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festivalsofmargot · 1 year

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Blood Sport {Garreth Weasley x Fem!Reader}

Got this pic of Garreth from Rimaeternax on twitter!!!

AGED UP CHARACTERS, 18+ SCENARIOS (Characters are in their 7th year and are 18+)

Introduction: Garreth had begged you not to put your name in The Goblet of Fire. The TriWizard Tournament was known for being so dangerous, it was practically a death sentence to every school Champion chosen. You promised him you wouldn’t, but when you found out your best friend Natty had entered her name, you decided to go against his wishes and enter behind his back. Being as capable as you were and the only person in ages able to wield ancient magic, of course your name was chosen. Along with an overwhelming sense of dread that you could die, Garreth felt betrayal, and has kept his distance from you ever since.

Word Count: ~ 9,900 (I’m gonna be honest, I dunno how it happened)

Warnings: Heavy Drinking, Swearing, Angst, Smut (Sex, Edging, Oral)

Author’s Note: I made this so it could be a standalone, but in case you’d like extra background, this is a continuation of Garreth’s portion in The 3 Boys & The Hogwarts Champion. I couldn’t get his part out of my head and I had to write out the rest of his story. Freckled Serotonin could be a prequel too haha, a fic that takes place during a time where the relationship is only happiness and fluff. Maaaan, I have been obsessing and losing sleep over this fic all week and I’m so happy I finally finished! It’s my longest one yet, so get cozy and grab a snack 🥰 Hope you guys have a great night ❤

Songs (if interested):

Blood Sport - Sleep Token (Original Version & Room Below Version)

for forever - EKKSTACY

You Can’t Stop Me - Alex G

you not the same - TileKid

The Love You Want - Sleep Token

Lights Are On - Tom Rosenthal

It had been weeks now since you and Garreth last spoke. You knew he needed time and space to forgive you, but your second challenge was coming up soon, and now more than ever you wanted him by your side again.

The Durmstrang Champion, Maxim Mainka, had caught a few hints at what it could be, and things weren’t looking good if his suspicions were correct. He had been so concerned he wanted to prepare with you and the Beauxbatons Champion, Amelie DuPont. Was there anything more unsettling than something that could put a Durmstrang student on edge?

Possibly facing a challenge you couldn’t overcome within the next week had weighed on you more and more as it approached. So when Professor Weasley announced that the fourth years and up were to meet for dance practice for the upcoming Yule Ball, you were over the moon. You’d take anything that could help take your mind off it all.

You grinned a bit seeing all the younger years get uneasy at Professor Weasley explaining the proper dance that was required of everyone if they wanted to attend. The seventh years were the only ones who seemed to be at ease with the whole thing, probably because it wouldn’t be the first time touching someone so intimately for most of you. Whereas the younger years had never even held hands with someone and it was written all over their faces.

“Garreth, come up and help me demonstrate please.”

Your smile faltered a bit watching Garreth walk up. He received some whistles and hollers as he strode up to his aunt proudly, chest puffed like he was about to own this demonstration dance. You couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips, of course you still found him as hilarious as ever, despite your current situation.

He blew an exaggerated kiss to the audience and you cackled along with the other students. He then joined his aunt for the dance, keeping the smug look on his face as she talked through the steps for everyone. At one point, he surprised her with a dip, causing everyone to howl with laughter and she smacked him lightly. He said a quick apology and brought her back up.

“That’ll do. Thank you, Garreth.” He stepped back from his aunt and gave a dramatic bow, bringing another round of chuckles from everyone as you all clapped for him.

“Alright, now everyone find a partner and we’ll go through the steps together.”

Most of the students went quiet and still, not wanting to make the first move. The only ones who got up to move were the ones in relationships, heading to join their significant others for practice. You looked down to the ground, suddenly feeling like an unconfident fourth year yourself.

Garreth caught sight of you amongst the crowd. He had been wanting to go up and speak to you these last few days, but he couldn't get himself to do it. There never seemed to be a good time, he started to doubt there ever would be.

He straightened his tie, more out of bustling nerves than anything, and strode up to you. He held out his hand for you to take and you slowly looked up at him, clearly taken aback.

He looked down at you with a smirk, hoping you didn’t see through his feigned confidence. “What do you say, oh mighty Champion of Hogwarts?”

You swallowed thickly, your body wasn’t handling Garreth speaking to you again as well as you had hoped, but you’d take this moment regardless. You tentatively took his hand and he tugged you up with ease. He kept your hand in his as he led you to the floor, then effortlessly pulled you into the dance, his hold on you firm and warm.

“You have horrible taste in dance partners, Weasley.” You tried to jest to hide how anxious you were. Unable to meet his gaze, you looked down at your feet to make sure you didn’t step on his. It was a bit much, not speaking for as long as you had and now you were in his arms like this.

“Just follow the expert, you’ll be fine.” He pulled you even closer to him, getting you to finally look up at his face. His eyes bored into yours, and it wiped your mind clean of any coherent thought you had. You wanted to look back down to your feet but he had pulled you too close to be able to do so, so you settled for looking at your hand on his shoulder.

“I uh - I thought I’d take this chance to speak with you.” It was Garreth’s turn to feel uneasy.

Well… that doesn’t sound good. “Alright.”

He looked away from you, his jaw tensing, bracing himself for what he was going to say next. Your stomach dropped seeing his face turn so dismayed when he was being goofy and having fun only a moment ago.

“I don’t know how best to put this, so I’m just going to say it. I think we should just be friends.” He could feel you stiffen and he pulled you in closer, your stance turning more into an embrace. He placed his cheek against yours, your swaying becoming only small steps from side to side. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I really do hope we can be friends, I’ll do anything to make that happen. Anything. But, I can’t be yours anymore. I just… I can’t. It hurts too much.”

Your eyes stung with tears, and you hated that one had managed to fall. But you were able to remain standing tall. Unable to speak with your throat feeling so constricted, you settled for a brief nod of your head, letting him know you heard him.

“Whatever you need, it's yours. I’ll help you through the rest of the tournament any way I can, just say the word.”

Quickly wiping away your stray tear before he could see it, you cleared your throat. You shifted in your stance so he could back off of you a bit. “Let’s stick with dance lessons, yeah?”

You looked over his shoulder, focusing on nothing in particular while he eyed you a moment longer. He then nodded his head, looking over your shoulder at nothing in particular himself. “Yeah… Yeah, alright then.”

That night you had decided to go to The Hog’s Head. You would go to Three Broomsticks, but you didn’t want to chance bumping into Garreth. You wanted to avoid him like the plague.

Walking in, you saw Maxim Mainka. He was sitting at the bar, drinking and cheerily speaking with those around him. He noticed you walk in and lit up like you were just the person he wanted to see.

“Fellow Champion! Come! Come join me!”

You smiled and joined his side at the bar.

“One for my friend, on me!” He called to the bartender.

You gladly took the pint placed in front of you and began on a steady stream of gulps.

“That’s the way!” He cheered, patting you on the back and clearly feeling a good buzz in his cheeks. He held up his drink to you and you clinked it with yours. “Let’s enjoy our last few days alive, my friend!”

You stilled and thought on his words for a moment. You knew Maxim had been feeling edgy about the upcoming challenge, but you didn’t think he’d be this convinced none of the champions would make it out alive.

You started to go a bit numb. The love of your life had asked you to ‘just be friends’ and you might very well die in a few days…

What better time to drink myself silly?

You raised your pint, “Here’s to that.” Then you brought it back to your lips for more.

Garreth sat at the bar of The Three Broomsticks, barely able to touch his drink; he was so sick to his stomach. He rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, unable to follow the chatter of his friends next to him.

He knew ending things with you would be one of the stupidest things he had ever done, but he had to. What choice did he have? He couldn’t keep you wondering and waiting on him to forgive you when you had more important things to focus on.

His feelings were all over the place. He still loved you deeply, but he was also still upset. He didn’t think you’d ever truly know how full of dread you made him when you threw yourself into danger as constantly as you did.

He thought if he gave you a clear stance on where the two of you were in the meantime, it’d be better for you, give you the chance to prepare for your challenges with a clear head. But asking to just be friends had gone horribly, bringing the exact opposite effect he wanted, making things even worse on you.

“I think I’m gonna turn in, mate. Not feeling it tonight.” Garreth got up from his seat and patted Leander on the back as he passed. He moseyed out of The Three Broomsticks with his hands in his pockets, kicking the dirt at his feet as he made his way out of Hogsmeade.

The sound of cheering coming from The Hog’s Head caught his attention. He peeked over curiously and had to do a double take. That bar was never bustling, yet there was a huge crowd around it tonight, boisterous about something going on inside.

He was caught off guard when you and Maxim clambered out of the crowd and fell to the ground, laughing hysterically and definitely drunk. The crowd cheered in intoxicated delight at your collapse.

Garreth made his way over as Maxim helped you up. When he saw him throw you over his shoulder, his blood boiled and he picked up his pace.

“This one’s pissed! She’s done for the night!” Maxim called back to the crowd as he carried you away from The Hog’s Head with ease. The crowd whined in unison at your departure.

Garreth strode up to him. “Put her down. I can take her from here.”

As Garreth approached, Maxim side stepped him and kept walking.

“Oi, Knobhead! I said put her down!”

Maxim gave your side a quick pat. “You know this one?”

You peeked up. “Ah! It’s alright, I know him. He can take me.” You giggled, and Garreth wanted you down from Maxim’s shoulder yesterday.

With a grunt, he set you down. “If you trust him. I could go for a few more rounds anyway.” He took your hand and kissed it. “Goodnight. Meet with me again tomorrow?” He went in to kiss your hand again while he waited for your answer.

“Appreciate it, mate. Goodnight.” Garreth came up behind you, gripping your shoulders and moving you along before his lips could make it to your hand again.

You waved over your shoulder lazily. “Goodnight to you too, Maxim.”

When Garreth felt you two were far enough away, he released your shoulders and walked by your side.

You let out a content sigh and looked up at the stars above as you walked.

“Seems you enjoyed yourself tonight.” Garreth grumbled.

“I sure did.”

Garreth’s jaw tensed at the thought of you having been with Maxim all night. “Couldn’t even give it a full day, huh?”

You let out an exhale, your drunkenness making it sound a little more exaggerated. You glanced over at him. He was facing ahead stiffly, hands in his pockets. “And what do you mean by that?”

He shrugged, putting on a face like he couldn’t be bothered what you did anymore. “Nothing.”

“I can’t enjoy myself if we’re not together? Is that it?”

“I didn’t say that. Enjoy yourself all you want.”

“I planned on it.”

“Good. Glad you had such a great night.” He wasn’t glad.

“I did have a great night.” You decided to get cheeky. “And I’m so happy my good friend, Garreth Weasley, was here to walk me back to the dorms. What a guy.”

He sighed your name, starting to regret he didn’t keep his mouth shut.

You hiccuped and rubbed at your eyes. You were starting to feel a little sick and groaned. “I think I had a few too many. I just didn’t want to stop. Oh, have you heard? Apparently, it’s going to be suicide walking into the arena this week. No one at Hog’s Head would shut up about it.” You mumbled. “What a way to go, huh?”

Garreth stopped in his tracks and looked at you in horror. “What… What did you just say?” He didn’t recognize who he was talking to right then. You sounded like you were accepting death. You knew this tournament was dangerous, but you’d at least always been determined to fight.

You ignored him and kept walking, humming the Hogwarts anthem and keeping your air of drunken bliss.

Garreth called your name sternly for you to stop walking and look at him.

He rarely spoke with such a tone, and it seemed to bring you back to reality a bit. Your face hardened when you glanced back at him. “Don’t even start.” You said bitterly as you kept walking.

He raised his brows, incredulous at your behavior tonight, and moved to join your side. “Sorry? Say that again. Start what exactly?”

You stopped and faced each other. “Why should I listen to anything you have to say when you abandoned me? You left me when I -” You shoved him, “- When I needed you the most.”

“I left you, did I? I could have sworn you were the one that chose a worthless fucking tournament over me but what do I know? I’m just an idiot who wanks over potions.”

An amused huff escaped you and you rubbed at your face, drunk and desperately trying not to crack up. “Dammit, Garreth.” You groaned. “Don’t make me laugh, I'm mad at you.”

He shook his head and bit back a smirk of his own. He really did need to work on his timing. The two of you were definitely having the worst fight you’ve had since knowing each other, he needed to take it seriously.

He took a deep breath and rubbed a hand down his face. “How about we not be mad at each other tonight?” He said, waving his white flag. With alcohol in both of your systems - more so yours than his but still - putting this conversation to the side for now seemed like the smartest idea. “Let’s save it for tomorrow.”

“That’s -” You lost your balance slightly and he steadied you. “That’s a good idea.”

As Garreth stepped into the dining hall the next morning, his eyes roamed the room for you. When he spotted you, it didn’t take long for your eyes to drift up and lock with his. He gestured with his chin for you to step outside and speak with him. You nodded your head, getting up and walking over.

Out of habit when he got this close to you, he gingerly grabbed a hold of your arm. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m fine. Head’s killing me, but I’m fine.” You tried to give him a reassuring smile.

He gave you a weak smile in return, not quite buying it. “To be honest, you scared me. You sounded like you’d given up last night.”

You shook your head. “I wasn’t in my right mind, and I hate that you had to be there for any of it. You shouldn’t have had to hear anything I said in that state.”

He gave your arm a gentle squeeze to help put you at ease like he usually would. But it made him remember that you weren’t together anymore, and he shouldn’t be doing things like that.

When he released you, you glanced down briefly, not even aware he had had a hold on you. Now, it seemed you two had to get used to not touching each other, that was what felt less natural.

“I meant it when I said I still want to be there for you. Whatever you need, it’s yours.” Garreth looked into your eyes, trying to convey how much he meant it.

You nodded your head, deciding to let him help. If this next challenge was as dangerous as Maxim said it was going to be, you needed all the help you could get. “I need potions. All that you can make me.”

Garreth was crumbling as he paced back and forth in front of the hospital wing. “Let me in, I need to see her. Please, you don’t understand.” His breathing was uneven, his voice cracking. The latest challenge was the most horrific thing he had ever seen.

The Beauxbatons Champion had been killed, torn to pieces by the horde of inferi you were tasked to fight. You and Maxim had barely made it through. The both of you had to be carried out of the arena, and Garreth needed to see with his own eyes that you were actually alive.

Nurse Blainey tried to steady him. “I do understand. But she’s resting, you need to leave her be for now.”

Leander had tried easing him away. “Come on, Garreth. She’s in good hands now, we can come back later.”

Garreth shoved him back. “Goddammit, get off me!” He turned back to Nurse Blainey with a fire in his eyes. “I’m not waiting for your permission any more.” He shoved past her into the hospital wing.

He scanned the room for you, walking past Maxim who was rocking back and forth while nurses tended to his wounds. He mumbled something in his native tongue to himself over and over.

Garreth froze and his stomach dropped sickeningly when he spotted your bloodied and bruised form. As the nurses tended to your wounds, his mind raced, trying to reassure himself repeatedly that he could see you breathing, you were only sleeping, you were still alive.

Leander placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go, mate.”

Garreth nodded his head rigidly and turned away from you. He apologized to Nurse Blainey and Leander guided him out.

When they returned to the Gryffindor common room, Garreth made a beeline to his dorm. Shutting the door behind him, he went and slumped down on the edge of his bed. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Then, all at once, the tears came. He shot a hand up to cover his eyes and his shoulders began to shake with quiet sobs.

Garreth returned with Leander later that night. Leander went into the hospital wing first to check if it was okay for him to see you. He didn’t think he’d be able to walk past you and just leave if he was told ‘no’.

Leander came back out with a small smile. “You can see her. But Nurse Blainey said she’s on quite a lot of painkillers. Go easy on her tonight.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry again for earlier.”

Leander waved him off and turned to leave. “See you later.”

Garreth made his way in towards your bed. He noticed Maxim was out like a rock, and was relieved for the poor man.

“Uh oh, I don’t think I did my herbology homework. I’ll need to get on that soon.” Garreth heard you say and could immediately tell how well the painkillers were working on you.

“No need to worry about it right now, dear.” Nurse Blainey chuckled as she looked over her checklist. She glanced up at Garreth as he approached. “If she wants to sleep, let her. Don’t keep her up.”

Garreth gave her a firm nod, then looked at you and noticed how out of it you really were. You were sitting up in bed and looking up at the ceiling whimsically. He was thankful you didn’t seem to be feeling all the stitched up gashes and harsh bruising on you.

Your eyes eventually landed on him and your face lit up. “There’s my boy.”

Garreth’s chest went fluttery. It had felt like ages since you had called him your anything. Merlin, I’ve missed that.

“Where have you been? I wanted to tell you I beat Leander at Summoner’s Court today. Or… wait… was that yesterday?”

Garreth let out an amused breath through his nose and went to sit in the chair at your bedside. “No, you were right. That was today.” He took your hand in his. No harm in being back with you like this for only a night, right? Especially if you were this out of it, it didn't seem like you’d remember any of it anyway. “And I believe it. Leander’s bloody terrible at Summoner’s Court. Has been since first year, the moron.”

You giggled and brought both of your hands over his, bringing it up to your lips. Garreth’s insides turned to putty. Still weak as ever for you, I see.

“How are your hands always so warm?” You looked down at his hand in wonder.

“How are yours always so cold?” The corner of his lips quirked up. He’d gladly forget everything with you tonight, go back to a better time.

You released his hand and brought yours up to examine them. “What? You think my hands are always cold? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would have… I would… Merlin, what happened to my hands?” Noticing the discoloration and stitches, you brought them closer to your face to get a better look. Garreth grabbed a hold of your hands, covering them with his. He brought them down and began stroking his thumbs over your skin.

“Next time I go to Honeydukes, what do you want me to get you?” It was the first thing he could think of to distract you and it seemed to work wonders. You shifted a bit in the bed to face him more, excited to give him your answer.

“Oh, chocolate frogs. Is that even a question?”

“You’re right.” He smiled at you. “It’s always chocolate frogs. I didn’t even need to ask.”

Your eyes widened slightly and you gave a quiet gasp. “Oh no, Gar. That reminds me. Did I ever get you your billywig stings?”

He chuckled. When and where is your brain right now? “Yes, you got them for me. Don’t worry.”

“Good.” You relaxed again. “Sorry. My head’s been all over the place today.”

As he nodded in agreement and bit back a laugh, a student came rushing into the hospital wing, getting both of your attention. You looked at the panicked student curiously, and Garreth was mindful to keep your hands covered with his.

“Nurse Blainey, Isaac Cooper fell off his broom! W - We didn’t want to move him -”

Nurse Blainey didn’t hesitate to go up to him. “Take me to him immediately.” She looked back to the both of you. “I’ll be back shortly.”

You watched her leave the wing, then you looked back to Garreth. You raised a brow at him and he raised one back at you. He eyed you as you shifted in bed again, freeing your hands from his and moving away from him, creating space. “Join me while she’s gone.”

Garreth’s throat went dry. He gave a little cough to regain his composure. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“You don’t want to?” You asked innocently as you laid on your side and looked up at him.

Still beyond weak for you. He exhaled and glanced back at the hospital wing entrance, then moved to lie in bed with you.

You grabbed his tie, fiddling with it as you lied there, face to face. He couldn’t help but feel completely at ease, as if he had gone back in time like you had. He brought his hand up and rested it on your cheek.

Your brows furrowed a bit, and you looked troubled.

“What’s going through your mind right now?” He asked, beginning to stroke your cheek with his thumb, careful to be gentle over your bruising.

“I feel like something bad’s going to happen this year, Gar. I can’t shake it.”

He shook his head. “Nothing bad’s going to happen.” He whispered.

You let go of his tie and met his gaze. “Then why do I feel so uneasy right now?”

