#another quiet trainer! it's so nice to meet you! ^^

[mtsilver-enjoyer]

.......... ....... ........ .......

....👋🏻

@normal-paldean-student

......... .....!!!! 👋😊

[xxepherr]

i have another hasan fic idea!! (if your open to requests)

reader is a popstar and releases a surprise single (like "nasty" or "positions" by ariana grande) and he reacts to it on stream and is blushing and flustered listening to it🤭

.ೃ࿐SURPRISE SINGLE

summary — in which you drop a surprise single conveniently while hasan is streaming, and that means he has to react to it on principle.

pairings — hasan piker x popstar!reader (established relationship)

pronouns — none

word count — 1750

note — i am SO open to requests!!!!! i don't personally think he'd blush but i think he'd get flustered word-wise if that makes sense. like SUPER caught off guard by it all. not my best work but i tried </3

WOULD HASAN CONSIDER YOU a closed off person? no. you weren't necessarily secretive either, so when you kept yourself locked away in the studio hasan had put together for you, your head in the clouds for months, he knew something was up.

he wasn't sure what exactly, just that your hands were constantly covered in pen ink by dinner time, and that you hummed the same tune as a mellow afterthought. or the way you disappeared "to the studio" but you never took your notebook with you, and usually came home with your hair a different way or covered in stray glitter.

hasan paid attention, he knew you had an album you were working on that was due to be released later in the year, but you were never this quiet about it. you bounced ideas off him, you let him sit in the studio with you and brainstorm what sound you wanted until you got distracted and gave it up for the day. it was the reason why you usually went to a proper recording studio with producers more often than needed.

either way, he trusted you. he didn't want to pry as much as it would ease the constant itch in his brain. you'd lost quite a bit in simply just dating him in the first place — people didn't like the fact that you were dating a political commentator, but you moved past it fairly easily. ignorance was truly key to happiness. you were happy.

it was like any other day. you woke up, put kaya's harness on her and held the unattached leash separately ( just in case you ran into other dogs and their owners on the way ) and went out for a run on your normal circuit in the neighbourhood. when you got back, you kissed your boyfriend through the car window as he left to go meet his personal trainer at the gym. you made a simple breakfast of cereal and fruit and retreated back to what austin had started calling your cave.

it was for one last time in a while, just to prepare a few things so that you could immediately promote the single once it dropped. it was all lined up and awaited the click of a button . . . just hours from now. you felt jittery with excitement, the secret of a few months so close to being exposed to millions.

HASAN came home and did as he usually did — ate a ridiculously protein fueled meal, took a shower, prepared his things for stream, and then joined you for an episode of the show you were currently watching. in fairness, it was the first time in a while he'd joined you or the show part of that plan, something he was incredibly confused about but not exactly bothered by. it was nice, cuddled up together on the couch, sharing moments together that weren't meals or naps or brief moments you'd bring his food to him while he was locked in on whatever he was talking about on stream.

"i have to get up," hasan's chuckle was breathy, his fingers trying to pry your hands off his bicep. you clung to him with all the strength you had, a whine building in the back of your throat.

"five more minutes," you sighed. you both knew five minutes turned to ten which then turned to at least thirty. once he had been a whole two hours late because you wouldn't let go of him, all to the point where he considered just streaming with you clinging to him like a backpack. he wouldn't, of course, but it was definitely still a thought. he knew you wouldn't care anyway, your lyrics were quite . . . questionable and anyone could decipher what your relationship was like without having to physically see it.

"you wouldn't give me five minutes when you were off being secretive," he challenged lightly, eyes rolling in a playful manner. "i promise i'll take more breaks than usual to come see you," it was a common form of negotiation in situations such as these, one you couldn't argue with.

if you were interested, you'd sit in the chair off camera that murat usually sat in, or you'd sit in the armchair he put in the room just for you to read a book while he chatted politics. you wouldn't be doing that today, not even popping in for a quick hello to ask him something like you normally did. not today.

you let go of his arm, doing so in a way that made it look like he'd finally pried your hands away, and pressed your lips against his cheek. "fine . . ." you drawled in mock disappointment. "go do your job or whatever."

he laughed, standing up from the plush couch and disappearing around the corner. you tapped on your phone, the wallpaper of you and hasan posing with his mum in front of a gingerbread house from christmas last year greeting you with the time. you had a few hours to kill before the single's release, and so in the meantime you could tidy up a few things before his parents arrived later tonight.

HASAN, DESPITE POPULAR BELIEF, didn't actually get annoyed as easily as perceived. things had to pile up and really push every single one of his buttons to create an outburst, and one thing that certainly did that was some dumbass spamming the same thing over and over.

"dude, i can't fucking stand dumbasses like this," he sputtered out his usual rant, one that at least half of his chat could probably recite word for word. "shut the fu—" he cut himself off when he opened the link in a separate tab, a snippet of a sound he hadn't heard before paired with what he knew was footage of the richard nixon presidential library. the part that caught him off guard was that your youtube channel's name was displayed at the bottom as he paused it.

oh. it all made so much sense now. all the hours spent holed up in your studio . . . all the hidden secrets and the sudden shutting of your notebook whenever you were close enough . . . oh.

"okay," hasan cleared his throat, dragging it over to the main screen. he didn't make a big spectacle on unbanning the person who spammed the link because how could he be mad? and set the music video back to the beginning. he couldn't not watch it, not when he'd reacted to all your other songs and music videos on stream. "quick break so we can watch this."

heaven sent you to me, i'm just hopin' i don't repeat history.

already, he was justifying it in his head as if he really had to. the title, positions, had him a little nervous as if you hadn't written suggestive songs about your relationship before. it was a little more obvious in the target demographic ( himself, mainly ) when you, in the music video, were clearly meant to be depicted as the president of the united states.

boy, i'm tryna meet your mama on a sunday. then make a lotta love on a monday.

okay, it shouldn't have been a huge deal. it wasn't. once again, this was no different from what you had written before, if anything, this was probably more toned back. even with that, the fact that he had no warning about you dropping this song whatsoever had his face feeling warm at the contents.

switchin' them positions for you, cookin' in the kitchen and i'm in the bedroom . . .

he was uncharacteristically silent through the rest of the song, not glancing away from the video on his monitor. not even to stare at either one of his chat that he had open. he only snapped out of his daze when the lyrics begun to fade and the door to the room swung open.

"thoughts?" he heard your voice before he saw you, a skip in your step as you made it over to stand behind his chair. you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, eyes scanning the chat that he had finally started scrolling through again like he wasn't just at a loss for words.

"uh, i, uh," he stuttered momentarily, clearing his throat. the messages he scrolled through were turning into various greetings directed at you. you giggled softly in his ear too quiet for his mic to pick up. "you were fucking amazing, when aren't you?" he just managed to grasp his bearings, looking at you through his monitor.

"aw, i think your face is even a little pink," you leaned even closer, squinting as if to try see it through his beard. tone riddled with tease, "did i do all that?"

hasan glanced away, scoffing out a laugh that you knew was the result of him feeling flustered. he was never super vocal whenever he was embarrassed, but all the signs were there. his body heat had skyrocketed, and he twisting one of his silver rings with one hand while tapping the desk with his other. mission accomplished, you supposed. the secret song was all worth it to witness this.

"thought you'd appreciate me being the president," you shrugged, a grin spreading across your face when he didn't answer "would i be the hottest president ever?"

"mhm, i don't know," he pretended to think, "have you seen obama? man, he could hit a three."

you turned your head slowly, your eyes locking with the obama cutout leaning against the wall behind the small cutout of queen elizabeth and bernie sanders. on numerous occasions when you sat in the room while he was working or when they used to do the podcast in here, you would have to get up and turn it around so you didn't feel like obama was staring into your soul.

"yeah, okay," rolling your eyes, you straightened back up, mindlessly lifting your hands up to fluff up the back of his hair. "i'll let you get back to talking about . . ." you glanced at his other monitor, "elon musk." the face you pulled was enough to show your subtle disgust because you knew one word would have your pr bombarding your phone and you didn't really want to deal with that today.

"i'll take an encore of positions later," hasan added as an afterthought as your fingers left his hair and you waved goodbye to his stream.

"of the song or . . ." you raised an eyebrow at him, and he winked at you in response.

"surprise me."

[zoe535]

What We Never Said

Chapter 2

WC: 1.2k

Zoe:) -sorry its short :/

---

Azzi believed in fate. But Paige Bueckers’ locker directly next to hers? That felt personal. Intentional. Like the universe was trying to make a point.

She sat on the edge of the bench, elbows on knees, headphones in—but no music playing. Just the pulse of her own thoughts, relentless. Contemplating what she's ever done to deserve this type of torture.

Training camp had barely started, and already the media were circling like vultures. Hunting for any scoop they can get. Even if it was scraping something from nothing.

“Will the two stars learn to work together?” “Can fierce rivals really become teammates?” “Bueckers and Fudd: From college enemies to backcourt partners.” All newspaper headlines that were published the moment they stepped into the practice facility.

As if any of them understood what it was like to step onto the court every year, look across the court, and see the one person who always made your blood boil.

Paige.

Paige, who had been the golden girl from day one. Paige, who always had the crowd in the palm of her hand. Paige, who had ended Azzi’s 2024-2025 college season in the 2025 Elite Eight with a buzzer beating dagger and a smirk. Like she was taunting her.

The smirk Azzi still saw when she closed her eyes at night.

Coach Koclanes had told them during the pre-camp meeting that the team goes where our guards take us and that means that Paige and I have to work together and leave whatever we have off the court and out of the locker room. He said "You don’t have to be best friends. But you do have to lead."

Azzi had nodded. But internally rolled her eyes.

Paige hadn’t even looked up. Not that she was looking...or thats what she told herself.

Now, sitting in matching Dallas practice gear, Azzi stole a glance toward the locker beside her. Empty. Maybe Paige was late.

The gym buzzed with activity when Azzi walked out right on time, or so she thought. Conditioning drills were in full swing, and even veterans looked winded. Azzi got in line silently. She could feel eyes on her—some curious, some skeptical. Paige’s supposed counterpart. Her shadow. Her threat.

“Fudd! You’re with Bueckers for shooting reps,” Coach called out.

Of course she was.

Azzi turned and there she was, Paige, hair pulled into a tight ponytail, stretching out her wrist like this was just another Tuesday.

They didn’t speak as they walked toward the baseline.

Coach tossed them a ball. “Run your standard five on five drill. Alternate makes. Communicate.”

Azzi took the first shot. Swish.

Paige caught the rebound, didn’t say a word, stepped into her own shot. Swish.

They rotated through elbows, corners, wings.

Fifth spot. Azzi clanked it.

Paige caught the ricochet and shot without hesitation. Nothing but net.

Azzi retrieved the ball. Walked it back slowly.

Paige finally spoke. “Still short from that Elite Eight range?”

Azzi froze.

“Funny,” she said, cold. “Didn’t know ring-chasers started in year two.”

Paige’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Cute. But you know I built this team back, right?”

“Then you better hope I don’t burn it down.”

They finished the drill in silence.

That afternoon, during full-team scrimmage, the tension exploded.

Coach split them into two squads. Paige and Azzi on the same side.

First play, Paige called for a flare screen.

Azzi ignored her, cut backdoor, and scored.

Paige clapped once, sharp. “Nice job freelancing.”

“Nice job being predictable,” Azzi fired back.

Next possession, Paige drove, drew the double, kicked out.

Azzi hesitated.

Open.

Wide open.

She missed.

Paige threw her hands up. “You gonna shoot like that all season?”

Azzi snapped. “Maybe pass to someone who wants you to pass to them.”

Whistle.

Coach barked, “Timeout!”

The gym went quiet. Even the trainers stopped moving.

Coach Koclanes looked between them. “You two wanna run this team? Start acting like leaders. Or sit your asses down.”

Azzi wiped sweat from her face and glared across the court.

Paige met her eyes, unblinking.

“I’m not here to make friends,” Azzi muttered.

Paige tilted her head. “Don’t worry. You’re doing great.”

After practice, the locker room was silent. Most of the players cleared out early.

Azzi sat alone with headphones on, listening to her practice playlist, unlacing her shoes. Paige entered minutes later, dropped her duffel, and didn’t say a word.

Finally, Azzi sighed. “You’ve had it out for me since day one.”

Paige looked over. ���No. You chose to make it personal.”

“That first game in 2021. I hit that three in your face and said you were light work. You’ve hated me since.”

Paige laughed once. “I’ve never hated you. I just stopped pretending to like you.”

Azzi stared at her. “Why?”

Paige shrugged. “Because it’s easier than admitting you got under my skin.”

A beat.

The silence stretched.

Azzi stood. “We don’t have to be enemies.”

Paige’s voice was low. “But we’re not friends.”

“No,” Azzi agreed. “We’re just two players who know exactly how to get in each other's heads. Hurt each other. Hit just the right spot to provoke.”

As she left the locker room, her phone buzzed.

Jose: You good? You looked pissed on the live feed.

Azzi: Fine. That's just my regular face.

Jose: She giving you trouble?

Azzi didn’t answer right away.

Azzi: She’s not the problem.

But the truth was, Paige was the problem.

And the season hadn’t even started yet.

Azzi’s apartment was quiet.

Not peaceful. Just… quiet. The kind of quiet that let thoughts creep into every corner, thoughts she didn’t want to have. Thoughts she definitely shouldn’t have about Paige Bueckers.

She was on her couch, knees pulled up, reruns of an old TV show playing on mute on the TV. She wasn’t watching. The light flickered against her skin, illuminating the half-eaten container of takeout on her coffee table. She should’ve thrown it away an hour ago. She should’ve showered by now. But she kept staring at the door, like Paige might burst in any second.

Ridiculous.

She wasn’t even sure what she wanted. For Paige to yell at her again? To apologize? To… what? Say she didn’t mean it?

Azzi rubbed her temples. This was getting out of hand.

She opened her phone. Scrolled aimlessly. Twitter, Instagram, texts she didn’t want to respond to. Paige’s latest story was just a blurry shot of the practice court with the caption: “Work.”

Azzi scoffed. Of course it was.

She tapped the screen, let it linger too long. Then locked the phone and tossed it on the cushion beside her.

Why couldn’t she stop thinking about her? About that smirk. About how Paige’s voice sounded when she was pissed. About how it felt to be seen by her and dismissed in the same breath.

Azzi got up suddenly. Paced.

This wasn’t about hate. Not really. Hate didn’t feel like this.

Hate didn’t leave your stomach twisted when the person walked into the gym. Hate didn’t make you feel like you had something to prove every time she looked your way.

She told herself it was competitiveness. Fire. That edge that made champions.

But champions didn’t lay awake at night replaying conversations that didn’t matter.

She sat back down, exhaled sharply. Picked up her phone again.

No new messages.

Good.

She didn’t want her to text.

Did she?

God.

Azzi dropped her head into her hands.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not with her.

Especially not with her.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Give Into The Temptation

Oscar Piastri x Fem!Norris!Reader

warnings: ‼️‼️⚠️⚠️SPOILERS FOR TWISTED HATE BY ANA HUANG ‼️‼️⚠️⚠️, cursing, SMUT

Thank you to @forevercaffeinated-lee for this idea! I hope it meets your expectations <3!

Slight enemies to lovers

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

instagram

When I first met Oscar I thought he was cute and he is but my god was he so full of himself.  

Now don’t get me wrong, I love a man who’s confident and knows what he wants but Oscar was not that.

Oscar was cocky, full of himself and sometimes downright disrespectful. I usually let it slide because I didn’t see him often so I didn’t have to deal with it, emphasis on the word usually.

-

I’ve been on the road with Lando so far this whole 2024 season because he had asked me to tag along, he something about missing his twin sister or some bullshit like that, in reality everyone knew that I was here because he liked the way I made his meal preps and not the person that’s currently doing it now.

This is the week of the Monaco Grand Prix and Lando has been out all day with his trainer all day doing whatever the trainer made him do all the while I’m stuck at the condo alone.

I was chilling out on a pineapple floaty in the pool when I heard the front door open. I'd decided that I wanted to play a prank on Lando so I snuck out of the pool and quickly dried myself off before quietly sneaking into the condo. I'd heard rustling coming from the bathroom and that gave me the perfect chance to scare him. I waited against the wall for about 45 seconds before I heard the door open, I waited for a second until I saw a taller figure step out the bathroom and with a big leap I screamed 'Boo' at the man in front of me.

However, I didn't get as much joy from scaring Lando as I thought I would and that was only because I didn't scare Lando. I scared Oscar.

"Ah! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Oscar screamed as I still stood in front of him, placing his hand on his chest as if to slow down his heartbeat.

"What are you doing here?!" I screamed back in total shock and anger that he was here. I mean how did he even get the key? Only Lando and I had a key?

"I'm staying here this race weekend dipshit. You know this." His attitude evident, as always.

"Obviously not, seeing as I'm JUST NOW FINDING THIS OUT!" I shout. I'm so frustrated, I wanted to have a nice weekend to support my brother and hopefully only see Oscar when needed, but turns out I'm gonna be spending the WHOLE weekend with him.

"That's it, I'm going back out by the pool." I scoffed while I dragged my feet dramatically out to the backyard.

-

Back out by the pool, I was laying on one of the lawn chairs and I decided that I was going to try and finish the book I was currently reading 'Twisted Hate' by one of my favorite authors Ana Huang.

While I was reading, I was so deep in thought that I hadn't heard the patio door open and Oscar come out. At least not until I heard a big splash in the water and felt drops of it land on my legs.

"You muppet! I'm reading here!" I shouted as I took the towel I brought out to dry my not-so-wet legs. Oscar looked displeased with me as when I looked up I saw him rolling his eyes at me.

I continued reading in peace and quiet for about another 15 minutes before my timer went off indicating that I should go apply more sunscreen before I get too burned. I let out a annoyed groan because my book was just getting good so I quickly got up and went into the air conditioned condo to the living room to grab the spray on sunscreen, applying it before walking back outside.

Opening the back door, I was quickly met with a sight of Oscar with a towel around his waist and my book in his hand.

"Oscar, put my book down now!" my face just as red as a tomato at the thought of Oscar reading the previous page of the two characters fucking. Part of me didn't want him to know what I read on my free time but part of me wanted him to have read it so that he learns not to pick up and read random books.

"Twisted Hate? I think I've heard of this book." if my face was red before, it must've been a shade of hell right now. How did he know about this book? Maybe someone said it was a good series? Did he know about the pure sex written in it? So many questions flooded my head but before I could question what he meant by what he said he continued talking

(THIS NEXT PART CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE BOOK SO PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING UNTIL YOU SEE THE BOLD WORDS! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!)

"Yeah, Jules ends up telling Josh that she was the one that took the painting. Josh was mad at her at first but then they had make-up sex. Turns out he didn't forgive her and 'broke up' with her mid orgasm and kicked her out." My face fell in shock. There's no way this bitch just fucking spoiled this book for me. No, he's making shit up. There's no way he'd know what was going on in the book, someone could've told him about the 'break in'. Oscar loves to get under my skin and this would be a good way he could do it.

A scoff left my lips as I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Yeah fucking right. That's a good one Piastri, and to think I almost believed you. Wow, this is a new low for you." I laughed as I snatched my book from his grasp and gathered my stuff. I was going to finish my book in the comfort of my well air conditioned room until my brother comes back and we go out to eat.

(OKAY NO SPOILERS AFTER THIS PART)

-

It had been about 30 minutes since my last interaction with Oscar and I was sitting against the headboard of the bed under the covers reading. I was having a good time in the quiet of the room while reading until I got to a part that eerily started to sound like what Oscar told me was going to happen between Jules and Josh.

I kept reading because I didn't want to believe that Piastri was THAT disrespectful to actually spoil my book for me. Sure enough that Aussie dipshit did in fact spoil my book for me. With an angry grunt I peeled myself away from the book and left my room. I was going to find Oscar and kill him.

I searched the house with so much anger in me I felt like I was going to explode. I finally spotted Oscar still out by the pool except this time instead of being in the water, he was sun bathing. Lord knows he needs it because of how pale he was.

Swinging the patio door open I started yelling " OSCAR JACK PIASTRI!" The volume of my voice and the slam of the door startled Oscar and he quickly locked his phone before chucking it on the lawn chair next to his. "YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING BASTARD!" A slight smirk plastered on his face as he saw how mad I was.

"Finally get to the part I spoiled for you?" he looked so cocky right now and all I wanted to do was to punch him right in his sexy face. No, stop Y/N don't think like that.

"You're a cunt Oscar. I want to never see you again!" I stomped my foot. I looked like an angry toddler when they wouldn't get their way.

"Oh that's cute. We're rooming in the same house this weekend and in case you forgot, your brother and I are on the same team so that's not happening." I watched as a small laugh left his incredibly sexy and slightly plump lips.

As much as I wanted to be mad at Oscar I couldn't help but want to swoon for him right now. He'd gotten out of the pool not that long ago because his body wasn't wet anymore but his swim trunks and hair were still damp. That nasty smirk still plastered on his sexy face, his damp curls laying in every direction, his perfectly toned chest on display, the damp swimming trunks sticking to his hard cock. Wait, is he hard? Was he watching porn before I came out??

"As much as I'm flattered that you're checking me out, my eyes are up here princess." Oscar called as he snapped his fingers at me before pointing to his eyes when I finally looked up.

Did I just get caught checking out the man I hated the most while I'm trying to be angry and yell at him?

"As if. I- I would never check you out. You- You're the last guy I would want to find attractive." I swallowed the lump in my throat as I watched Oscar slowly start to walk in my direction stopping right in front of me. He was so close I could feel his breath on my face, none of us moved and I don't think either of us wanted to. Oscar raised his hands to rest on both sides of my face, leaning in but stopping right before our lips met.

"Really? So why aren't you backing away from my touch?" He was so close to me and all I wanted to do was have the most rough and dirty sex with him right now. "You hate me right? You know they say there's a blurred line between Love and Hate."

"I" need you "I would never love you" I'm trying so hard not to give into the temptation of falling for Oscar but it's so hard. Oscar might be harder but I don't want to be the first to give in. I left heavy calloused hand on my waist and gave it a small squeeze which caused a pathetic small moan to escape my lips.

"That moan that left your mouth just now says otherwise," Oscar and I made eye contact just before he turned his head to whisper in my ear "just say the word and I'll fuck you 7 ways to Sunday before your brother gets back" His hand slowly sliding down my front before they got to my bathing suit bottoms, stopping right above the elastic.

