warm, comforting, as he squeezed your hand reassuringly. “The mind can be a fragile thing, easily manipulated. But I believe in us,” he added, his voice a gentle reminder that trust, once broken, could be rebuilt. Charles pulled you into a soft embrace, his forgiveness radiating through you like a quiet, calming balm.

- That night, as you sat by the fire, Charles shared memories of times you’d spent together, his voice soothing and full of love. With each story, he reassured you of his unwavering trust and commitment, your bond gradually healing in the warmth of his presence. The quiet strength of his forgiveness wrapped around you, giving you a renewed faith in the love that had weathered even the darkest of manipulations.

Bobby Drake aka. Iceman

- You confronted Bobby with a whirlwind of hurt and frustration, accusing him of betrayal with an intensity that left you both shaken. Bobby’s usual carefree grin vanished, replaced by a look of shock as he absorbed your accusations, his blue eyes wide with disbelief. He tried to protest, to deny what you were saying, but the pain in your voice silenced him, leaving him looking lost and wounded.

- “I would never do that to you,” he said, his voice quiet but filled with sincerity, hurt flickering in his eyes as he searched your face for any sign of belief. He reached out, his hand trembling as he tried to reassure you, but you pulled back, the ache of distrust making it hard to accept his words. Bobby’s shoulders slumped as you turned away, his usual bright spirit dampened by the weight of your accusations.

- For days, the once lively mansion felt colder, the warmth Bobby usually brought replaced by an uncomfortable silence. He withdrew, giving you the space you needed, though his gaze would linger sadly whenever you passed each other. You missed his humor, the lighthearted moments that had once filled your days, but the cloud of suspicion remained, leaving a hollow ache that only grew with time.

- A week later, the villain’s hold on your mind finally lifted, and with it came the realization of the truth. Bobby’s supposed betrayal had been nothing more than a cruel manipulation, meant to tear you apart. The guilt was overwhelming as you remembered the hurt in his eyes, the way you’d rejected him despite his protests. Heart heavy, you knew you had to find him and apologize, to explain the lies that had clouded your mind.

- You found Bobby in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his posture tense as he focused on an ice sculpture he was absentmindedly creating. He looked up when you entered, his expression guarded, a flicker of hope in his gaze as you began to apologize. Your words tumbled out, explaining the mind control that had twisted your perception, the regret heavy in your voice.

- Bobby’s expression softened, his usual playful spark returning as he let out a soft laugh, though there was a hint of lingering hurt in his eyes. “Guess I can’t stay mad at you,” he said, a playful grin breaking through the sadness as he pulled you into a tight hug. He held you close, his embrace warm despite his powers, a silent reassurance that he forgave you and that he’d missed you too.

- That night, as you lay together on the couch, Bobby’s arms wrapped around you, he cracked jokes, his usual humor returning in full force as he playfully teased you about your suspicions. The lighthearted banter soothed the remaining tension, reminding you of the joy he brought into your life. In his laughter and his forgiveness, you found the comfort you’d missed, the love between you rekindled with a warmth that melted away all doubts.

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