He pulled you to him, tucking your head under his chin and you nuzzled into his chest. He stroked your hair as he held you. “N.E.W.T.s probably.”

You gave a soft hum. “Yeah… that’s got to be it. I hate tests.” He noticed your voice was starting to sound sleepy.

“I know you do.”

He propped his head up on his hand and looked down at you as he continued stroking your hair. He watched and waited until your breathing got heavier and you did those cute little snores of yours. Once he knew you were asleep, he kissed your temple, then slipped out of the bed as noiselessly as he could.

Just as he was about to leave, Nurse Blainey had made her way back with Isaac Cooper. He took one last glance at your sleeping form across the room, then left.

You didn’t know how long you had been out, but the grogginess and soreness you felt when you finally awoke was unreal. The sun was shining through the windows and you realized you were in the hospital wing. The last thing you remember was being in the arena and... You squeezed your eyes shut and opened them back up, trying to erase the image of Amelie DuPont’s mangled corpse from your head.

You looked up at the ceiling, breathing through the immense discomfort in your body. Then, something bright and blue caught your attention at the corner of your eye. You turned your head slightly to see a chocolate frog box on the bedside table.

Who would leave a perfectly good chocolate frog lying around?

It was probably the first time in TriWizard Tournament history where none of the school Champions attended The Yule Ball. Was that historically accurate? Garreth wasn’t sure. But with how dramatic Headmaster Black was acting, he’d believe it was.

It was common knowledge Maxim Mainka wanted to keep to himself ever since the last challenge. Showing up to a ball was the last thing anyone expected him to do. As for you, Garreth had no idea where you were or why you hadn’t shown up yet.

He didn’t even know what your plans were for the ball to begin with, didn’t want to ask, truth be told. Why on earth would he open up the opportunity to hear about how the woman he fumbled would be going with someone else?

He saw how many people asked you. You had turned them all down from what he’d seen. At first, he thought maybe you’d want him to take you, but every time he brought up the ball, you’d change the topic. He could take a hint.

Garreth decided to leave and look for you. He hadn’t brought a date anyway. Why did he decide to go alone to watch the love of his life walk in and dance with someone else? He didn’t know for sure, but it was probably because he felt he deserved it, treating you the way he had this year. And it was all because he couldn’t handle being with someone so inconceivable.

He couldn’t believe he had been as upset with you as he was. It’s not like you had treated him horribly or were unfaithful. You had gone behind his back to save your best friend Natty for Merlin’s sake. You hadn’t betrayed him. You were only doing what you felt was right.

He had been so afraid of losing you forever, he convinced himself you were doing him wrong whenever you threw yourself into danger. And so, he pushed you away like an idiot. He had no idea where to begin when it came to fixing what you two had, had no idea if he even could.

Garreth asked around before he left but no one seemed to know where you were. Not even Natty knew and that had genuinely shocked him. Wherever you were in this castle, you didn’t care to be found.

Hopping from floo to floo for what felt like hours, Garreth had finally found you in Professor Sharp’s classroom of all places.

Putting his hands in his pockets, he leaned against the doorway and watched you at one of the potion stations. It had been a few months since the last challenge, you weren’t fully recovered but all your scrapes and bumps had healed for the most part, only a few bandages here and there remained.

He kept quiet and let himself just look at you. You were beautiful, all done up for the ball and brewing what looked like an edurus potion from what he could see. You looked like a dream, like you were made just for him.

“Don't you have a big, fancy Room of Requirement you could do this in?” He quipped.

Carefully dropping some more mongrel fur into the pot, you glanced over your shoulder at him. “Evening, Garreth.” You smiled politely, then turned back to your pot. “What are you doing here?”

Garreth’s face dropped a bit. You had greeted him like you were decent friends and nothing more. Isn’t this wonderful? After all, it was his bright idea. Garreth from a few months ago would have been thrilled to know you two could get to this point. And present day Garreth wanted to go back and kick Garreth from a few months ago’s ass. Turns out, he didn’t like being friends with you. Not one bit.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He pushed up off the door frame and took slow steps towards you.

“I ran out of mongrel fur.” You said, fixated on the brew before you. “Thankfully Professor Sharp let me take over the edurus potion he was already making.”

“I don't see Professor Sharp anywhere, just go on and admit you’re stealing it. I won’t tell.” He stepped closer.

You shot him a brief smirk over your shoulder. You were glad to have Garreth back in your life and on such good terms too, but there were times when it just hurt. Tonight seemed especially bad. You had heard through the grapevine he asked Nellie Oggspire to the ball. Putting on a good face was taking a lot more effort than normal.

You cleared your throat, thinking of a way to keep the mood light. “How’s your night been?”

Ah, small talk. Merlin, he hated this.

He rubbed a hand down his face and came up beside you, peeking into your pot. “My night’s been fine. Looks like you need a few more ashwinder eggs.” He turned and went to go grab some for you.

“I was thinking the same thing.” You furrowed your brows and bit your lip as you stirred and looked into your pot, examining it closely to see if there was anything else it needed.

He returned and handed the eggs to you, wishing he hadn’t caught your focus face. He was always a sucker for it.

“Thank you.” You said appreciatively, grabbing the eggs without looking at him and plopping them in.

“Looks like that should do it.” He mused. His eyes gradually went up from the pot to your face, then down to your dress, more specifically your body in your dress. He swallowed thickly and made himself look back at the pot. “And you? How has your night been?”

“Pretty busy, I haven’t been able to get to the ball yet. One of our kneazles is having her litter tonight. Deek was going to make sure everything went smoothly while I was away, all he asked for was an edurus potion in case she got too cranky with him. Hence -” You gestured absently to yourself and the pot.

“You would spend Christmas Eve like this.” He smirked. “I thought it was a Yule Ball tradition for the champions to attend.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the table.

You only shrugged your shoulders in response. You made yourself keep your eyes on your brew, because if you looked his way, you’d get weak at how wonderfully he cleaned up for the ball.

Garreth… really hated this. He hated that you barely looked at him and that this was how your conversations went now. Your silences were never awkward, if there was a silence between you while you were together it was comfortable.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost done. I’ll be out of here and then you can take over this station.”

He furrowed his brows. “Hmm? I don’t need to do anything. I came to see if you were in here.”

You looked at him then and he met your gaze. Don’t give me hope like that, Weasley. You averted your gaze back to your pot. “Oh, well…” You cleared your throat. “Did you… need me for something?”

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t need you for anything. You weren’t at the ball and I missed you, that’s the gist of it.”

You glanced his way again. You weren’t going to let yourself have any hope until he told you he forgave you. You needed to hear those exact words, you wouldn’t let yourself jump at anything less.

“Don’t you have a date to get to tonight?” Garreth tried to sound as casual as he could. He hadn’t heard anything about who you’d be going with. But whoever they were, they weren’t with you now. Maybe he could ease himself into the pain instead of getting a full on shock when he finally sees you dance with someone else.

“Would you believe no one asked me?”

“Not for a second." He scoffed. "Even if I hadn’t seen people asking you with my own eyes.”

You chuckled. “Well, no date for me. I uh - I needed to go at my own pace tonight. Didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s Yule Ball just because -” You pinched the bridge of your nose and let out a humorless huff, “- just because my head’s such a goddamn mess right now.”

Garreth eyed you with concern. Then he processed even more of what you said. “You were never going with anyone?”

You shook your head.

“I didn’t go with anyone either.”

You looked at him, surprise evident on your face. “You didn’t?”

Garreth held your gaze and shook his head.

“But… I thought you were going with Nellie.”

Garreth raised a brow at you, genuinely confused. “Why would you think that?”

“Well I - I heard from a few different people you had asked her.” You quickly looked away from him, a little embarrassed your jealousy and hurt were coming through.

Garreth shook his head, wanting to reassure you more than anything it wasn’t true. “I never asked her. I never asked anyone, I promise you.”

“I mean… it’s alright if you did, Garreth. You don’t owe me anything.”

He took a moment to take in your words, and they didn’t sit right with him. “I owe you everything.”

You stilled, your heart rate picked up, and you weren’t really sure if you imagined what he had just said.

“It’s you who owes me nothing.” He stepped as close to you as he could without touching you. “But I’d like it if you called me Gar again.”

You slowly looked up at him and searched his eyes. “You’ve forgiven me?” You asked in a whisper, your throat constricting as your vision began to blur with tears.

He shook his head. “There was never anything to forgive.” He reached up and cupped your face in his hands. A few tears overflowed out of your eyes and he wiped them away with his thumbs. “Walking away from you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. And that’s saying something. I’ve done some pretty stupid things.” He tried to jest, and he was elated it got you to smile. “I can be yours. Easily. If you’ll have me.”

You couldn’t speak, and Garreth held his breath while he waited for your answer. After your brain caught up with everything that was happening, you nodded your head.

Garreth released the breath he was holding and nearly collapsed with relief. He didn’t waste a second more and not so delicately placed his lips atop yours. Your hands moved up to his chest as you kissed him back, fisting the fabric of his coat. This was nowhere near your first kiss together, yet you felt brand new to each other. And you wanted to familiarize yourselves all over again.

The pot began to sizzle. With his mouth still on yours, Garreth peeked one eye open to check on it. He groaned and tore himself from you, going to stir it. Chuckling, you got the flask ready for him.

“What a team we are.” Garreth smirked as he scooped the edurus potion into the flask.

You capped it and looked up at him. “Acting like I didn’t do most of the work, are you?”

He smirked. “Tough talk for -” He looked back at you and your amused features sent his insides into a tizzy. “Tough talk for someone who…” His words drifted off and he smiled at you like a dullard.

You started to laugh and raised your eyebrows at him. “Are you having a stroke?”

“Shut up.” He bashfully looked away from you and hummed, trying to unscramble his brain. “I um - I’m trying to go along and keep the joke going, but you look -” He let out a breathy whew sound. “You look amazing right now and it’s making me nervous.”

Your eyes widened slightly and you went fluttery at his words. It was your turn to feel bashful. You shook your head and playfully shoved him. Then you went up and pecked him on the cheek. “Come on, let’s get this to Deek.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

The Room of Requirement’s door formed before you and Garreth. And he couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride. It usually only let you in, but this made it twice now that the room felt he should be in there with you.

You two made your way in and he looked around, confused. “Where would the kneazles be?”

You laced your fingers through his. “This way.” You guided him through the bottom floor vivarium and he was almost getting annoyed at how insane this room was.

“Sweet Merlin, I thought this was a greenhouse or something.” He looked all over, breathing in the fresh air and smiling at all the magical beasts that ran up to sniff and examine him. “Is that a baby puffskein?”

You chuckled. “It is. Could you play with him while I get this to Deek? He’s been extra needy lately.”

“On it.” Garreth released you and knelt down, picking up the tiny creature that could easily fit in one hand. He gave the puffskein some scratches on the head. “How am I supposed to be okay with my girl being around a handsome little devil like you? You could steal her away at any given moment.” The puffskein looked up at him and tilted its head. Garreth let out a little gasp. “And you know it too, you shameless bastard.”

“Despite calling my magical beasts shameless bastards, you seem to be pretty good with them.” You said as you returned, hitching up your dress a bit, and kneeling down next to him.

“What can I say? I’ve learned a thing or two since I started paying attention in beasts class. Had to step up my game when this new girl arrived, you see. Cute thing, adored beasts.”

You smiled at him. “Funny, sounds like how I got so good at potions.”

He glanced at you and that bashfulness returned. You gave him too many butterflies for him to be able to keep his calm. To hide his jittery nerves, he kept up the head scratches on the puffskein.

A nearby baby mooncalf started to get jealous at the attention the puffskein was getting and ran up to you. You chuckled and picked her up, giving her some scratches behind her ear. You looked over at Garreth, noticing he got quiet. You nudged him with your shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”

He could only glance at you briefly, if he looked at you any longer he’d be a bumbling mess. He cleared his throat. Merlin’s beard, toss out a joke or something, Weasley. “I’m thinking you better not get any ideas from us holding baby beasts.”

You scoffed, but then decided to tease him. “Uh oh. It might be too late for that.”

He slowly set down the puffskein and looked at you with raised brows. “Now now, no need to panic. Just put down the mooncalf, yeah?”

You let out a shaky breath, playing along. “A - Alright.” You set her down gently, and she ran off to go play with her moon ball.

Garreth pulled the both of you up to your feet. “Better?”

You fanned your face with your hand as if you needed to cool yourself down. “I think it’s too late. The baby fever’s consuming me. Take me, Gar. I’m ready.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He took cautious steps backwards to get some distance between you two. “As arousing as that was.”

“Give in, Weasley. It’s our last year at Hogwarts, I think we both know what’s coming next.” You warned. Garreth stepped back even further from you, thinking of an escape plan. Before he could get any further, you bolted after him.

“Get away from me!” He laughed as he ran from you, dodging and weaving through the vivarium to try and shake you.

“I’m gonna getcha!”

“No!” You two were laughing hysterically as you ran up and down the vivarium field. “What in Merlin’s name?! How are you so fast in that dress?!”

“Oh, you’re not escaping the Hogwarts Champion, darling!” You had grabbed a hold of his coat but he slipped out of it, narrowly escaping you.

“Dammit!” You laughed, dropping his coat to the ground.

He left the vivarium and you ran after him. You caught sight of him heading up the stairs. He glanced back at you briefly and realized he hadn’t lost you as much as he thought.

“Oh shit!” He laughed and picked up the pace. Without thinking he went into the beach vivarium. The sand slowed him down instantly and he kicked off his dress shoes to keep running.

As soon as you entered the beach vivarium, you kicked off your shoes as well, picking your dress up off the ground and going back after him.

He saw you coming and panicked. He looked back and forth between you and the water. He quickly decided to take off his socks and go to the shore. He saw you slow down and eye him defeatedly.

“Ha! What’s the matter? Don’t want to get your dress wet? Such a shame.” He looked at you cheekily as he bent down and rolled up his pant legs. He gave you a smug smile and walked further into the water, deep enough to submerge his calves, kicking and splashing tauntingly.

“I can’t believe you’d let me suffer like this.” You meandered up to the water, tentatively dipping your big toe in and nothing more.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept the triumphant smile on his face. “Oh don’t pout, this is for the best. We don’t really want little Garreths running around, do we?” His smile faded and his eyes widened when a thought entered his head. “Oh Merlin, little Garreths running around wielding ancient magic… What masochist would want that?”

You shook your head and tried to bite back your amused smile, lifting your dress a little higher and dipping your toe in again. Garreth went a little mad at the sight. Oh no, maybe I’m the masochist who wants that.

Sighing dramatically, your head fell back and you closed your eyes, letting the vivarium's sun warm your face.

Fuck… I really want that. In that moment, there was no doubt in his mind, he was going to get on one knee the second you two graduated from Hogwarts.

“Truce?” You asked.

Garreth could only keep staring.

When he didn’t answer, you opened one eye and peeked over at him. “No truce?”

A small smile tugged at his lips, but it wasn’t a humorous one. It was a simple one, full of love. “Just come here, why don’t you?” He walked through the water towards you and held out his hand. You took it, meeting him halfway and getting the hem of your dress wet.

Garreth couldn’t seem to hold it together anymore. He cupped your face and pulled you in for another kiss, his tongue grazing your bottom lip. He was always amazed at how soft you were, and he wanted you beyond reason right now.

Keeping his mouth on yours, he scooped you up into his arms.

Your surprised yelp was muffled against his mouth. You pulled away and looked at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You were going to make a joke, but the way his eyes were on you kept your mouth shut.

He walked the two of you out of the vivarium and his eyes roamed the room. “Direct me to a couch or something. Anywhere for Christ’s sake.”

You pointed across the balcony and giggled. “Over there, you brute.”

He made his way over with you, leaving a trail of sand in his wake. He set you down and gently guided you to sit on the couch, kissing you all over as he did so. He then placed himself on the ground between your legs and began pushing up your dress. Locking his eyes with yours as he reached under and pulled down your underclothes.

His member throbbed against the fabric of his pants when he caught a glimpse of your core, but you shut your legs together. He looked up at you in concern. You were biting your lip and looking away from him.

“What’s wrong?” He went up onto the couch a bit and brought a hand to your cheek to get you to look at him, he pecked the corner of your mouth.

You shook your head and scoffed at yourself, shooting your hands up to cover your face. He smirked when you started snickering and he tried pulling your hands away.

You groaned like you were embarrassed. “I’m really nervous for some reason.”

Garreth chuckled with you and leaned forward to kiss at your neck. “Why are you nervous?” He asked against your skin and you could feel him smiling. “Not to brag, but I’ve seen you naked quite a few times already.”

“I know.” You sighed. “Maybe because it’s been a while or… or…” Your words drifted off as he began to suck on that spot below your ear, he hadn’t forgotten how you liked to be touched. Hopefully he could help put you at ease a little bit more.

He felt your body start to relax and he kissed down your neck. He pulled away to glance at you and you gave him a small nod. He went back to the ground on his knees before you, hitching up your dress again to reveal your heat. His breathing grew heavy and he placed your legs over his shoulders.

He brought his lips to your folds like an opened mouthed kiss, his tongue tracing along. You jolted a bit at the sensation, feeling a little extra ticklish with it having been a while since he’d last done this, but he kept you steady with a strong hold on your thighs.

He was starting to lose himself tasting you again after all this time. The wetness of your fluids and his spit mixing together had his member aching. Your breaths came out shallow as you watched him. His eyes were closed as his tongue rediscovered you, his fingernails dug into your thighs, hurting in the best way. He licked up to the top of your slit, and began sucking gently.

“A - Ah! Garreth!” You whined as your muscles suddenly tensed and twitched at the sensation. He loved hearing you cry his name like that, and he was eager to get more out of you. But a thought occurred to him, and his body stiffened.

He took his mouth off of you and quickly glanced around. “That Deek fellow’s not here right?”

“He’ll be in the vivarium all night.” You said breathily. “Now keep going.” You grabbed his head and pulled him back to you.

“Right, sorry.” He put his mouth back on you and picked up where he left off.

Your head fell back and you kept one hand on his head, fingers getting a solid grip on his locks. You had started to make the smallest of grinding motions as he kept at you, this was how he always knew you were close. He kept up his tongue patterns and could feel your hips pickup more and more. You let out another whine and gripped his hair with both of your hands then. He held onto your thighs tight when you began to convulse, riding out your pleasure on his face.

You slumped back on the couch, going a little limp, legs sliding off his shoulders. You caught your breath and he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Still got it.”

“Shut up.” You chuckled as you stood to your feet and he stood with you. Your giggles were muffled when he fused his lips with yours.

You began undoing his buttons, taking off his vest then going for his shirt. You two broke from your kiss and he looked down to help you, both of your fingers shaky and hurried.

He shrugged off his shirt and went back for your lips as it fell to the ground. His hands gripped your hips, turning you so your back would be to him, keeping his mouth on yours until the last second. He then started undoing the back of your dress, planting open mouthed kisses on your shoulder and nipping your skin here and there as he did so. You could only bite your lip in anticipation as you waited for him to finish.

Once you felt the dress was loose enough, you shimmied out of it and turned to face him, throwing your arms around his shoulders and claiming his lips again. He held you flush against him, making you feel how much he needed you through his pants.

You tore your lips from his and started unbuckling his belt. He didn’t help you this time, and just watched in a carnal haze as you went for the last of his clothes. Once you had undone his belt and pants you pulled them down, going to your knees as you did so. He hissed a breath through his teeth when you took him in your mouth and his hand shot up to get a gentle hold on your head.

As your mouth moved up and down his length, his breathing picked up and his insides felt like a furnace. But he didn’t want to finish yet, he wanted to be inside you again. He let his head fall back, enjoying it just a moment longer. Getting close enough to the edge, he looked back down at you and pulled himself away from your mouth. There was a line of spit from your tongue to his tip briefly. When it broke, you wiped it from your chin and looked up at him, your features flushed. He nearly burst at the sight.