A whimper left my lips before I could stop it. "Is this fine?" Oscar said as he grabbed my chin to look up and face him, a small nod of approval was what I gave him but that wasn't enough "No princess, I need words. Is this okay with you?" Even when we're so deep in this intimate moment he's getting on my nerves.

"Yes," I said breathlessly as I placed my hand on his and guided him underneath the fabric of my bikini bottoms "I need this, I need you so fucking bad." I whispered as I had leaned into the crook of him neck to leave small and delicate kisses.

A heard a groan leave Oscar's lips as I started to suck the skin of his neck to litter his gorgeous skin with hickies.

"Mmmm, fuck. I need you right now." Oscar moaned right before he smashed his lips to mine. The kiss didn't last too long before Oscar picked me up and threw me over his shoulder and started to make his way to my room and slamming the door once we were in. Oscar placed a hard and firm slap to my ass before tossing me on the bed.

"You're so sexy, did you know that?" Oscar started talking while slowly crawling towards me leaving kisses in his wake, started by my feet "I've always dreamed of fucking you since I met you" left a kiss just below my knee "I've jerked off to the thought of me fucking you in my drivers room, making you scream my name so loud they can hear you in the grandstands" kissed my clothed pussy, causing me to jerk my body up "and the thought of filling you so full you're carrying child." kissed my stomach "I've thought about taking you at so many events." kissed my breasts "I thought about us getting caught while I'm fucking your mouth." kissed the under side of my jaw before looking in my eyes "I thought about us getting married and just fucking like rabbits everywhere I can take you" He kissed my lips before biting my bottom lip

"Do it." I said breathless as Oscar leaned down to kiss my cleavage, the second those words left my mouth I felt him freeze.

"Which part?" He searched my face for an answer

"All of it." In 0.2 seconds flat his lips were on mine in a hungry kiss before he licked my bottom lip for entrance which I happily granted him access to. Our tongues fought for dominance but his ultimately won, as we made out I felt an ache in my core that I needed to get rid of. I bucked my hips up to rub against his hard cock, it didn't last long though as one of Oscar's hands pressed firmly on my low stomach pressing my lower half into the mattress.

"Impatient are we?" A small moan left my lips "Don't worry baby, I'm gonna take good care of you" Oscar took the hand that he had pressed against my stomach and moved it to take off his swim trunks before moving that same hand to undo the knots on the strings on the sides of my bathing suit bottoms. Undoing two double knotted knots with one hand was supposed to be hard but Oscar made it seem easy, and hot. Super super hot. Oscar peeled the bottoms off of me and chucked it to God knows where in the room.

Oscar grabbed his cock and fisted it a few times before lining his tip to my entrance before looking in my eyes once again asking for permission

"Oscar, please fuck me. I can't wait anymore" I whimpered. At this point I don't care how pathetic I sounded, I had a hot man in front of me about to fuck me and I needed him.

That was all the confirmation he needed before he slid his cock so deep in my cunt I felt like I could feel him in my throat. He was big and thick, not too big but my god was he thick. My walls stretched in a delicious pain as I adjusted to his size. A quick tap to Oscar's bicep told him all he needed to know before he pulled out and slowly slid back in. He kept going at a slower pace before I spoke up.

"Oscar," I moaned

"Yeah baby, what do you need?" He leaned in to kiss my collarbone

"I need you to fuck me faster" without a second thought Oscar pulled out and slammed into my pussy, easing the aching throb thats been there for a minute.

My walls stretched with each hard and rough thrust of his cock and I enjoyed every minute of it. Oscar had one hand on my hip and used it to guide my hips up to meet his every thrust. Oscar kept fucking me raw and rough for about another 2 minutes before he abruptly pulled out.

A disappointed groan left my lips at the feeling of being empty but that didn't last long because Oscar ended up flipping me around and forcing me on all fours. I turned half my body to face him and I watched he stood on his knees and aligned himself with my entrance again and grabbed my hips and thrusted his cock in me.

A loud moan left my lips as I felt so full of him again. Oscar set a blistering pace as he rocked his hips in and out of my dripping pussy. Oscar slowly withdrew his cock from my pussy before slowly pushing his girthy cock back in making sure he'd bottom out. Even though Oscar was bottomed out he kept pushing himself deeper in me which caused me to reach behind me to attempt to grab ahold of his thighs in hopes to pull him closer to me to make him go impossibly deeper in my cunt.

Oscar finally started his thrusts up again and was fucking me so hard I'm pretty sure the bed was moving. Each thrust sent my body jerking forward and I felt like I was on fire. I could feel a familiar tightness in my tummy as Oscar keeps his merciless pace going.

"Gonna cum for me sweet girl?" Oscar's hand brushed up my back and rested on my shoulder.

"Mmhmm" was all I could muster, Oscar was fucking me so good I couldn't form coherent sentences. I felt Oscar pull out of me before quickly flipping me untilI I was on my back and he thrusted right back into be with so much force.

"I wanna see your pretty face when I make you cum. M'gonna ruin you for any other man." I can't focus, I'm so close to cumming and I need this release.

"I don't want any other man" I murmured "Oscar, I'm so close. Choke me"

I didn't have to ask twice and the second his calloused hand gripped the flesh of my throat and gave it a gentle and slight squeeze my walls clenched around his cock and my body shook as my orgasm washed over me. Oscar kept fucking me through my high as he chased his own orgasm. I could tell Oscar was close just by the way his hips stuttered against me. I was going to tell Oscar to pull out and to cum on my stomach but before I could say anything he spoke up

"Can I please fuck your mouth and cum in it? Please I need to cum so bad" Oscar whimpered

"Please" was all I said before I watched him pull out and quickly made his way up to my face before he shoved his cock in my mouth and started to roughly fuck it.

He didn't last that long and after a few thrust he shoved his cock to the back of my throat and used my used his hand he had placed behind head to shove my face closer to his body until my nose was touching his skin as he spilled his cum down my throat.

Oscar pulled out of my mouth and watched me as I swallowed all his cum. He placed a kiss to my lips before having to pull away due to my phone ringing.

I picked up my phone and looked at the caller ID "Oh shit, it's Lando" I pressed the answer icon and placing it on speaker "This better be good, I'm reading" I said into the phone

"I'm gonna be back at the condo in 20 so get ready for dinner and while you're at it wake up Oscar, I called him 4 times but he isn't answering. He's a heavy sleeper." I had to refrain a chuckle from leaving my lips

"Okay, I'm gonna wake him and then take a shower. Bye, I love you too." I hung up before turning back to Oscar

"Yeah, I forgot I threw my phone on the other lawn chair." he said as he rubbed the back of his neck "And no I wasn't watching porn, I was watching videos of you being interviewed at movie premieres. I can't help it, you're just so hot." Oscar mumbled as he leaned in to kiss my lips again.

"We have to get dressed Oscar" I mumbled against his lips as I pulled away "I smell like sex and I want to wash my hair so I gotta go now." I got up from my bed and was about to walk towards my bathroom before I felt a firm slap on my ass causing me to jerk forward with a yelp

"I'm gonna fuck you so good when we get back, I hope you know that"

-

I MISSED YOU GUYS (I just posted two days ago) I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!!

Taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti@dhanihamidi @Ggasly.p @tellybearryyyy

[msnmnt]

Whispers Of Regret

Notes: this is my first time attempting to write angst, I hope it’s okay. Mason is a little bit of an arse 🫣 but all ends well, I promise 🥰 Feedback is welcomed as always 🤍

You ran your hands through your hair, sighing at the way your curls already fell flat. You slipped your shoes on before tugging down at the bottom of your simple black dress, internally criticising everything you saw in the reflection that mirrored back at you. It was your trusty go-to outfit that cinched you in at all the right places and cut off high enough to show off your legs, but not even that could make you feel good about yourself tonight.

You had practically ransacked your wardrobe and your hair that you had spent so long curling had taken the brunt of your many outfit changes, having flattened due to you pulling on and off an endless amount of dresses. Three different shades of lipstick had been applied and wiped off, and when the clapse of your favourite necklace broke in your hand, you wanted nothing more than to just get into your pyjamas and head to bed.

But you couldn't. You had promised Mason you would join him for Ashley’s birthday, one of the trainers at the club who Mason had became friendly with recently. You didn’t want to let him down so with that in mind, you took a deep breath and tried your best to compose yourself.

It had been a rubbish day at uni. Hell, it had been a rubbish week. You had lost track of how many assignments you had started and were yet to complete, you seemed to have more classes than ever and before you were feeling mega stressed about it all.

And to top it off, you had came home to find your boyfriend in an even worse mood than you.

You sympathised with him, of course. The past few weeks Mason had spent more time at the training ground than he had at home in an attempt to get his fitness back up, and he was very obviously shattered. You hadn't seem him much during the whole week, so when you came home to find his car in the driveway you were looking forward to a good cuddle before you had to head out. For him to ask how your day had been. Maybe even a little kiss for the first time that week. Anything.

But when he had uttered the quietest "Hi" when you walked into your longue, making no attempt to even look up at you, you knew he was in another one of his moods.

The pair of you had got ready in silence, tension thick in the air. You tried to put on a fake smile, attempting to look on the bright side. If Mason was going to be in a foul mood at least you could spend the evening with your girls. You had become close with Ashley’s girlfriend, Daisy, and you were looking forward to meeting some of her friends and hopefully being able to drink your crap week away.

You headed out of your en-suite and into the bedroom to find Mason led on your shared bed, tapping away on his phone, clearly engrossed with something that was far more exciting than you. He was dressed nicely in his jeans, a smart top and a big oversized shirt jacket, but his trainers on the crisp white duvet cover that you had only changed last night made you roll your eyes.

Right on queue, Mason finally pried his gaze away from his phone to catch you looking unamused at him. Even after being together for years, Mason’s compliments were always sure to give you a little boost, no matter how rubbish you felt. You had a tiny bit of hope that he might compliment you, but your heart twinged when he looked back down to his phone as it pinged.

“Think you could drop the attitude at some point this evening?”

Your heart sunk to your tummy at his words and a lump formed in your throat. Your eyes stung as you tried to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill, blinking them away.

“What?” You asked, voice small and quiet, asking him to repeat himself to make sure you had heard him right.

You hadn't been strangers to a few arguments over the years; just usual bickering between couples. But the worst Mason normally did was give you the silent treatment, short and blunt replies, taking himself to your home gym to let out some stress.

He had never spoken to you like that before.

“I said, are you going to drop the attitude? I don’t appreciate it and I certainly don’t think my friends are going to enjoy you scowling at them like you’ve been doing to me for the past hour.”

You were in complete disbelief at the words that left his mouth, and even more so the way he seemed so unphased by it. He locked his phone and got up off the bed, heading to leave the room.

You just stood there still in shook and Mason turned around to look back at you.

“Well? Are you just going to stand there or are you coming?” He checked his watch, mumbling under his breath. “You’ve already made me late, as usual.”

You wanted to give him attitude back. You wanted to tell him where to shove it. But you didn’t have the energy to argue any more, so instead you just followed him over to the door as you headed out of your house without saying another word to each other.

-

You hadn’t seen Mason since the moment you arrived at the club. He had wandered off as soon as he saw some of the boys, and luckily the girls had came over to you, not even having a chance to pick up on the tension between the two of you before a drink was in your hand.

The earlier events stayed in the back of your head, but you actually managed to let your hair down a little, enjoying yourself as you got to know Daisy's girlfriends before gladly joining them all on the dancefloor and momentarily forgetting about your troubles.

"Do you want another drink, y/n?" Daisy asked and you looked down to your glass that you hadn't even noticed was empty.

"That's okay, I'll get these!" You shouted over the music, taking the pair of your empty glasses to the bar before ordering another round of drinks.

The barman took your order and was fixing your drinks up when out the corner of your eye you saw Mason strolling up to the bar. You turned your body to the side slightly, as if that may prevent him from realising it was you.

No luck, you jumped back around when Mason clanged his empty bottle down onto the bar.

“Are you going to ignore me all evening?”

You finally faced Mason, but he was just looking straight ahead, not interested in paying you too much attention.

“I could say the same to you.” You replied, making Mason scoff.

“You couldn’t wait to get away from me as soon as you got here.”

“Could you blame me?!” You huffed. “You didn’t even tell me I looked nice tonight."

You practically heard him roll his eyes and he shook his head. “I tell you how beautiful you look all the time, y/n.”

“I’ve been lucky if I’ve got a hello off you this week, Mason!” You exclaimed over the booming of the music, completely snapping now. “I know things are tough for you at the moment but I’ve not exactly had the best week either.” You tried to level with him, but he just shook his head.

“It’s not quite the same though, is it?” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, not meaning for them to come out how they did.

“Of course. My menial life and my pathetic problems are far too normal to ever compare to yours, right?” You asked sarcastically.

“Y/n, you know that’s not what I meant and if you’re going to twist my words-“

“I’m not twisting anything!”

“Look, forget it. Just go back to scowling me from across the dance floor and ranting to the girls about what a horrible boyfriend I am."

You stood there totally gobsmacked as Mason walked away, not even bothering to wait for his drink.

-

The girls had gone for a rest from dancing and had gathered together in a booth. You tried your best to slip yourself in without causing a fuss, but Daisy noticed there was something wrong straight away.

"Hun, are you alright?" She said hushed, not wanting to draw attention to you.

You gave her a smile but she could tell from how it didn't quite meet your eyes that something was up.

"Where's our drinks?" She questioned, not really concerned about the whereabouts of her drink but rather what had happened to clearly upset you.

You were no longer in the mood to party or even let off any steam. You were exhausted from your shit week and arguing with your boyfriend, so much so you just wanted to go home, curl up in bed and be on your own.

“I’m actually not feeling too good - I think I’m just a little run down from uni.” You tried to cover up the best you could when you noticed the other girls all listening in.

“Yeah, you sound a bit sniffly, babe.” Eva, one of Daisy's friends replied and you gave her a sympathetic smile, pleased to have played it off.

“I think I’m just going to head home.”

“You can’t go on your own at this time. I’ll come with you.” Daisy interrupted.

You shook your head. “No, I don’t want to ruin your evening.” You smiled, trying to make the girls not feel bad. “I’ll be safe, I’ll call Mason’s driver to come pick me up.”

After double and triple checking you were sure you’d be okay on your own, the girls waited till you had got in the car that they recognised before they headed back into the club, and you headed on your way home.

-

You sighed to yourself as you entered your house, your heels clipping against the wooden floor as you turned the heating on, cursing yourself for not having left it on before you went out.

You took your time getting unready, using your expensive cleansers and creams that you saved for best to try and give yourself a bit of a pamper to make yourself feel better.

After stripping off your dress, you changed into some pyjama bottoms before you begrudgingly slipped on one of Mason’s hoodies, opting for warmth.

Feeling marginally better, you hummed to yourself as you headed back downstairs, deciding to fill your hot water bottle up to have with you in bed to help you stay warm. You doubted Mason would be back anytime soon, anyway.

Once the kettle was boiled, you unscrewed the cap and begun to pour the hot water in. What you weren’t expecting was for the front door to slam, creating an almighty thud and causing you to jump, the hot water spilling straight from the kettle and onto the skin of your hand.

You yelped, dropping the kettle as the sting became more and more intense.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You yelped, knocking the cold tap on and quickly sticking your hand under it.

As the burning sensation took over, you couldn’t hold yourself together anymore, bursting into tears as you struggled to hold yourself up at the sink, the burn causing jolts of pain to shoot up your hand.

Unbeknownst to you, Mason had came storming through the hallway, checking in the living room where there was no sign of you. He heard the water running so he headed into the kitchen, his brows furrowing at the noise he could hear till he could make out it was you crying.

He rushed to find you, practically running into the kitchen where he saw you stood there, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed your heart out, the cold tap still pouring water as it cascaded all down your hand which was now red.

“Baby, shit, what’s happened?” Mason rushed over, stopping infront of you to try and release what had happened before he touched you.

“B-burnt my h-hand.” You managed to mumble out between sobs, finally letting yourself go as you full on sobbed, feeling majorly sorry for yourself.

Mason’s gaze turned to your hand, guiltily swallowing as he spotted your blistering skin. His tummy flipped as he spotted the fluffy hot water bottle that he had bought you at Christmas on the worktop.

“Oh, y/n. Oh, baby.” He cooed. “Are you unwell?”

You shook your head. “I was just c-cold and I assumed you wouldn’t be coming home anytime soon.”

Mason felt physically sick at the thought of you being upset and in your big king sized bed all by yourself, just your hot water bottle to keep you warm. The fact you were wrapped up in his hoodie only made him feel worse.

You pulled your hand away from the water, wincing in pain as you attempted to wriggle your fingers.

“Hey, you need to keep it under here for a bit longer.” Mason’s voice was low and stern, his hand gently wrapping around your wrist and slowly guiding yours back under the tap. You groaned in pain as the freezing water hit your skin once more, sobbing as you reluctantly kept it there. Mason’s thumb gently stroked over your wrist as he held your hand in place. Once he was convinced you weren’t going to move your hand he let go, his brown eyes now soft as they took in how much of a mess you were. His demeanour was a stark difference to how it had been earlier, his shoulders relaxed, his eyebrows knitted together slightly and his bottom lip sticking out slightly at seeing his baby in pain.

“I’m so sorry, y/n.”

You sniffled, attempting to stop crying. “It’s not your fault I’m clumsy.” Technically it was his fault for slamming the door, but he wasn’t to know and you couldn’t bear to bicker with him anymore.

“Was it from me slamming the door?” Mason asked, guilt settling in. “Did I scare you?”

“No.” You lied, finally facing Mason and the look on his face told you he knew you were lying. “It just scared me a bit, okay? Made me jump.”

“Oh, darling.” Mason ran his hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been such a dick…”

“It’s fine, Mase.” You replied, not having the energy to fight any more.

“It’s not fine, it’s not fine at all, y/n. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I shouldn’t have spoke to you how I did. It’s not fair and I’m so, so sorry, baby.”

You offered him a small smile, briefly taking your hand away from the water to try and straighten it out from how stiff it had got in the cold, before putting it back under when Mason gave you a stern look.

“I haven’t exactly been in a good mood either.” You offered to try to in attempt to make him feel a little better but he just shook his head.

“That doesn’t matter. You’re my princess and I should be treating you like it.” His honey eyes started welling up with water as he thought about how he had spoken to you earlier. “I'm so fucking sorry, baby. I've been the worst boyfriend in the world recently and I’ll make it up to you, angel. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” You tried to joke, relieving some of the tension.

Once Mason was satisfied that you had left the burn under the water for long enough (and you could no longer feel your fingers from how cold the water was), he helped you carefully dab your hand dry before scooping you up in his arms, making you squeal in surprise.

"Mason!” You giggled as he carefully moved your arms to look around his neck, forcing you to look up at him. His face was full of worry still and you could tell how awful he felt. "What're you doing?"

"I told you, treating you like a princess." He begun to head up to your bedroom, effortlessly carrying you in his arms. "And I don't think princesses should have to walk, should they?"

You couldn't help by grin as Mason carried you to your bed, carefully placing you down onto your kingsize bed and pulling back the covers.

You settled yourself down into bed, attempting to get comfy. "Do princesses deserve food bought to them in bed?"

You felt relieved when you finally saw Mason not looking so tense anymore, allowing himself to chuckle. "You really are going to milk this for all it's worth aren't you?"

"Uh hmm." You smirked. "I think I would like… a cheeseburger."

Mason raised his eyebrows as if to ask if you were serious, but when you begun to pout, he soon got his phone out.

"Cheeseburger will be on its way soon." He said and you giggled contently watching him tap away on his phone, trying to find somewhere to deliver to you at such a late hour.

True to his word, it wasn’t long before Mason was coming back up the stairs with a brown bag full of greasy food.

The pair of you ate and Mason wouldn't stop apologising no matter how many times you told him to stop.

When he noticed you yawning, he pulled the duvet back and you repositioned yourselves to get comfy. Mason had slipped his clothes off so he was left in just his boxers, and when he patted his bare chest you couldn't resist as you tucked your body into his side and snuggled up into him.

"I'm glad you came home, you're much warmer than my hot water bottle." You cuddled even closer to him, your nose grazing up against his chest hair.

Mason's heart broke at the thought of you thinking he wouldn't come home to you. No matter how bad an argument you had, he would never let you go to bed without making up, and he was upset you thought otherwise.

You hear him sniffle and he moved one of his arms from holding your body, and you were completely taken aback when you saw him quickly wiping away a tear.

"Mase what's wrong?" You attempted to sit up but Mason just shook his head and returned his arms to their position, holding you even tighter to him.

"I know I keep saying it but I really am so fucking sorry, y/n." His voice was torn as he whispered out yet another apology.

"I know, Mase. I know." You replied. "I'm sorry too, but we're okay now, yeah?" You tried to comfort him but you could tell he was still beating himself up about it all.

"You actually thought I wasn't going to come home?" He asked, his voice quiet and full of vulnerability.

"Well... yeah." You mumbled out, unsure if it was the right thing to say. "I thought you might've stayed at Ashley's or something."

"God I really have behaved like an asshole." Mason cursed to himself, so you held his face in your hands, his big glossy eyes looking into yours.

"Listen to me, Mase. I know you didn't mean it, couples argue babe, we're fine now." You offered him a smile, attempting to comfort him.

"I never want to lose you, y/n." Mason said, emotion thick in his voice.

"And you won't." You told him sincerely. "Let's just agree to talk more, okay? No more giving each other silent treatment and making snide comments, not talking about our emotions. Just being more open and honest, okay?" You raised your pinky and he managed to smile as he looped his with yours.

"Promise."

"Anyway, I’m quite looking forward to breakfast in bed in the morning." You tried to break the tension with your cheeky comment.

"Who's bringing you that then, darling?" Mason asked pretending to have no clue.

"My wonderful boyfriend who was persistent he was going to make up being a dickhead to me." You replied, trying to make light of the situation.

"Anything for you, my princess."

[die4girl]

Little girl ❤️‍🔥

Summary: You have loved Lewis ever since you were a little girl. Lewis was the perfect gentleman, and you swore you would work your way up to be with him one day. But when you do, something about him makes you nervous. And something about you that he wants to ruin.

When your parents bought you tickets for the Abu Dabi grand prix on your 16th birthday you couldn’t sleep for days, excitement and anticipation for being in the same vicinity as Lewis. When you found your seats amongst the crowd, you immedielty searched for Lewis’s Mercedes car which you spotted it in line up. The signature electric blue a stark contrast against the backdrop of Dubai’s city scape. When he won, miles infront of the others, it was as if all of Dubai cheered for his victory.

“LEWIS LEWIS” you yelled desperately as he walked out of his car to wave at his fans. You were shorter than other girls your age and you fought to not get pushed and shoved by other fans. You felt yourself drowning in the crowd when someone firmly yet gently grabbed your hand and you regained your balance. “Cant have you getting lost can we” Lewis said as he pulled the Mercedes hat you were wearing off your head, and scribbled his name across it. He placed it back in your head with a gentle pat, “thanks for your support love” he said in his British accent, voice soft as he smiled down at you. You swear you stopped breathing as the girls around you shot you dirty looks, but you diddnt care. All you cared about was Lewis.

You clutched your signed Mercedes hat close to your chest when you arrived at your hotel room that night, replaying how it felt have Lewis’s eyes on you- if only for a second.

5 years later

You were seated in Toto Wolf's office as you fixed your hair and reapplied your lip gloss for the 5th time that morning. Your whole morning was done under autopilot; you let your dark hair down and popped in your signature gold hoops, which paired nicely with your brown skin. After intense contemplation, you decided to wear a pair of low-rise jeans (okay, y2K baddie) and a fitted shirt - opting for a Bratz doll, I guess??

You yawned, suddenly regretting staying up late last night. You couldn’t help but fantasize about Lewis. How it would feel to have his finger buried in you and hear him groan and moan in your ear- your thoughts were suddenly interrupted as Toto pushed open the door to the room, “Y/n, are you ready?” He asked with an excited smile. You flushed, pushing those thoughts out of your mind as you got up.

As Toto led the way to the conference room, he was going on about how beautiful the Monaco weather is and how much you will love it here. After a few minutes of walking, you and Toto finally arrived at a set of double doors, which you assumed belonged to the conference room. “They’re all excited to meet you, y/n,” Toto whispers as he dramatically opens the doors.

Excited chatter traveled around the room as you stood next to Toto. But all you could focus on was one person. You surveyed the room, management members, engineers, trainers… your eyes locked on Lewis.

Besides the sparkly studs adorning his ears, Lewis was dressed plainly today. A white shirt and loose black pants. But god, he looked good; he always looked good. You could feel your face heating as he met your gaze.

You were pulled from your thoughts when Toto cleared his throat, and the room quieted, “so, as you know, we have been looking for another driver, and I admit I kept my contenders a secret from you. Only a few members knew we were broadening our horizon to a female driver for the first time.” Anticipating faces switched between you and Toto as they began piecing two and two together.

“Y/n has been showing exceptional talent in F2, and what better way to bring Mercedes back in headlines, after Chris keeps stealing my thunder ( he added under his breath), is to hire the first ever woman in F1 who not only competes at the level of men, but I would say better! So, if you haven’t figured it out already, Y/n L/n will be the newest addition to the Mercedes team.”

A beat of silence fell, and you held your breath at the possibility of being rejected by the team. Claps erupted from around the room as people got up to greet you and shake your hand. Your shoulders shagged in relief, and you thanked Toto for being so kind in your introduction. When you spotted Lewis again, you were taken aback. He had a slight smirk, and his eyes simmered with something dark. As quickly as it came, it was gone in a flash, replaced by the usual soft and gentlemanly demeanor everyone knew.

You focused your attention back on the lady who was shaking your hand repeatedly, “Y/n, how lovely for you to join us; I’ll be doing your fittings for your racing suit” - she was suddenly interrupted by a smiling Lewis, “Sorry to interrupt Lisa,” he flashed a sweet smile, and Lisa walked off after blushing and stuttering an apology.

“Tell her to make it tight.”

“What?”

“Your suit. Especially around your chest.”

Your jaw dropped.

He looked down at you and suddenly started to laugh. “ I’m just joking. Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Your heart squeezed at the pet name. Despite your initial shock your eyes quickly filled with adoration as you looked at him, “Y-yes I mean I can do that.” You sounded like a fucking idiot, but Lewis just smiled, his eyes crinkling at the sides. He was always so sweet.

“I’ve been a huge fan of you since I was a little girl. It’s been my dream to compete alongside you.” You left out how you had a lot of other ‘dreams’ about him.

Lewis looked amused as he bent down to your ear, his hand on your waist, and whispered, “You’re still a little girl, Y/n.” With that, he turned and left the room, leaving behind the faint scent of pine and mint and the warmth of his hand resting on your waist.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Toto came to introduce you to more team members, but all you could think about were Lewis’s words. Was he trying to demean you? No, he wouldn’t do that; he's a gentleman- he's Lewis Hamilton.

You will find out soon enough, and after all, you’ll be together for the rest of the year.

AN: surely smut for part 2?? :)

[greynatomy]

camp

wonze x child!reader

sorry this took a while for those who asked. didn’t know how to end it tbh

part 1 part 2

———

You were sleeping peacefully in your big girl bed when you start feeling a hand run through your hair. You whine, not liking the feeling of waking up, shoving your face into your pillow.

“Morning, Petal.” Your Mama greets you.

“No. Night night.”

“Yes, morning. You’ve got to wake up, Mummy is making your favorite breakfast.”

You peak, opening just one of your eyes.

“Pacakes?”

“With strawberries.”

“Strawberries.” You said in awe. You push the covers off of you and hold your arms up. Your Mama getting the hint and picks you up, placing you in her hip.

“Little missy is finally up.”

“Hi, Mummy.” You lean your body forward to give her a kiss on the cheek, almost falling out of Lucy’s hold.

“Hi, honey. Did you have a good sleep?”

“Best sleep. Teddy make sure I don’t have bad dreams.”

“That’s nice of Teddy to do.”

“Now, Petal. Do you remember what we’re doing today?” You shake your head side to side, stuffing your face with pancakes. “We’re going to be on an airplane.”

You gasp, remembering. “We see auntys?”

“We are!”

“Miss Aunty Leah. Want to wear her jersey today.”

After some trouble with getting you dressed - you running away from your mums - you finally made it past security and waiting by your gate.

“Is a big airplane?”

“Yeah.”

“I sit at the window?”

“Of course.”

“Watch Bluey on plane?”

“Uh huh.”

Your moms answer your many questions from the gate waiting area all the way to your seats on the plane. You didn’t complain once on the flight, your moms grateful that it wasn’t a long flight.

You try to run out of the airport, but your Mummy holds onto your hand tight. Walking out of the doors, you see someone familiar leaning against a car.

“Aunty Leah!”

“Munchkin!’

“You here? Mama and Mummy say you not.” You place both of your tiny hands on both her cheeks.

“I’ve missed you and I wanted to come and hang out with you.”

“Missed you too.”

You made you Mama drive the car because you wanted your Aunty Leah to sit next to you. You told her everything you’ve been up to in the time you hadn’t seen her - from what you ate to the stories your Mummy told you before bed.

Leah helps you out of the carseat and places you on the ground. The rest of the team that have arrived before you were in the meeting room catching up with one another so you were on your way there. Your Mama and Mummy hold the double doors open for you and Leah.

“The princess has arrived!” You let go of Leah’s hand, running towards everyone, giving them all a hug.

The next day, training starts. Your mums made sure to set up a space for you where you could find your toys and plenty of snacks. An hour in, you got hungry so you took a bag of chips from your bag. You still have trouble opening these bags so you looked around to see who wasn’t on the pitch. Your mums had a very stern talking to you about going to the pitch while they’re playing so you made sure not to do that anymore.

The only one not playing were the trainers and Sarina. Sarina was the boss - something your Mama told you - so since she was in charge, she knew a lot of things and one of those things could be opening a bag of chips.

You timidly walk up to her, holding out the bag to her. She opens it without question. you stand next to her, observing your moms and their friends play, stuffing your mouth.

“You want to be my little helper?” Your eyes light up, head nodding rapidly. She asks one of the trainers to grab a chair for you to stand on. Sarina tells you what to say, you yelling as loud as your little voice could. “Faster!” You loved this job, being able to yell without your moms telling you to quiet down.

When training ended, Leah picked you up, placing you on her shoulders. She walks over to where your moms stood, getting hydrated.

“Mummy! I tall!”

“So tall!” She replies, matching your enthusiasm, tickling your stomach and hearing it grumble. “Are you hungry? Your tummy thinks so.”

Your aunt carries you all the way to where all the food was, showing you all the different kinds of food available.

“See anything you like?”

“Tatos, chicken, boccli.” You list out.

“You like brocolli?”

“Oh, she loves ‘em. Eats them like crisps.”

As you are finishing eating, you have so much leftovers, Leah piling your plate up high for your little body. She was distracted, talking to your moms so you occasionally grab some chicken and just stuff it into her mouth. She eats them without question until your plate is all empty.

“All done!”

“Good job, Petal.”

“Hey!” You turn to see a pouty aunty. “You made me eat all of that.”

You shrug. “You give me too much so you have to eat it. Mummy says wasting is bad.”

“Yeah, Leah. Wasting is bad.” Keira teases.

The rest of the day was pretty calm. You had an after lunch nap. Your mums stayed with you as you swore you couldn’t be able to sleep unless they were laying on each side of the bed with you. They ended up falling asleep as well.

You loved coming to camp. Especially when it’s back in England.

Back home.

[sashaisready]

Feel The Burn: Chapter 6

Lance Tucker x Reader | Destroyer!Chris x Reader

Series Masterlist

Your casual situationship with notorious flirt Lance Tucker comes to a shocking head at a party, fortunately the mysterious stranger you meet that same night is more than happy to help take your mind off it.

Wordcount: Approx 3.5k

(Warnings for panic attacks in this chapter)

Hey gang, back again! Thanks for all of the love you've shared for this series, your comments/reblogs really make my day- truly. We've had a lot of lovely Chris lately so thought I'd bring back the mothertucker himself 😁 As always, thank you for any engagement.

“It’s fibula! Fibula!” Lance exclaims in a heightened whisper as he smacks his hand on the table.

“Shh! Don’t let other teams hear you!” you admonish, “and are you sure? It’s definitely not femur?”

“Of course I’m sure! The femur is higher up. The fibula is here,” he pats the spot on his leg in demonstration, his voice strained with frustration. “Can you trust me, please? I know this stuff! It’s my job!”

“I think we gotta go with him,” Kat admits, “he doesneed to know anatomy for his coaching and trainer stuff or whatever…”

Matt and the others nod in agreement as Lance smirks at you victoriously. You sigh and dejectedly scribble down fibula on the answer sheet.

“Fine…but if you’re wrong…”

“I’m not wrong…”

“But if you are…”

“Not an option…and oh,” he jabs the page with his finger, “fibula only has one ‘b’ by the way…”

“And which bone is this?” you ask childishly as you flip him off.

“Well, that depends, it’s actually several bones…”

Kat groans and snatches the answer sheet away from you, “quit it, you guys! You’ve been bickering all through this!”

She’s right, you have.  You know that your behaviour has been incredibly juvenile, but you can’t stop yourself. Lance knows exactly how to press your buttons and any attempts to rise above it have been thwarted by your own anger that you can’t seem to keep under control. He just gets under your skin!

And if you are being self-aware, there’s probably still some remnants of hurt simmering under the surface that you haven’t fully worked through yet.

“We’re going to take a short break before the next round,” the bartender announces on the microphone, “and just a reminder for teams to keep it down when we’re reading the questions…”

He looks over pointedly at your table. Lance sits up straight and glares over at the other tables, “Yeah…you heard him – you’re being very disruptive,” he says towards the other teams as he crosses his arms, his tone reprimanding as they stare back incredulously. You manage to stifle a laugh at their indignant faces.

Matt goes up to the bar for another round of drinks as the rest of you settle into the break, the sound of chatting and laughter filling the busy bar as people relax and mingle.

“Soo…” Kat practically shrieks as she drags her chair closer to yours, “now we can talk - tell me EVERYTHING. How did the date go? When am I meeting him properly?! I barely said hi at the party…”

“Oh, is this Chaz?” Lance innocently interjects.

You scoff and glower at him over your shoulder as you turn your body away from him to face Kat, “his name is Chris”.

“Right, Chris. Sorry. Just a very forgettable name I guess…Lotta guys out there named Chris, you know…”

You ignore him and turn your attention back to Kat, “it was great. We went out for cocktails, had a blast. He drove me home. He’s a great guy…” you smile.

“Drove you home after drinking? Red flag,” Lance chimes in from behind you. You ignore him again.

“���he’s…he’s really nice,” you continue on, unable to mask the dreamy smile that creeps onto your face. “He’s very upfront about how he feels, a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kinda guy, you know? It’s refreshing…We’re just seeing how it goes, taking each day as it comes, but I really like him. We’re having dinner at the weekend.”

Lance is uncharacteristically silent. You don’t look at him but in your peripheral see that he takes a quiet sip of his drink.

“That’s great,” Kat smiles earnestly as she places her hand onto yours, “I’m really happy for you, babe, you deserve it”.

She's right, you do. You return her smile but suddenly feel very aware of Lance’s presence looming behind you as you share more about the date. He has no smart aleck quips, no sassy putdowns, there’s just a very heavy silence. You can practically feel his eyes burning into the back of your head. You hear him as he shifts awkwardly in his seat, his fingers drumming on the table as if trying to release pent-up energy.

You can’t help but revel a little in his discomfort. After all, he treated you very badly – discarding you like nothing and then accusing you of doing things you hadn’t. He hadn’t seemed to consider that you could bounce back so quickly, or that another man would want you – and want you so unashamedly. More fool him. If this experience had taught you anything, it was not to underestimate yourself or your worth. It may sound petty, but there was some satisfaction in showing him what he was missing.

Matt arrives back from the bar with a loaded tray and begins handing out the drinks, “oh shoot, I forgot Marcy’s vodka soda…” he grumbles.

Out of nowhere you suddenly feel quite overwhelmed, maybe the significance of talking about your feelings for Chris out loud…the unresolved pain from how Lance had hurt you…the exciting but still scary pivot to actively prioritising yourself. It’s a lot. You abruptly feel too hot, far too close to everyone, a tight ache pulsing in your chest as sweat pools at the back of your neck. It feels like your body is screaming that you need to get the hell out of there. You try to lock your focus onto keeping your breathing even as Kat obliviously scolds Matt for his oversight.

“I’ll get it,” you say a little too quickly as you shoot up on your feet and grab your purse, “gonna grab some water anyway…”

“Thanks!” chirps Marcy.

“Okay babe, be quick – they’re starting again soon,” Kat adds.

You nod quickly and make a beeline for the bar, grateful just to have some breathing room again. A brief respite while you try and figure out what's made you freak out...and how to stop it. You order the drinks between shaky breaths, not feeling able to fully fill up your lungs as the bartender eyes you with concern and prepares your order.

“You okay?” Lance asks as he appears from nowhere and slides up next to you.

“Lance, please,” you tell him as you keep your attention on the busy bartender, your voice unfortunately more pleading than demanding, “not now, alright? I don’t want any shit”.

“I’m not here to give you shit,” he leans on the bar, his tone softening, “you looked like you were having a panic attack or something. I came to check you were okay”.

“And make some joke…some needling remark…” you jeer.

“No,” he says firmly.

You look up at him properly for the first time, he’s watching you carefully – his smirk missing for the first time that night. He furrows his brows as he assesses you. He pauses, then lifts his hand as if to touch your shoulder before seeming to think better of it – snapping it back to where it was.

You glance over at your table, your friends oblivious. How did Lance, of all people, pick up on what they’d missed? And you were so sure you were hiding it well…

“I’m fine,” you mutter softly. The bartender gives you the drinks and you add them to the tab, taking a gentle sip of your water. It still feels like you’re struggling to find your breath. You’re seconds away from bolting out of the door. You’ve been anxious before, but have never experienced anything like this.

“I just felt a little-it’s hot in here, is all” you stammer.

He nods, “it is warm, yeah. Hopefully that water helps you feel…cooler”.

It hangs in the air unspoken, but it’s clear he’s not fully buying what you’re selling.

“We don’t have to talk. I’m just going to be over here, to make sure you’re okay,” he takes a step back and gives you physical space.

You roll your eyes and shrug, “do whatever you want. I don’t care”.

“Take a really deep breath,” he says commandingly.

“I don’t need-”

“Just humour me and do it would ya? And I’ll go back to the table and leave you in peace”.

“Ugh. Fine…”

You begrudgingly inhale deeply, blowing the air out of your mouth. You won’t admit it, but it feels a little better.

“Good. But do it again, slower this time. When you exhale, do it slowly. Make an ‘o’ shape with your lips like you’re slowly blowing through a straw”. He speaks with authority, but it’s not dictatorial.

You scoff at him but obey, letting the air leave your lungs in the way he instructed. It does feel calming, physically it’s helping your breathing to settle, and the act of focusing your mind on it also seems to have a soothing effect. You do it a few more times.

“Now…name three things you can see,” he says, his tone authoritative.

“Huh…?”

“Just tell me three things you can see…it will help. Trust me.”

You blink, unsure whether to trust him but not really having many other options. “Uh…the busy bar. Lots of people around it.”

“Good. What else? Any colours”

“The…the bathroom door over there. It’s…red”. You motion with your hand to gesture towards it.

“Good. One more?”

“Your jacket, it’s blue. Bright blue”.

He grins, touching the fabric . “I know, gorgeous right? Made in the USA. Now two things you can hear. Go..”

“Um. Music. I think it’s AC/DC on the speakers in here.”

“It is. What else?”

“The main door, at the entrance. It makes a loud clunking noise when someone opens it”. You both look towards the door and sure enough, you hear the clang as it closes.

“Good. Alright, last one now and you’re done - one thing you can smell”.

A server wanders by holding a tray of food, placing it on the table behind you.

“Uh. Fries. I can smell fries. I kinda want some now…” You look over longingly at the bowl.

Lance chuckles and without hesitation dips his hand down and grabs a fry, ignoring the outraged ‘hey!’ from the owners. He simply does not give a fuck. You look at him in shock as he passes the fry to you, and you’re so mortified that you just take it. Mindlessly putting it in your mouth.

“One thing you can taste?” he smiles.

“Um. Fries,” you laugh awkwardly. “Lance…you can’t do stuff like that…” you hiss with embarassment.

But he just shrugs.

It hits you then. You feel…better? Although you’re still a little off, it feels like you’ve reset somehow. The room doesn’t feel as ‘close’ as it did a few minutes before. Lance had successfully walked you through it. You sheepishly glance over at him.

“Thank-you,” you say quietly.

He shrugs again, nonchalant with his hands in his pants pockets, “no biggie, you’re welcome”.

“You kinda coached me there…”

He grins boyishly and shrugs again, “well, yeah. It’s what I do.”

The two of you exchange a hesitant smile and then the bartender announces that the next round is about to start. You both head back to the table in silence.

Huh.

🥇

Trivia continues and Lance seems to have mellowed slightly. He’s still being a smartass, but less so at you. Which is somewhat more bearable. You’re still reeling from him helping you earlier, grateful but guarded – unsure of what his game might be. You never quite know where you stand with Lance, so anything does could mean something else entirely.

Aside from that, you both seem to have hit your stride in the trivia game – on a roll with the questions with a new sense of synchrony you were lacking before. You quickly reel off answers between you.

“The Godfather”.

…

“1865”.

…

“Burkina Faso”.

…

“Jesse! Oh man what’s his last name…Jesse…Oswald?”

“Jess Owens, cupcake.”

“Oh, right…right”.

…

The others observe you both with an air of confusion, but don’t dare question whatever strange system appears to be generating this new-found productivity.

The bartender reads out the answers one by one on the mic and your team are delighted that you appear to have scored quite highly. Each time you get one right the table exchanges a muted ‘yesss’ and an occasional fist pump.

“…and the answer to number 15, fibula. That’s F-I-B-U-L-A”.

“Don’t even…” you begin as you look up at Lance.

“I didn’t say anything…” he smirks, crossing his arms victoriously.

“You didn’t have to!” you laugh, flicking a beer mat at him. He deftly dodges it and you roll your eyes.

Kat watches the two of you, an unreadable expression on her face.

After the scores have been counted, you await with bated breath to be told that your table placed…

…second.

Narrowly missing out on first place by two measly points.

“I demand a recount!” scoffs Lance.

“Second place is still really great, way better than we usually do,” Matt responds with a shrug.

“Yeah,” Kat agrees, “you guys really pushed our score up. Didn’t see that coming,” she smiles warmly as she gestures at you and Lance. Others at the table nod and smile in agreement. “Thanks, you two. Weird trivia dream team over here”.

You feel a sudden wave of embarrassment crash through you, you hope they don’t somehow think you’re sleeping with him again. You know Kat isn’t implying anything, she doesn’t mean any harm, and you were a good team tonight…but you don’t want your friends thinking you’re some pushover who allows herself to be treated poorly and then all is forgotten. As if you’re just grateful for the attention, lapping it up like a stray dog who gets offered a treat. You find yourself subconsciously moving away from him in your seat, in case you’re too close.

“Yeah, we totally carried you guys,” Lance exclaims cockily, “alright. Silver isn’t quite as good as what I’m used to, but I’ll take it. Great work, Cupcake. Even if you do need to brush up on your anatomy knowledge”. He nudges you with his elbow, grinning.

“Whatever,” you reply dismissively as you take a sip from your glass, hoping to dispel any incorrect ideas that your friends may hold about the situation.

His brow twitches slightly in response but he quickly moves on, continuing to rag on Matt and some of the others as he boasts about his victory, at one point threatening to get his tattoo out.

You feel quite tired now, the few drinks you’ve had making you sluggish. The strange panic attack you had earlier must’ve spiked your adrenaline because now it feels like you’re crashing. Your eyelids feel heavy, your bed calls to you like a siren song. You keep thinking about how Lance managed to calm you down earlier. How did he do that?

You stay a little longer to chat – it’s nice to be with your friends and catch-up, and you don’t want to appear rude. After some time passes you feel like you’ve finally run out of road as your eyes get heavier, so you open your Uber app and arrange a ride home. You smile at the screen as you see a message from Chris.

Hope yourehaving fun. Cabt wait to see you again.

You chuckle at the typos, maybe he’s having a bit too much fun at the bar. You’ll reply when you get in your Uber, which thankfully is coming in a few minutes, so you get up and put your jacket on, signalling that you’re heading out.