You stood to your feet and took his hands in yours, guiding him back to the couch. He followed, completely hypnotized by you. You laid back and pulled him down on top of you. He brought his mouth down on yours heartily as he positioned himself between your legs. Breaking the kiss, he looked down at the two of you about to join. He took his member in his hand and rubbed it along your folds, coating himself in your wetness.

He placed his tip at your entrance and slowly pushed in. You gasped lightly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and he buried his face into the crook of your neck. It took everything in him to keep his hip thrusts slow and not completely lose himself in you just yet.

“I missed you.” He sighed against your neck. “I missed you so much.”

You mewled softly at his words and the feel of him filling you. Wrapping your arms around him tighter, you wanted to melt into him more than you ever had before. “I love you.”

"Mmh." With a low groan, he hitched your legs up a bit higher around him, picking up the pace and grinding into you at an even better angle. "Say that again…"

"I love you." You whimpered as his hips picked up the pace, making you unable to speak as clearly as before.

"I love you." He said back. His breathing heavy in your ear as he tried to bury himself even deeper inside you with each thrust.

The noises you were making had his control start to fray at the seams. Grunts began to escape him as his hips pounded into you. He was nearing his climax again.

“Not yet not yet.” You said breathily, trying to push him back a bit. He nodded his head, a little delirious, but his mind still functioned enough to know you wanted to swap positions. The two of you adjusted so that he was the one on his back and you were on top. He caught his breath as he edged away from finishing again.

You straddled him, careful not to put him back in you yet. You leaned down and kissed him. He placed one hand on your hip while the other had a grip in your hair, holding you to him like this until he felt he was ready to go again.

“Alright.” He whispered against your lips after a moment, and you shifted back. He let out a slow exhale as you sunk yourself onto him, gripping your hips.

He was in you fully again, and your heat surrounding him as he lied back was bliss. You began to move up and down on him, resting your hands on his chest as you did so. As much as he wanted you to enjoy yourself up there for as long as your heart desired, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Not with this view of you bouncing on him as you were.

A throaty groan escaped him. "I’m almost there... Keep going.” He panted, furrowing his brows and looking down at your slit going up and down his length. “Fuck I’m about to -”

You withdrew from him and moved to take him in your mouth, he shot his hands to your head and held you on him as he released in your throat, grunting and spasming until there was nothing left.

You swallowed him as you sat up, then wiped at your mouth. “Still got it.”

Garreth scoffed and threw an arm over his eyes while he recovered, using his free hand to rub your thigh. “Don’t mock me, I’m too vulnerable right now.”

You adjusted so that you were laying on top of him, he held you in his arms and ran his fingers lightly along your back. He looked up at the ceiling, completely at ease as you traced little shapes on his chest. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.

“Is the ball still going?” You asked.

“I think so.” He answered, his voice a little raspy.

“Want to go back before it ends?”

“Not particularly. Do you?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Good, I want to stay like this a bit longer.”

You nodded your head and sighed. “Me too. After everything… after that last challenge…” Garreth held you tighter, not wanting you to think about such a horrific memory. “Tonight was everything. Thank you.”

Garreth placed his lips on top of your head. Then decided he wanted to be like this with you for more than just a bit longer. “Let me grab my wand.” You nodded your head and shifted so he could get up and search his clothes. “Ah, it’s in my coat.” He picked up his pants and put them back on. “I’ll be right back.”

You sat up to move towards your dress.

“No. Stay right where you are, exactly as you are.” He picked up his shirt, slipping it back on and only doing a few of his buttons.

You smiled and laid back down on the couch as he walked off.

It didn’t take long for Garreth to find his coat. He saw the baby puffskein and baby mooncalf napping on it, and decided to just grab his wand and leave it.

Once he did, he glanced around for the moonstone he thought he saw earlier while running for his life from you. A smile tugged at his lips thinking back on it.

Turning the moonstone he found into a large, furry blanket, he made his way back to you.

“Don’t worry this blanket came from moonstone.” He said as he splayed it out over you. “No magical beasts were harmed conjuring this.”

“Thank you.” You sighed gratefully, wrapping the blanket tighter around yourself.

He shot you a smile as he undid his shirt, taking it off again. As he started undoing his belt and pants, he looked at the couch and furrowed his brows. “The couch wasn’t that big before, was it?”

You stiffened and used the blanket to hide your grin.

“Did you enlarge it?”

“No.” Your voice was muffled under the blanket.

“You had your wand this whole time?”

You turned away from him on the couch.

His eyes went wide at you as he pulled down his pants. “You minx! You just let me go out in the cold like that?” He came up and slid under the blanket behind you, pulling you back against him and closing his eyes. He sighed, exhausted. “To think I could have stayed naked this whole time...”

“I tried to get it but you told me to stay where I was.” You argued, the sleepiness clear as day in your voice.

He hummed in amusement. “I did, didn’t I? I’m such an idiot.” He cackled, sleepiness also coming through in his voice.

“No, you’re sweet.”

It didn’t take long at all for you two to fall asleep in each other’s arms. Dealing with Deek stumbling upon you two and possibly telling his Aunt Matilda seemed like a morning problem.

#garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x you #garreth weasley smut #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x fem reader #garreth weasley angst

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howtofightwrite · 7 months

Note

One of my characters is forced to kill one of their childhood friends to save a bunch of people and I'm wondering how quick (or painful) can you make their death with just a knife? Thanks for your input!

I'm not sure exactly how fast a bleedout from a severed femoral or carotid artery is. In the former, we're talking less than a minute, in the latter, death occurs within seconds. Being able to reliably open the artery you want does require a bit of anatomical knowledge, so getting the most value out of a knife isn't something that any character would automatically be able to do.

As for how much it hurts, I dunno. Neither one is particularly high on my bucket list, so I'm content on leaving that as a question mark.

From personal, subjective, experience, the condition of the blade has a bigger impact on how much it hurts. A clean, and sharp blade, fresh from the factory (or carefully sharpened and honed) will hurt less than a poorly maintained blade. In the latter case (or, with cat claws, as I was recently reminded), you can feel the foreign object catching and ripping your skin. It's an unpleasant sensation, and, far more painful than a clean blade.

In fact, my most painful laceration experience came from a hose attachment that came apart while I was using it, and ended up getting jabbed into my thumb. As a safety measure, if you find yourself in a situation like this, turn off the water beforetrying to repair the attachment.

In contrast, the scar on my right index finger was almost painless. It was a brand new knife, which I fumbled. (Specifically it's double bladed, and the handle is a little too short for my hand. I accidentally knicked my left hand on the base of the fore-blade, and instinctively, flicked it away, gashing my off-hand.) At the time, I didn't even feel the cut, and then saw what I thought was a small welt... before it started bleeding. There is some truth to the cliché about not feeling a cut when it occurs, but the blade needs to be in immaculate condition for this to occur.

How painful can you make it, intentionally? This is not going anywhere pleasant, but I'm not sure there's a limit. That's not sarcasm. There is a point where too much pain can cause someone to slip into shock and die, but, for someone with sufficient sadism, there isn't really a limit. The problem is that a knife in an experienced and knowledgeable hand can do horrific things to someone without killing them. If the point was to inflict pain and suffering, that could be drawn out for day. Probably weeks.

As for the scenario, I have reservations. I'm reading a lot into the way you phrased the setup, but there is something very artificial and, more than a little cliché, about the villain strong arming a protagonist into violating their morals. Particularly on ticking bomb scenarios.

In a lot of cases, neither side really gets anything of value out of the interaction. The villain gets a tiny bit of room to wag a finger and say, “we're not so different now,” but, really, they would have done that anyway. And the hero gets to have a chunk of their credibility chipped away, for no real benefit. In this case, I specifically mean their credibility with the audience.

The reason I say that is because this is a downright inhuman thing for someone to do. Kill someone who you presumably care about, or save the lives of five thousand randos. One of these things is an abstract concept, and the other is a person.

Now, the problem is, for you, both are abstract concepts. Your hero's childhood friend is not a real person to you. They are, at best, a simulacrum, but one you know is fake. Similarly, the mass casualty event is something you also know is fake. Even more so because you have already chosen the outcome. This means that, for you, this is a simple trolley problem. However, the evaluation would be radically different for your character. In situations like that, it is possible they'd elect to kill their friend on the basis of there being fewer casualties, but that kind of cold calculus is borderline monstrous.

This doesn't mean that you can't create a compelling scenario where a character ultimately needs to put down their friend. But, it is a deceptively difficult scenario to credibly engineer, and even then, can frequently result in massive plot holes. So, it can be done, but proceed carefully.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers

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itwasthereaminuteago · 2 years

Text

|| Now I Know ||

Frank Castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: kidnapping/rescue verrry angry Frank, violence, blood, trust, LOVE.

A/n: been listening to Work Song by Hozier a lot.

His muscles scream from the work, the kind of work you might call good and honest. The kind where at the end of the day his body is tired and drenched in sweat rather than tense with rage and spattered with blood.

He still does that work. You're watching as he washes his hands in the kitchen sink. If it's blood or dirt from the earth that is swirling down the drain you don't notice, only that those are the hands that could elicit a cry of mercy from death, or cries of pleasure from your lips. The gentle and sure squeeze of a trigger, whichever kind it is, he's in control. The movement and pressure of his fingers during either task is frighteningly similar, and yet there's something deep within you that welcomes and craves that similarity. The comfort you find in the tender way he has with you overrides all else, he may have the darkest of sins but he's all of his sweetness with you.

He's drying his hands on the dishtowel, concern and confusion plain on his face as he sees you looking through rather than at him.

"What's wrong?" He's asking you, and your focus snaps back to the depths of those dark eyes. "Nothing." you smile, but you're not all there and he knows it.

"You'll tell me if it's somethin', right?"

"Yeah baby," you nod, "I will."

He reaches for your face, fingers trailing softly along your jaw and you lean into him, relaxing as he cups your chin in his hand, bending down so he can kiss you slow and easy. He finds you there, he'll always find you.

On your lunch break your phone pings. Some days Frank would text you a sweet little thing, and today was one of them.

Love you princess xx

You're headed to the same place for the third day in a row. They must have been watching you. It was probably a stupid thing for you to do but you really liked the coffee they served there. You're looking down at your phone typing out a reply to Frank's text when it happens.

You don't even have time to fight them off, the last thing you remember is seeing your cup falling to the ground, coffee spilling into the cracks in the pavement before you are bundled into a vehicle, the strong chemical smell of the rag covering your mouth and nose.

Frank meets Curtis for a drink at lunch most weeks, it's something they've kept up since Billy. A mini therapy session for them both.

"You alright man? Been checking that damn phone almost non stop since you got here."

It wasn't unusual for you to not reply to him, you had been pretty busy at work recently. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry man."

Curtis isn't dumb, he knows when Frank's got something eating away at him. "C'mon, what is it? Woman trouble?"

Frank scrubs his hand across his face with a heavy sigh. "I dunno. Feels like she maybe still doesn't feel safe with me. Been trying everything, talkin' to her, tellin' her she can ask me anythin' about the past and all of that…"

"But it ain't about the past is it? It's what you're doin' out there now, Frank. It's a big ask to deal with that. But she's strong y'know? Just give her some time and if you're gonna keep on doing what you're doing, give her the truth if she wants it."

Pick you up from work later? Really miss you today.

Frank is nodding, but he's staring off into space. He sends another text.

Your head feels like a lump of lead as you wake up, slumped forward in a chair with your ankles tied to the legs and your wrists bound behind your back, the plastic of the zip ties cutting into your skin. Your eyelids feel like boulders are sitting on them as you chance a look at your surroundings. The upper floor of an unfinished building, sheets of polythene hanging from the walls and ceiling and scattered over the floor. You hear echoing sounds from the open doorway, local accents. Fear starts to replace the drowsiness as you become aware of a tripod with a mobile phone set up in front of you. The scuff of dust and gravel behind you makes your head whip round as a thick set bearded man with a scar under his eye walks towards you, turning over his shoulder to yell through the doorway as he sees you're conscious.

"Bitch is awake."

"Then it's time to play, boys." comes another voice, all sleazy and drawling. The owner of it steps into view and there's a twinge of recognition. You briefly met some of Frank's work colleagues from the construction company a while back when you brought him lunch as a surprise.

This was the blonde one, ruddy with a slight squint. Another man appears, he looks similar to the guy with the scar, but younger and nervous.

Your mouth is dry as you go to speak, rasping, the words sounding weaker than you wanted them to. "What's going on? Is this some sort of a joke?"

The dark scarred man laughs. "Sure honey, tying up pretty little broads like you is a whole lot of fun for us. But nah, it ain't no joke."

The blonde one draws closer, leaning down, his grimy calloused fingers running over your cheek. You flinch away as his stale stinking breath washes over your face.

"Your dumbass boyfriend's been making us look bad, takin' all of the damn work and getting paid fuckin' bonuses for it, making us look lazy. So we're gonna give him a lil incentive to quit."

"Ever think that's because you are lazy?' you snark back at him.

He gives you a lecherous grin then spits in your face. You spit right back at him but all it earns you is a swift backhand that splits your lower lip open.

The beardy scarred asshole cackles again. "Fuck she's a feisty lil thing. Kinda see why he's into it."

You pull at the ties holding you as blondie draws his fingers down your neck and yanks at the front of your shirt, sending buttons scattering across the concrete floor as he leers down at your tits.

"Yeah…" he muses, his eyes rove over you making you feel itchy and unclean. He flicks his fingers towards the phone, shouting at the young guy. "Hit record..."

You were scared but you also couldn't believe these fucking dunces seemed to have the grand plan of WhatsApping videos of them messing with you to Frank? They really had no idea who they were dealing with.

You strain and tug at the zip ties pointlessly, you know there's no way you'll be able to break through them but it makes you feel better. As you move you realise your phone isn't in your pocket. You just hoped the idiots didn't have enough sense to turn off the gps. Frank would find out you weren't at work at the end of the day, that you hadn't replied to any of his messages, he'd know something was up, that you were in trouble, right? He'd know something was wrong. He had to.

You try to calm your breathing as you see the blonde asshole slip a handgun from the back of his pants, it wouldn't be wise to talk back now.

The young one gave the thumbs up from behind the mobile and blondie started his spiel.

"Alright Pete, figured you might not be able to understand the situation if we just talked man to man… so just to make it completely clear, you're gonna watch this lil show we're making for you."

He walks over to you, grabbing the top of your head and turning you to face the camera. "See, if you don't quit the job and give us the fucking money you've stolen from us, I'll make your pretty little whore all mine. I'll tell you where to leave the cash, but first I'm gonna give you a taste of what I'm gonna do if you don't pony up… just so you know I ain't playin'"

Frank would find you, he had to find you.

His heart dropped into his guts the moment he learned you hadn't returned to your office after lunch break. The guy at reception thought you might have gone home sick or something and not had the chance to tell anyone.

He called you multiple times with no answer, no texts, no nothing. He was about to call Curtis when his phone buzzed with a video attachment from an unknown number.

Confusion rapidly gave way to a white hot rage that consumed his entire being as he saw Corey from work on the screen, and then you. As soon as he realised what the fuck was happening he was in the truck with the pedal grinding hard against the metal. He recognised where you were being held, one of the previous client's sites they had worked on downtown about a month ago.

The muzzle of the gun presses in and bruises against your temple. You close your eyes trying not to shake. All you can hear is Beardy's dumb laugh and the slow grating sound of a zipper right by your face. Bile rises in your throat.

Your heart soars as you hear your salvation bellowing from the stairwell.

"You want your money asshole?!"

"Frank! In here!" You shout and scream, desperate to see these fucking animals get what they deserve.

As soon as he hears your voice he's charging like a bull, the fire of hell itself blazing in his eyes as he grabs the gun and forces the blonde creep's hand backwards breaking his wrist with a sick crunch as if it was nothing. The asshole falls to the ground along with a faceful of Frank's boot as Beardy and the younger one pull out knives and start advancing in futility, because you know how this ends.

You see the beauty in the punishing raw anger that manifests itself through Frank's body, a slick, efficient killing machine. A fist, an elbow, a knee. He connects the dots so easily on his way to get to you, eyes scanning you frantically as he tugs the knife through the ties on the chair.

You're safe.

"I'm here baby, I'm here. You okay? You hurt?" His hands are light on your limbs, his thumb gently smoothing over the red marks on your wrists as he checks you over.

"I- I'm okay…" He's here. You're safe, you remind yourself.

"Any of those motherfuckers touch you?!" He growls, and you're only able to nod, too stunned to form words as you watch as Frank goes to haul up the sleazy blonde by the neck, his huge hand almost closing all the way around and crushing his windpipe.

"This one?" He asks, his voice is sharp gravel, you've never heard his tone like this before and it vibrates through you.

"Y-yes… he-"

You don't get to say any more as Frank slams him against the wall making him gag and choke, before punching his already bruised face into a pulp, breaking his nose and teeth within seconds. He wheezes pathetically as Frank's knee smashes repeatedly into his groin, and you find yourself unable to wrench your eyes away as he slides slowly down the wall when Frank is done, leaving a red smear on the plastic sheeting, a puddle of blood pooling around him as he reaches the floor and stills.

Frank doesn't miss the other one trying to crawl his way out of the room while he's distracted, swiftly picking up the tripod stand and launching toward him swinging it like a bat. You wince as it knocks the guy out cold with a splatter of blood painting the wall and he crumples to the floor.

Through the veil of your tears you see him, really see him. Frank came for you, he found you, he protected you. You're safe.

He holds you to his side all the way till you both get to his truck where he calls the cops and anonymously tipping them off to the location of three known abusers.

Back home you have to try so hard to satisfy him that except for a couple of bruises and a burst lip, you're fine. They never got to do what they were planning to. The anger and fear in you melts away with your tears as they flow, they're tears of shock and relief but he's still sorry. Sorry for letting this happen as if it was his fault, sorry for not knowing something was wrong much sooner, sorry that he can't keep you safe.

"I am safe, Frank." you assure, as you strip off your clothes and lead him to the bathroom, encouraging him to do the same. "I'm safe with you." His face is still pained and you know you need to show him, knew it from the moment you heard him coming to your rescue.

Under the hot spray of the shower you wash away all the filth that had tainted you. You run your hands over his body but he doesn't dare touch you, he doesn't see it yet, even as your lips brush over his bloodied knuckles he doesn't understand. He's still angry and afraid for you, and you feel it in his body as you press yourself flush against him, wrap your arm around his neck, your other hand going to his jaw to guide his mouth to yours. You have to show him that you need to feel him, on you, inside you. He needs to know the love you have for him isn't fragile. You know now that it isn't, it won't be beaten by this. Never.

He pulls away gently, he still believes you're scared of him and the things he's done. The things he does. "Baby, you don't have to, after what hap-"

But you're firm, pulling him back to you, pushing him up against the tiles and he's stunned. You're getting frustrated because he still doesn't get it.

"Frank, you're mine." He lets you guide his hands around your waist where you want them. "And I'm yours," you say pointedly, "now show me I'm yours, make me feel it."

This time when you reach for him you feel the difference. His fingers tighten against the softness of your skin like he can never let go. When you kiss him he kisses you back, he's still holding himself, letting you dictate the pace but a gentle nip with your teeth to his lower lip communicates your need more clearly. His thigh slots between yours, and you feel him getting hard against the front of your hip as you mould your body to his. His hands drop down to the curve of your ass as you rock yourself on his muscular thigh, your fingers twining in the longer hair at the top of his head as you stand up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear over the rush of the water…

Take me to bed.

He nods and you dry quickly and carelessly, desperate to be with him and feel his skin on your own. Your lips are still wet and slide so slick against Frank's as you move him towards the bed, climbing onto his lap as the backs of his knees hit the edge of it and he sits.

"You wanna stop, you just tell m-"

He's cut off as you push him back, a soft huff of breath leaving him as you're fierce in your demand for him to meet your energy. He's too good, being too sweet for what you need right now but he's catching up. Those hands, the ones that so surely dealt bloody justice for you, slide up your spine, one of them grasping the back of your neck as he surges up and kisses his way over your bare chest while you're grinding against him.

"Please, Frank," you whine into his mouth, tug on his lip with your teeth, and he thrusts upwards gripping your hip and meeting your desperate movements.

"Hey, I gotcha baby, I've got you…" he murmurs before carefully rolling you underneath him.

Your kisses are frantic, littering the line of his strong stubbled jaw but he soon captures your lips with his own, slowing you down, keeping that fire burning but calming you as he deepens the kiss. You open, and he permeates your senses, knowing exactly what you need, grounding you with his tenderness.

Limbs entangle until you're moving as one, body arching when his soft lips brush the skin of your neck, your ear, and you feel more than hear his words.

I'll always find you.

Tags:

@divinearchangel @saintmurd0ck @castlesnchurches @mindidjarin @hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados

@father4giveme @stress--relief @e-dubbc11 @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemiii @imherefordeanandbones @munsonownsmyass @marvelswh0re

#frank castle x female reader #frank castle fic #frank castle x reader #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank castle angst #frank castle smut

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therhythmafterthesummer · 2 years

Text

Camping with Wolves (M) ~Lee Know

Pairing: Werewolf!Minho x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | bit of Angst | Best Friends to Lovers Warnings: pet names (kitten/baby/babe/etc), pining?, unashamedly pushing the soft!Minho agenda, mentions of divorce, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of blood and violence, graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut). Word Count: ~11k | AO3 Summary: Minho was your rock, he was your anchor, your best friend, which was why you just couldn’t stop yourself from falling for him, even when he was, essentially, a supernatural being. One ‘camping trip’ might be the last push you needed to finally confess. Or maybe not… [This story takes place within the It’s Cold Out universe, meaning it’s part of my WereRoomies series].

Author’s Note: the werewolf brain rot is real y’all… i just wanted more soft werewolf content, so here this piece is. anyway, if you’re reading this, hope you enjoy, and if you do, don’t hesitate to leave your thoughts~

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Minho’s WereRoomies Instalments: Camping With Wolves · Dog Unleashed · Are You There, Wolf?

Smut Warnings: this is all really soft, you have been warned. lots of praising, fingering [F.Rec], nipple play [F.Rec], unprotected penetration [piv] (this is a piece of fiction in which you can trust people when they tell you they’re clean. wrap it irl please i beg you), cum on body/cumshot.

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

You could still remember quite vividly the day you met your best friend. It was a turning point in your life, so how could you not remember it. Moving to a new place after your parents divorce was probably the last thing you wanted to do. Your life had been turned upside down the moment your dads sat you down at the tender age of ten and told you ‘sweetie, there’s something your father and I need to tell you…’, and suddenly you were packing your bags and moving to the other side of the country.

New town, new places to see, new school, one less dad to greet in the mornings, and zero friends.

Your first day of school had been a blur of introductions, comments of ‘wow you’ve got two dads?’ and ‘you’re from where?’, and honestly by the time the day was over you were just ready to leave the building and hole up in your room for the rest of the week.

It’d been just as you were making your way home from school that you saw him. A boy, around your age, with long, black hair, crouched by the side of the road with a box in his hands, trying to put something in it. You’d never been too sure why you went close that day, you weren’t exactly a social butterfly, but something compelled you to walk close to the boy, and the closer you got, you could finally make out what was it that he was trying to put in the box, and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sight.

“What happened?!” Was all that came out of your mouth back then.

“Dunno… Just saw them here like this”, he side-eyed you a bit, but went back to try and put the clearly injured kittens in the box. “If you’re gonna stand there, at least help me out. Can’t leave them here”.

So you sprung into action, helping him put the little babies in the box, and even going as far as to going with him to the closest vet you could find–all led by the boy of course, after all, you’d just moved in and had absolutely no idea where you were standing.

“Ah, Minho–” The person at the entrance greeted him as soon as you two had come through the door, their face changing from that welcoming smile to slight surprise as they saw the box in his hands. “Dear heavens, what happened?”

“Dunno. Found them like this. They look hurt. Can you do anything?” The boy, Minho, you presumed, by the way the person at the counter called him. They hurriedly came from around the counter and took a quick look at the kittens, then at you both, offering a smile–a bit of a forced one, but you figured they were trying to not alarm you both too much, considering your faces were surely full of worry.

“I’ll have Mrs. Jung have a look at them as soon as possible, hm? Should I register the appointment under your mother’s name?”

Minho nodded, and just like that the person took the box from his hands, disappearing behind a door on the side of the room. With a sigh, he took his backpack off and moved to sit on one of the chairs by the waiting area, and again, for some inexplicable reason, you did the same, sitting next to him for a bit in complete silence.

You truly were never one of spending time with strangers like this, but when you got a chance later in life to analyse your behaviours at the time, you came to the realisation that you simply didn’t want to go back home that day, that you were trying to escape the fact that you had to go back to a new house without one of your fathers and be completely on your own until your other father came back. Which was why, that day, you couldn’t stop yourself from turning around to the boy, and attempting to start a friendly conversation with him.

“You do this often?”

He turned to look at you, with his eyes a bit wide in surprise, almost as if he couldn’t believe you were talking to him. “Do what?”

“Bring injured animals? They know your mum’s name, don’t they?”

“Ah, mm”, Minho nodded, turning to look back to the floor. “Mum’s a vet tech. And since I’m a magnet to finding hurt animals, I’m a regular here”.

“Mmm…”

You both were silent for a while, just hearing the odd beep of a machine in the distance, until Minho squirmed a bit in his seat, turning his whole body to look at you. “I’m Minho, by the way. Never seen you around before… It’s a small town”.

You introduced yourself, and explained that you had just moved in. It went on like this for a while, just you two talking as you waited for the vet to come out with news. You’d learnt that day that Minho was indeed your age, he had two cats and two dogs at home, he knew one too many facts about dinosaurs, and that he never missed one episode of Kamen Rider. It was interesting how, in contrast to his resting face, when he talked to you he didn’t look annoyed at all, and by the time the vet came out and informed you two that the kittens were fine, but a little dehydrated and that they would need to stay the night, you had learnt more about this boy next to you than any other classmate you ever had.

“I’ll be here tomorrow after school to check on the cats”, Minho said as soon as you stepped out of the clinic. “You know, in case you… Wanna see them again…”

You couldn’t help but give him a smile, hiking your bag further up your shoulder. “I’d like that. Maybe I’ll… Keep one. Always wanted a cat”.

“They’re great company. You won’t regret it!” And the smile that made its way onto his face as he said it could’ve easily outshine the sun. You had no other option but to believe him. “Can I… Uh… Walk you home, maybe? It’s kinda late…”

So you accepted his offer, and back then, you couldn’t have even imagined how that simple encounter would kick-start your lifelong friendship with Minho.

Interesting thing, how someone could become such an integral part of your day to day life that the second something wasn’t quite right, it was very hard to miss.

Since you met him, Minho and you had been inseparable. You ended up adopting one of the kittens he’d saved–Sir Percival of Camelot, you’d called him, because you liked the eccentricity of it all. Your father wasn’t exactly thrilled to have a cat at the time, but in his post-divorce guilt he just didn’t have it in him to deny you the wish, so Sir Percival and Minho became your best friends in this new town you had barely any knowledge of, and for their company, you were immensely grateful.

Minho and you would hang out every weekend, sometimes even a few times a week after school just to watch his precious Kamen Rider together, or just to play with Sir Percival, but Saturdays were solely reserved for you and him.

One Saturday, though, Minho didn’t make it. There’d been no phone call, no voice message left on the machine, no prior comment of ‘might not be able to make it’, nothing, and even though your father tried his best to assure you something simply must’ve come up, you couldn’t help the feeling of dread that was quickly building inside of you.

It wasn’t until later that day, at around midnight that you got the phone call. You were already asleep, it’d been your father who’d picked up, and as soon as the call was over he had immediately come to your room, to where you and Sir Percival had been cuddled up sleeping on your bed.

“Sweetie… Wake up, dear…” Your father caressed your hair softly, but there was urgency in his voice, and it had you stirring awake almost immediately. As soon as he saw you open your eyes, he spoke again. “Minho… He’s had a… A terrible accident”.

He might as well had shoved a harpoon through your heart. You’d never had a panic attack prior to that night, but the entire chain of events certainly led to one, and your father did try his best to calm you down. Ultimately, he’d hugged you tightly and asked you ‘would you like to go to the hospital?’ to which you obviously said yes without a second thought.

You’d never forget the sight of Minho’s mother that night, with her eyes red and puffy, and her hands slightly shaking as she waited for the doctors to give her any news on the state of her one and only son. You could still remember how tightly she hugged you and your father when you went to the hospital that night. ‘They found him by the edge of the woods, hurt… Bloodied–’ the poor woman could hardly speak, and honestly, you couldn’t blame her, even you weren’t able to produce a single word back then.

The sight of your best friend, of your dearest Minho all intubated and hooked up to machines in that hospital bed plagued you for months, even after he eventually woke up, seemingly fine, as if nothing had happened to him at all, as if he hadn’t almost died. To this day, you were still grateful you were there that day when he woke up, that you were able to hug him tight and cry on his chest as he softly patted you on the back confused out of his mind because he couldn’t remember anything that had happened.

Life went on as normal after he was discharged from the hospital, he’d continue to rescue animals whenever he could, he’d continue to go to class without further eventualities, he’d continue to take care of his pets, to watch his shows, and every day you’d ask him ‘you sure you’re okay?’ to which he’d only scoff and reply a ‘hundred percent’.

But of course, he wasn’t a hundred percent. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks after that you both finally saw the full damage of his accident. It happened at night, on one of your Saturday hangouts, you were having a sleepover, and your father trusted you both enough to stay home alone on your own, even if you were only pre-teen kids–not the safest choice, you’d admit.

You were hanging out as normal, watching the latest Kamen Rider episode, when suddenly Minho tensed where he was sitting next to you on the sofa, and he started gasping for air. To say that you were scared out of your mind was an understatement, and the fact that Sir Percival was all puffed up and had started to hiss uncontrollably at him didn’t make it any better. All of a sudden, among the pained groans and cries of your friend, strange sounding pops and cracks started to resonate in your living room, and in utter shock you saw your dear friend Minho inexplicably change shape, from his normal self to… A wolf.

Back then, you couldn’t even move, you just stared at it–at him?–as Minho thrashed around your living room in a panic, knocking several portraits out of place and making Sir Percival run away and hide. It wasn’t until you called for him, your voice barely audible for you to hear, that he finally stopped moving, turning to look at you. His eyes were the same, the same dark brown irises that you’d come to know as your best friend’s eyes, and the canine whines that came out of his throat pulled at your heartstrings unpleasantly.

If you hadn’t seen his eyes you might’ve not done what you did that night, but as soon as you saw them, as you heard his pained sounds, you just moved closer, slowly, scared he’d go into a frenzied state again. As soon as you were in front of him, you just kneeled, ignoring any and every single warning bell going off in your head as you looked at the wolf, because deep down, you knew this was your friend. Your Minho.

So you hugged that goddamn wolf that was suddenly standing where your friend used to be, and you felt as he almost relaxed fully into your hold as you whispered an incredulous ‘what the hell’s going on?’ You hugged him for a long time, until you started to hear those same pops and cracks that you heard before, giving way to your friend’s human form again, naked, looking at you with panicked eyes and tears in his eyes.

“I remember…” Minho sobbed as he held your shoulders and looked you in the eyes, and you couldn’t help the tears from running down your cheeks as you heard him. “I remember what happened. There was a wolf… Huge one… It attacked me, it bit me… What’s going on… What am I gonna do…”

You just couldn’t bear that look in his eyes, the tremble in his voice, the tears that wouldn’t stop, so you pulled him to you, hugging him tightly, all as you tried your best to be there for your friend, to reassure him, even if every single word that came out of your mouth did so between hiccups and sobs. “We’ll figure it out… Together, Minho. Together, huh?”

“No… You shouldn’t be close to me, what if I–”

“Together, I said”, you just hugged him tighter. Minho was your friend, your anchor, and there was no way that you would let him deal with this–whatever it was–on his own. “Don’t push me away please…”

“I should…” But even as he said it, Minho held you tighter.

Trying to get your living room looking normal after that was a bit of a challenge, but once you both calmed down and you fished some of your father’s old clothes for him to put on you managed to do that fairly well, so much so your dad didn’t even notice anything different the next day–maybe due to the exhaustion his night shift had brought him, you’d never know…

Minho started to change a bit after that situation. He grew taller, stronger, and his senses heightened, especially his hearing. Minho was able to hear things kilometres away from him, and it contributed to a period of crankiness in his life, where he would snap at people or be a bit harsher than usual–not to you, though. He always tried his best to not snap at you, and whenever he did, he always apologised almost immediately.

You started to change a bit, but not in any supernatural way, just in a normal, human puberty way. It was normal, your father had told you back then, and as all these new changes started happening in your body, both physically and emotionally, you started to see your dear Minho in a new light. Suddenly, whenever he hugged you your cheeks would heat up, whenever he laughed because of one of your jokes your heart would flutter, and whenever you were watching TV and a couple kissed on the screen you couldn’t help but wonder how it’d be to do something like that… To do something like that with Minho.

You reasoned it was normal, Minho was the only boy you had around you at the time, so obviously you would think these things sometimes. It meant nothing, for sure. He never really seemed to show any interest other than being your friend, and that was fine. You were fine with that. Having him with you, however it was, was truly all you ever needed.

There were some challenges, though. Minho had all these weird symptoms and behaviours now that he had been turned into what your research had told you was a werewolf. You both couldn’t exactly go to anyone and tell them ‘hey, remember that accident Minho had a handful of months ago? Yeah, about that…’ because, realistically, who would believe you? The universe, though, worked in your favour, because one day, when Minho had come to pick you up from your after school class to walk you home, another boy had approached you.

“Hey, excuse me…” You recognised the boy from your school, a couple of years younger than you, and when he approached, Minho’s eyes went wide in surprise, almost as if he recognised him somehow. “Are you… You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

“Who are you? And why are you asking such weird questions?” You couldn’t help but intervene, always feeling oddly protective of your friend and his… Condition.

The boy flushed a bit, but he looked you in the eyes regardless. “I’m… Jisung. And I’m asking because at first I thought it was you. I’ve been… Building up the courage to come and ask, so we could, you know, maybe help each other out? I don’t know that many people at school, but only now that I saw you together I realised I was smelling him on you”.

“You’re… You’re a werewolf, too?” Minho was slightly incredulous, stepping a bit closer to you. “Is that what I’m smelling on you? A werewolf scent?”

“You can’t tell?” Jisung furrowed his eyebrows, confused, but then he gasped, looking slightly alarmed. “Were you… Were you born as a werewolf at all?”

Minho just shook his head. “Was attacked. Now I’m like this”.

“Oh, God!” Bringing his hands up to his head in alarm, Jisung almost threw his beanie off of his head with the motion. “You have no pack?!”

“Nope. Just have my mum, and my friend here”, Minho draped his arm over your shoulder, pulling you to him. He’d been doing this often these days, keeping you close to him when someone came too close. You didn’t mind much, but it did make your heart stutter, which you conveniently always decided to ignore.

Regardless, Minho was right in his statement. He didn’t have many friends, he’d had a couple of friends throughout the years but they usually fell through, you were the constant, just like he was your constant. Funnily enough, Jisung also didn’t have many friends, or any at all, so he naturally gravitated towards you two after that day, and, in a way, you liked that. Mostly because he was able to help Minho in ways you never could.

Jisung helped him understand how to take care of himself as a werewolf, how to control certain urges and how to fulfil certain needs. He started joining you two on your Saturday plans, and your father was honestly happy that you were making other friends, too. Sir Percival, on the other hand, had a hard time getting accustomed to the two werewolves coming in and out of the house. He liked Minho enough, because he recognised what he’d done for him–or at least, that was what Minho told you Sir Percival told him–but the addition of Jisung had him a bit on edge.

Especially because, for some reason, Jisung was… Affectionate, to put it simply. He liked to cuddle. A lot. And he would often try to get Sir Percival to cuddle him, or he would try to get Minho to cuddle him, or he would try to get you to cuddle him, and honestly you were usually the only one to cater to his needs, so at some point he started coming to you directly.

You didn’t really mind, but whenever he left earlier than Minho then he also wanted to cuddle, and you never truly understood why, but you let him anyway, mostly because you… Liked cuddling with Minho. As friends, of course. Always friends. Just friends.

So you spent a couple of years like this. With your two werewolf friends, with your mildly grumpy cat, facing the hardships of high school along with the hardships of their supernatural condition. Until Jisung broke the news that he had to move out, because his pack was moving out, and since he was so young he just couldn’t make the decision for himself, he had to leave.

You could still remember the day he left. You cried a bit, you’d admit, even Minho was holding back a few tears as he hugged his friend, just as Jisung offered a ‘this isn’t goodbye, we’ll meet again. I’m sure of it’. And as you saw him walk down the road, Minho pulled you to him, hugging you tightly against him.

“Just you and me again, kitten. What are we gonna do now?”

You just chuckled, pulling away from him a bit to look him in the eyes and wipe some of the tears that were still clinging to your lower lash line. “Kitten, huh?”

“Of course!” Minho said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world for him to use such a pet name with you. “You’re a cat person, aren’t you? And I’m a… Dog-person, heh…”

Groaning, you slapped him in the chest. “That’s such a bad joke, honestly. Why do I keep up with your shit?”

“Because I’m your favourite person in this world”, he swayed your bodies back and forth, waddling you back towards your house. “And I’d be your favourite animal, too, if it weren’t for Sir Percival”.

All you could do back then was laugh, because he was right. He was your favourite person in this world.

‘People usually grow apart, sweetie. It’s a normal thing that happens’, your father had told you once, and you believed him. But funnily enough, that never happened to you and Minho.

Sure, you moved out of your hometown after high school to pursue higher education somewhere else, while he moved out to do exactly the same–his goal of becoming a vet was still one of the most oddly amusing things to you, considering he was close to being an animal himself. You both made new groups of friends, dated different people, took different career paths, but even then, you still kept in touch. Even if you had grown and matured, in essence, you were both still the same.

Minho had finally found a pack of his own, right after he reconnected with Jisung. The second he moved into their den he invited you over and you met his entire new group of friends, his new family, and you couldn’t have been any happier for him. They were all so nice and welcoming, and you quickly found out that Minho had become one of the main pillars of his pack, something that, somehow, was and wasn’t surprising in equal parts.

On one hand, it was because you were so used to Minho The Loner, Minho the boy who only had you and Jisung, that knowing he now had other people to care for was surprising. But on the other hand, Minho was so caring, so protective, there was no doubt in your mind that he’d be able to protect these people well, especially when he cared deeply about them. Just as he had done with you throughout the years.

You two tried to meet at least once a month, and most of the time it was you who drove to his place, staying over in his flat as you recounted anything you hadn’t talked about in the past thirty days, all as Kamen Rider played in the background, a show that Minho was still to this day attached to–and you couldn’t blame him, the thing was entertaining and it didn’t seem like they’d stop pumping seasons anytime soon.

Jisung would join you often, too. Demanding attention and cuddles just in the way only Jisung knew how to, and the rest of his pack soon followed once they warmed up to you.

You could still remember the first day Minho introduced you to his pack’s leader–or ‘alpha’, as they called it. Chris was nice, he greeted you with respect, and Minho had told you after that he was the one who had to ‘allow’ people staying here, even if they were just visiting. So you figured he thought you were nice as well, considering you frequently stayed over.