“You leaving?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, I’m pretty beat,” you smile.

Kat lets out a wail of protest but it’s in jest, she wouldn’t ever try to guilt you into staying out later. She knows when your social battery is out and needs a charge, unlike hers which seems to be at full capacity at all times. Somehow.

“Thanks for kicking ass tonight,” she chirps as she moves to hug you, “we couldn’t have done it without you”.

“Happy to serve,” you tell her with a giggle as you return the hug.

“See you, Matt”.

“Later!”

You bid farewell to the others at the table as Lance watches you pensively. He suddenly gets to his feet and moves towards you.

“I’ll walk you out”.

“Oh, that’s okay you don-”

But he’s already walking towards the door. Fine. Whatever. You give the group a final wave as you begrudgingly follow him to the exit.

“We made a good team tonight, Cupcake,” he hums as he drops back in step with you.

“Mm,” you respond noncommittally. But he’s right, you did.

“What? That smart mouth of yours finally run outta steam?”

“I’m tired, Lance,” you scoff as you glance lazily down at your phone. The car should be here any moment.

He opens the door for you and you walk through, peering out into the street to see if you can make out the Uber in the darkness. An uncomfortable silence sits thickly as you both stand outside. But you’re not going to make it any easier for him.

“Look,” he sighs as he scratches the back of his neck, “I’m sorry for giving you a hard time earlier…”

You turn to him, surprised, that was the last thing you expected him to say.

“…believe it or not,” he continues, “I’m not just trying to give you shit. It’s actually really fun…being here with you…doing this. I forgot how much-how fun it is...hanging out with you. I know I get carried away. I just like it…a lot. So…thanks, for letting me being here. I get that it’s your turf, and I appreciate it”.

You blink at him, watching him stumble over his words and feeling not quite able to process what he’s saying. It’s always disarming on the rare occasions he’s not all swagger and confidence.

He wasn’t just trying to torture you?

He actually enjoyed it?

Is he just…trying to hang out with you?!

What?

You blanch, unsure of how to respond.

“Lance…look. It was kinda fun, weirdly…and I am honestly grateful for you helping me with my panic attack earlier…but I dunno, this is still…it’s still raw for me. You…you hurt me. You made me out to be someone I wasn’t…

He sighs, gritting his teeth, “I know. I fucked up. And I’m sorry. And I know my apology doesn’t mean much…but I do mean it. Really. I swear I haven’t got some ulterior motive. I just…I just like being with you. Even if it’s just playing trivia. I’d like…for us to be friends. Maybe it’s too soon right now, but one day”.

You’re stunned, this was the most open he’d ever been with you – all of the times you’d been in each other’s beds, sharing showers, you’d fantasised about him opening up to you – and here it was happening on the street, outside of a bar, as you waited for a taxi. Part of you wants to ask him more about why he said those things on that night – but you’re not quite sure you could handle picking at that wound.

“Maybe. I guess we’ll see,” you responded dully. “I mean, it would be easier as we’re going to cross paths here and there with our friends tangled up like they are. But…let’s just see how we go”.

Although you’re happy with Chris, you still feel some of the wounds from what Lance did. He can’t magically erase that and be all buddy-buddy with you like it’s nothing. It would be nice to be friends with him, sure, and easier for nights like this – but it wasn’t that simple.

But he seems happy enough that you didn’t say no, offering a big grin and a fist pump. You scoff good-naturedly at him.

“Hey,” you ask, unable to mask your curiosity as the thought had plagued you all night, “how did you know how to do that stuff with the breathing and the questions…with the panic attack, I mean?”

You expect another little jibe but are surprised when he replies earnestly.

“It happens to some of the kids I coach sometimes,” he says casually, “they get themselves worked up worrying about a movement they can’t quite master, or a competition they’re anxious about…so I looked into how I could help. Did a class on it. Gotten pretty good at spotting the warning signs now. Could see yours a mile off, you looked like a deer in headlights”.

You nodded, slightly embarrassed at being exposed so easily, but quietly impressed that he took his job so seriously. “Well, thanks”.

“It’s cool,” he smiles.

A car pulls up to the kerb and the driver leans out of the window, calling your name to confirm if you’re his pick-up.

“That’s me!” you chime back as you walk to the car. Lance opens the back door and you thank him as you sidle in.

“See ya, Cupcake. Nice hanging out with you,”.

“Yeah, I guess it wasn’t the worst night of my life…” you shoot back.

He chuckles at your joke and leans down just before he closes the door. “Oh, and I’m glad it’s going well with that Chris guy. Really”.

You freeze, waiting for the inevitable punchline, but it doesn’t come.

“Just make sure he’s good to you,” he says solemnly as the door slams. Your eyebrows knit in surprise as you absorb what he just told you.

The driver pulls away, and you watch Lance get smaller in the rearview mirror.

🥇

[hollyhomburg]

Prey Animals (5)

—  Pairing: Namkook, Vminkook, Namjingi, Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader,

—  Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, enemies to friends to lovers, Healing & Themes of trauma,

—  Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

—  Words: 5.7k

—  Warnings: Hospitals, sickfic, Angst, Hurt/comfort, Humor, Polyamory negotiations, Seizures, Chronic illness, flirting

—  Check in at the end for my notes on this chapter! — 

(Previous chapter)

(3 years ago, Namjoon)

It’s been a little more than a year after Namjoon officially moved Seokjin and Yoongi into his apartment. And although the addition of the pup doesn’t happen overnight, it sort of feels like it does.

Namjoon is not regularly a skeptic, he doesn’t look down his nose at certain tropes, love at first sight, enemies to lovers, the waspish omega that falls into the arms of the big buff alpha brute. But there is only one trope when Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung fall into their lives: neither an old wives tale, a good luck charm, or a superstition.

Good things come in threes.

When Namjoon meets him, he doesn’t know Jungkook will be his omega one day. One day, but not quite yet. The day they meet, Jungkook is just another one of Namjoon’s patients:

The waiting room is full of the smell of sick people, vomit, and a lingering sliminess of blood and antiseptic. Covering up the smell of sour fear and anguish. It’s full of blaring red exist signs and the beep of an overhead alert for a code blue upstairs. Overstimulating to even those who are used to it.

Namjoon doesn’t have to worry, code blue means cardiology, code purple maternity.

A code red? Then he’d be running.

There’s one blond head, one black head, and one tawny waiting in bay 8. All of them look too young to consider themselves packmates and yet they act as one unit when Namjoon calls Jeon Jungkook’s name. He’s got wavy black hair and doe eyes and a strong jawline that he has yet to grow into. A pup still. But not for much longer.

An attractive omega. A pretty one.

Namjoon is just two hours shy of a desperately needed break and 10 hours into his current shift. Exhaustion weighs on his bones like a physical ache. No worse and no better than the other patients. But Namjoon's hoping to be promoted to the head of neurosurgery within the next few years (it will take him 6 months before they offer him the job) and he needs to put in the hours to achieve that goal. 

A goal that comes with things for his pack, a bigger apartment maybe, less hours for Yoongi and Jin, and more good food in the little kitchen. A vacation maybe (they’ve never been anywhere together, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?)  Both Jin and Yoongi like to cook and a bigger kitchen and a larger apartment is high on Namjoon’s lists of wants.

While the omega looks absolutely fine, you’d never guess that judging by the gun smoke and spiced wine scents that spike agitated into the air from each of his alphas. They’re tense, each of them holding one of the omega's hands so hard their knuckles are white.

Jungkook’s hands are calloused, Namjoon notices while he’s taking his blood pressure. Eyes on the monitor and not on Jungkook’s eyes. Staring at him unwaveringly as Namjoon asks his quiet questions.

“Do you lift weights Jungkook?”

“Yes, I ugh, I’m a personal trainer.”

Namjoon hums, it shows, Jungkook’s veins are so good that Namjoon doesn’t even have to check to see if he’s dehydrated. He compliments him on it (weird doctor quirk) and the omega blushes. Looking down an away. “Have you ever hit your head on any of the equipment at work? Or ever fallen during a set. You said you had a seizure, where you working out when you had it?”  

“No, I was at home I was-”

The larger of the two alphas is the first one to speak- when his patient chokes on his own words. The blond one turns his impassive eyes upwards at Namjoon and says nothing. He’s terribly small for an alpha, but his eyes are no less threatening, his glare, although it comes from a sweet face, is anything but blank, it’s murderous.

But Namjoon is not here to hurt their omega, he’s here to help heal him. Namjoon is only too used to dealing with this sort of thing- packmates worried and fussing over their pack members, omega’s nesting around their alpha’s in the waiting room, that sort of thing.

Namjoon feels a tug in his gut. But the tawny haired one is the first one to speak, and Namjoon shoves it down in favor of doing his job.

“If someone had a seizure during…” he pauses, glancing at Jungkook then at Namjoon “Sex- would you be able to tell? And how would we make sure it doesn’t happen again?”

The omega is bright red between the two of them.  the alpha that smells like gunsmoke and glares a bit like the devil might, re-settles his other hand on the back of Jungkook’s neck to soothe him. His shoulders drop from around his ears and Jungkook’s distressed omega scent evens out from rotting flowers back to sweet honey. 

Namjoon’s inner alpha perks up. Lifting its head from folded polite paws.

People smell different when they're sad than when they're happy. Namjoon’s own coffee scent starts to smell like coffee liquor when he’s angry, or too tired to breathe properly or too anxious to think straight. Seokjin smells like curdled milk and wet dog when he's upset or missing them but sweet milk when he's happy. And Yoongi goes all salty and ocean murky when he's miffed that someone's looking at him a bit too long but smells like thick chocolate every other hour of the day. 

The two alphas on either side of Jungkook smell like Gunsmoke (the angry one) and peppery wine (the tall one) or maybe he's just drunk and smells like pepper. Namjoon's first thought is not how to help them- but wondering what they'd smell like if they were happy.  

Huh.

That should be the first thing that tips him off really. He tries not to worry too much about the happiness of his patients, only their health. There are some boundaries that need to be maintained so that Namjoon doesn’t get too attached.

Namjoon pauses to fill Jungkook’s waterglass. He gets two other paper cups and fills those too while he talks about symptoms.

They all look so small and scared. And Namjoon can’t help but send out comforting pheromones- his scent blockers have worn off this long into his shift. It’s just in his nature to want to comfort these three- so lost in a sea of concerned stressed faces and scents. It must be bombarding them. Namjoon is used to how the emergency room smells. The tangle of stressed scents and possible threats.

Their shoes sit side by side, a pair of combat boots, a pair of converse, and a pair of brown leather loafers. All of them have purple shoelaces threaded through. Namjoon knows a pack mark when he sees it. All of Namjoon’s packmates wear Yoongi’s one flannel- trading it back and forth between the three of them.

The three of them lean into Namjoon’s space.

But still, he’s nothing but professional, taking Jungkook’s vitals under the watchful eye of both of his alpha’s. And the small cagey looking one hands over Jungkook’s hand when Namjoon needs to fix the heartrate monitor and lets him take Jungkook in for a scan upstairs, promising that he’s in good hands and really Jungkook is.

He prattles on to Namjoon the whole way up and is Namjoon sure he’s never worked out before, not even a little? How else does he get so strong? Namjoon guides Jungkook into the big machine, trying to soothe his anxiety. Rubbing his fingers on his wrist, his scent gland there small and tender to the touch.

The minutes Jungkook is in the machine feel terribly long, the thudding all around him loud and scary. “Are you still there Dr.Kim?” he asks through the intercom.

“Of course I am, Jungkook.”

“My alpha’s call me Kookie, or Jk, you can call me Kookie if you want. Cuz I’m sweet like one.”

Namjoon pauses, before he clicks the button on the intercom, worried. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

“No! I’m like this naturally!”

He watches the screen, waiting, tapping his foot, and the technician asks him if he has more important things to do.

Namjoon’s glasses reflect the blue light of the monitor. “Looking after my patients take precedent” the technician scoffs something like ‘looking after huh’ and continues to click away as pixel after pixel comes through.

Namjoon finds evidence of the seizure and others on Jungkook’s MRI.

He gives the three of them a lengthy conversation, spending more time than he ordinarily would on them, explaining the depts of Jungkook’s illness. He hates breaking life-changing news to people. He hates the look in their eyes when it hits them. When they look at him like he can change it or like he might be wrong.

Namjoon is a good doctor, he’s rarely ever wrong.

Telling this omega that he has epilepsy, that he can't drive and will likely have to change every aspect of his life to avoid as many seizures as possible or risk permanent brain damage- sucks. Telling the omega with the bunny eyes and the chubby cheeks that his life as he knows it is over feels like the worst thing that Namjoon has ever had to do. And he had to perform a craniotomy on a two-year-old last week, so he’s got perspective. He books multiple follow up appointments with Jungkook. More than normal.  

It's pretty clear that Namjoon's instincts are having some bearing on his emotions. He usually doesn't care so much. He's had enough people die on him that he can't care the way he used too about people who aren't Jin or Yoongi. It’s not heartlessness, it’s just self-preservation.

But that all goes out of the window when he breathes in their scents. So unhappy, Namjoon can’t not soothe them, can’t do nothing.

“It could never happen again, and it could happen twice every week. There's no way to know how often you’ll have them so you should be extra careful for a little while. No operating heavy machinery or driving and stay away from stairs if you can. You’ve got two packmates to take care of you so that’s good.” 

 I’ve got two packmates too, he wants to say. If yours are any good, they’ll take care of you half as well as Seokjin and Yoongi take care of me.

As if the two alphas can smell a hint of the suggestion that they wouldn’t hang the stars for Jeon Jungkook, they curl protectively around Namjoon’s patient. Even the small one with the blond hair looks protective and large in the small space, sizing Namjoon up like he could be a potential threat. He’s used to this kind of alpha posturing at the hospital when tensions run high and concern for loved ones becomes adrenaline. Any possible threat prompts aggression.

Instincts are fickle things. Namjoon’s alpha does not take his posturing as a threat.

Namjoon’s alpha is pacing and howling in the confines of his head, straining it’s neck to get out out out. He’s a man of science not instinct. No one, not even the other alpha- would be able to tell that Namjoon was feeling anything at all.

But Seokjin would know.

Seokjin would poke at the vein on Namjoon’s neck that stands out when he rolls his jaw and Namjoon would go from feral wolf to puppy and putty in Seokjin’s hands.

Namjoon has always been a dominant alpha. It doesn’t matter much in their small 3-person pack because Namjoon is the only alpha when it comes to Seokjin and Yoongi. But looking at these two sitting here, it feels like it does. The tall alpha- Taehyung- looks at Namjoon but he looks away first. The small patient room is full of the scent of fresh coffee. Namjoon's scent fluffs out through his blockers without any kind of effort.

The two alphas breathe in the scent of coffee- the kind that’s pressed into your hand the second after you wake by someone you love. To Jimin and Taehyung- it conjures up the image happy Saturdays and Sundays, the moments shared in intimacy and half wakefulness. Namjoon likes that he smells like innocent moments.

Even they have to admit that Dr. Kim smells good.

Their shoulders ease away from their necks, and their fear begins to dissipate as Namjoon explains.

To Jimin fear has always been a necessary evil. It feels weird to try and let go of it with Jungkook sick, with the news that everything is going to change (that maybe everything already has). Every few seconds Namjoon’s scent makes Jimin’s body relax, and he has to straighten up again. Namjoon just tells himself that it’s a sign he’s good at his job even though it feels a little too much like flirting to be completely appropriate.

Namjoon has never flirted with another alpha, at least not knowingly.

“Could it also have been a one-off fluke?” Taehyung asks. He’s been mostly quiet, but Namjoon shivers when he meets his eyes. There is something placid about his face, even under the storm of this, the alpha looks mostly calm. He can't explain it, but looking at Taehyung feels like looking at the ocean, scary if you look away.

Namjoon reminds them that he’d found signs of other seizures on his brain scan too. Points them out to them on his tablet, shows a picture of a normal brain to compare. He explains that sometimes the only indication that a seizure is happening could be that time is passing weirdly or that someone is staring off into space for too long.

Taehyung goes pale when he says that. “Jungkook gets that way all the time.” He says the next part quieter, “especially when he’s nesting.”

Namjoon’s breath goes shallow at that, the idea that this omega, this Jungkook and his packmates will never be able to see him nest again without worrying, without asking and doublechecking. Something that is routine and a necessary part of all omega’s and their biology and pack intimacy will never feel normal to them again.

When they leave- Namjoon gives them his personal number because he’s so concerned about the three of them. So vulnerable and unprepared to help Jungkook navigate the world like this. None of them are older than 25. And while they're not not adults, Namjoon's instincts scream at him pups pups pups. 

Surprisingly it’s Jungkook who uses Namjoon's number the most often.

He wants to talk to Namjoon about it all- the new definition of his life inside his medical condition. No bright flashing lights and limited screen time. A set bedtime every night and a new diet that’s helping considerably but still feels so restrictive. Jungkook can’t do anything without thinking about it, weighing out calories and estimating carbohydrates. Pricking his fingers to monitor the blood sugar spikes.

“I would kill for some pretzels- or just- some fucking bread. Do you know how good fresh bread is when you know you can't have it Joonie?”

Namjoon doesn't scold Jungkook for the nicknames anymore. Not after the first few calls when Jungkook's natural earnestness melts away Namjoon’s better judgment. “Too much salt bunny” Namjoon hears Taehyung say on the other side of the phone.

“I will kill you for carbohydrates Hyung.”

Namjoon does the best he can to ease the young omega's worries. And slowly- they talk about things other than Jungkook’s condition. Though that remains a soft topic, “I didn’t have any this week hyung! Maybe they’re finally turning a corner, aren’t you proud of me?”

“Of course, I am bunny- I’ll always be proud of you.”

In the background of the call, he hears the words ‘hot doctor’ and ‘hopeless’ faintly. A happy little giggle he’s started to recognize as Jimin’s when Jungkook shoots him a scandalized “Hyung!”

He and Jungkook talk until late at night sometimes. They text a lot too, so much that Yoongi and Jin tease him about it, “What are you smiling at your phone about?”

Like they don’t already know.

Jungkook fills the spaces when Yoongi and Jin aren’t there; the days after Namjoon’s had a night shift and both of his pack mates are working. Jungkook’s voice fills the air in Namjoon’s room. And when he closes his eyes, it feels like he’s really there.

Namjoon wants more than he would ever willingly admit. Wants more than he’d ever think through if Seokjin told him no.

But Seokjin only ever teases Namjoon for smelling strong and ask to see Jungkook’s Instagram. “Wow he’s like- model hot.” Namjoon had just pecked his cheek, dispelling any anxiety or insecurity.

“If he’s model hot then you’re ancient Greek statue hot.”

“Joonie.”

“Do you want me to stop calling him? I will.”

Seokjin’s thumb had hovered, a photo of the three of them there. The like count is what bothers him. Even Seokjin gets more than 50 likes on his photos of Namjoon and Yoongi. But these three pups, they only have 11 people in their corner. Two alphas and one omega.

This omega, this Jungkook must be special.

Seokjin’s heart beats hard. Flicking through the photos. Namjoon lets him look through their texts too. Jungkook is old fashioned, he prefers to call. “He’s got seizures Namjoon.”

“I know hyung.”

“He’s sick, and you can’t cure him.”

“I know.”

But packs are built this way, they all know that.

He talks to Jungkook’s alphas too. Mostly Taehyung who studied literature in undergrad and works at the large public library in the city center, not far from Namjoon’s hospital. One morning he even finds a coffee waiting at the check in desk for him, a cup of coffee and a not scrawled on the side in elegant handwriting.

Thanks for looking after Koo. He’s very special to us.

How many nicknames does this omega have? Namjoon saves the note, keeps it in his jacket pocket.

They share a lot of the same interest in poetry. Taehyungs the one who rescues Namjoon from the sound of static when Jungkook falls asleep on the line and talks quick, about stories and plot lines and the newest viral book that they can’t keep off the shelves that he’s just been dying to read but won’t until no one reserves it.

(Namjoon might leave it at the front desk in the library, might wrap it in a little purple bow)

The next time Jungkook calls he opens the phone to, “no fair! You got Taehyung a present before you go me something! It’s supposed to be omega’s first Hyung.”

“Okay bunny okay, what would you have me get you?”

“I don’t know.” Jungkook had hesitated, “something for my nest maybe?” Namjoon’s breath had gone short, and the shouting through the other end of the line was good natured, goofy, but still indignant enough that Jungkook’s giggles had smoothed over any uncomfortableness. “Kidding hyung, you can buy me food.”

“Something seizure safe?” Namjoon had clarified, ducked into a corner at the hospital, words quiet.

“You gonna tell my doctor on me if it’s not?”

“Kookie-”

But scolding Jungkook never works out well, he’s too cute to be scolded, too good for it. Jungkook’s a personal trainer and luckily his work hasn’t been too disrupted by his diagnosis. Namjoon doesn’t know if he would have been able to resist offering monetary help if it had. They’re not rich, but having three people to pool their paychecks together takes the anxiety out of a lot of things.

Jungkook’s body feels more and more like a cage as the seizures get worse. His life is narrowed down to the five or ten minutes a week he surrenders to the seizures. But the best part, the part that makes him feel most free, is picking up the phone and calling Namjoon. Namjoon never makes him feel like he’s sick, his concern isn’t stifling like Jimin and Tae's can be at times. Namjoon never makes Jungkook feel worried and under watch, only looked after.

Jungkook knows that Jimin and Taehyung will get better at it, they have been adjusting but it’s Been hard. He’s not fragile right? He’s not going to die from this? Right?

Jungkook’s okay until he’s not.

Taehyung sends him poems and pictures of Jungkook sleeping and getting his rest. But he also calls in a panic just days from his third follow up MRI because Jungkook had a seizure when neither of the alphas was home. He’s still on the floor, and he’s having trouble standing.

Namjoon knows. Namjoon knows what that looks like after a seizure, knows how scary it is when the body won’t listen to the brain. The dissonance to it, like a car crash happening quietly or mold inside of a jam jar, shocking at the opening.

“He says he’s okay- but Joonie- Joonie- how do we know- what if he’s bleeding in his head or if he’s-”

“Tae- Tae- it’s okay baby. I’m here, do you want me to come over and check him out?”

The use of the word baby gets a little look from Yoongi and Jin. They’re playing footsie at the coffee table with a pint of ice cream and only one spoon between the two of them. Their night of domestic leisure interrupted by this phone call. Namjoon’s startled tone draws their attention away from each other. Namjoon’s too panicked to notice their questioning eyes, too worried about Jungkook.