As the years went by you saw more werewolves join their pack, Seungmin, Felix, Hyunjin, Jeongin, and eventually, even humans as well when Chris got himself a new roommate–his now girlfriend. The last person you saw move in here was Changbin’s roommate, also now his girlfriend, and they all seemed to take care of each other really well, they all worked together to keep their small ecosystem going smoothly, and it was honestly refreshing to see.

It made you feel happy for Minho, who seemed to finally have a full, loving family of his own. Not like his mother wasn’t family, she just didn’t know–or couldn’t know, as Minho put it–what he was, and that, coupled with the fact that she had apparently remarried an asshole–had unfortunately put a bit of a strain on his relationship with her.

“I have news, kitten”, Minho said, plopping himself on top of you on the sofa, not caring in the slightest if he crushed you, the sudden weight on your chest making you groan.

“Can’t breathe”, was all you mustered, so Minho shuffled, laying on his side and wrapping his limbs around your body to pull you closer to him.

“Better?”

“Yeah”, you just sighed, turning to bury your face in his clothed chest. “So, news?”

“Yes”, Minho rubbed his cheek on the top of your head, and you could’ve sworn you heard him mumble a ‘God, you still smell like Jisung’ before he cleared his throat and continued talking again. “Remember how we always talk about the monthly camping trips and how I’ve always wanted to take you and you’ve always wanted to come, but Chris’ never let us because ‘it’s too dangerous’?” He added the last bit with a poor imitation of Chris’ voice, making you laugh.

“Yeah, how could I not remember”, you couldn’t help yourself from inhaling deeply, getting lost in the smell of Minho’s fabric softener, on the smell of his body wash, on his natural scent, and–God, you really shouldn’t let your thoughts wander like this, not when he was this close, not when you knew you liked your friend… More than a friend.

You’d always known. How you felt towards Minho. Even if you’d dated other people, you’d always known. You always just tried to ignore it. But these days, whenever you met after spending long periods of time apart, you just couldn’t stop your mind from wandering into that dangerous territory… Into the What-Ifs. What if I told him? What if I kissed him? What if he kissed me? What if we fu–

“Well, I’ve finally gotten him to agree”, the smile was almost audible in his voice, and it made you pull away from his chest to look him in the eyes.

“Really?!”

“Really, really”, Minho’s hold around your body tightened even more. “So, hope you can get your friend Mar to take care of Sir Percival for a bit. I don’t think he’d like being surrounded by nine wolves”.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought. “Oh, he’d hate it. He’s too old for that. So when’s this trip of yours?”

“In a couple of weeks, you think you can make it?”

“Hm. I’ll make it”.

“When you said you went camping every month, this wasn’t what I had in mind”, you couldn’t help but say the moment you pulled up into the house, or should you say mansion? “This place is huge”.

“Did you think we were literally sleeping in the woods?” Seungmin yawned, rubbing sleep from his eyes when you turned to look at him from the passenger’s seat.

“I mean, isn’t that what camping is? Whose house is this anyway?”

“Chris’”, Minho replied simply as he started parking. “It’s the only thing his grandparents left him after they passed. Since he had a pack of his own, they figured it’d be useful. And it is, but it’s also a pain to upkeep”.

As soon as Minho was parked, Seungmin and you stepped out of the car and opened the boot, taking out the many bags and backpacks from there so you could get them into the house. Changbin’s and Chris’ cars arrived right after, and soon enough, everything was placed securely within the living area or in the kitchen–the latter exactly where you were in right now, getting the many containers of food into the refrigerator with Minho, just as Hyunjin busied himself washing an assortment of cups, plates, and glasses.

“Which room can I take?” You asked once everything was put away in its place.

“You’re staying in mine”, Minho replied simply, chewing on a piece he’d taken off of a baguette.

“And where will you be staying?”

Minho blinked slightly, swallowing the food in his mouth. “In my room. You’re staying with me”.

“What?” It wasn’t like you hadn’t slept within the same room as Minho before, you’d done it plenty of times. But since your… Acceptance of your feelings, you weren’t sure you’d be able to share such an enclosed space without losing your sanity–or worse, confessing your feelings.

“One of Chris’ conditions”, Chris’ girlfriend explained from where she was sitting on one of the kitchen stools, taking a sip of her glass of water.

“Can’t I stay with you?” You asked her, pouting slightly.

“Not unless you want to sleep with me, too”, Chris chimed in as he stepped into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend’s waist just as she offered him a bit of her water, which he immediately took a sip of.

“Why wouldn’t you want to stay with me? I’m offended”, Minho said in a mock hurt tone, serving himself a glass of water as well. “Besides, wouldn’t recommend staying with these two. They’ll surely fuck even if you’re there”.

“Hey!” Chris was also clearly pretending to be offended, bringing a hand to clutch his chest. “I can behave”.

“Baby, you and I both know that’s not true”, his girlfriend chuckled, patting him on the chest as she made her way to the sink to give Hyunjin her glass.

“I can!”

“Christopher, darling, dear angel, don’t lie to yourself like this. You’d have one look at our dear mother’s child bearing hips and you’ll lose it”, Minho pointed at him, trying to sound like those cheap ‘life coaches’ on social media. “It’s okay to admit you have a problem, we’re here for you”.

Chris gasped, bringing a hand to his mouth. “For the record, I don’t have a problem–”

“That’s right, you don’t”, Chris’ girlfriend added, with a teasing smile on her lips. “You’re just shameless”.

“That I am. I mean, can you blame me? Just look at your hips… At your everything, damn…” Chris gave his girlfriend a look from head to toe, staring for maybe a bit too long, until his girlfriend mustered a ‘see? Shameless. Utterly remorseless’, making him snap out of his trance, bringing a sheepish smile to his face. And then, finally, he turned to you. “Minho’s right. You’re better off staying with him. With that being said, let’s get everything ready, the sun will set soon”.

As it turned out, ‘getting everything ready’ meant making sure there were plenty of robes ready by the back entrance where the pack would come back through, filling an insane amount of jugs with water, and having the food ready for them to just pop into the microwave once they were back. Jeongin, Felix, Changbin’s girlfriend, and Minho got busy with this, while the rest of you took the reminder bags that were left in the living room to each room.

You left your belongings and Minho’s for last, and when you opened the door to his room you could’ve almost fainted. There was one bed. You were going to have to share this bed with Minho for at least two nights and you honestly weren’t sure how you were going to survive that. On one hand, that meant you’d get to cuddle, one of your favourite activities to do with your best friend. On the other hand, you’d get to cuddle, which was the worst thing you could do when you were harbouring feelings for said best friend.

For the time being, you decided to ignore this, since the sun was setting and the pack would surely leave soon. So you left your bags there, and made your way back downstairs to find everyone already going through the back door to the backyard.

Minho spotted you right as he was taking his shirt off, a sight you certainly didn’t need, but you wouldn’t shy away from anyway. “Ready for your run, doggy?”

Minho scoffed, unbuttoning his trousers. Your eyes followed the movement, and your face went serious immediately. Thankfully–or regretfully, you couldn’t decide–he left them on. “Don’t look at me like that, kitten. I might think you want to see me naked”, he was only teasing you, just like he always did, but he was so close to the truth you were finding it incredibly hard to not look guilty. “When was the last time you saw me in my wolf form?”

“Uhhh…” You honestly couldn’t recall, or maybe it was hard to when you were too focused on not looking at his chest. “Probably before we finished high school? Which, now that I think about it, is kinda weird, isn’t it? It’s been a long time. Why do you ask?”

“‘Cause… I don’t think you’d be calling me a doggy if you’d seen me recently”, whatever response you had for that got caught in your throat as soon as you saw his eyes shift, turning from that brown you knew so well to golden, glowing a bit more intensely the more the sun set.

Minho stared at you, right in the eyes with his golden ones. It lasted probably just a few moments, but it felt like an eternity, until he finally spoke again, a bit slower than usual and with a low tone that had the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. “I’m gonna take these off”, he took a hold of his zipper, and it was almost as if he was challenging you to keep looking. But ultimately, you were a coward, so you turned around.

You heard the characteristic sound of the zipper opening up, then you heard the rustling of fabric, and finally, you started to hear the pops and cracks you’d come to know as the sounds of his human body shifting into his wolf form. Soon enough, you started to hear the same sounds all around the backyard, and you knew the rest were also doing the same.

After a while, you felt warmth behind you, not really on you, but close enough for you to feel the huffs of breath against your back, so you turned around, coming face to face with your best friend. And you honestly weren’t prepared.

You’d seen Minho in his wolf form plenty of times in the past, but admittedly you hadn’t seen him since you entered adulthood, much less with this golden glow in his eyes. His fur was the same, the same shade, the same pattern, but he’d grown. In his human form, Minho wasn’t really considered a tall man, but like this, he was certainly bigger than any wolf you’d ever seen, and you couldn’t stop your eyes from going wide in surprise and a soft ‘wow’ from leaving your lips.

In his eyes, you could almost see his amusement, almost as if he was laughing at your reaction. Coming close to you, Minho nudged your hand with his nose, and you immediately brought that same hand to his head, petting him, scratching behind his ear affectionately, and a smile immediately made its way onto your face. “You’re still a doggy to me, you know?”

Minho huffed, somewhat annoyed, you figured. Giving your hand an affectionate lick, he turned around walking towards the rest of his pack that were already gathering by the edge of the woods. Suddenly, you felt warmth close again, and you gasped as an even bigger wolf walked past you. Chris, probably, since his girlfriend was walking right behind him, and she stopped next to you to look at the rest.

Once Chris reached the edge of the woods, he turned around, pacing a bit, getting the full attention of his pack of wolves. As soon as he was seemingly satisfied with their positions, he howled, triggering a chain of howls from the other wolves, until finally he turned back towards the woods and took off, the rest following soon after.

And just like that, they were gone.

“Well, just you and me for a few hours, then”, Chris’ girlfriend turned to you, giving you a small smile. “Wanna hang out here, or you prefer chilling on your own?”

You gave her a smile in return. “Let’s hang out”.

The moment the pack came back, it was all a blur. The group was usually chaotic, but it seemed like the run had made them even more so. Everyone’s eyes were glowing golden, some more intensely than others, but they were, and they explained to you that it was the influence of the moon, that it’d probably wear off once they all calmed down or by the time the sun was back up in the sky.

The kitchen was crammed with everyone trying to get themselves stuffed full of food. It was all heartwarming, in a way. Very homely, just like any time you’d seen them all interact together, and they even made their best efforts to keep you included in the conversation, which you appreciated immensely.

At some point, Minho left the group, only to return a handful of minutes later, out of his robe and into his usual pyjamas–a loose vest top and loose shorts. The second he stepped into the kitchen, he shushed everyone, bringing the attention to him, just as he brought his hands up.

“Time to pay up, losers. Mummy and Daddy are fucking”.

There was a mix of groans and cheers, and it was only then that you noticed that Chris and his girlfriend weren’t there. They’d never come to the kitchen at all, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you saw the group exchange tenners, until finally Minho, Jisung, Changbin, and Felix split the jackpot.

“Man, I really had hopes for them”, Changbin’s girlfriend commented as she took a sip of her drink, giving Changbin a dirty look as he waved his winnings on her face.

Felix snorted at that. “Please, did you see how Chris was running towards the end of the run? I knew we’d won immediately”.

The rest of the evening went on like this, joking, talking, just overall having a good time, and by the time Chris appeared in the kitchen to get two plates of food, looking as if he had just won Millionaire, only Felix, Seungmin, Minho, and you were left.

“Gonna go to bed”, you murmured to Minho just as Seungmin started teasing Chris about his escapade.

“Going with you”, his eyes were still glowing, and by now he was probably the only one whose eyes were still glowing–you couldn’t really tell, since some of them left earlier before the effects of the moon had worn off.

As you made your way upstairs, and freshened up for bed, you were reminded of your earlier predicament. The shared bed. Honestly, by now, you were so tired you could hardly care at all. You’d push through, just like you always did.

Tucking yourself into the covers you let out a sigh, enjoying the soft sheets on your exposed limbs, waiting for your roommate for the night to come back from his trip to the toilet. You’d push through, you reminded yourself. Minho was your friend. Your best friend. You’d slept with him a million times, it’d be fine.

As soon as the man in question made it back to your room, he switched off the light and plopped himself on the bed, making it bounce slightly, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“So, did you have fun with our dear pack mother? Was coming to our ‘camping trip’ what you’d expected?” Minho wiggled under the covers, turning to look at you.

“I did have fun with her, she’s nice”, you regarded him with a smile. “It wasn’t exactly what I expected, but wow if it isn’t an experience, huh?”

“It is”, Minho chuckled, smiling so wide you could barely see his eyes, but that little bit of them that you did get to see was still glowing gold, and you just had to comment on it.

“Why are your eyes still glowing?”

Minho shrugged, moving a bit closer to you. “A lot of werewolf shit going on right now with the moon, it’ll go away eventually”.

“Mm”, was all you could muster before you yawned, stretching your limbs a bit only to turn to your side, away from Minho. “Gonna sleep now, g’night”.

“Aww, c’mon”, you felt Minho move, and then you felt warmth, warmth on your back where he was almost pressing his chest to, and warmth on your waist where he had thrown his arm to wrap around you. “Let’s cuddle a bit, kitten. Hm? Pretty please?”

“Ugh, get off, you big dog. You’re too warm”, you couldn’t help but whine. Contradicting your words, though, you took his hand that was lying around your waist and clutched it to your chest, keeping him in place.

Minho noticed, because of course he did, so he chuckled, clearly amused, further pressing his chest to your back. “Let go of my hand, then. So I can move away”.

You were silent for a bit, softly running your thumb on his palm. He let you, just like he always did. “Don’t wanna…”

It was warm, he was warm. He always was, he’d always been since the day he turned, but even if it was stupidly warm under the thin covers, you still wanted him close to you. Because Minho was comfort, he was safety, and tonight you wanted just that, even if you would turn into a puddle of sweat right then and there.

“Mmm…” Minho’s hum vibrated against your shoulder, where he had been keeping his mouth pressed since he moved closer to you. It wasn’t uncommon for you two to be this close, you cuddled often. Platonically. Or at least, you were convinced it was platonic.

There was always that tiny voice in your head telling you to yank the cork you had stuffed in your heart, to let your true feelings free, but what if you did and Minho didn’t feel the same way about you? Your friendship might be ruined. Although, realistically, you knew Minho wouldn’t treat you any differently, he was that type of person, and you’d probably get over your feelings after that imminent rejection.

“Lift your head up a bit”, Minho said suddenly, so you immediately did as asked, feeling as he sneaked his arm under your neck, curling around your frame to pull you even closer to him, admittedly turning your heartbeat up a notch. “You think Sir Percival’s doing alright?” His lips brushed on your shoulder with each word, and your body was quickly betraying you, goosebumps rising under his touch and heat quickly pooling in the pit of your stomach with just the mere feeling of his lips on your skin.

Swallowing thickly, you gathered your bearings, answering as steadily as you could. “Mar sent me a picture of him earlier. Wanna see?”

“Mmm… I do”, his hold on you tightened the slightest bit. “But your phone’s too far away. Don’t want you to move from here…”

“Always so needy, huh?”

Minho chuckled at that, moving a bit so he could talk in your ear, almost whispering. “Bold of you to say, when your heart’s about to leap out of your chest, huh kitten?”

Caught red-handed. Curse his supernatural hearing… Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to ease all the different burning sensations coursing through you–nervousness, anticipation, lust–they felt like so many it was really hard to tell exactly which one was the most prominent. You had the full intent to reply, something snarky to get him to shut his mouth, but your mind suddenly went blank when you started to feel Minho’s lips on your skin again, pressing slow, tender kisses on your shoulder, and the motions had you tightening your hold on his hand that you were still keeping close to your chest.

The action wasn’t uncommon, either. Just as you cuddled often, you also kissed like this often. Platonically.

Platonically… Right? Was it platonic? It must be, you were just friends after all. Best friends. The bestest of friends.

“You know… Maybe Chris was right”, Minho mumbled between kisses after a while.

“About?”

“It… Is dangerous for you to be here”.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Why would it be? I’m fine. Nothing’s happened”.

“Mm… Yet”, Minho’s mouth travelled from your shoulder to your nape, leisurely kissing there, too, and your brain was close to shutting off completely. “The moon… Guess I… Underestimated what it’d do to me with you here”.

He was being a bit cryptic, which wasn’t uncommon when he talked about his lycanthropy, so you wanted to inquire further. “Minho?”

“Mm?” With a deep intake of breath, Minho sighed, almost in the same way you sigh after getting a whiff of your favourite meal, and the action had saliva pooling in your mouth. “Shit, you never believe me when I say it, but you do smell good, kitten. Always do…”

The shiver that ran up and down your spine was impossible to miss. Minho always told you that, you always brushed it off as him teasing you, playing with you, but right now, with how low his voice was, with how deep it got, you couldn’t help but believe him.

“You know you… Are my favourite person in this world, right?” He murmured against your skin, and the featherlight touch of his lips had your head spinning a bit.

So you decided to poorly attempt to divert the conversation. “What about Jisung?”

Minho chuckled softly, further pressing his chest to you, holding your thumb in his fist as you still kept his hand to your chest. “Completely different feelings”.

“How so? Isn’t he also your friend?”

Minho was quiet for a while, just mindlessly pressing kisses on your skin, until finally, he removed himself from your space, removing his hand from your tight hold with ease, only to push on your shoulder to get you to lay on your back as he hovered over you, propped up on his elbow. The sight of his glowing golden eyes had you almost shivering as he stared deeply into your eyes. That look was raw, intense, and your heart truly felt like it was about to leap out of your chest when he looked at you like this.

“You’re much more than a friend to me. You know that, right?”

You just looked back at him, holding his gaze as best as you could. And as you struggled to do so, you were reminded that, at the end of the day, Minho was still a predator, and even if you trusted him with your life, your body would have a natural, instinctual reaction to his stare. Ultimately, you couldn’t help yourself from moving your gaze away, focusing instead on that mouth of his, on his pouty lips that had plagued your dreams for nights on end, slightly chapped tonight but still just as delectable looking as ever.

“Kitten…” Minho was trying to get your attention back to his eyes, but you just didn’t want to look away, enjoying the way his lips moved with every word that came out of his mouth. “Why are you… Why are you looking at my mouth?”

If there was one certain thing in this world was that Lee Minho was going to be straightforward at any given moment, and this moment–whatever the moment was–was clearly no exception to that rule.

You didn’t say anything right away, just absentmindedly licked your lips as you shamelessly stared, catching the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing in your peripheral with the movement. “Just thinking…”

“About?”

“Things I should not be thinking about”.

The tension was palpable. Or were you imagining it? It certainly felt tense to you, but not in an uncomfortable way. You could see how taut his body was as he hovered over you, and as you kept looking at his lips, there was nothing you wanted more than for Minho to make a move. Or should you make a move instead? Maybe you should. But would you be able to deal with the consequences of that? Maybe not.

It was then, when you were having that struggle within yourself, that you saw his lips move, that you heard him. It was only a whisper, but you were sure you heard him, the sound registering a second too late, a quiet ‘fuck this’ before his lips were on yours, and you couldn’t help the embarrassing sound that escaped your mouth the second his skin made contact with yours.

Heat spread quickly within you, your mouth moving on instinct to match Minho’s almost desperate movements. Even if his lips were slightly chapped, that was the last thing you could care about, you’d get them moist, that was no problem at all. Moving a hand to the back of his head you pulled him further into you, revelling in the groan that escaped his throat the moment your nails lightly scratched his scalp.

Shuffling a bit above you, one of Minho’s legs found its way between yours, his thigh pressing against your core to add the tiniest bit of delicious pressure where you were desperate to feel him most, all as he sneaked his tongue into your mouth. If you were letting out the most embarrassing noises, you didn’t care, not when you could feel him hard and warm against your stomach, not when all you cared about was Minho and his hands on your thigh and his tongue in your mouth and his lips on your own.

“We should…” Minho started to talk, all between pecks of his lips, and it honestly didn’t seem like he wanted to stop kissing you at all. “Should talk about this”.

“We should”, you agreed, also refusing to stop kissing him, starting to shamelessly grind yourself against his thigh, the groan that left his lips as soon as you did adding to that desperate need in your gut. Your hands found their way under his shirt, feeling him up. His lower back, his abdomen, his ribs, his chest, and your touch made him shiver slightly.

Detaching himself from you for a second, Minho took a hold of the back of his shirt, tugging it off of him, only to immediately return his mouth to yours, kissing you desperately, eagerly, the bed sheets pooling back behind you two with the motion. Your hands roamed his body, hungry to feel him. It wasn’t like you had never touched him before, but never had you touched him like this, so intimately, so needy.

“Stop me”, Minho pleaded as his lips attached to your neck, sucking and nibbling on your skin, eliciting whines from your mouth, his hand travelling all the way from your thigh to your ribs, holding you tightly in place.

“No”, you replied confidently, because you genuinely didn’t want to stop, not when you finally had a handful of his bum in your hand, not when it all felt so right, so easy, and natural.

“Shit… You… Want this?” His lips returned to yours, almost stealing the air straight out of your lungs with the sheer intensity of his kiss.

“Want you. Only ever wanted you, Minho”.

Minho groaned, his hips lightly bucking into you as soon as your confession reached his ears. “Talk later?”

“Later”, you nodded in agreement, slightly breathless as you felt him tug on your top, removing it from your body. You could talk about it later. You didn’t want to stop now, not that you knew how his lips on you felt like, how his weight on you felt like.

As soon as your top was off your body Minho’s hands were on your tits, kneading the supple flesh with his hands. “You’ve got no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this, fuck… These pretty tits of yours, shit…” His fingers started to tease and tweak your nipples, making you whine against his mouth, making you further press against his thigh. “Sensitive here, huh?”

“Minho, I swear to a God that doesn’t exist, if you don’t get my tits in your mouth right now…”

“Don’t boss me around”, removing himself from your space again, Minho hooked his fingers under the waistband of your shorts, taking them down and off your legs along with your underwear. Slotting himself between your legs, his fingers found your core, lightly teasing your clit just as he swore under his breath. “If you boss me around you’ll trigger my alpha instincts, is that what you want?”

“What if that happens–” Your words died on your tongue as soon as he started drawing circles on your clit. You couldn’t help but moan, bringing a hand to your mouth to try and muffle yourself as much as you could, considering the rest of his pack was also in the house.

“Don’t act all innocent on me now, huh? You know exactly what I’d do. And I bet you’d love it, too”, regardless of his pretence banter, his lips closed around one of your nipples, licking your sensitive bud into his mouth, the motions sending sparks of pleasure right down to your core just as he dipped a finger into your entrance.

Minho’s attention on your chest coupled with his digit moving in and out of your core had your mind soaring, had your mind suddenly blank of anything other than him and you on this bed in this room. The more his tongue licked your skin, the more his teeth nibbled your chest, the more fingers he stuffed into you, the more you wriggled under him, whining desperately under his motions. Your hands held onto the bed sheets and his hair to try and keep your mind in the moment, all as you tried your best to not let a single sound out of your mouth louder than you should.

When he was four fingers deep into your cunt, when his thumb started to draw circles on your clit, you just couldn’t wait anymore. You were on the edge of your orgasm and you were feeling desperate for it, but you also had the intense need to feel him within your walls, for him to stretch you with all of him, so you reached for his crotch as best as you could in this position, feeling him up, and your eyes snapped open just by the feel of it.

Minho’s lips released your nipple with an obscene sound, all for him to further buck into your hand as he looked into your eyes, his brows furrowing slightly and his teeth sinking on his bottom lip to muffle a groan. It wasn’t like you hadn’t felt him before. There had been occasions… Occasions you both had silently decided to ignore, times when you might’ve woken up cuddled up, and he was suffering the effects of morning wood, but you never let yourself dwell on it too much. Now, though, and enhanced by the fact that he clearly wasn’t wearing anything under his shorts, you were able to feel him completely, and you felt saliva suddenly pool in your mouth.

“Minho…” Swallowing thickly, you tried to feel as much of him as you could. “You… I mean…”

“It’s just… One of those alpha things, you know? Why do you think I got four fingers into you right now, kitten?” He emphasised his words by hammering his fingers harder into you, making you whimper. “Trying to get you ready. Don’t wanna hurt you”.

“Fuck… Is this what turning before puberty did to you?” With shaky hands, you hooked your fingers on the waistband of his shorts, the pace of his fingers slowing down a bit as Minho curiously eyed you. There was some resistance, but when you finally got the garment down enough, you almost whimpered at the sight. “Shit… Even your cock’s pretty, huh Minho?”

Minho chuckled at that, slightly incredulous, but you noticed the blush that spread over his cheeks, and you couldn’t have felt more satisfied. Wrapping your hand around his length, you let out an appreciative hum, stroking him leisurely, enjoying the heavy feel of it in your hand. And before you could say anything else, Minho was back on you, kissing you eagerly, hungrily, making you breathless with his tongue in your mouth and his fingers in your cunt.

“Want you…” Was all you could mumble between kisses, relishing the groan that escaped his mouth as you did.

“Shit, wait”, Minho pulled his fingers out of you, moving away from your mouth to look at you. “There are no condoms in this house”.

The alarm was apparent in his voice, and it rubbed off of you. “You got all kinds of supernatural shit here and you got no condoms?”

“We don’t come to this house to fuck, babe. What do you want me to say?” Minho chuckled, moving away from your space altogether. The sudden lack of his body heat was unpleasant, you wanted it back, desperately. Which was probably why you spoke your next words.

“Are you clean? I am. Haven’t had sex since we went to that place to get tested like… Dunno, months ago”, the implications of your question hung in the air, and Minho’s mouth went slack.

Swallowing, he brought his hands to your thighs, softly caressing your skin. “I am. Also haven’t had sex since then”.

“In that case if you… Uh… If you don’t mind then we can… If you want… You know”, Minho knew you had an implant. Hell, Minho practically had your menstrual cycle memorised, he was the one to save you multiple times throughout High School when you didn’t even know your period would come, always keeping extra pads for you just in case. And even in present day, he had gone with you to get the damn thing put in a handful of months ago, so of course he knew.

If there was anyone in this world that knew anything about you was Minho. Your best friend Minho. Your best friend Minho who you were about to let fuck you raw. And the thought had your mouth watering, you’d admit.

“Shit, are you being serious right now?” Minho leaned into you, and you couldn’t help but take a deep breath as you felt the tip of his length on your bare skin, just as he looked you in the eyes. You nodded, you didn’t think you’d ever been more serious about something in your life than right now.

“Holy–Am I dreaming or what? Damn… You… Shit…” Taking a hold of his length, he lined himself with your entrance, making you tense in anticipation as you felt his bare skin on yours. “Gonna go slow, okay? Don’t wanna hurt you, hm?”

Minho took his time, going in slowly, letting you adjust to him, and you couldn’t help but furrow your brows at the stretch, biting your lip to suppress a whimper. “Shh, it’s okay…” He mumbled against your cheek, pressing soft pecks on your skin. “Breathe, baby…”

“Mmm, baby…” You mindlessly mumbled back, trying to focus on the feel of his lips on your skin instead of the sting between your legs.

“You like that? Me calling you baby, huh?”

“I do–” Your breath caught in your throat when you felt Minho’s hips flush against you, when he bottomed out, swallowing almost loudly at how full you felt. “Maybe embarrassingly so…”

“No need to feel embarrassed, kitten. I like calling you baby, too”, he looked you in the eyes, taking you in. Slowly, you saw how the golden glow of his eyes dissipated, leaving his brown irises behind. Bringing a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb softly caressed your skin, and you suddenly felt yourself flush under his heavy gaze. “You’re so gorgeous, huh? And cute. Pretty. Always… Only ever wanted you, too”.

“You did?”

“Hm… Still do”, he confirmed before leaning in, pressing his lips to yours to kiss you again, slowly, sensually, and you couldn’t help but clench around him when he did, making him chuckle for a moment as you kissed.

You just held onto him, caressing the planes of his back, feeling the goosebumps that rose on his flesh under your touch. Even when you could feel his bare skin against yours, his bare skin within you, you couldn’t even believe this was real, it was happening. You were lying here, with your best friend’s cock buried deep within your walls, kissing him, and your mind was almost spinning, dizzy with that realisation.

You needed Minho to move. If he didn’t move soon you feared you might actually die right there out of the intense need you felt for him, so you rolled your hips, murmuring a soft ‘move, babe’ against his lips. So he did, starting a slow, borderline teasing pace, working you up, letting you get used to the movement.

“Fuck, I like when you call me babe, too”, he looked you in the eyes, picking up his pace. “Love the way your cunt’s hugging my cock, baby, so good… Been dreaming about this, too, you know? How you would feel, and it’s so, so much better than I could’ve ever imagined”.

“You–You were?”

“Mm, I was”, sitting back on his heels, Minho threw one of your legs over his shoulder, the change of angle made it so his cock grazed that sensitive spot within your walls, making you curl your toes and see stars with each thrust of his hips, and the second his thumb pressed on your clit, you knew you were too far gone, panting heavily at the onslaught of sensations that Minho was bestowing upon you.

“Promise I’ll go harder later, hm? I know you want that, for me to ruin you”, you didn’t think you could flush further, but you felt heat on your face, and your belly tightening with the words that came out of his mouth. “But I want it like this now, kitten. Wanna enjoy you like this. Is that okay?”

His thumb on your clit sped up, and you almost choked on your words with the sudden change, even when he was still thrusting slow, but deep. You simply nodded, eagerly, holding his gaze confidently as that knot in the pit of your stomach got tighter with each and every one of his motions. “Just want you…” was all you could muster as your hand reached to softly caress his abdomen, feeling his muscles tightening and relaxing with each thrust.

“Mmm… So beautiful”, removing his thumb from your clit he brought it to your lips. “Lick it, baby. Make it as wet as you can for me, hm?” So you did, coating the tip of his thumb in your saliva only for him to return it to your clit, for him to start quickly rubbing circles on your sensitive bud, making you throw your head back with the sudden onslaught.

“Minho, babe… Please, want to…”

“Come on, baby… Give it to me, wanna feel you…” With a few more flicks of his thumb on your clit, you finally came, bringing your hand to your mouth so you could muffle the desperate moans that were about to come out of your mouth, relishing the heat you felt course through your body as Minho kept fucking into you.

With the effects of your orgasm, the rhythm of his hips was becoming more and more erratic, his face contorting in pleasure as he chased his own release. Reaching for the hand he kept on your pubic bone after you came, you placed your hand on top of his, bringing his attention back from where he had been looking at his cock disappearing between your walls to your eyes. “Want you to come on me, wanna feel you, please…”

“Shit, kitten…” Taking a hold of your hips, Minho held you tightly, giving you a diluted taste of that strength you knew he had but he was holding back on, of that strength you were surely going to beg him to release on you later, just as he gave a few more thrusts, working himself up closer to his climax.

In one final swift movement, Minho pulled out of your heat, wrapping his hand around his length and bringing himself to completion right on top of your abdomen, and, biting on his bottom lip to dampen obscene sounds of his own, he finally came, thick ropes of his cum soiling your torso, all the way from your navel to your tits. It was so much, you knew werewolves were biologically different from human males, but you were surprised at the amount, the sudden warmth making your head spin, making you wonder how it would feel when he came inside of you, in your cunt, in your mouth…

Breathing heavily, Minho looked down at you, his eyes raking your form, covered in his seed, a flush settling all the way from his chest to his neck. Immediately, he was on you, kissing you deeply, mumbling words of ‘so, so pretty covered in my cum, so pretty…’ between pecks of his lips that had you flushing impossibly further.

Moving away from you, he took a hold of the first garment he could find, using it to wipe his cum off of your body, throwing somewhere right after only to finally plop down next to you, still panting a bit and staring at the ceiling. You did pretty much the same, lying there staring at the ceiling, but you did reach for his hand, interlocking your fingers with his, revelling in the way he held yours tightly in his, just as a comfortable silence fell between you two.

After a while, Minho spoke. “Did you mean it?”

You turned to him, looking at his side profile, looking at the relaxed expression on his face. “Mean what, baby?”

“Only ever wanted me?” Minho turned to you, with a soft smile on his lips, giving your hand a squeeze.

You felt yourself blush, but you smiled at him regardless. “Mm… Only you, baby”.

“Me too”, letting go of your hand, Minho pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly against his chest, and you could only melt into his embrace, inhaling deeply, basking in his presence. “I’m glad you came with us today. Was a bit worried at first, but now… Now I’m super glad you came, honestly…” He mumbled against your hair, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You’re just happy you got laid”, you were joking of course, teasing him a bit as you caressed his back.

Minho laughed at that, bringing a hand to your rear to fondle one of your buttcheeks. “Only ‘cause I got laid with you, dummy”.

Chuckling, you draped your leg over his hip, pushing on his shoulder to get him to lay down and for you to straddle him. Looking down at him, your hands dragged all the way from his shoulders to his pecks, squeezing him a bit before they continued their path to his abdomen, the motion bringing a smirk to Minho’s face. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“What exactly? I said a lot of things, kitten”, Minho’s hands came to your waist, dragging all the way down after to fondle your hips.

“That you were gonna go harder later?”

“You do want me to ruin you, huh? Shameless”.

You chuckled, shuffling a bit so you could press yourself to his length, and your eyes went wide and your eyebrows rose high on your face. He was hard already, and the surprise must’ve been obvious on your face, because Minho simply shrugged, moving his hands to cup your bum. “You do smell so good, and the full moon is not making it any easier on me, cut me some slack”.

“Minho, babe, listen… And I mean this seriously. It’s important”, Minho went serious, looking at your face intently, giving you his undivided attention. “I need you to fuck me in every possible way you can and more, I’ve been waiting too long. If you don’t I might actually die”.

Minho scoffed, smirking as he tightened his hold on your rear, making you squeal with the sudden movement, with the strength of his hold. “Oh, kitten… Baby, you have no idea what you’ve just asked for. Good luck trying to stand up from this bed tomorrow when I’m done with you”.

Author’s Notex2: if you’re curious as to why Chris looked like he’d just won Millionaire when he came down to the kitchen, you can check out Love is Easy.

if you want to read more of this couple, check out Dog Unleashed.

Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :)

Minho’s WereRoomies Instalments: Camping With Wolves · Dog Unleashed · Are You There, Wolf?

#stray kids supernatural au #stray kids fantasy au #stray kids werewolf au #lee know smut #lee know fanfiction #lee know fic #lee know x reader #minho x reader #minho smut #minho fanfiction #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #werewolf lee know #werewolf minho #✨🌙✏

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raycatzdraws · 6 months

Text

I'm gonna put this here and then probably make it private but I want to say

There's discussion happening in the LU fandom so if you don't care for that scroll on:

But, I love creating with the LU fandom. I don't create in a void. My work is a conversation. I hope that it inspires you to create, to think, to chat with friends! Thank you to everyone who's shared their art and let me be a part of it, and to everyone who's played a part in mine!

to copy paste something I've said on my main:

isn’t it interesting that there’s Jojo’s LinkedUniverse and then also the LinkedUniverse fandom’s LinkedUniverse? That LU became a conduit through which to examine and compare and contrast Zelda games with this cast of characters as a base? That was their original intention and the fans went “heck yeah!” and ran with it? The LinkedUniverse fandom’s LinkedUniverse is a monster of the week story where everyone contributes, it has hundreds of authors and storytellers all working together and trading tales. It’s a scenario in which Jojo’s LinkedUniverse is both the source material and also just one instance in the larger weave. And the LinkedUniverse fandom’s LinkedUniverse lore deviates from (and is much deeper than imo) that of the original comic mainly because of that 1 person building a thing vs hundreds of people building a thing. And isn’t that so cool? But then also with the decline of the fandom I dunno I feel like the LinkedUniverse fandom’s LinkedUniverse has been dying. Updates would spawn a burst of creativity and multitudes of branching ideas and what-if scenarios explored through art and fic and discussion, building on it, adding it in to pre-existing stories. I feel that activity around updates has been ticking more towards exploring the comic within the context of the comic itself (or just reposting clips), and less within the fandom’s takes on it (not taking that step forward of “yes, and,” and “yes-anding” fanworks as well.) Or not updates in particular, but the state of the fandom is deviating from taking this base and running and sharing to something more controlled and wary? Isolated? The LinkedUniverse fandom is a phenomenon to me. And it’s not something I think should be replicated in regards to other LinkVerse comics but it’s also something beautiful and creative? Like, Jojo to a certain extent has or had lost control of the fandom’s versions of these characters. She made them and we respect her wishes for them but they no longer belong to her? The LU fandom’s LU is a collectively written LinkVerse and exploration of the loz games, using these characters and relationships as a base (which is why I think people mistag by accident so much.) Sure, you could use the characters directly from the games or make your own LinkVerse to explore the relationships between the loz games. However, within the context of the LU fandom, you get the advantage of the template already being there for the character’s personalities, meeting, secrets, and an open ended goal, and these things are understood by a large number of invested people, leading to this huge collaborative project. This is what’s so special about the LinkedUniverse fandom to me. Watching this thing be built and getting to be a contributing piece of it. Maybe it shouldn’t have happened. Like, if something like that were to happen to anything I’ve made I think that’d be really scary. But it’s also something incredible? It’s why I have a hard time accepting it when people say they hate the LU fandom. How could you hate the creativity? The shared stories? What’s been made? Isn’t it incredible? It’s another LinkVerse, in a way, one that belongs to many. I'm frustrated by the instances where people have tried to police the way the characters are written, both within the fandom and towards Jojo’s comic, and the issues in communication, and callout posts asjhfksdf Problems in reconciling the LU fandom’s LU, Jojo’s LU, other LinkVerses, and gen loz. But the phenomenon of the fandom itself, the shared collaborative LU fandom’s LinkedUniverse? I think it’s such a cool thing. I think it’s such a cool way to explore and examine the loz games and craft stories with so many other people. I really enjoy all the LinkVerses that are around now. I don’t think the fandom for LU is something that can be replicated. (or should?) (it’s both something odd and a loss of control for Jojo but also a conduit for an incredible amount of creativity and community.) It’s really interesting to me. It’s really interesting to witness. Or to have witnessed?

and now tired rambling, but,, aaa

What I love about the fandom is seeing ideas and headcanons and art and fic be shared and then built upon. The community projects! The LU Zine. The valentine's day cards! The artist and writer appreciation projects! The weekly polls and prompts from the main LU server! The master door post! Long haired Sky! Tick-tac-toe on Legend's forehead! Crop top Roolie! Cheer up buttercup! Seeing small headcanons being adopted into fanon lore and being able to watch that progression. Seeing these tropes develop and being a contributing part of it! It's something we're building together and watching that happen in real time is so special! Again, it's that 1 person building a thing vs hundreds of people building a thing that is so alluring to me.

The creators, and analysis folks, and people who leave comments and nice tags: I see you as my peers! I want to create with you! I'd love to participate in collabs and trades! I haven't been able to be involved as much as I want because of a lack of spoons. But, I admire so many of the people here. Thank you all so much for sharing what you've made! Thank you for allowing me to be a part of it! Thank you for supporting me and my silly ideas for these characters! My art is a conversation and I approach what the LU fandom's made in the same way. It's not content to be consumed. It's an open hand. I'm so grateful to those who have taken it. You've inspired me to create. It's the greatest honor if I'm able to do the same for you. I want to keep making things with you guys.

(To anyone who's made fanart for fic and vice-versa, to anyone's who's seen a headcanon and let the poster know that it's changed how you view the characters, to anyone who's contributed game information to analysis, to those answering asks and doing requests? ya'll are the best keep it up!)