He’s got more on his mind right now, the thought of brain bleeds and strokes and the misfiring neurons in Jungkook’s brain that could kill him. Really- Jungkook could die at any time from this. He could die and Namjoon's only seen them a handful of times. His follow up appointment that Namjoon had desperately been looking forward too, is barely a week away.

But that's not soon enough. 

Tae goes silent on the other line until the phone gets handed over with a rustle of fabric against the earpiece. But Namjoon recognizes the calm breath. Namjoon doesn’t have as much of a rapport with Jimin, beyond a few selfies or videos of him and Jungkook being cute sent to him by Taehyung (because if he has to suffer through being so deeply in love that Jimin snorting sprite out his nose makes him have heart eyes then everyone else has to witness it too).

(In Namjoon’s defense those are Taehyung’s words- not his).

“Hyung, can you come over?” He asks.

He's never called Namjoon Hyung before and never asked to. There's a warmness there. Namjoon knows a little about why that might be. All of them are immigrants to different degrees and Namjoon's technically 3rd generation and had never learned Korean just like Jungkook. Tae and Jimin know more, have the sentiment built into their language, Korean to English and back again tangling until it’s hard to tell what they are- if they’re anything other than other. Jimin can’t read hangul but Tae can.

Jungkook throws the word ‘Hyung’ around like an American and likes to tack it onto every sentence or forget it entirely. Namjoon doesn't speak Korean like Yoongi and Jin do. But Namjoon recognizes the same cadence in Jimin's voice that Yoongi uses when he talks to Seokjin in that soft special way reserved for someone you expect to look after you.

The supplication is sweet as he asks for Namjoon. He lives up to his stoic persona; his voice barely wavers when he gives Namjoon their address.

In the mad dash over to their apartment, Namjoon recalls the story Jungkook told him of how he met Tae and Jimin. Jimin is a professional bodyguard and works for an entertainment agency, they both used to go to the same gym (Jungkook works there now but Jimin is too busy working to go more than once or twice a week) both of them staunch jocks and Tae the one erudite that charmed their hearts.

Taehyung and Jimin had known each other since grade school, had grown up and gotten kicked out at the same time because their parents didn’t approve of alpha and alpha relationships. They’ve been together even longer than Seokjin and Yoongi have. Had presented together and loved each other through it. Although it seems impossible given their age. He remembers Jungkook’s smitten expression over Facetime, stars in his eyes only meant for the two alphas’ and Namjoon a happy voyeur.

“They’re soulmates Hyung, like you and Seokjinnie.”

And that’s how Namjoon ends up halfway across town wearing only one slipper in Yoongi’s robe at 10 pm on a Wednesday. His car keys jingle in his hand as he realizes- fuck- I didn’t even comb my hair. His alpha instincts are screaming at him to find the three pups and make sure they’re alright. Maybe scruff them, maybe make sure that their den is as safe as Namjoon's.

(It couldn't be as safe as Namjoon's- his instincts say. He should take them by the nape and drag them back to place them in Seokjin's nest, the only safe place for pups. Seokjin might not even mind, Seokjin might chirp like his alpha has brought something significantly valuable back to his nest, like food from hunting or more furs. Three more packmates yes. That would be a very very good courting gift for the pack omega. Seokjin will like these alpha’s, Namjoon is sure of it).

Namjoon’s only ever felt this protective with two people in his life and he knows enough to guess what this means.

Jimin answers the door, moving to the side instantly to let Namjoon into their den. Routine, like not even an inch of his instincts reject him. They’ve only met in person twice and talked over the phone a handful of times. But Jimin’s eyes still shine, glassy and trusting.

“Alpha, you came.” He says, blushing when he realizes his slip-up. It’s quite a chang3e from his glaring before but Namjoon doesn’t question it. Namjoon whips through their apartment, his nose seeking out their omega.

“Couldn’t stay away, would have come over even if you said you didn’t want me to.” Is the confession too much or is it perfect? Jimin’s eyes go dark, and his hand loosens on the doorknob where it’s closed. Keeping the world out and Namjoon inside.

Namjoon wants to growl, but it comes out as a near purr.

Namjoon barely notices the checkered yellow carpet and the plants on the windowsill or the books piled by the couch where Jungkook sits with Taehyung, head in the alpha’s lap. The soft drone of the TV is the only noise. The brightness is turned down too. Both of his hands clasped in Taehyung’s tight, and a kitchen towel pressed to a mark on his cheek that's not bleeding anymore. 

It doesn’t need stitches but will scar anyway. The scar will stay for years after, small and slight. Just barely puckering over Jungkook’s cheekbone. Namjoon spends half an hour holding his hands and checking his pulse. Shining a light in Jungkook’s eyes before he verifies that Jungkook is okay. That his pupils look fine, that he doesn't have a concussion. And he's going to be fine. 

Tonight, Jungkook is alive and healthy, but that will not always be the case.

“You can borrow a pair of Tae’s shoes to go home,” Jimin says while Tae and Jungkook waddle off together towards the end of the hall where the scent of the three of them grows thick and sweet. In the direction of Jungkook’s nest.

Taehyung holds Jungkook up, still tired and dizzy from the seizure, but at least his legs are cooperating again. He’ll be back to normal by the morning. But for now he sleepily nuzzles into Namjoon’s shoulder. His words lisping with sleep, “it feels better when you’re here. Like you a lot hyung, like you lots and lots.”

Taehyung laughs awkwardly. “Okay, that’s enough honey bunny.” He’s understandably a little embarrassed that his omega is scenting the doctor that they met that one time (no matter that their call history says they’ve spent nearly 50 hours talking on the phone over the last 3 weeks.)

Taehyung holds his shoulders and puppets Jungkook to their room. Namjoon has to force himself to let them go down the narrow hallway and not follow them.

Namjoon is just about to leave when Jimin stops him at the door. “Alpha?” It’s not a mistake this time. Namjoon pauses in the doorway.

“Thanks for caring for us.”

Namjoon can’t stop his shivers even when he gets home. Yoongi strokes down his arms to warm him up. “You look like you’ve just had a bomb dropped on you or like you're coming down with something.”

Yoongi's honesty makes Namjoon word vomit all over the quiet. Jin is asleep next to them, but he stirs at the sudden spike of Namjoon's distress. Turns and opens his eyes, crusty. Rubbing at them with a curled fist before he leans his head on Yoongi’s arm. Curled beneath his cheek. Both of them lean in close to watch and listen.

“I think- I think they’re going to be a part of our pack.”

Yoongi kisses Namjoon’s frown away, kissing him over top of Seokjin who huffs, a little bratty at being ignored. Yoongi’s scent remains an uninterrupted ribbon of chocolate melty goodness. If Yoongi feels at all threatened or uncomfortable. He doesn’t smell it.

Namjoon knows he smells relived, even more when Yoongi kisses his cheeks, his brow. Namjoon clings, hands circling the beta’s waist. Possessive, almost apologetic.  “Good, I’d rather listen to them talk here than get only half of your conversation through the phone.”

Late-night phone calls turn into tentative flirting and pinky promises. Seokjin always makes sure to like Jungkook’s posts on Instagram. Makes Yoongi like them too.

He finds flowers downstairs not long after, pink roses, two dozen of them. Long stems elegant and pretty. ‘To Dr.Kim’s pack omega, from Jungkook’s alphas’

“Don’t you think it’s a little strange? I just liked their photos on Instagram and they’re sending flowers?” He remarks to Yoongi later, admiring the flowers in their kitchen, so tall they almost block the view.

Yoongi had simply shrugged, “I think they’re probably just feeling guilty that Namjoon’s spending so much time away from us to take care of him.”

“What do you think of him. Of Jungkook?”

 Yoongi had simply shrugged, “if it works out, it works out.”

“And if it doesn’t.”

“Then we put Joonie back together again.”

But lucky for them it will work out. Lucky for all of them there is nothing to worry about.

~-~

“I always think I’m too much for Jiminie and Taehyung- they’re such good alphas, and I’m just a burden.”

Namjoon hums disapprovingly, soft in his reassurance, opening the fridge to get out the milk, it’s almost noon, and Jungkook is just finishing up his classes. Namjoon is home and the others aren’t.

“Enough of that bunny. They love you. You know they don’t mind at all. They’ve told me they don’t. Promise me you'll call me when you feel this way.”

I’d take care of you too if you’d let me. Taking care of someone like you would be the opposite of a burden. Do you want me to take care of you Jungkook?

Jungkook’s voice is crackly through the phone. "I promise Hyung." 

Seokjin steals the phone from Namjoon sometimes. “Namjoon says you’re cuter in person and I demand we have a cuteness competition where we make out and don’t let him join us.”

Jungkook’s hum comes through immediately. “To torture him? Wouldn’t nesting be more painful? I have a really really cute next Seokjin Hyung. Can you come over and see it sometime?” Asking an older omega for help nesting is-

Seokjin licks his lips, eyes Namjoon up and down, the blush on his cheeks, at a loss for what to say for once. Seokjin looks like he’s relishing in it. And Namjoon starts to get worried for a whole different reason.

It’s so terribly Seokjin as first introductions go. Jungkook’s laugh echoes through the phone and has Namjoon reaching for the phone to hear it. Leaning in cheek to cheek with Seokjin, fighting for it, play wrestling and roughhousing, but Namjoon is resistant to use any real force with Jin.

The omega puts his foot on Namjoon’s chest, both of them sprawled on the couch as Yoongi watches, brushing his teeth at the kitchen sink. Smiling through the bit of white foam that’s gathered on his lips.

“But seriously- when am I going to get to meet you Kookie? Can I call you that?”

They have a group dinner after Tae complains that he’s missing his favorite pair of comfy slip-ons and Jungkook complains that he’s missing his favorite alpha (a sentence that has both Tae and Jimin screaming indignantly but it’s all playful animosity and healthy competition between alphas).

They come over Jin pets Jimin's hair for a full hour, The puppy alpha leans into his touch, staying quiet while Tae explains to Jin the finer points of the dewy decimal system and where he went to college and how he organizes his own personal library in a much much more efficient system. Maybe the quiet or attention Jin gives the other man would bother Namjoon where it not for the sweet, sweet scent of vanilla that the alpha brings with him and the fluttering of his pretty eyelashes.

It’s not the usual vanilla, something deeper to it than baking vanilla, not quite as warm, but still musky and sweet.

Alphas don’t usually smell so sweet, Namjoon knows Jimin smells like Gunsmoke when he’s angry or distressed, had sort of assumed that his happy scent would mirror it. It’s a scent that most omega’s would have, makes saliva gather in his mouth, it smells awfully good when combined with Jin’s happy scent. Both of them smell like melted vanilla ice cream.

Tae chuckles and holds him when he starts to teeter. “Careful, Jimin’s sweet spot is his hair.” And Namjoon drinks down the pretty blush stronger than any whiskey. When Jimin blinks owlishly up at Jin, suddenly looking nervous Jungkook pipes up, agreeing.

“Seriously, just keep doing and he’ll kill for you.”

Jimin- Namjoon’s learned- is probably the quietest in their little pack.  Jimin confesses to him months later that he got teased for his sweet scent growing up. Combined with his short stature and soft features he gets mistaken for an omega more often than not. 

Namjoon learns that out of all of them Jimin is probably the most in touch with his baser instincts. This is why he was so shy at first. Jimin’s inner wolf (though he’d cringe if Namjoon ever used such archaic wording) is so much louder than everyone else’s. He’d recognized Namjoon as not just an alpha but his alpha immediately.

It had come as such a shock to him that day in the hospital that Jimin had rejected it a little. Jimin had never thought he’d feel the urge (and actually did have to stop himself) from rolling over and showing his stomach to another alpha. The same way that Taehyung does in the middle of rut sometimes when he's truly brought into a lower more instinctual headspace. 

Namjoon watches him interact with Jin while Jungkook curls under his arm. It feels so natural to touch Jungkook, to stroke down his side, to duck low and whisper his observations into the omega’s hair. While they watch their two packs intermingle. Yoongi and Tae talk through their favorite books and music while he helps Yoongi set everything up for dinner. Yoongi might not read as much as Namjoon or Jin or Tae do- but he still appreciates Tae talking about what he loves. The way he’s so invested in the stories that he talks quick. The pretty way he smiles when he's really getting into his favorite book. 

Tae is a librarian, Yoongi learns. He looks the part of it. 

His soft silk shirt looks so delicate and simply pretty, the collar parted against honey collarbones. His well-tailored pants hug his toned thighs and trim waist. Yoongi is a little distracted by it that he almost burns the bechamel sauce. Distracted enough that he loses track of what Taehyung’s saying and settles for just watching.

Taehyung’s adorable grin flattens after a moment when he realizes how long he’s been rambling, that Yoongi hasn’t replied to anything in a few minutes. “Sorry you probably don’t want to hear about this I know it’s annoying when I info dump-”

“No, I was listening, keep going- that story sounds really interesting.”

He’s honest and genuine and he never looks away from Tae as he talks. There is something about the beta’s attention that makes Tae feel undeniably special. But less like a butterfly burning under a magnifying glass and more like a piece of sea glass in a child’s bucket. A treasure found to be marveled over. The attention makes all sorts of foolish emotions warm in Taehyung’s chest, nurtured carefully by every encouraging nod he earns from Yoongi.

If this is what Yoongi’s flirting is like they’re all doomed. There’s nothing more attractive than someone who is genuinely interested in your experience as a person. And Yoongi is invested, he wants to hear everything.

A beta. Taehyung hasn't been around many betas before. None of them have. Very few packs have Beta’s that stay for any length of time. But somehow Namjoon and Seokjin have managed to keep this one. It’s clear that Yoongi’s roots are here, his record collection is in the corner, and his flannel hangs by the door along with these beat up old shoes that look like something out of the 80’s.

Taehyung doesn’t have to look very far to find reasons why. Namjoon and Jin are sort of a power couple, they’re sort of perfect together. It’s hard to believe that Namjoon is both a doctor and only a year older than him and Jimin. Both of them are tall- just as tall as Taehyung and broader even.

By all measurable standards, the night is going fantastic until Jungkook has a seizure at their dinner table.

Triggered by what- who knows? It could easily be all the new scents in the room or the faintly flickering light that Yoongi’s been meaning to change in the living room. The spicy soup that Seokjin cooks or all the new scents tangling in the air overloading Jungkook’s cerebellum and plunging him headlong into it.

Dinner has barely started, there is still bites on the ends of forks, drinks being lifted to lips for first sips, when Jungkook’s body goes limp. He’s like a marionette with its strings cut. Limbs all limp and trembling, the whites of Jungkook’s eyes visible- only for a second before Namjoon guides him carefully to the floor.  

Jimin and Taehyung operate with practiced ease. They’ve learned to see the signs right before it happens. Sometimes Jimin even thinks he can smell a subtle shift in Jungkook’s honey scent before his eyes roll back and his brain just shuts off and goes all wonky.

Yoongi and Jin watch on scared. Jin flinches, reaching, spilling a glass of white wine.

But Namjoon holds his head, and they hold each other and don’t restrain him except to keep him from flinching his arm into the leg of the chair which Seokjin takes and promptly yeets away from the youngest- the pup. They're all Seokjin's pups, he's already decided. Together the five of them wait for the twitching to stop because that’s all they can do.

Namjoon watches Jungkook and feels like he wants to cry, keeping time with his heartbeat thundering in his ears. Counting the seconds. He hadn’t expected something like this to happen outside of work hours. Seeing sick people when you’re not expecting to as a doctor- it’s jarring. Even though Namjoon’s used to it, it never gets any easier.

And then Yoongi swoops in when Jungkook’s body gives a particularly violent jerk, knees sliding across the linoleum floor, smashing his arm into the table leg in a way that looks incredibly painful. Yoongi doesn’t think- just follows his instincts and shoves his wrist under Jungkook’s nose.

Jungkook’s body heaves an unsteady breath of Yoongi’s chocolate scent and stops twitching. The violence in his wild limbs calming to a tremble.

Everyone just blinks.

He comes out of this seizure faster than others. Barely a minute before he’s blinking into clarity. His body’s first reaction is to press further into Yoongi. Curling around him on the kitchen floor. Knees behind his back as Yoongi threads his hand through Jungkook’s hair and holds him close.

The disorientation fades after a few minutes when they all help Jungkook up and onto the couch after the room has stopped swirling with colors like the filmy edge of a bubble. His brain trying to turn back on. Tae’s hands are shaking. Seokjin is crying a little, hiccupping. But he’s the least used to these kinds of things out of all of them, his shock is understandable. No one knows what to say, even less what to do.

In the silence, Yoongi turns to the three of them and calls it.  

“That’s it, you’re staying.” His declaration rings with a tone of finality. 

No one challenges him.

~-~

They move in next week, though they try to keep to separate bedrooms to make the transition from two packs to one a little less dramatic. It hardly works when Jungkook splits his time between the two rooms, when the others can’t help but wake up to the sound of pattering feet across the narrow hallway. Even on the nights he’s supposed to spend cuddling with Jimin and Tae, he somehow always finds his way into Yoongi’s arms.

He smells nice, or so Jungkook says, soothing. Especially on the days after the seizures. Sometimes Yoongi's scent is the only one Jungkook can handle. 

It's so much more than that.

Jungkook’s seizures decrease dramatically after he moves in. Until they’re barely happening at all. Maybe once a month when before they’d been once or twice a week. He doesn't change his diet or his schedule. He doesn't change anything but his scenting sessions with Yoongi. 

Yoongi doesn’t mind when he asks, always says sure and sits and lets Jungkook crawl tentatively to his side, rubbing their wrists together slowly at first and them more brazenly as the shyness wears away. And Yoongi tilts his throat up to let Jungkook have at it, cheeks all ruddy and blushy by the time he’s satisfied.

“We’re all a pack, we should all wear each other’s scents around.”

"You just want an excuse to kiss Jin Hyung in the nest Kookie" Taehyung teases, making the tops of Jin's ears go pink. Jungkook is a little bit obsessed with the elder omega’s nest.  

"It's like a really sexy nest alright- you guys just don't get it because you're not omegas." 

At the beginning Jungkook tried a few medications to get his seizures under control but none of them worked, either their side effects where worse than the seizures themselves or they hardly decreased their frequency. Yoongi's scent is better than any pill Jungkook could pop. Jungkook feels one coming on and a quick drag of Yoongi’s wrist along his throat stops it dead in his tracks. Or Yoongi shoves his wrist under his nose when Jungkook’s starts twitching, and the seizure lasts barely a minute. It’s not correlation, it’s causation.

Yoongi stops the seizures. He’s medicine made man, love made cure.  

Privately, Namjoon thinks that he’d love to study it- the healing powers of betas aren’t something that’s well understood by science. When he accesses the hospital’s medical databases on his break, he finds that the evidence of any special beta healing properties is anecdotal at best and pseudoscience at worst.  

There’s only one story in the scientific literature- from a beta doctor who says he cured his mate’s lupus after he gave them a mating mark. But the peer review on that alone is scathing. And in Namjoon’s agrees with it, because betas don’t mate.

For one beta to bind themselves to only one other person goes against everything that Namjoon knows about beta biology and sociology. There are even some in the field who don’t believe betas even can give or receive a mating bite.

One or two reports (that seem more like horror stories) he finds on his way down the rabbit hole of omegas and betas going absolutely insane after they’d tried to be bonded. They couldn’t be separated- that it seemed to hurt them if they were. Brain scans support this idea. Both of them had bright parietal lobes, actively experiencing pain when they were only a few rooms away from each other. Though noticeably less from the beta than their non-beta counterpart. 

Betas can’t mate. At least not in the same way that omegas and alphas can. (And even alphas and alphas, and omegas and omegas- Namjoon’s progressive brain reminds him).

Things are changing, with Jimin and Taehyung in the house. Namjoon tries to be polite about it, watching both of them kiss over morning coffee, watching them nip and nibble. Tries to convince himself that his scent isn’t going heady and musky, that he’s not watching both of them over the top of his newspaper.

It becomes harder to ignore when both of them sit on either side of him and tangle their hands over the table. Pausing to feed him bites of Jin’s cooking saying, “alpha this is so good, you have to have it.” And Tae's gentle chiding of “good bite.”

It’s not so strange, is it? Two people of the same sub-gender loving each other, right? Namjoon’s instincts hum in agreement as he watches Jin and Jungkook roughhouse, Jin says something low and sweet that makes Jungkook laugh and Jungkook slaps Jin’s thigh in retaliation.

They all recognize the correlation between Jungkook’s health and Yoongi’s presence in the young omega's life. Jungkook’s seizures only come back if he and Yoongi haven’t spent enough quality time together or if he hasn’t been scent-marked or cuddled daily.

The near-overnight change is amazing. To Jungkook- it feels like he gets his life back. 

At night Taehyung and Jimin look down at Yoongi like he’s a marvel. Like he’s the eighth wonder of the world. They kiss at his scent glands and even dare to nibble, as if to absorb part of him, so that they might keep Jungkook safe too. Making the beta gasp and his heart beat quick.

Honey and spice and vanilla- as good as Jungkook and Taehyung and Jimin. They join their pack, meeting Namjoon and Jin’s milk and coffee. Sometimes Yoongi just lies back up and breathes in deep. Enjoying the smell of all of them together and yet sure that they’re missing something.

“We smell like a bakery,” someone never fails to comment. “Yoongi’s bakery.” 

It makes him feel good that he belongs here; this is where he’s meant to be he’s sure of it. But still- his heart has edges that still need mending. Or maybe he needs something to mend. Like arms he doesn’t know yet but can’t help but reach out for.

That something that their combined pack scent is missing happens to be the caramel sweetness of Jung Hoseok.

Another sweet-smelling alpha and sunshine incarnate.

(Next Chapter)

~-~

(Read the first Version of this story Here)

Notes:

- You guys really have no idea how much medical researched I’ve had to do over the years to talk about Jungkook’s seizures in an accurate way! Like literally I’ve had to look up everything. I would have thought grey’s anatomy would have prepared me for this but I guess those hours rewatching season 7 where wasted.

- I can confidently say that Jk probably has something called focal transmantle cortical dysplasia- which is resistant to treatment via medication and is either genetic or can sometimes be triggered by injury.

- Having worked in medical stuff for the last 4ish years- I can tell you without a doubt that if a patient acted like Jk with me I would be!!! Swooning!