#rays random ramblings #I dunno.. We're in this together!#do hit me up for collabs and send me fic recs #there is so much more I wish I could do!#there are so many fics I want to make art for!#I have so many ideas to share!#if only I could get to all of it #what a way to start a tuesday huh?#lu fandom

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whatsnewalycat · 1 year

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Designated Person | Chapter 6

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 6: Present

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Series Summary: When posting bail for Frankie Morales, your former employer and former lover, you unwittingly designate yourself as his third party custodian during his pre-trial release. Your often tumultuous relationship with him is given a new set of rules and put to the test. Can the two of you co-exist peacefully, or will you crash and burn?

Word Count: 9.2k+

Content / Warnings: Frankie POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship and related flashbacks, angst, food, AA meeting, alcoholism, abuse mention, lying, confrontation, crying, mutual masturbation, panty snatchin' (sorry idk what else to call it)

Notes: Hello hello hello! If you want the taglist, spotify playlist, or AO3 link, head on down to the masterlist. I appreciate your patience in waiting for this, thank you so much for reading. Ok love u have fun!

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ][ Next Chapter ]

Tonight, the AA meeting is being held in the conference room of a value hotel.

The three-story venue is ripe with families on vacation and traveling professionals who likely booked their rooms as a cost-saving measure. They certainly didn’t choose to stay here because of its charming features, such as the floating island of dead bugs in the outdoor swimming pool, or the dingy low-pile carpet darkened in high-traffic areas, or the generic, faded landscape portraits in shiny golden frames.

Its conference room is windowless, the only source of light buzzing from long fluorescents overhead, dousing everything in a twitchy, vague sort of green that grips Frankie’s stomach.

Or, maybe it’s just the story he’s listening to that’s making him feel ill.

Maybe a little bit of both, it’s hard to tell.

“She had her heart set on leaving, ‘n’ I told her, nobody fuckin’ wants you here anyway, Mary Beth, go on home!”

The haggard old man, who introduced himself as Fred, says this in a jovial, rehearsed way that tells Frankie this story has been told many times. Probably over drinks, to coworkers, or friends, or anyone who happened to be within earshot at his regular barstool.

Fred glances around over his puffy, purpled nose, like he half expects his spectators’ laughter, but the only noise is the squeak of people’s uncomfortable shifting in seats. Either because the story is too relatable, or because these folding chairs are hell on the tailbone.

“She told me if I didn’t get my ass outta that barstool, she’d be gone when I got home,” he looks at the floor and his cheeky grin falls, “I didn’t go home ‘til barclose. ‘N’ she was still there. Knew she would be. She always was.”

The room is silent as he gathers his thoughts.

“She passed away, few years back,” he looks around, putting his calloused hands up defensively, “‘N’ I miss her everyday, don’t get me wrong, but—”

The well-weathered skin of his face sags into solemnity, “I kinda wish she woulda kicked me to the curb, y’know? Was always waitin’ for it, for her to get fed up ‘n’ leave, but she never did. ‘N’ I think, sometimes, maybe… she woulda lived a better life if she did. ‘Steada waiting around for some drunk, she coulda really made somethin’ out of herself. And I feel…” he frowns at the floor, trying to pinpoint the correct emotion, a skill undoubtedly atrophied by decades of avoidance.

“Regret, I think? Wasting so much of her life. It’s one thing wastin’ my life, but her’s… I dunno. It don’t sit right,” Fred clears his throat and swallows, then sighs, “Guess that’s it. Our anniversary’s coming up next week, she’s been on my mind ‘n’ I wanted to get that out.”

The ringleader for tonight is David, as is usually the case at the Monday night meetings Frankie attends. He thanks Fred for sharing, then asks for another volunteer.

Frankie leans back in his seat and presses his fingers to his lips as another participant clears their throat and begins to talk. He’s stuck on the old man’s story, though. His knee starts bouncing as he turns it over in his mind.

I’m not that bad, right? I wasn’t that absent. I didn’t go to the bar every night. On the weekends, sure. And on weeknights, I’d drink myself fuzzy and numb, but at least I was at home.

Was he really present, though?

Before you, when Angie was home with Sarah on maternity leave, he’d come home from work and visit with them for a while. Knock a few beers or drinks back. After dinner, he would continue to drink in the garage, or in the basement. Somewhere Angie couldn’t raise her eyebrows every time he finished a beverage and retrieved a replacement.

Even after you, this ritual continued. You distracted him enough to slow the drinking those few hours after he got home. But once the table was cleared after dinner, he would tuck himself away somewhere in the house to drink alone.

It wasn’t always that way.

He drank, sure, but it wasn’t every day. It wasn’t to the point his mind went blank.

No, that didn’t start until he returned from South America.

Every time his eyelids closed, it played on repeat. The mansion. The crash. The village. Redfly’s vacant eyes. Over and over. His culpability hung around his neck like a noose.

The guys didn’t want to talk about it. A silent agreement not to mention their sins. Angie didn’t want to talk about it. Too pissed at him for going in the first place to feel bad for him.

It just stayed inside him, replaying again and again on loop. He needed something to wipe the slate clean, and booze worked.

Not like he was sober before then. Drinking himself blind on the weekends. Fuck, Angie was the same way. Before she got pregnant, anyway. That’s how they ended up meeting, that summer night back in 2018.

He and Benny went to one of their frequent Saturday spots. The bar was crowded and loud, heavy throngs of people attracted by a popular local DJ. Summer heat crept into the air despite the industrial air conditioner running at full blast, Florida’s relentless humidity hung thick in the air, leaving a dewy residue on every surface.

The only thing Frankie could smell was that primal, earthy scent of sweat. He pinched his shirt and pulled it away from his chest with a few quick tugs, trying to get some kind of a breeze going. When he looked around the bar, swathes of exposed skin all surrounded him, people wiping their foreheads and fanning themselves.

He spotted two women sitting at a high-top table, leaning over their drinks and talking to each other. One of them was a pretty, unassuming brunette. The other had glossy black hair that shone in the neon lights, cascading in waves down the open back of her dress. She looked put together and fucking luminous, the way her copper skin seemed to glow. He couldn’t look away.

Benny was in the middle of a sentence when Frankie cut him off, “Holy shit, look at her.”

“What—who?” Benny followed Frankie’s line of sight and guffawed, “Her? She would eat you for fucking breakfast, man.”

“I fucking wish,” Frankie gave Benny this dopey smile, nodding towards them, “You getting a feel on the friend?”

Benny glanced her over and shrugged, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth, “Pretty brunette?”

“Right up your alley, huh?” Frankie grinned, then nudged his friend, “So?”

“Fuck it, why not?” Benny chuckled.

“Atta boy,” Frankie smacked his shoulder a few times, then started off towards the table.

“Hey, how’re you two doing tonight?” he asked as he leaned against the table, looking between the two women, who sized him up scrupulously, “Yeah, uh, my name is Frankie, this is my buddy, Benny. Mind if we join you?”

“Why?” the subject of his desire asked, her big, round eyes searching Frankie’s face.

“Why?” he raised his eyebrows and chuckled, “Well, because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I’d sell my goddamn soul for an opportunity to talk to you—”

“Oh yeah?” she smirked and tilted her head, bringing the tip of her tongue to her top teeth before shrugging, “Prove it.”

“You—you want it? My soul?” he grinned and leaned closer, “It’s yours, beautiful, for the low, low price of this barstool next to you. And maybe, if you’re feeling generous, a dance later?”

“That’s a hell of a deal,” she raised her eyebrows and joked, “For you, I mean.”

“Oh yeah?” he laughed, “What if I throw in a sweetener? I’ll buy your drinks, too, how’s that sound?”

She scrunched her face up in contemplation, then smiled, “Deal.”

“Yeah?” Frankie beamed, extending his hand to her, and as she took it, he grazed his thumb against her soft skin, “What’s your name?”

“Angie,” she answered, eyebrow quirking as she told him, “This doesn’t mean you’re taking me home tonight, though.”

“Noted,” he smirked, dropping his eyes to her lips, before meeting her gaze, “So what’re you drinking?”

He woke up the next morning in his bed, head spinning, stomach clenching.

Before opening his eyes, he tried to recount the night, following the path of breadcrumbs his memory allowed him. Meeting Angie, taking shots, flirting with her relentlessly, more drinks, dancing with her. Kissing her on the dance floor. The sidewalk slabs uneven beneath his feet on the walk back to his apartment. A woman’s razor sharp giggle as he fumbled to unlock the door.

The mattress shifted beside him and he cracked one eyelid open tentatively, releasing a sigh of relief when he recognized Angie as the person tangled up in his sheets. Traces of the previous night’s makeup still held in tact on her face, oily pools gathering in the soft wrinkles of her forehead and eyes, black mascara clinging to her lashes in clumps and flaking onto her cheeks, a faint red outline where her lipstick was before he kissed it off of her. He rolled on his side towards her and brushed some of the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead.

She hummed and frowned, then took a deep, wakeful breath as her eyes blinked open. They were stunning in the light. Golden streaks like sunbeams stretching from the middle of her iris into a deep, rich brown.

“Oh, fuck,” she murmured, “We fucked, didn’t we?”

“That’s what it’s looking like,” he smirked, “How’re you feeling?”

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her button nose, “Still drunk.”

“Regret this yet?” he chuckled, half-joking, half-wondering.

“Having sex with a stranger? Yeah, I’m having some regrets,” she scoffed, shaking her head, then threw her hand down at her side. She sighed and studied his face, “You’re cute, though. Kind of wish I could remember it.”

“Ditto,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with a shrug, “You know, we could have a do-over. Since we’re already here and regretting it. You could… let me have another chance to, ya know, make a lasting impression.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” her dark eyebrow arched. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She brought her long, red fingernails to his hairline and combed them through his bed head.

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, dropping his gaze to her lips, “Plus, that way, when this hangover inevitably kills me, I’ll die a happy man.”

“Is that right?” she giggled. The sound made his heart sing in harmony.

“That’s right,” he reached out to her under the covers, smoothing his hands along her soft skin, coaxing her closer as he murmured, “What do you think, princesa, hmm?”

“I think,” she wriggled on top of him, the sticky heat of her naked body clinging to his, “I could give you a fighting chance.“

She hovered over him, meeting his eyes for an intoxicating moment before he pulled her lips to his. From there, it was full throttle. Kissing, biting, gasping, moaning. Torrid, frenzied movements that burned bright and hot.

Their relationship took off at break-neck speed.

From that day onward, they were doing nightly sleepovers at each others’ apartments. Every free moment spent with the other, most often spent drinking or fucking. Six days into their relationship, Frankie got a text from some girl he was casually seeing. Angie read it when he was out of the room, then confronted him, resulting in their first drunk screaming match, and, subsequently, their first instance of drunk make-up sex.

She worked at a global manufacturing plant’s central office with hundreds of other carpet-walkers and pencil-pushers as a financial analyst. Her hours often ran long and wound her up tight.

When she would show up at Frankie’s apartment after work, she’d be ready to burst. He’d fix her a drink and listen to her bitch about coworkers and projects and idiots who used reply all instead of reply, waiting for her to ask him anything about his day. She never seemed all that curious about him, though, which irked him.

They did have fun together, when they had sex and went out to bars, but by the end of the second month, he found her presence to be draining. That bug of discontentment wriggled beneath his skin. He realized they had little in common aside from their coping mechanisms and combustibility.

He started to think about breaking things off with Angie, but, by then, it was too late.

“Who would like to go next?” David asks, glancing around the circle of metal folding chairs and their scattered occupants.

Frankie meets his eyes and points his index finger at the ceiling.

“Floor’s yours, Frankie.”

“Thanks,” Frankie nodded and crossed his arms, sitting back in the squeaky chair, “Growing up, my dad wasn’t around much,” his mouth opens, but a thought occurs to him and he chuckles, shaking his head, “There’s one for the AA Meeting Bingo Card, huh?”

This actually earns a few amused grins and a snort of laughter from his peers.

He leans forward, pressing his elbows into his knees with a shrug, “Anyway. Even when he was living with us, whenever I did see him, he had a beer in his hand. And I thought it was normal, like everyone’s dad went to the bar every night, so I didn’t think much of it. I’m not sure when that changed. When I started to notice, I mean, that it wasn’t normal.

“When I’d go to my friend’s house, I thought they were… I dunno, fucking weird? Because they sat around the dinner table and talked to each other while they ate. And—and they didn’t seem afraid of their dad. Like, they didn’t have to walk on eggshells when he was around, which made me… uncomfortable, I guess,” he grimaces and shakes his head, “Jesus Christ, that’s fucked up. But, anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that, to me, my dad’s behavior was normal.

“There would be times when he would come home and be three sheets to the goddamn wind, and he’d yell and throw shit, and my ma, she would lock me in my bedroom and tell me not to come out. Said my dad wasn’t feeling well,” he crinkles his nose and shrugs, “They split when I was twelve. And I don’t blame her for leaving him, I really don’t, but… I didn’t see him again until I got out of basic.”

He stops and leans back, taps his fingers on his kneecaps, then crosses his arms. A knot tightens in his throat when he remembers that day. Knocking on the door of his dad’s shitty apartment in Orlando. When it swung open, Frankie barely recognized him.

Seven years left to his own devices aged him decades. Deep wrinkles carved into his droopy forehead. His nose and cheeks were darkened and bumpy, like he had a pubescent case of acne. He looked Frankie over with glossy, barely-there eyes and slurred, “There’s my boy! Hey, come in, Francisco, come in!”

Frankie’s stomach soured when the words hit his face, thick and swollen with whiskey. A warning signal that laid dormant in his veins for years reawakened, gushing hot and electric beneath his staticky skin.

His father turned and started waddling into the apartment, so Frankie followed him, closing the door left wide open behind him. The apartment was threadbare. A dingy beige couch sat on one side of the living room, facing a small antennaed tv propped up on a milk crate. Some blonde news anchor chattered on the tv, but the gurgling buzz of the air conditioning unit effectively muted her. In lieu of a proper dining room setup, his father had a folding chair tucked into a card table, which was cluttered by piles of unopened envelopes and empty beer cans.

While the stranger pulled two beer cans out of his fridge, Frankie managed to stitch some words together, “So, how’ve you been, Dad?”

He didn’t seem to hear his question, just held one aluminum can across the countertop to his son, “You’re a real man now, huh? Have a beer with me, Francisco.”

Frankie took a few steps forward and went to lean onto the counter, but decided against it when he realized how sticky the surface was. He accepted the beer and opened it.

“It’s been too long, my boy, too long. What has it been, four years?”

“Seven,” Frankie corrected, averting his gaze to a tower of dirty dishes emerging from cloudy, gray water in the sink. The wet, bacterial, rotting stench made his nose crinkle.

“Ah, well. I’m, well…” he trailed off and swallowed three big gulps of beer, then grinned, “So, Special Forces, huh?”

“Yeah, I—”

“I’m proud of you, Francisco.”

Frankie’s head jerked backwards and he met his dad’s dark eyes, “Wh-what?”

“Takes discipline,” he responded, nodding, “I’m proud of you. Your mom, she did a good job with you.”

And he wanted to say a million different things. He wanted to say thank you and I love you and I forgive you and I hate you and fuck you. He wanted to yell: No thanks to you, you drunk old bastard. You woman-beating fucking coward. A different part of him wanted to cry: Why did you abandon me? Why wasn’t I good enough? Am I good enough now?

But when he licked his lips and opened his mouth to respond, his dad shuffled off into the sad living room, changing the subject.

Frankie shakes his head and sighs, then looks around the room, “When Angie got pregnant, I vowed I’d never be like him. I—I wanted to be there for my kid, to be better than he was to me, and give my child a better life than I had.

“Ang and I don’t always, um… see eye-to-eye. We have our problems. I’m trying to make it work, but I’m just so,” the word catches in his throat and burns behind his eyes. He takes a deep breath, swallows, and admits, “I’m so scared it’s not going to work. And Ang will take her. And I’ll end up just like him.”

He clears his throat, then takes another wide, cleansing breath before starting again.

“The only things I’ve ever been any good at are being a soldier and being a dad,” he says, staring at the floor, “It’s hard enough only seeing her a few times a week right now. I fucking hate it. I hate not being there when she wakes up in the middle of the night with a nightmare, and not watching Happy Feet with her twice a day, and not cuddling on the couch with her in the morning,” his stomach clenches and he feels a swell of tears starting behind his eyes, but continues, “The only thing getting me through this right now is knowing that it’s temporary. But if it doesn’t work with Angie, and I lose Sarah, I lose fucking everything. And I—I fucking can’t do that. I won’t.”

Frankie buries his face in his hands and feels a sob bubble up his throat. The echo of his crying returns to his ears and he becomes acutely aware of the other people in the room. That hardened part of his brain scolds him, growling at him to fucking get it together. He pushes the chair out behind him and keeps his head down as he walks out of the room, muttering, “I need a minute.”

When your shitty old car pulls into the hotel parking lot, Frankie is still outside pacing, trying to gather the courage to go back inside and face the group.

He breathes a sigh of relief and starts towards it. You furrow your brow at him through your cracked windshield. When he opens the car door and sits down, you ask, “Why aren’t you in there?”

“It’s fine,” he frowns and pulls his seatbelt over his chest, locking it in place, “Got out early.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then scoff, “Bullshit. What happened?”

“Nothing—”

“Oh my god, Frankie, come on,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, searching his face, “You’re all flustered right now—”

“I am not,” he protests.

“You’re such a liar, you are flus-tered,” you blink at him with authority, raising one eyebrow, “All jittery, and your eyes look red—did you cry? Is that it?”

It’s irritating how well you know him.

He rolls his eyes and looks out the window, muttering against his fingers, “Can we just go?”

“It’s ok, you know, to cry,” you say quietly.

His leg starts bouncing and his jaw gnashes from one side to the other.

Like you’re one to talk.

Like you don’t go out of your way to hide from him every time tears pool in your eyes.

“Hey,” you coo and tug on his hand. He lets you take it, interlacing his fingers with yours. The contact makes his heart skip a beat. When he looks over at you, your brows are threaded together, earnest eyes searching his face, “You’re not the first person to cry in AA, I promise. They’re there to support you. Give them a chance to help.”

He glances up at the hotel’s exit and sees a few people from the meeting filing out, and shrugs, “It’s over now, anyways.”’

“Did you get your paper signed?”

“No.”

“C’mon, at least get credit for your work,” you smirk, squeezing his hand, “I’m sure they’ll understand why you left.”

He groans and scrubs a hand over his face, “Fine.”

“Atta boy,” you grin, “Do you want me to come with or do you got this?”

“I got this,” he flashes a weak smile, and has to hold himself back from bringing the back of your hand to his lips.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the vehicle, nodding at a few familiar faces as he makes his way back into the building to the conference room.

In the room, a few people are putting away chairs or talking in small, quiet groups. David stands by the snack table, signing off on someone’s attendance form. Frankie lines up behind them and avoids David’s gaze when it’s his turn to hand over the attendance sheet.

“That was really vulnerable, what you shared with us today,” David tells Frankie as he unfolds the form.

His nostrils flare and he scoffs, “I thought I was supposed to share things.”

David frowns as he signs off on the paper, shaking his head, “It’s a compliment. Being vulnerable is good, and I appreciate your vulnerability.”

“Oh,” Frankie shifts his weight to one leg and frowns, “Thanks.”

“Yeah, of course,” David hands the form back, and when Frankie takes it, he can tell David is gearing up to say more. His face grows more solemn. He pushes the wire frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose and says, “I know how conflicting it is being an alcoholic father with an alcoholic father. It’s hard to know if you’re doing the right thing. Being apart from them is hell, even if it’s when you’re doing something to make yourself better. I just wanted to let you know that I get it.”