- Okay but I’m a little in love with how Jungkook’s character changed to the beginning. Like “I’m like this naturally.” What a little shithead. I love him so much, he’s like lowkey my favorite character.

- Okay so, I’m not entirely sure whether or not my depiction of them as immigrants and the tangle of this being a kpop fanfic is like- alright? Because all cultures are different, and all cultural experiences are different and I’ve been reading a lot about the Korean diaspora. But I will say that like- I am an immigrant to the extent that Namjoon is in this story. Both my grandparents where in refugee camps before they came to America, they don’t have accents anymore but they still speak to each other in private in their first language. I’m American, I’ve never known any life than this and my mom calls herself American too, but I still feel in the middle you know? I want my depiction of it to be accurate but it’s not a focal point of this story in any major way- unlike for instance Jungkook’s illness or Tae's transition if that makes sense? I’m wondering how much I should talk about it and how much I should explain in this universe.

- If we’re talking like- actuality, I think that there is a possibility that Jimin could have presented as an omega in bily but because he grew up in such an abusive and stressful environment his body made him present as an alpha to better protect Tae.

[asumofwords]

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Another day, another slay. Here is the next chapter of Sublet, hehe. I'm so excited for you all to read this, Aemond is such an asshole but god he is so FINEEEE <3 It's a long one... Enjoy! P.s Aemond is listening to this song: Lovers From the Past - Mareux

Chapter 5: Sīkudi Nopāzmi (Seven Hells)

Cregan left yours after you had relaxed for a time, had some breakfast in the quiet of the apartment together, and yet another round of his fingers pressed into your core.

It was, all things considered, a perfect way to start your day. 

And whilst you basked in the afterglow of the evening and morning, and the content and joy that your not so subtle friend with benefits brought you, you decided to spend the rest of the day cleaning and tidying the apartment.

You turned on your speaker and let your music play through it loudly as you did a full clean down.

Usually, Helaena and you would spend your Sunday’s doing this together, glasses of wine in hands, or sometimes, if Aegon dropped it over, a nice spliff. 

It wasn’t until the late afternoon that Aemond returned. 

The kitchen was freshly wiped down, all cups and bowls put away in the cupboard. The lounge and dining you had spent a meticulous amount of time dusting and fluffing, not at all because you had nervous energy racing through you at the thought of his return. You had even had time to change and wash your sheets, putting on a nice smelling candle in the lounge room to really finish the job. 

And then, there he was, in all his lean fury, stood in the hallway that you just mopped and vacuumed in his stupid trainers, dressed head to toe in his jogging gear.

He still had his AirPods in. 

You were in the lounge room, dressed in an oversized shirt, probably looking crazed as you had been dashing about the apartment in intermittent song and dance as you cleaned, and there he was, back inside and watching you. 

You felt a blush spread across your cheeks but swallowed the feeling of shame. Why should you feel any shame at all? It’s your home. He is the one living here. Besides, it's not as though he doesn’t totally have sex himself. It would be complete-

“Wheres you friend?” Aemond asked, eye looking behind you. 

You blanched. 

So now he was talking to you?

“Went home.”

Aemond hummed, eyebrows lifting before he carried on through the hall, still with his stupid shoes on, and disappeared into Helaena’s room.

What the fuck?

“Take your shoes off at the door!” You called out to him, irritation pulsing through you.

You didn’t want his dirty outside soles all over your nice clean floorboards, and some nerve he had to ignore you and then come back asking questions.

No, ‘Hey, how are you?’

‘Wow, the house looks so clean! Thanks!’

‘How was your day?’

Nada.

You were almost in the right mind to call Helaena and bitch about her brother to her, and beg her to come back, or at least take him from your hands like an unwanted pet.

It was not long after he went to his room that you heard him enter the bathroom, the sound of the shower carrying through the door. You decided to go back into your room and fold your laundry that you had washed and put it away.

Each fold of your clothes you tried to rationalise his behaviour. Tried to make excuses for it even, or explain it all away. But eventually you came to the conclusion that perhaps Helaena just had a soft spot for her brother, and that he was just another breed of Aegon. 

Another douchebag. 

Your only hope was that there was only a few weeks to go. And if you could survive living in a hostile environment for that, you could survive anything. Besides, Helaena and Daeron seemed pretty keen for you to go to the Keep and see them for a few days, so that was always on the cards.

Or you could stay at Cregan’s if you really needed an out.

You hoped it didn’t come to that.

Gods, how long was he going to be in the bathroom?

You felt sticky from cleaning all day and wanted to shower yourself and get into some pj’s.

Making plans to order some pizza before your shower so that it would arrive when you got out, you walked to the bathroom door and knocked.

He better not have used all the fucking hot water.

To your surprise, Aemond didn’t call out from inside, instead, he opened the door wide, steam curling behind him as he stood in just a towel loosely wrapped around his hips. Water dripped from his wet hair down his bare chest and onto the floor below. 

Your mouth felt dry, and you could just see the barest imprint of his-

“Can I help you?” 

Your eyes snapped up to his, feeling a deep blush settle on your cheeks and a warmth in your gut.

No.

What the fuck?

He’s an asshole.

Down girl.

Making a point to keep your eyes on his, you stepped back, feeling all too close to the Targaryen man. 

“Are you going to be long? I want to take a shower.”

Aemond’s lips twitched in the barest of smirks, “Sure, bunny. I’m done.” And with that, he brushed past you, his damp arm sliding against yours as he made his way to his room and shut the door behind him.

You blinked at the door.

Bunny…

...

He had heard.

Embarrassment creeped through you as you rushed into the steam filled room, almost slipping on the wet tiles and slamming the door shut behind you. 

Aemond had heard you and Cregan.

But why did that make a spark of arousal bloom inside of you?

Something was seriously wrong with you.

You quickly ordered your pizza on your phone, paying for it and noting the estimated delivery time. 

Stripping off your clothes, you turned on the shower and jumped under the hot spray, letting the water cascade over your face and hair, scrubbing each and every inch of your body, spotting the small bruises that littered it from Cregan. Most of all, the mottling of purple across the flesh of your ass. 

You bit your lip as you washed it carefully, enjoying the sting and the memory of his hands. 

By the time you got out of the shower and had done your skincare routine, hair being pat dry with your towel, you trudged out of the bathroom in your pj’s and made your way to the kitchen to grab a drink. 

The pizza came not too long after, and you frowned at the delivery person as they handed you two boxes of pizza. You were so confused, checking your phone again to see the order, “But I only ordered one?” 

The teenager shifted on his feet impatiently, “It was a two for one deal today? You got a pizza for free.”

“Oh. Thank you.” You gave the boy a tip, and turned back inside with two boxes of pizza.

Aemond hadn’t come out of his room since he went in, and well, you had two pizzas, it would be a waste of food if you didn’t offer him some.

Even if he didn’t deserve it. 

You walked over to his door, and could hear music playing inside (Lovers From the Past - Mareux). With the pizza boxes balanced in one hand, you lifted the other to knock on the door. 

The door stayed unanswered, and so you knocked again, this time hearing a grumble from behind. It swung open, and Aemond stood, hair still slightly damp on his shoulders, clad in only grey sweat pants. He raised a brow at you, eye flicking to the pizza boxes and then back to your face.

You wished he would put on a shirt. 

“There was a two for one deal, so there’s a box if you want one.” You explained, then remembering how he thought the snack plate last night was for him, you didn’t want him to think you were going out of your way again, “I didn’t know the deal was a thing. They just dropped two boxes at the door.”

Aemond raised a brow as if to say he didn’t believe you.

You huffed, “Alright. I’ll put it in the fridge then.” You turned on your heel to walk away and heard a chuckle from behind you.

“So grumpy.” He breathed under his breath, just teasing enough for you to hear it. 

Your fingers tightened around the boxes as you refused to turn around and marched straight to the lounge room, dropping onto the couch and flicking on the television angrily. You looked at the second box of pizza, and thought about putting it in the fridge for him later.

Fuck it. 

He can starve.

At best, he gets salmonella.

Leaving the second box unopened, you curled up on the couch and turned on your favourite show, munching on the hot pizza, the cheese warm and stringy on your tongue. A weight settled beside you, and you turned your head slightly to find Aemond sitting on the couch next you, reaching out to grab his box of pizza to eat.

You tried to not give him any notice, or even sneak a glance at the man, who still sat shirtless beside you, one leg tucked up on the couch as he ate. You bet that if you looked down at his grey sweats you would be able to see the imprint of his-

“Did you clean the apartment?” His voice cut through the air.

You gave him a hum in response.

“You working tomorrow?”

Another question?

You turned to face him, “No. It’s a Sunday tomorrow.”

Aemond took another large bite of his pizza, a long string of cheese being pulled taut by his stretched hand, which he pulled into his mouth with his tongue.

You swallowed thickly. 

“How long have you and Craig been together?” Aemond asked, eye on you, tongue darting out to lick any remaining sauce that lingered on his plush lips. 

You let out a short huff of a laugh, “It’s Cregan. And we aren’t dating.”

“An ex then?”

Why was he so interested in Cregan?

“No.” You said slowly, “Just a friend. He’s Sara’s brother. Helaena used to date her.”

Aemond hummed in recognition of Sara’s name, but then his lips pursed forward, “Just a friend.” He parroted, a smirk pulled on his lips.

Turning to face the tv, you took another bite of your pizza before swallowing, “Yeah, friend. Do you have any of those?”

The silver haired man laughed quietly, “I have enough.”

You hummed back.

Gods, you sounded like him.

You both continued to eat slowly, letting the sound of the tv surround you for a while longer.

“Seems nice.”

There it was.

You snapped your head to your roommates brother, glaring at him, “He is. Why are you so interested in him?”

Aemond smirked deeply, closing the box of his finished pizza before he stood to put it in the kitchen recycling bin, not answering your question. 

You huffed, feeling entirely irritated by the whole scenario.

You watched as he came back out of the kitchen, his gaze on you. Your eyes roamed down his chest, spotting a tattoo on the side of his ribs, some sort of sword. And then your gaze went lower, spotting the tip of an inky black tattoo that sat on his hip bones, the muscles of his V leading down to-

Gods damn him.

Those grey sweats.

What was it about them that you made you so feral?

Sensing your sudden shift, Aemond poked his tongue in his cheek, as if he was debating the next words to come from his mouth. But then they came, and you were left to sit in the lounge room alone with the knowledge of what he knew. 

“Goodnight, bunny.”

Fuck.

The next day Aemond’s demeanour seemed to change completely. He left the house before you woke, going for his morning jog as always, and so you got the morning to yourself to have a quiet cup of tea and cigarette at the kitchen window.

The sun was rising to its peak by the time he got back, and you were seated on the bench next to the window, blowing the smoke outside and sipping on your tea. You had expected when you heard the door open that he would retreat to his room as he always did and hide away like a recluse. 

But this morning, Aemond surprised you. 

Instead of seeing a blur of silver and black down the hallway, Aemond turned to the kitchen, giving you a small purse of his lips in greeting. His hair was tied back in a low bun, though small strands of silver hung around his face. His t-shirt was stuck to his chest in patches from his sweat, and the small black nike shorts he wore revealed the toned muscles of his thighs and calves. 

“Morning.”

You blew a puff of smoke out the window, “Morning.”

Aemond stepped in front of you and you tensed, unsure, looking up at his face as he looked down at you. Then in one swift moment, he reached above your head, pulling down a glass from the shelf, hips brushing your knees as he moved to the sink to fill himself a glass of water. 

You watched as he brought the glass to his lips and drank deeply, watching the way his throat bobbed and his lips were slightly wet, the cup almost completely empty by the time he took it away, but his eye immediately found yours, catching your shameless appraisal.

“You’re staring, bunny.”

There it was again. 

That name. 

Something only Cregan called you when you were locked beneath him writhing in pleasure, or on top.

You felt heat rise up your chest, “Don’t call me that.” You frowned, and Aemond smirked, humming before leaving the kitchen.

You jumped off the sill, stubbing the cigarette out on the brickwork outside before dumping your mug in the sink. 

You needed to get out of the house. And so you opened your phone to call a friend who you knew you could vent to.

The phone rang three times before the melodic voice of Sara Snow came through the speaker, her Northern accent thick through the phone, “You right?”

“Hey to you too, Sar.”

Despite her and Helaena’s obvious love for each other, and the consistent on-again-off-again game of avoidance the two had, there was no denying that you felt safe and trusted around the woman. It had been a while since you had spent time with her, and the other day was just a reminder of all the good times you have had. 

Besides, the rest of your friends were away for the break. 

“What do you want?”

You laughed into the phone, “Charming. I don’t know what Helaena sees in you.”

Her chuckle was heard in the back, “It’s definitely not my glowing personality.” She said suggestively.

“Alright enough of that. I’m off limits.”

“Who said you were even on?”

You shook your head, “What are you doing today?”

You heard Sara shuffling in the background of the phone, “Obviously seeing you, considering you’ve called.”

Grinning, you made your way to your room and began to flick through your closet to choose an outfit, “I need a drink. Or three. Maybe five.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Sara teased, “Is my brother the cause of this need to see me? I don’t mind if it is, I love a good bitch.”

You pulled out a slinky black dress, chucking it on your bed as you found some knee high boots to match, “Not Cregan, no. I can’t say much right now about it,” You mumbled into the phone, “But I need to get out of here.”

Sara let out the highest of pitched squeals as she realised who it was that you were trying to escape, “Oh my god, I knew you two would go head to head. Helaena said I was being judgemental. But girl, have you heard their phone calls? The North is warmer than that man.”

“Tell me about it. Anyway, you gonna help me or what?” 

“Say less, babe. Meet me in the Silk Lanes.”

You sighed, “Sara we aren’t going to a strip club, it's the middle of the day.”

“You’re a buzz kill. But no, didn’t mean that. There's a new bar that’s opened up on the strip. They have live music sometimes. Cool crowd too.”

You hummed, looking down at the dress, “Fine. What time?”

“See you in an hour!”

She hung up before you could even respond. 

You dressed yourself and headed to the bathroom put on some light makeup, do your hair and pair the dress with some nice gold jewellery, including a pair of earrings Helaena had given you a Christmas or two ago.

Grabbing a small bag, you left, not sparing Helaena’s shut door a glance, swiping up your keys and making your way to the train station to go and meet Sara. 

The trip wasn’t a long one, and before you knew it you were making your way down to the Silk Lanes, passing strip clubs, brothels, and bars along the way.

It was a cool area that was sure, but at times, more male dominated.

You kept waking, unsure of where you were really going until a low whistle was heard behind you. Spinning around you spotted Sara, who stood in a short halter neck denim dress that hugged her curves, and brown cowboy boots. 

She looked hot.

“Damn, Sar. I can see now why Helaena keeps you around.”

Her green-grey eyes roamed over your body, taking in your dress. You spun on the spot, breezing your hands over your hips in a seductive way.

“My brother doesn’t deserve you. You ever get sick of him, I'm sure theres room for a third.” She smirked, looping your arm in hers as she started to lead you down an alleyway, a flickering red sign that read ‘Sīkudi Nopāzmi’ over an old brick wall, and busted green door. 

You would have walked straight past it.

You blinked up at the lettering, brows furrowed as you tried to use what basic High Valyrian you had learnt many years ago in High School.

“Seven Hells?” You looked at Sara.

The dark haired woman smirked. 

The inside of the bar was dark and dingy, exposed brick walls, low candle light and sultry music playing. The overall vibe was sensual, brooding, and mysterious.

You couldn’t help but think of a man who reminded you of it. 

Sara left you at the table to grab you drinks, coming back to place a Porn Star Martini in front of you, small shot of Prosecco placed beside it. You took the Prosecco and drank it back, not wanting it to mix with the sweetness of the martini.

Sara raised a brow as she watched, bringing her dirty martini to her lips to sip.

“So, what has your knickers in a twist?” She twirled the stick of olives with her black fingernails.

You glared at her, sipping the martini again, “I live with a recluse douchebag.”

“That bad, huh?”

You sighed aggressively, finishing your martini and standing to go get another, “I need another one of these before I begin this shit. And you’re going to need one too.”

By the time you had both drunk your fourth martini, you begun to feel the anger roll off of you in slates with every story you spat.

“Class A Asshole.” Sara nodded, laughing at your retelling of his reaction to thinking you had made your plate of snacks for him, “I can’t believe he heard Cregan fuck you.” She threw her head back laughing, and you let yourself laugh too.

“You should have seen him run out the door in the morning, didn’t come back the whole fucking day. But get this,” You leant forward, tipping the rest of your martini into your mouth. 

Sara leant on her elbows looking at you, eyes dancing in delight.

As you opened your mouth, two new drinks were placed on the table in front of you by the tall bartender. You both looked up at him confused.

You hadn’t ordered another drink.

The bartender was handsome, hair cut close to his scalp, dark skin, with bright golden eyes that smiled down at you before flicking his head to a table at the far back.

“From that table over there.”

You and Sara looked back, seeing two men who raised their drinks up to you in a salute. 

Sara burst into laughter, looking back at you, “Should I tell them they’re not my type?” 

You shook your head giggling, “No! I want more free drinks.”

Giving them a coy smile, you raised your drink in salute back.

“Anyway, get this.” You continued your story, sipping the drink as you winked at the men behind you.

Sara’s eyes lit up as she sipped her free martini.

“He keeps calling me bunny.”

Sara’s dark brows pulled at the centre of her forehead, “Bunny?”

You smirked, “It’s what your brother calls me.”

Her face scrunched up, sipping the drink, “Ugh. I don’t want to know.”

You chuckled, “Well its important to the story, so suck it up. Aemond must have heard it, because now he won’t stop calling me bunny. It’s driving me insane.”

Her red lips pulled into a knowing smirk, “Insane, huh?”

“Oh no.”

“I see what’s happening now.”

“Sara.”

“You want to fuck him.”

Shit.

You sipped your martini heavily, not answering the woman in front of you. You were definitely tipsy by now, borderline drunk. You picked up your phone, screen lighting up.

It was already 5pm.

Sara was leant back in her chair, cool smirk on her perfectly lined lips, “I mean, I can’t blame you. There’s a reason they have ancient rumours of the Targaryens being Gods.”

Your eyes widened.

“What? I love Helaena, don’t I?” The words slipped out of her lips before she could take them back, blush creeping on her cheeks.

Now it was your turn to grin.

“Oh no. No. Shut your mouth.” She warned you, skulling the rest of the drink.

Your smirk grew wider, “You love her.”

Sara looked around the bar, trying to find a way out or distraction.

She found none. 

“No. We are here to talk about you and your problems, not mine.”

You hummed, the noise reminding you of the silver haired nightmare waiting for you at home, “Fine. But I won’t forget that you just said that.”

Sara rolled her eyes, raising her hand to hail the tall bartender again, ordering the pair of you a final drink.

“We are going to have our last drink. Discuss how you want this hulking, smouldering man to fuck you silly, and then you are going to go home and jump his bones so I don’t have to hear your complaints ever again.”

You opened your mouth widely at her in shock, “You fucking bitch.”

“You love me for the honesty. Besides, Helaena wouldn’t tell you how it is.”

You smiled.

She was right.

Helaena definitely would put more fluff around the words and be sweeter about it, especially since it was her brother.

After finishing your drinks, laughing and talking about Aemond and how he irked you, whilst describing the ways you wished to shut him up by keeping his mouth busy, you both decided to call it a night early with time to have dinner.

You kissed Sara on her cheeks as you walked through the Silk Lanes together and back to the train station. You would be getting the same train, and off at different stations. When it came to yours, Sara was still sitting as you moved to get off.

“Give him Hell, bunny.” She smirked, and you rolled your eyes at her. 

The walk home was short, but as you walked, you couldn’t help but think on your friends encouragement. 

Why should you let him give you shit?

Why are you letting I’m proverbially piss on his territory?

You had a sudden urge, aided by the drinks, to do as Sara commanded.

The keys missed the door twice before you finally got it in the hole, twisting open the handle and throwing the keys unceremoniously into the dish at the door. You didn’t even bother to take off your shoes as you marched straight to his room. 

You didn’t even bother knocking, swinging the door open with a forceful shove, eyes meeting the shocked and almost alarmed one of Aemond. 

He sat laid back on the bed, those stupid grey sweats on his defined thighs, the subtle bulge there and prominent in the grey of the cotton. Your eyes roamed his body with no shame, oggling his bare chest again as you felt heat settle in your gut. 

There was a singular lamp on beside the bed, and Aemond had a book open in his hand as he looked up at you through his lashes.

He raised a singular brow.

Your hands sat on your hips, immediately feeling defensive, “What?”

Aemond scoffed, “You’re in my room. You tell me, bunny.”

You blushed, “I told you, don’t call me that.”

He sighed, shutting the book in his lap as he leant lazily into the pillows, one long finger stuck between the folds of the pages. Your eyes strayed on it a moment more than they should have.

“What do you want, Y/n?” He sounded bored, impatient, with undertones of annoyance. 

But the way he rolled your name off of his tongue sounded more like a purr.

Damn him.

“Come join me.”

Both brows shot up on his face, the scar on his eye crinkling, before they settled again, cool face watching you, “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“No.”

Aemond smirked.

“Forget it.” You snapped, turning around.

You heard the bed behind you shift and the soft padding of feet behind you. Aemond followed you into the lounge room and sat on the couch, legs stretching out onto the coffee table as you tried not to sneer down at him. 

“Is this a house meeting?” He joked.

“No. This is a ‘get to fucking know the person you’re living with’ meeting.”

You watched as Aemond’s lips twitched, battling with the smirk that was pulling at them. He pursed them at you instead, and you didn’t know whether or not you wanted to slap him, or bite them.

You crossed your arms against your chest, jutting a hip out, feeling the warmth of all those martinis flowing through your body, “Why do you hate me?”

It was Aemond’s turn to frown, “I don’t hate you.”

“Then why are you such a dick?”

“A dick?”

You hummed back at him, turning to bend over and get a large pot out of the cupboard in front of him. You had drank your fair share, and if you were being honest, you were drunk. Not tipsy like you had thought, and you knew that you had an early morning with work, and needed at least something in your stomach to sober you up.

You made quick work of filling the pot with water, turning your head back to look at Aemond who watched you under a hooded eye.

“What’s your deal anyway?” You twisted back, settling the pot on the stove to boil the water, grabbing a bowl from above.

“My deal?” He parroted again.

You sighed, pulling a packet of instant noodles from the pantry to put the sachet packet in the bowl, “Tall, brooding, ‘devil may care’ attitude. You have this general disdain for everyone around you.”

“Brooding.” Aemond hummed.

“More annoying than anything, really.”

“Hm.”

You rubbed your face roughly, pointing at your bag which had been thrown on the couch when you entered, “Pass me that will you?”

Aemond simply lifted a brow at you, staying in his spot, until you emphasised your pointed hand with a flick of your arm. The man stood, bringing it over to you as you waited for the water to boil.

Digging through your bag you pulled out your cigarettes and rolled one messily. It would do.

You leant out the window and lit the smoke, Aemond watching you amusedly from beside. You took the first drag of the cigarette, giving yourself an immediate head spin.

You shut your eyes and blew out the smoke, a small groan falling from your lips.

“I would like to live under a roof where my patience is not questioned at every moment, and I’m not faced with a living and breathing hermit. It’s hard to believe you’re Helaena’s brother.”

Aemond moved to look down at you, leaning on the opposite end of the window, his long fingers reaching out to you, asking for a drag wordlessly. You looked at his hand, eyes narrowed as you lifted the cigarette to your lips again, ignoring his request, his hand still held out to you. 

Persistent asshole.

Blowing the smoke out the window, you gave him the cig, watching as he slowly brought it to his own lips, wrapping around it gently as he inhaled, eye on you the entire time. 

You shifted where you stood.

“Maybe you should ask some questions, bunny.” He breathed, holding the smoke in his chest before blowing it out.

“Fuck off.” You snatched the cigarette back from him, your fingers brushing against his.

He was so warm. 

Aemond chuckled from deep in his chest, a quiet rumble that was as smooth as silk.

Fuck.

“Well,” He began, looking out the window, “I’m Helaena’s brother.”

“No shit.”

“Well if you’re not going to ask questions-“

“-Will you even answer them?”

He pushed his tongue into his cheek as he thought.

“That's what I thought.” You dumped the lit smoke on the window sill and moved to put the noodles in the pot, stirring it once over, “Can you at least pretend to be civil? If not for me, for Helaena?” 

You turned to face him again, your cigarette at his lips as he watched you. He gave you a curt nod.

“Why did you leave Harrenhal?”

The question caught the both of you off guard, and you watched as Aemond retreated into himself, face turning to stone and eye narrowing. He blew the smoke slowly out the window, taking his gaze from you to lean out the sill with both elbows.

The tension floated over the two of you, and you suddenly felt bad for asking. You knew about the break up. Helaena had told you it had been really bad, but still, he didn't need to take it out on you.

You stirred the noodles again, watching them swirl around in a circle before opening your mouth to apologise, but Aemond beat you to it. 

“You still got some of that wine?”

You blinked, slowly inhaling, “I have something stronger?”

“Hm.” Was all you got in response as Aemond leant over you, stretching a long arm up to grab a glass.

You ducked down to rifle through the cupboards.

There, at the back, was a bottle of whiskey your ex had left behind. Not at all something you would usually drink, but the bottle alone was worth a small fortune, and so you had kept it. 

Small mercy’s, you supposed. 

Aemond took the bottle from you, inspecting the label as the edges of his lips tugged down. 

“Didn’t take you for a top shelf whiskey girl.”

“You don’t know much about me.” You paused, watching as he uncorked it, grabbing a handful of ice from the freezer to dump into the glass before he poured the amber liquid on top, “It’s not mine.”

“Your friends?” He teased.

“My ex.”

Aemond flicked his eyebrows at you and stirred it once in his hand, moving back to the window to grab the forgotten smoke. The man didn’t reply, opening the floor to you if you wanted to elaborate, and you felt like if you told him a little bit about you, then maybe he would open up. 

You turned the stove off, straining the noodles into the bowl, chucking the fork inside, mixing it all together. Bringing the bowl to balance on the windowsill, you curled the fork around some strands, blowing air on it to cool it down. 

“Textbook narcissist.” You began, watching as Aemond tilted his head towards you to indicate he was listening, bringing the golden drink to his lips to sip deeply, muscles in his shoulders rippling. 

“Caught him cheating on me, and then he had the gall to blame me because I came home early.” You shook your head, “Should have seen him though, face like a smacked ass. Can’t have your cake and eat it too.” You huffed, eating some of your noodles.

“Sounds like a keeper.” Came his smooth reply, taking another sip.

“She thought so. They’re still together.”

You ate your noodles quietly, letting the silence wrap around the two of you. It wasn’t that it was uncomfortable, you just didn’t know what else to say at that time.

Aemond opened the floor again, “Does he have a name?”

“Jason Lannister.”

Aemond turned his whole body towards you, mouth agape, “You dated the ‘Knob from Casterly Rock’?”

You whined, “It was dark times, okay? Character development and all that shit. How do you know him?”

Aemond scoffed, flicking the finished cigarette out the window into the darkness, “Hard to not know him. Always on campus, flouting mummy and daddy’s money.”

You snorted, “That’s rich. You’re literally a descendant of royalty. You own a castle. If anyone has mummy and daddy’s money it’s you.”

It was obvious this was a topic that was a definite no-go-zone for Aemond by the way his face and posture tensed, stomach flexing in the shadows of the kitchen. He threw back the last dregs of the whiskey, putting the glass down harder than what was needed.

“I take it you are making it on your own like Helaena, then?” You treaded carefully, trying to circle away from your comment before.

“I'm sure you'd take it any way you'd like.” His eye was narrowed on you, and the way he spoke made it seem as though he wasn’t talking about your thoughts on the matter.

You swallowed dryly, leaving the last of the noodles to be forgotten.

And then he continued, “I take what is owed to me. But I am not Aegon.”

You hummed in agreement, nodding your head, feeling the pull of sobriety in the back of your mind. 

"You know Aegon tried to hit on me once?" You smirked.

Aemond made a noise to suggest he wasn't surprised, eyebrows raising in slight amusement.

"Called me a Gazelle." You mused, "Long legs apparently." You kicked a leg out in show, still clad in the long boots.

Aemond scoffed, "Aegon will say anything to anyone to try and fuck."

"And here I was thinking I was a catch." You teased back.

Aemond stood close to you, and you could smell his cologne, matched with the smell of whatever soap and conditioner that he used. But you couldn’t help but notice the undertones of just him.

Earthy.

Musky.

A large finger tapped on the glass as he looked at you in thought, gold ring on his pinky hitting the side with a tink.

“Harrenhal has nothing for me anymore.” His voice low and deep, as he watched you, “Kings Landing offers more. Finishing my degree. Friends.” His eye roamed up and down your body. Even in your boots, he towered over you, “More.”

You swallowed, feeling your heart begin to race in your chest, heat settling in your gut.

“How so?” It came out as almost a whisper.

Aemond’s eye became half hooded as he looked down at you, humming as his tongue flicked out of his lips as he watched you, wetting the already parted plump flesh, just begging for you to reach up and capture them with your own.

“What are you asking me, bunny?” He asked, voice gravelly, filled with something.

You blinked, “I told you, don’t call me that.” You breathed.

He smirked, “Then what should I call you?” His hand reached out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, the contact sending sparks down your body.

You tried to steel yourself, suddenly sober, “My name.”

Aemond huffed, seeming to come closer to you, “Always so sharp.”

Your breath hitched in your throat.

The silver haired Targaryen hummed again, “I think… it’s all a show this defiance.”

You furrowed your brows, feeling anger begin to crackle in your chest.

“I think,” He leant forward, staring at you intently, “Under all this…” His hand caught the skirt of your dress, rubbing it between his fingers, “You just want to be a good girl, don’t you?”

Your core clenched, and you bit down on your lip to stop the small whimper that wanted to escape your mouth.

The corner of his lips quirked, another satisfied hum rumbling in his chest.

An affirmation that he was right.

And he knew it.

His face came closer to yours, tongue darting out to wet his lips again as he watched you, your thighs rubbing together subtly as you looked up at him. 

Heat travelled up and down your spine, his scent surrounding you as he looked at you. The violet of his eye slimmed as his pupil widened, his chest rising and falling jaggedly.

The change in demeanour made your head spin.

Your eyes dropped down to his lips as you breathed jaggedly, and it felt as though a rubber band had been pulled taut between you.

And then, it snapped.

Aemond pulled you forward, a clash of teeth and tongue, the taste of whiskey on his mouth as he curled his tongue to the inside of yours, one hand grabbing your waist to pull you against him, the other, tangling itself in your hair.

You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your hands around his shoulders as sparks of arousal lit up inside of you. A large hand skimmed down your waist and cupped your ass, squeezing it in his large palm as he groaned into your lips, teeth nipping your bottom lip roughly.

You ground against him and mewled, standing on your tiptoes to deepen the kiss, nails digging into the bare skin of his back as you pulled him to you. His hand delved lower, cupping just under your ass beneath your dress, fingers teasing against the line of your underwear. You rolled your hips forward feeling the hardness at the front of his sweats press into your stomach.

"Aemond." You sighed into his mouth.

He grunted, running a finger up your clothed folds, feeling the dampness that had begun to seep into the material. You pulled back, staring up at him, mouth agape and breathless as his finger pressed against your bud from behind, arms wrapping you against him. 

His violet eye was swallowed whole by his pupil, iris almost black with lust. His lips were swollen and pink, and a lone strand of hair had fallen away from the perfectly tucked manner he had it behind his ear.

His lips twitched as he looked at you, chest rising and falling, staring at you with nothing but animalistic lust. 

It was as if cold water had been doused over you. 

This was Helaena’s brother. 

What were you doing?

Shame and guilt flooded you in an instant. 

You couldn’t step back from where you were, pressed against the bench of the kitchen with him caging you in. All you could do was squeak a small ‘good night’ at the man, ducking beneath his arm who watched in confusion as you all but ran and hid in your room.

Fuck.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Taglist:

@mrstargayen09 @iamavailablesstuff @malfoytargaryen @hogwarts1207 @diannnnsss @seni039 @qyburnsghost @lilitheal @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @watercolorskyy @skikikikiikhhjuuh @toodlesxcuddles @kaelatargaryen @aemonds-fire @anitazut @melsunshine @persephonerinyes @hey-lucille @wintrr13@arcielee @hueanhdang @coffedraven @happinessinthebeing @zairishmya @hanula18 @lovejustlovelythings-blog @harryssunflxwer @spinachtz @bellaisasleep @aemshaircare @heavenly1927 @yentroucnagol @snh96 @thedamewithabook @hanula18 @sweethoneyblossom1 @siriusblackrunmeover17 @yentroucnagol @urmomsgirlfriend1 @carriellie @ipostwhtifeel@queenofshinigamis @toodlesxcuddles @the-common-cowgirl@ladymarg0t @deadgirlwalkingtaylorsversion @diiickbrainn @inkwingswrites @rawrxbexjealous @virtualsweetsqueen @adeliciouslysaltybitch @tsujifreya @boofy1998 @docmartinis @rabbit-reveries

Bold is who I cannot tag

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Pokemon Protag Vibes

Please note I have only player White, X, Sword, Legends; Arceus, And Scarlet. I Have not played Masters EX, nor have I watched any of the Anime since Indigo league.

Leaf: Talks Constantly, Says nothing. Valley Girl-esque mannerisms.

Ethan(G/S): Mischievous Gremlin

Ethan(C/HG/SS): Head Empty, No thoughts. big Jock Energy.

Kris: Very Confident, that confidence isn't always earned.

Lyra: Horse Girl. She's got a horse Girl personality. Willing to use her bag as a weapon.

Brendan: He drives a Square Body Ford that his dad had in the 70's. It's more of a daily driver than a truck. He keeps it in fairly good condition, but the inside is full of Fast Food Wrappers.

May: Drives a Toyota Hilux her Dad has from 88'. It's more Mud than Paint on the outside, and sounds like a dying bouffalant. Somehow Perfectly clean on the inside.

Lucas(BD/BDSP): Art Student that does yoga on the weekends.

Lucas(Plat): Theatre Student.

Dawn: Fashion Icon. Always wears a skirt even when it's below freezing. Carries a pocket knife on her just in case. Definitely bedazzled her phone case.

Hilbert: Quiet but also very expressive. Someone could try and mug and he'd say "Oh, Sorry, I'm late for something." And just keep walking. Wouldn't even realize the threat was there until someone tells him what was happening.

Nate: In another life he's an Alolan Ace Trainer.

Hilda: Prep Student you'd meet in High school, but She also looks like she'd knock someone's teeth out of their head if they messed with her, Preferably with a brick.

Rosa: Kinda Motherly? Upbeat, energetic, and exciteable in the same way as Hilda, just a bit more gentle.

Calem: Fawning Hopeless romantic. Dramatic in all his movements. He will wreck your team and laugh like a villain while doing so. He's actually a very nice person.

Serena: Looks very cute, acts very Fem. Generally a girly-girl, but she does get excited about destruction. Like. manic about it. Like Pyromania.

Elio(SM): Acts more like a Rival than any of the actual Rivals. He's not antagonistic but he's also not just your friend. He's a good pal, but also your enemy. He's serious about battling in a way only Red can Match.

Elio(USUM): "Hi, Would you like to talk to me about Dinosaurs?"

Selene(SM): She gives the best hugs out of everyone on this list. She also loves to give out hugs. You will be Hugged. There is no Escape.

Selene(USUM): She's either going to go eat worms or to convince someone else to eat a worm. Possibly Both. Probably both. It's both, she's going to do both.

Chase: He's %110 going to fist fight a Machamp on a dare. Or because he's told it's a very bad idea. He has no concept of self preservation. He drinks nothing but Capri-Suns and Chocolate milk.

Elaine: Telling Chase it's a very, very bad idea to fistfight a machamp. Will follow him and join him in the fight when he gets too deep. She's not gonna like doing it, but she's gonna do it.

Victor: Whatever he's doing, he'd rather be playing Cricket or having a pokemon battle.

Gloria: The internet declared her as a loud mouthed Scot and who am I to argue with the masses on that.

Rei: If Spider-Man (Specifically Peter Parker) was a Pokemon Character.

Akari: If Squirrel-Girl was a Pokemon character.

Florian: Scared of everything, and in that way brave every moment he's awake.

Juliana: Terminal Brainrot, Terminal Brainrot. Penny can only understand half of the "words" that come out of this girl's mouth. She should not have unlimited access to a phone at her age.

[tesalicious2]

Kit Fisto's Scuba Troopers

Lets go! (halfway through this became OC time)

Monnk was reconditioned once when he was 3 standard because Dred Priest was trying to get at the Mandalorian training Monnk (they were basically father and son, the Mandalorian giving Monnk his name and his sea dragon on his armor)

He was a very playful and joyful child until the reconditioning, the old personality is still there but is rarely shown anymore

After Monnks reconditioning, he didn't remember how to do anything so all of his fellow CCs and Scuba troopers retaught him so he doesn't fall behind, thanks to them he wasn't decommisioned

Kit Fisto had an incredibly hard time reading Monnk at first, feeling a blank wall in the Force but flickers of brightness

Kit's playful attitude when off duty helped bring out some of Monnk's old personality and Monnk will now crack smiles and make the occasional joke

Kit finds out abut the reconditioning after a hard battle that ended with Monnk in the bacta tank and it was marked in his file

The Scuba Troopers mostly take after Monnk's old personalility, being very playful and pranks are common in the Acclimator

Though, they can get serious very quickly and they are masters at fighting underwater

They have an extra set of armor, they underwater gear, while also having to maintain their snow, sand, and regular gear

Their CMO, Plague, known for treating infections and his harsh and constant anger. Do not make him mad or play any pranks in his Medbay. He is apart of the scariest batch of medics to come out of Kamino

He has/can/will scream at his patients (including generals)

(These include Sacrifice of the 104th, Agony of the Corries, Reaper of the Marine Corps, and Suffering of the 327th. They were one of the first batches of medics and the original Mandalorian Trainer was very hands on. Their attitude comes from her, she adores them the most.)

When meeting his batch, Plague is much more chill and can be seen smiling

If you want to get on his good side, you get one chance (your first visit that isnt the standard 'this is the medbay, i'm here to help')

If you come in on your own and are honest about what happened he will treat you nicely (no screaming, just silent treating of injuries)

If you had to be dragged in, complain, down play your injuries, don't say all of them, try to worm out, make excuses, lie about why you're there, kiss his ass (not so much but this is usually accompanied by any previous thing on this list), or he finds you before you come to him, you've lost and no longer get his good graces

so far, only one shiny has his good graces and is absolutely his favorite

Cancer was a fresh off Kamino shiny who was quiet and clearly uncomfortable with his batchmates being in another battalion. He came in two weeks after picking him up with a freshly bleeding slice in his face from where he fell in the mess and cut himself of a bench corner

He was warned against going to the med bay but went alone, Plague found something in his chest when they met (affection?) and was taken in by the shiny apologizing and explaining what happened. Cancer made no fuss and listened very well, when Plague checked on him in a week, his injury was gone!

Cancer made Plague speechless and ten minutes later Cancer was changed to a medic track with a new Ori'vod

Cancer excelled in the medic track and quickly took after Plague, however he didn't have his anger instead doing the "you're dissapointing me, i thought you were better than that" mixed with baby sad eyes which is somehow worse

Originally his name was Fungus (dubbed by others), because he grew on Plague quickly. Plague offered the name Cancer to which the newly dubbed Cancer hugged Plague

Plague moved Cancer to his room, since as CMO he gets private quarters

Cancer is completely aware of the favoritism and totally takes advantage (he may be a shiny, but Plague has taught him to guilt trip so hard.)

Plague has introduced Cancer to his batch and they adore him, Cancer became the most untouchable clone in the whole army

Due to the nature of their battalion, the medics can fix simple injuries and surgeries underwater and their belts have cloth loops to slide medical tools into

The ARCs can't wear their kamas or pauldrons underwater so their armor is painted to mimic the shapes of them, made up of swirls or wavy lines, their normal gear does have kamas and pauldrons

Kit is very bad at picking who to make ARCs because if he had his way, everyone would get the training

To make up for this, the ARCs teach much of what they learn to the regular troopers, though they are all rather adept at adapting to fit the situation

It is common for Kit’s ship to be covered in shells, dead coral, animal bones, and shiny rocks

All of the troopers have some love for the water and the species in them and after the war, many choose to become marine scientists, dive instructors, or underwater cinematographers

[iimplicitt]

DIRTY DANCING PT. 2 | CL16

dirty dancing masterlist

charles leclerc x fem! character

baby wanders off where she isn’t supposed to be. god and her father definitely wouldn’t approve

wc: 3.3k

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Light chatter and music swirled in the air as she lifted her wine glass to her lips, for the most part tuning out her dad while he talked to Toto. She was careful not to spill anything as she set the glass down on the white table cloth. Cautious of her dress and worried she’d make a fool of herself.

She barely noticed when a waiter walked up until Toto spoke again. “Ah, this is Lance, your waiter. Cambridge medical school.”

Lance smiled and she realized he was the one who had said something to Charles earlier. Toto introduced her parents, her sister, and then he gestured his arm to her. “And this is Baby. These people are my special guests, give them anything they want. Enjoy.”

“Thanks, Toto.” Her father called as he walked away.

She smiled politely as Lance handed her a menu but didn’t spare him much else thought. But as she looked over at her sister, the heart eyes were evident.

Dinner droned on, for the most part uneventful. Her sister made tone deaf comments, her dad struggled not to talk about work, her mum tried to convince them all to get up early tomorrow to watch the sunrise. Baby stayed quiet, moving the leftovers on her plate around. She didn’t have much to talk about, at least nothing they found interesting. She was sure if she talked about her economics class they’d start snoring.

Toto walked up to them, smiling as he clapped his hands together. “I want you all to meet someone, my protégé George.” He stepped to the side, revealing another tall man though more slim. He was handsome, in a very English-boy type of way. “He’s majoring in hotel management.”

“Baby’s starting King’s College this fall, for grad school that is.” Her dad said proudly.

When everyone looked at her she smiled tightly, not a fan of the attention.

“Oh, great.” George said, leaning closer to her. “Are you studying english?”

Her smile got even more tight. “No. Economics in underdeveloped countries.”

George laughed and shook his head like it was a joke before he joined in on the conversation the other two men were having.

“There’s an after dinner party if you and your girls would like to join?”

Baby opened her mouth to say she was tired. An excuse for some peace and quiet but her sister perked up. “Oh, yes please. That sounds lovely.”

She smiled as best she could, trying not to think too much as George’s hands rested on her hips, dancing to the music. They weren’t doing much, really just swaying and he went on and on about the hotel management classes he was taking. The music was nice though, so she decided to tune him out as she listened to the beat. Nodding every now and then.

Older couples kept bumping into them as people moved across the dance floor. But their steps were untrained, choppy, and messy. George stepped on her toes a few times and the action was returned as her trainers stepped on his polished leather shoes. She muttered apologies but he didn’t seem to care much, given he probably had twenty other pairs.

The band suddenly changed tune, sounds of the mambo pouring out from strings and the energy picked up. People bumped into her shoulder causing her to fall into George, his hand coming up easily around her shoulders to catch her.

“Easy now, I got you.” His smile was easy and charming. Cheeks pulling back into high cheekbones.

She honestly didn’t mind looking at him but she couldn’t help but find him boring.

Her eyes drifted as they danced, not really going along with the music and she noticed people part the middle of the dance floor suddenly, catching the gleam of a woman’s blonde hair and then– her breath caught slightly. There was Charles. His hand in the blonde woman’s as they made their way to the center of the dance floor. Embodying confidence and he wore a well tailored black suit and tie.

They were magnetic, the way they danced. Each foot placed in precision. Looking elegant yet loose. Like the music was flowing through them, guiding their moves. The pair smiled at each other, knowing they had the room captivated yet lost in their own world.

“Who are they?” She finally asked, not being able to look away.

“Who?” George’s eyes looked over the crowd easily due to his height. She watched as he tensed up a bit, looking annoyed. The shift in his expression was subtle, but she knew how to read people. “Oh, them. They’re the dance people.” He looked back down at her, smiling again. “Here to keep the guests happy.”

Baby looked over her shoulder, watching as Charles spun the woman around. Her leg kicked high and his hands danced up her thighs. Sultry, well practiced. Intimate.

“They shouldn’t show off with each other.” He muttered, brows furrowed in disapproval.

“Why not?” Hell, she was entranced. As were many others. Her gaze followed each step, each placement of his hands, the way his hips moved.

“That’s not going to sell lessons.” George sighed, pulling them to a stop as Toto walked up.

If she wasn't so intimidated by them she’d probably sign up for lessons, just as a chance to get closer to Charles. But she couldn’t say that outloud. It was fanciful. Ridiculous. Guys like that didn’t look at girls like her.

Toto made a cut it out gesture as he locked eyes with the two dancers. They looked at each other a moment, hesitating but their steps slowed to a halt. Plastering on fake smiles as they wandered out into the crowd. Finding people to dance with, convincing them lessons were the best kind of fun.

Baby bit the inside of her cheek as she watched Charles, that small part of her hoping he magically made his way over to her. But what was she even going to do then? She couldn’t dance and the thought of making a fool of herself was nauseating.

George rested his hand on her shoulder. “I’m helping set up the games for tonight if you’d like to help?”

She opened her mouth but her father answered before her. “She’d love to–”

“Actually.” She swallowed thickly, eyes dancing between the two men. She wasn’t much of a liar, especially when it came to her father. But it wasn’t a big deal, right? A white lie. She just wanted some space. “I’m feeling a little uneasy from dinner, is it okay if I go get some air and lay down?”

“Of course, feel better honey.” He kissed her lightly on top of the head and George muttered a goodbye, looking a bit disappointed but she didn’t look back as she walked out the door.

The cool night air hit her skin and she felt like she could breathe for the first time in what felt like hours. The stars winked at her as she walked down the stairs, curious to where she was going. What she was doing out in what was usually way past her bedtime.

Her feet carried her along the stone path, past all the villas that had lights peeking out from the curtains. Flickers of life and laughter. Coming to a stop as the path split in two. There weren’t any signs to guide her, so she shut her eyes and listened. Asking the universe to take her wherever it thought she needed to go.

When the sound of waves crashing hit her ears she turned to the left, letting the faint smell of salt water carry her along until she ended up at the beach that lined the property. She smiled, not remembering the last time she’d been by the open waters. The air feeling more fresh and wild.

She didn’t keep track of time as she walked, the tide coming up gently as moonlight reflected on the water. She didn’t pay attention as she walked past a sign that said employee’s only, and didn't realise music was suddenly creeping up on her ears.

Baby didn’t notice that the resort was a bit further than it should’ve been as the guy she met earlier, Arthur, was struggling to make it up a pair of old wooden stairs as he carried three large watermelons. One of them slipped a bit, nearly shattering into clumps of fruit on the ground but he managed to catch it.

She bit back a laugh as she walked up to him. “Do you need help?”

He flinched and whirled around, eyes widening at the sight of her and the third watermelon slipped again but Baby managed to catch it.

“How’d you get here?” Arthur made to reach for the fruit but she backed away.

“I was on a walk–”

“Well, go back.”

“Let me help.”

“No, no guests allowed. Hotel rules.”

She ignored him and looked up at the small building that the stairs led up to, the faint sound of music leaking from the windows. “What’s up there?”

“Why don’t you go back to the playhouse?” Arthur tried again and began to sway with the watermelons he was carrying. “I saw you dancing with the little boss man.”

She merely raised an unamused brow at him, not budging. Once Arthur accepted she wasn’t going anywhere he sighed and gestured for her to follow him. She watched the steps, careful not to trip. The music getting louder and louder, unlike anything they were playing earlier.

Arthur turned around as they reached the door, looking her over for a moment and she self consciously held the watermelon closer to her chest. Was there something wrong with her dress?

“Can you keep a secret?” His voice was low, more serious than she’s seen him. A little worried.

She nodded, no hesitation. She wasn’t used to keeping them but she knew she could honor it.

He shook his head at himself. “Your parents are gonna kill you. Toto is gonna kill me–”

“Hey, I won’t tell. Promise.” She smiled at him, trying to be reassuring.

He didn’t look that convinced, but he leaned against the door anyway and it swung open.

Her mouth went a little dry and her eyes widened as she took in all that was happening in front of her, faintly hearing Arthur laugh at her reaction as he led them further into… whatever this place was. She’d never seen anything like this. Never thought it existed. She spent her weekends in her room or in church and this would’ve been filed under things that were definitely off limits. Not allowed. Sinful.

Bodies pressed together. Legs wrapped around hips. Fingers dug into waists. Backs bending. Mouths on necks and hands in hair. Everyone’s hips seemed glued together, moving with the music, and it made her heart skip a beat. The promiscuity of it all, something she only saw glimpses of in movies but even then it was toned down. Faded to black.

They weaved between bodies and she never felt so out of place, feeling the glowing eyes of those who watched her. Knowing she was an intruder.

Stopping at a table, Arthur grabbed the fruit from her hands, still looking beyond amused at her reaction. “Like it?”

It took her a moment to pull her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Where’d they learn to dance like that?”

“Where?” He asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall as his own eyes flicked over the crowd. “I don’t know. Kids are doing it in their basements back home. “ His eyes slid over to hers, his lips pulling back in a smile that was too reckless. Too handsome. “Wanna try?”

She immediately shook her head, looking frightened as she watched a guy wrap his arms around his partner, dancing his way down her body, nose dragging down her torso.

Arthur laughed lightly. “C’mon, Baby. Can you imagine them dancing like this on the main floor? Toto would close this place down the second someone’s skirt flew up.”

There were sudden cheers and her eyes skipped over to the doors, her breath catching as she watched Charles walk in, hand in hand with that blonde dancer from earlier. Greeting people as they walked by, taking sips of drinks handed to them. Already the life of the party and they’d only just arrived.

The two fell into step with the music immediately, carrying them as they walked. Hips swaying and shoulders moving. A lazy smile on his lips as he spun the girl around.

“They look good together,” she managed to say. Feeling little pricks of envy and the edge of her nerves. Wishing that could be her but that didn’t seem obtainable. Not in this lifetime.

Arthur turned to where she was looking and hummed. “Yeah. That’s my brother, Charles Leclerc. He got me a job here.” They watched as Charles’ hands dragged down the woman’s side, swaying to the music and her laughter filled the air. “You’d think they were a couple, wouldn’t you?”

That got her attention, her head snapping over to Arthur. Bewildered. “They aren’t?”

He shook his head, smiling knowingly and she looked away from him.

Do you love me? by The Contours started to play over the speakers and she felt the earth rip out from beneath her feet as Charles’ eyes suddenly locked onto her. His expression unreadable, eyes dark in the low lighting. When he began making his way over she thought she was about to have a panic attack. Which was ridiculous. He was just a man. But that didn’t stop her as her hands flew up to fix her hair. God, she knew she should’ve put it up or something. She probably looked a mess.

Charles came to a stop right in front of her, eyeing her down his nose. He was even more heavenly up close. His jaw sharp and cheekbones high, looking as if he was sculpted from marble by an obsessed artist. His dark brown hair a mess and the buttons of his white button down were undone at the top, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His cologne swirled around her mixed with the smell of tobacco and she felt dizzy. She smiled a little, but when he didn’t return it she felt like she had been slapped.

His eyes flicked over to Arthur. “Qu’est qu’elle fait la?”

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. “She came with– she’s with me.”

Charles raised a brow, looking back down at her.

Her brain short circuited. Still not quite believing he was standing in front of her. “I carried a watermelon.”

He blinked at her, thick eyelashes dusting over the tops of his cheeks. Looking at her like she had two heads.

Then he walked away.

Her shoulders slumped, watching back as he walked back into the crowd. Easily slipping around another girl and they began to dance.

I carried a watermelon? Really? She was hopeless.

Arthur offered to dance with her but she shook her head. “I’m just gonna watch.”

He shrugged before going off, finding his own sin for the night.

She couldn’t stop watching Charles. It was a strange sensation. She felt like she was doing something wrong, watching as his hands tightened over some girl's hips, guiding her along with him, his lips near her neck but never quite touching.

Then he looked up. Right at her. Smiling slightly into the other girl’s throat, her hands in his hair.

A sensation she’d never felt before swirled in her stomach. Her face felt hot. She should look away. Be ashamed. Go back to her room.

But he was magnetic. Pulling her in with just a look. Frozen. Wanting him. She felt dizzy.

He knew what he was doing.

He pulled away from the girl, still moving along with the music as he made his way over and she could feel her heart racing. Speeding. Tripping over itself.

Baby didn’t take her eyes off him as he came to stand right in front of her, their chests nearly touching.

His grin was sinful and sharp. Looking like a shark who had just caught a whiff of blood in the water.

Charles looked her over, eyes heavy and his skin glistened a little with sweat. His white shirt sticking to him like a second skin, evident with the way his bicep flexed as he lifted his hand. His fingers made a come here motion as he stepped back into the crowd.

She felt her body moving forward without thinking about it. Feeling like a doll tied to strings, its owner impatiently dragging her. She had no idea what she was doing and felt a little suffocated as people bumped into her. But Charles kept his eyes on her, scaring her yet reassuring her at the same time. Feeling an odd sense of security as she met him on the dance floor.

He started to move, not touching her but close. A mere breath away. Easing her into it. His hips moving and she tried to mimic him but felt stiff. Wrong all over. She didn’t dance.

Baby knew she had to have been as red as a tomato and was half tempted to turn around and leave when his voice suddenly carried over the music. “Bend your knees.” His voice was soft but rough, his eyes on her waist as he watched her try to do as he said. “Down.”

She knew she looked like a fool but he didn’t make fun of her. Just smiled. He was a dance teacher after all, he wasn’t supposed to make beginners feel bad about themselves.

He shook his head when she stumbled and she nearly fell over when his hands were suddenly on her hips. Feeling as if she’d been shocked and her eyes were wide as she stared. His large hands were warm, well practiced. Foreign. She’d never had a man touch her like this before.

“Watch.” He muttered, but when she didn’t listen his fingers pressed beneath her jaw gently. Making her look at him. “Watch my eyes.”

The moment their gazes locked he smiled again, though it was a bit different. Something else lurked underneath it. She could tell he was satisfied with her compliance. The word “good,” pouring out from his mouth so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.

She gasped slightly as one of his arms wrapped around her waist, yanking her forward and into him. The hard muscles of his stomach pressing into her, his hips… she felt delirious. Like this was some dream she’d wake up from.

“That’s better,” he said. “Now, roll this way.”

She moved along with him as best she could, trying to be loose but tension still coiled in her muscles.

She couldn’t help it as her eyes danced down between them again, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. What she was doing. Her father would kill her but right now she didn’t care.

He laughed lightly, his breath ghosting her face. So close. She thought she was going to melt through the floor. His hand snaked up around her throat, tilting her head back so she would look at him again. “You get distracted easily,” he mused.

She couldn’t think of a response. Couldn’t think at all.

The song reached its end and he spun her around, the world becoming a blur of bodies and lights and a laugh left her. Not feeling like herself. Feeling like a stranger.

When she came to a dizzying stop she realised he was gone. Nowhere to be seen no matter where she looked. Her heart was hammering in her chest and out of breath.

Despite the slight disappointment she had never felt so alive. So electric. Buzzing.

She smiled all the way back to her room. His eyes flashing behind her own eyelids as she fell asleep. Determined to see him again. Somehow.

tag list: @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @ashbone @c8lap1nto @taasgirl @stopeatread @dying-inside-but-its-classy

[geetasuxlol]

Etta's Press Conference

[It appears to be a video file.]

[Press play?]

[It's the press conference in Motostoke! Chairman Rose is standing behind a podium, surrounded by reporters and curious onlookers. "...know you've just been dying to meet her. A trainer so extraordinary that I couldn't help but scout her myself. Allow me to introduce you all to Vee!"

Etta comes into the shot as the crowd applauds, smiling wide. She's 'Vee', with her hair done up and in her gym clothes. She jogs up to the podium, eyes sparkling. "Hi everybody!" she chirps. "Nice to meet'cha!"

Chairman Rose waits for the crowd to quiet down before speaking next. "Vee, Vee," he says amiably. "Since the moment I met you, I've felt quite the connection. Would you mind terribly if I considered you something of a daughter figure?"

Immediately, Etta's eyes widen. It seems she wasn't expecting that. "Heck no!" she squeaks, shaking her head. "I've got a Dad already!"

But instead of being offended, Rose laughs it off along with the others. "You're such a spitfire! Tell us a little bit about yourself."

"Well, um..." Etta shifts quickly back into Vee mode, smiling away. "As a gym leader's daughter, I grew up with an appreciation for both pokemon and pokemon battles."

In that moment, she looks directly at the camera, and her expression becomes one of adoration. "Dad, I know you're watching back home in Paldea. You're my reason to keep going! I love you so much!"

There's the sound of 'aww'-ing from everyone else. Rose smiles. "You care an awful lot about your dad, don't you?"

"Sure do!" Etta clenches a fist, grinning. "And when I win this, I'm taking it all home just for him!"

"That's the spirit!" Rose claps her on the back, then looks to the crowd. "We are now open for questions."

There's an immediate flurry of reporters talking. Etta points to one of them. "Yes, you."

"Miss Vee! Is it true that you lost your Champion status in Paldea because of a disagreement with Chairwoman Geeta?"

Etta winces, but only for a moment. "That's correct. It was very upsetting, but I respect the League's decision. I'm doing my best to look towards the future, onto bigger and brighter things."

Another flurry of talking. Again, Etta points to a reporter. "You in the hat."

"Thank you, Miss Vee. We at the Galarian Sun have a few concerns, mainly with your schedule. No one's completed the Gym Challenge Circuit--PLUS Champion Cup--in such a short timeframe, let alone with level five pokemon practically fresh from their eggs. How do you possibly intend to pull off such a feat?"

Now Etta grins. "In my time at Blueberry Academy, I learned how to train Pokemon quickly and efficiently, all while considering their wellbeing first and foremost. So to answer your question, my pokemon and I are going to work hard, and we're going to play hard!"

There are murmurs of approval.

Etta continues to answer various questions for awhile with minimal slip-ups. For a first interview, it's pretty good. It goes on until Rose claps his hands together. "Speaking of pokemon...I think it's time you met your new partners, Vee. Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be!" Now Etta looks genuinely enthusiastic. An employee comes out with two shining pokeballs on a pillow. Etta nods her thanks, taking them in her hands and depressing the buttons in the center.

Two pokemon pop out. A Lillipup and an Eevee, both of which quickly trot up to Etta to sniff and play with her. Immediately, Etta is squealing. "Hello! Aw...! Hello, my little friends. Oh, you're so cute! Awwww....!"

The camera zooms in on Etta picking both Pokemon up and laughing as they squirm and lick at her face. This shot is going to be in most of the papers soon enough.

"I think I speak for all of us when I ask this question, Etta." Rose tilts his head, a loose lock of his hair shifting with the movement. "What are you going to name these two little rascals?"

"Nonna!" gushes Etta. "Nonna for the Lillipup, and Vivi for the Eevee!"

"Well, there you have it, folks." Rose smiles, addressing the crowd once more. "No more questions, please."

The feed cuts off.]

[ushihinasimp]

The bar had an understated elegance—warm lighting glowed against dark wooden walls, and shelves stocked with expensive whiskey and sake lined the back. The scent of aged alcohol, tobacco, and the faintest hint of citrus lingered in the air. The occasional clink of glasses and low hum of conversation added to the intimate, relaxed atmosphere. It was a place for professionals looking to unwind, and for four former volleyball players, it had become their unofficial meeting spot.

At their usual booth, Kuroo Tetsurou flicked the ash from his cigarette, his tie already undone and his sleeves rolled up. “Alright, gentlemen,” he drawled, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “Which one of us is the most washed-up?”

Iwaizumi Hajime, sipping his bourbon, didn’t even hesitate. “It’s you.”

Kuroo let out a sharp laugh, pointing at him. “You didn’t even think about that!”

“Didn’t need to,” Iwaizumi shot back, setting his glass down. “You work too much, complain about back pain, and text Kei about it like he’s your doctor.”

Kuroo made an exaggerated scoffing noise. “Excuse me for trusting my beloved husband.” He flicked his lighter open and closed, absentmindedly playing with the flame. “For the record, Kei says I’m aging like fine wine.”

“More like expired milk,” Daichi muttered, dragging his cigarette to his lips.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, who had been listening quietly, let out a small chuckle.

Kuroo turned to him. “Alright, Ushijima, settle this. Who’s the most washed-up?”

Ushijima set his whiskey glass down with a quiet clink. His deep voice was as even as ever. “I don’t believe any of us are washed-up.”

Kuroo groaned. “You’re too nice, man.”

Daichi smirked. “He just doesn’t want to admit it’s him.”

Ushijima shook his head, taking another sip of whiskey before saying, “Shoyo would not allow it.”

At the mention of his name, the table perked up.

Kuroo grinned. “Speaking of which, how’s married life treating you?”

Ushijima exhaled, glancing down at the cigarette in his hand. A moment of hesitation passed before he finally admitted, “Shoyo wants me to quit smoking.”

That earned a round of knowing laughter.

Iwaizumi nudged his glass toward him. “And how’s that going?”

Ushijima took a long, deliberate drag from his cigarette. The smoke curled up between his fingers before he finally exhaled, looking entirely unbothered. “…Not well.”

Daichi chuckled. “Figured.”

Kuroo leaned forward, grinning. “Then how does he reacts when he catches you?”

Ushijima let out a small sigh, his gaze softening in a way that only happened when he talked about his husband. “He scolds me. And then he pouts.”

Iwaizumi whistled. “Damn. He must really want you to stop.”

Ushijima nodded. “Shoyo says he doesn’t want me getting sick. And that I smell like smoke too often.”

Kuroo smirked. “What, he doesn’t like the scent of expensive tobacco?”

Ushijima shook his head. “No. He says he prefers how I smell after a shower.”

There was a beat of silence before Kuroo let out a dramatic groan. “Look at you. God, you’re so in love.”

Ushijima didn’t deny it. Instead, he took another slow drag from his cigarette before setting it down in the ashtray. “I try to quit,” he admitted. “But it’s difficult.”

Iwaizumi nodded, tipping his glass toward him. “Addiction’s a bitch.”

Daichi exhaled a trail of smoke. “You’ll figure it out. Just don’t let Shoyo catch you again.”

Ushijima hummed. “He always does.”

That earned another round of laughter, the kind only old friends could share.

Kuroo leaned back in his chair, rolling his glass between his fingers. “Man, Iwa, I still can’t believe you’re actually a trainer now. Feels like you just went from screaming at Oikawa to screaming at pro athletes.”

Iwaizumi snorted, swirling his whiskey. “Not that different, honestly. Oikawa was just as stubborn as these guys.” He took a sip, then sighed. “But, yeah… some days, I miss playing myself.”

Daichi leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “We all do.”

Ushijima, silent as ever, took a slow drag from his cigarette before exhaling toward the ceiling. “The drive to win never really leaves,” he said simply.

There was a quiet understanding in the air. Late-night practices, brutal drills, the feeling of sweat-soaked jerseys clinging to their backs—those memories still lived in them, even if their bodies had moved on.

“But look at us now,” Kuroo said, lifting his glass in mock celebration. “Corporate dogs, all of us. I spend my days buried in meetings, you—” he nodded at Daichi, “—are bossing around a whole police force, Iwa’s breaking pro players, and Wakatoshi’s out there terrifying his subordinates.”

Ushijima took another sip of his drink. “I am not terrifying.”

“You made an intern cry last week,” Daichi pointed out.

Ushijima frowned slightly. “He was underprepared.”

Kuroo smirked. “See? Terrifying.”

The conversation drifted between work, relationships, and memories of their volleyball days—late-night practices, punishing drills, the burning desire to win. And now? Now they had careers, mortgages, and significant others waiting at home.

Things had changed, but at that moment, sitting together with cigarettes between their fingers and alcohol warming their throats, it felt like nothing had changed at all.

And maybe, in some ways, nothing ever would.

[ven10]

For the weird asks: 1, 4, 9, 17, 56! :)

Hi Cygninae! :) Thanks for the ask! :))

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Coffee mugs but I drink tea in them bc I don’t like coffee much. (Though I had a mocha once and it was delicious! Although I’m not 100% sure there was even any caffeine in it 🤔 so idk if it’d even count as coffee) ☕️ [btw cygninae, I’m aware ur ideas on how tea should be drank are horribly warped so if u ever need advice of how to fix such an askew set of beliefs…well, I’ll be right here for u buddy😔☕️. You can get through this, I believe in you 😔💪🫵🫂]

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Always got the classic “quiet” and “a pleasure to teach!” comments however in my last year of primary school my teacher said I have “a witty sense of humour” + I still think about that sometimes :)

Although, this one year a student teacher came to my class and if you’d have asked her she’d have probably started spouting an entire thesaurus worth of insults bc she, for some unknown reason, had a vendetta against my entire class and especially me.

For example, the main teacher (not student) allowed all the students to read their own books once they finished their work, right? So, after I finished my work I brought out my book and started to read. All the other 5ish people at my table were already reading. The student teacher walks up behind me, leans down right in my ear, closes my book (LOSING THE PAGE!!!😭😖😣😢🫣🫠🫢😬😱😨)and hisses “This is not a literacy lesson, *my name*!!” Then she proceeded to stalk away, ignoring everyone else at my table + at the other tables who were ALSO reading and had started before me.

Not to continue ranting about something that happened years ago there was also another time where our main teacher left the student teacher in charge for 15mins while the main teacher attended a meeting. When the main teacher returned the student teacher made up an entire story about how badly behaved our class was including, but not limited to, how we all shouted over her, ran around and threw pencil cases across the classroom. None of those things happened.

9.favorite smell in the summer?

There’s a pretty distinct smell of Summer mornings that I like a lot; I think it’s a mix of damp grass and fresh air, possibly other factors too. It smells of freedom, energy and possibility, with a bit of nostalgia chucked in there too for good measure! ☀️

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

Honestly? A pair of painfully muddy trainers.

However if I’m to be seen in public (excluding other people on walks etc) I’ll put on either a pair of black high tops or black boots (that sort of look like dms)!

56. favorite tradition?

Every year after putting up the Christmas decorations my family watches a specific movie together. It’s really nice! Although getting trickier to organise by the year since we don’t all live in the one place anymore! :) 🎄 📺

Thanks for the ask! This was fun to answer! Went on a bit of a rant on no.4 but u can just skip that if u don’t want to read it! Feel free to send more asks if you like, or drawing requests! :) (also if you do send drawing requests feel free to say what kind of style you want it to be in bc I’ve posted a few diff kinds+I enjoy drawing in different ways anyway)

:)