Frankie nods, searching the man’s face, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” David flashes a polite smile, then turns to the snack table and starts picking things up.

When the two of you get home, Frankie goes into your bedroom to haul the TV back to its normal spot in the living room.

He finds himself lingering at the foot of the bed, staring at the side he slept in last night. At the covers, still drawn back from when he woke for work this morning. At the stuffed panda bear you set in his place at some point today.

My place.

He needs to stop thinking like that. It’s not his place. It can’t be his place.

Not permanently, anyway.

Part of him feels guilty for not leaving once you fell asleep. Staying was pure self-indulgence, no matter how many times he tries to convince himself it was for your benefit.

It can’t become a habit.

But all weekend he wanted to hold you. To feel your beating heart and shallow, wheezy breath against his body. Proof that you were still here, after seeing you gasping for air, lips tinged blue, eyes wide with fear.

In his life, he’s faced a lot of scary and uncertain situations. Situations that threatened his own life and that of people he cares about. But this… this was different. At least in combat scenarios, he had training and experience to guide him.

This weekend he felt powerless.

If he had to quantify the terror, he was at maximum capacity. Never been so fucking afraid in his life. He felt so helpless, he folded his hands and bowed his head at your hospital bedside, reaching out to something or someone in hushed whispers, pleading for your recovery.

So, no, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone in your bed last night. Not when you fell asleep in his arms, your head on his chest, curled up at his side.

The answer to his prayers.

When he was sure you were sleeping, he pressed his lips to your forehead and told you what he’s only barely been able to admit to himself.

In a million different ways, I’ve always loved you.

It was indulgent. Undisciplined.

But mostly, it was a relief.

Even if his words fell on your sleeping ears.

Even if he can probably never tell you again.

With a heavy sigh, he follows the TV’s power cord to the wall and unplugs it. He freezes when he spots something on the floor next to your dresser. You cough at the other end of the house, and he glances over his shoulder just to make sure you’re not around before he picks it up.

A pile of soft teal lace. Your underwear.

He brings them to his nose and inhales, the familiar scent inspiring a deep, heated churn at the base of his spine. Without another thought, he shoves them in the front pocket of his jeans, then unplugs the TV.

Frankie settles on the couch with a groan, then glances over to where you’re curled up into a little ball and asks, “Were you able to get some rest today?”

You nod and your mouth stretches into a yawn, then you murmur, “Still kind of feel like shit, though. Hopefully it’s better by Wednesday.”

“Oh yeah, how’re your kids doing?”

“Marla said they’re doing better, getting back to their normal selves. Em’s going back to school tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” he leans back and spreads out in his corner of the couch, “You like it, working for them?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “They’re sweet kids. Whole different vibe than Sarah, though,” you glance at him and chuckle, “Don’t tell anybody, but she was my favorite.”

A grin stretches across Frankie’s face. He presses his fingertips to his lips and looks over at you, “She is pretty great, huh?”

“The best,” you agree, a wistful smile playing on your lips, “I hope that when I, um,“ you falter here, smile dropping. You clear your throat and shake your head, “Sorry, I lost my train of thought. Are you guys doing anything fun tomorrow?”

“Not sure yet. Angie, um… yeah, I don’t know,” he frowns at his knee as it starts to bounce, “She’s pissed at me. So probably, you know, dealing with that.”

“Because you skipped out on Saturday?”

He nods, and when you don’t say anything, he glances over at you, “It’s fine, though, she’ll get over it.”

“Sure,” you smirk, raising an eyebrow, “Have things been going ok outside of that?”

“Aside from the alcoholism, my pending felony, and the fact that I’m living with another woman?” he snorts, “Things are going great.”

“Don’t forget the affair,” you tease.

“Mmm, you mean the isolated incident?” he corrects, rolling his head on his shoulders to look at you.

You scoff and shake your head, “Wow. Yeah, isolated. Sure. Just a mistake, right?”

He searches your face, watching your eyes go dim and your jaw clench, and furrows his brow, “N-no, that’s not—“

You clamp your lips closed with your teeth, like you’re holding yourself back, then open your mouth anyway, “That’s what you tell her, though, right?” you blink, “It was a mistake, it meant nothing to you, it’ll never happen again, blah blah blah?”

His jaw hangs slack and throat croaks as he tries to yield some kind of truth that will both spare your feelings and help him evade scrutiny, “I’m—sorry.”

It’s all he can come up with.

You roll your eyes and sigh, then mutter, “Whatever,” before turning your attention back to the TV.

The silence that settles is tense. It writhes beneath his skin and trickles into his stomach, twisting it into knots.

You start to wriggle in your seat, like it’s bothering you, too. He can feel a jagged energy rolling off your body, and, predictably, you break.

“If you ever want things to actually work with her, you’re going to have to come clean,” you huff, then glare at him, “You know that right? That you can’t just lie to her forever? There’s no way she fucking believes you.”

Frankie sighs, picking his hat off his head to run a hand through his hair, “Can we not?”

“Sure, we can just not,” you snip and sit up straight, crossing your arms across your chest, “We can just pretend things are cool and groovy and you can get your life back and I can fuck off into oblivion.”

“Jesus Christ—”

“Well, fuck, that’s what you want, right, Frankie?” you stare at him, “You’ll be nice to me while you’re here, and cuddle with me, and hold my hand, and what the fuck ever, but when this arrangement is over, then what?”

“I don’t fucking know, ok?!” he snaps, then stands and starts pacing the living room, shaking his head, “I don’t know if—if I’m going to fucking prison, or if I’m going to lose my job, or if my wife will fucking divorce me and take my daughter away—”

Frankie stops and turns away from you, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. A few quiet seconds go by as he gathers himself and wrangles the burgeoning tears back into his skull. When he turns back around, he throws his hands out at his side, then lets them fall loose, “I don’t know what anything will look like after this,” he meets your glossy eyes, all wide and pained, and tells you in a hoarse, shaky voice, “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a fucking asshole to you for so long. I lied to you. I pushed you away. I fucking—I fucking hurt you and I understand that.”

He takes a few steps forward. Your eyes, pooling with tears, stay glued his, following seamlessly when he crouches down in front of you and pleads, “I’m trying to be better, I swear to god I’m fucking trying. I—I care about you a lot. And I’m sorry I can’t give you a better answer for what you and me will look like after this ‘situation’ is over with, because I have no fucking clue what anything will look like.”

You swallow hard and nod, then drop your gaze as your face crumbles. A sob bubbles up your throat and quickly devolves into a coughing fit.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters, glancing around. He spots your inhaler on the coffee table and hands it to you, “Need this?”

You take it and inhale a few puffs of albuterol. When your breathing evens out, blink the tears from your eyes and croak out, “Sorry.”

He reaches up and smudges a fat, swollen tear on your cheek with his thumb, “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

A pained expression crosses your face. You lean away from his touch, so he sits down beside you as you exhale a thick sigh and look around the room.

“I understand why you wouldn’t tell Angie everything. I just—” one of your cheeks pulls in like you’re gnawing at the inside. You release it and tell him, “I just hate the idea of you saying we were a mistake. I don’t know. Is that dumb?”

Your eyes flick to his and they’re so sincere, his stomach flips upside down. He shakes his head, “No, that’s not dumb.”

“Ok,” you sniffle, nodding as you look at the TV, “Ok.”

A minute goes by, each second amplifying the buzz beneath his skin. He looks over and realizes you’re squished against the armrest of the couch, curled up in a tense knot of limbs, brow furrowed, biting at your lip.

“Hey,” he coos, beckoning you closer, “Come here.”

You give him this kind of pathetic, kind of cute pout, but accept the invitation. As he wraps an arm around your shoulders, you drape your legs across his lap, rest your head in the crook of his neck. He lays his cheek on the crown of your head and tucks you into an embrace.

Maybe it’s one-sided, but Frankie feels heat humming between your bodies.

The floral, minty scent of your hair, mixing with the musk of your soft skin, all dewy from humidity. Your breath rolling hot across the column of his throat.

You wriggle closer, and the weight of your body settles between his legs. Presses firm down on his half-hard cock.

His insides twist with a nagging, all-consuming want. The kind that usually fogs his brain when he thinks about booze. It claws at him like an animal caged within his ribs. Teeth bared, ferocious, growing: I need her I need her I need her

In the same cadence it always howls: I need a drink I need a drink I need a drink

The tips of his fingers scrape against your shoulder. A little whimper sneaks out your throat and drips down his spine. Your muscles shift and he can feel your lips hovering over his thudding pulse.

This is dangerous. This is a line. A tightrope teetering beneath the soles of his feet.

You breathe his name and it grazes his neck. His body surges with desire, cock throbbing, and he’s unable to stop the whine that croaks out his lips.

He looks down at you, meeting your darkened, heavy-lidded gaze. You study each other, but neither of you move, despite the palpable current of electricity between you.

“I—I should go to bed,” you whisper with little conviction, eyes darting to his mouth.

“It’s still light out,” he says, brushing the back of his hand against your cheek.

You shiver and your lips part, panting, “I need to clear my head—I’m… not thinking right.”

Frankie imagines you clearing your head in your bedroom with the door closed. Your fingers working between your legs, eyes pinched closed while you flip through the mental catalogue of all the times he’s fucked you.

“Can I come with you?” he asks, voice ragged, “I won’t—I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

You search his face, brows pushing together, and nod.

This is stupid.

You both know it.

But he follows you to your room and closes the door behind him.

Sinks into your bed as you lay out on the other side.

You start slow, hands roaming the curves of your body. Over your tight tank top, no bra underneath, just the clear outline of your nipples. Along the middle of those little cotton sleep shorts he likes so much.

He keeps his distance, blood pounding thick in his skull, as you ruck your shirt up your chest and roll a hardened bud between your fingers. You whimper and bite down on your bottom lip, eyes locking to his as your other hand slips beneath the waistband of your shorts.

In his periphery, he can see the outline of your wrist flicking under the fabric, but he can’t part his eyes from yours. It’s entrancing. Your mouth opens in a moan, lips pouting out into a whimper as you start to gain traction.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans, pushing his palm against his swollen length trapped within the confines of his jeans, begging for attention. He unbuckles his belt and tugs his pants off. At the same time, you pull your shorts down. Some sort of silent trade agreement.

Frankie wraps his hand around his cock and drags his grip down, pulling the sensitive, aching skin taught. His palm is dry and rough as he starts to rut up and down, but the friction gives his touch an edge that makes him shiver.

You’re watching him do this while you trail your fingertips along the shiny ridges of your sex. Saliva pools in his mouth when he remembers what you taste like. Imagines his tongue tracing the soft folds of you.

Your hips buck and you whimper when you touch your clit. You roll the pads of your fingers against the engorged bundle of nerves, eyelids fluttering as you work yourself.

You both find a steady rhythm, panting and whining, glancing between each other's legs, hands, eyes. The increasingly frantic movements make your bed squeak.

The two of you are so lost in the haze of pleasure, Frankie knows either of you could suggest physical contact between your bodies and the other would immediately say yes, but this fucked up little loophole has you both blissfully dangling on the precipice.

He’s trying to keep his commentary to a minimum, but you’re driving him fucking crazy.

Your blown-out pupils watching him fuck his hand. The sheen of sweat lacing your skin. A thick, gleaming layer of arousal coating your pussy and fingers. He wants to lick it off of you, taste you, drive his cock inside you and feel that divine squeeze.

As his heartbeat starts to gallop and the fire in his belly laps its way up his spine, he pants, “You’re so fucking hot, holy shit—do you like this? Like me watching you get off?”

“Yes,” you gasp, meeting his gaze, working yourself faster, “I do, Frankie, I like it.”

His name on your lips is like an electric jolt to his insides. He groans, “Say my name again.”

“Frankie,” you whimper.

A wave of heat washes over him, “Fuck yes, that’s so fucking good, baby—say it again—”

“Frankie,” you moan, sinking two fingers into your cunt, a sick wet sound squelching out as you start to fuck yourself.

“Such a good girl, holy fuck, that’s it,” he grunts, pumping himself faster, lightning churning in his belly, “Gonna make yourself cum, sweet girl?”

You nod feverishly, face pinched up with pleasure, hips arching into your touch, “Frankie—fuck fuck fuck—”

“There we go, baby, you can do it,” he rasps, and watches as your movements come to a fever pitch, then your body starts to shudder and you belt out this strangled moan that pushes him over the edge.

Pleasure ripples through him and he grinds his fist down a few more times, pulsing his load all over his hand, across the bedding, a few splatters reaching your hip. He groans and slows.

His muscles start to melt. He throws his head back into the pillow, then rolls his head on his shoulders to look at you.

Your chest is heaving and you’re all blissed out, a hazy smile on your lips.

“You’re not gonna freak out, now, are you?” he pants, searching your face. He reaches over and gives you a playful poke to show he’s only half-joking.

You meet his eyes smirking for a beat before you chuckle, “I don’t think so, but—could you get my, umm—inhaler?”

“Yeah,” he nods and rolls off the bed.

When Frankie returns, you’re pulling your shirt down over your tits and propping yourself up on some pillows.

“Thanks,” you murmur, then take it from him and inhale a few puffs.

“You ok?” he asks as he rolls onto the bed next to you, wrestling a pillow under his chest.

A coy smile plays on your lips when you glance over at him, shaking your head, “This was really dumb.”

He chuckles and shrugs, “Probably.”

“Fuck,” you giggle, burying your face in your hands, “Frankie, why did we do that?”

“Because we’re big dumb idiots?” he laughs.

“Speak for yourself,” you snort, curling up on your side to face him.

“Sure, yeah, of course. You’re super smart,” he teases, pointing between him and you, “This is definitely something that smart people do.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you push his shoulder weakly. After a few moments of comfortable silence, you say, “We’re never going to speak of this again, are we?”

He opens his mouth to make a joke and attempt to sweep it all under the rug, but stops when he realizes it probably warrants a conversation.

“Do—is that what you wanna do?” he asks instead, stammering, “Because we can, you know, talk about it if you want to.“

“I don’t know what I want,” you sigh, your face folding into a thoughtful expression. A few moments pass, then your eyebrows shoot up and you look at him, “Ok, this is a weird time to ask this, but, I meant to ask you earlier and forgot.”

He nods, “Shoot.”

“My sister is getting married over Labor Day weekend, and because I’m her bridesmaid and family and blah blah blah, she wants me to go stay out there for the week, and umm, I don’t know how that works with your parole and stuff—”

“Do you want me to ask Ralph tomorrow?”

“Well, yeah,” you meet his eyes, “But—but also, can you come with me?”

It takes a moment for Frankie to register the question, and when he understands, his mind starts whirring with uncertainty. Angie. Court. Ralph. Sarah. Prison.

“Not, like, as my date or whatever,” you add, waving your hand around nervously as you explain, “I just–I haven’t been home in years because my family is the worst and I—” you sigh, face pinching up as you admit, “I could use a friend.”

That makes up his mind.

“Yeah,” he answers, “Yeah, as long as I’m not in fucking jail by then, I’ll make it work. Let me… let me talk to work and Ralph, see what I can do.”

You give him a restrained smile and say, “Thank you.”

After the two of you decide to get dressed and watch a movie, he goes into his bedroom to change into a pair of basketball shorts, while you supervise a packet of popcorn in the microwave. Giving his closed door a quick glance, he pulls the bundle of soft teal lace out of his pocket and opens a dresser drawer to tuck them away, but pauses when his thumb grazes something damp.

His brows furrow, then shoot up as he unfolds the underwear and recognizes the slick substance coating them. He brings the fabric to his nose and inhales, confirming his suspicion.

You must have noticed them when he was getting your inhaler. And rather than taking the panties back, or saying anything to him, you cleaned your arousal off and replaced them.

He grins at the present, because that’s what it is, really, then shoves the lace into his dresser drawer.

“Daddy, look, that’s Mumble,” Sarah tells Frankie, pointing one chubby, blueberry-stained finger at a plastic baby emperor penguin.

Her collection of penguins is lined up on the edge of the dining room table, in order of smallest to biggest. She wriggles around on his lap, looking up at him with those big brown eyes, waiting for acknowledgement.

“That one does look like Mumble,” he agrees emphatically, “What kind of penguin is he?”

“A empreror penguin!” she beams, throwing her hands in the air.

“That’s right,” he chuckles, “An emperor penguin! How many penguins do you have?”

Sarah’s eyes light up at the exciting new challenge, and she turns her attention to the plastic figurine lineup, counting each one out loud.

Frankie glances across the table at Angie. She‘s glaring out the window, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Ang,” he rumbles, but she doesn’t respond. A hot wave of frustration weaves through his muscles and pulls them taught. His nostrils flare and he shakes his head, muttering, “Whatever.”

The dining room chair scrapes against the floor as she pushes it out and stomps out of the room, down the stairs like a petulant child.

Sarah stops counting and tells him, “Mommy’s mad.”

He chuckles softly at this and nods, “Yeah, I think so. I’m gonna go talk to her, ok, sweetie?”

Sarah resumes her counting when Frankie stands and sets her in the chair. He finds Angie in the laundry room, folding clothes with sharp, agitated movements.

“Can we talk about this?” he asks. She doesn’t acknowledge him, so he continues, “Angelica. Come on. You haven’t said a word to me since I texted you on Saturday. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“The fact that you don’t know what’s wrong is exactly what’s fucking wrong, Francisco,” she growls.

He sighs and steps closer, leaning one hip against the washer, “As much as I would love to be able to, I can’t read your mind. So if you could help me out, maybe give me a clue—”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” she snaps, tossing the small pink t-shirt in her hands into a laundry basket.

His head jerks back and he scoffs, “Sure.”

“You passed up time with your wife and daughter to be with your fucking mistress,” she blinks, then throws her hands up in the air, “Is it really so fucking inconceivable that I’m mad about that?”

“First of all, she’s not my mistress,” Frankie asserts, crossing his arms, “Second, she almost fucking died, Ang, I couldn’t just leave her alone in the hospital.”

“So, what, she didn’t have anyone else that could come sit with her in the hospital?” Angie snorts, raising an eyebrow, “I was about to say she’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself, but,” she sucks on her teeth and flashes him a faux sympathetic smile, “That’s barely true, isn’t it?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, then stares at her, “You know that’s not true, and—and no, ok? She didn’t have anyone else to sit at the hospital with her. None of her family made it out, she doesn’t have any friends. Her boyfriend didn’t even come to visit, so,” he pushes off the washing machine and pinches the bridge of his nose, then drops his hand and lies, “I felt fucking bad for her, that’s all. She couldn’t breathe and was all sick and shit, and nobody cared enough to visit her. It was, I don’t know, it was sad and I felt shitty about leaving.”

She seems to consider this, then gives a little shrug, “That is kind of sad.”

He nods, searching her face, dark eyebrows all scrunched together in contemplation.

“She has a boyfriend?”

He nods, “Yeah. They’ve been together for a while.”

Not exactly a lie, but he can tell a little truth stretching will bring this conversation to a more comfortable place.

“I missed you,” he says in a pleading tone, meeting her eyes, hoping she buys it.

She sighs, “I missed you too.”

The glint in her eyes tells him it’s safe to approach, so he does. He presses his lips against her forehead, closing his eyes as he murmurs, “I love you.”

When Frankie gets home, you and Rory are sitting on the couch watching a movie together. His arm is draped over your shoulders and you’re huddled in his lap, head on his chest.

It reminds him of how the two of you are when no one else is around.

His blood pressure spikes and heats his veins. You perk up as you notice him, putting space between your body and Rory’s. A nervous smile spreads across your face. He doesn’t return the smile, just nods in greeting as he closes the door behind him, “Hey.”

Rory looks him up and down, then turns back to the TV.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you ask.

Frankie frowns and shrugs, “Fine. What’re you guys watching?”

Your phone starts ringing before you can answer. You sit up and grab it off the coffee table, muttering, “It’s my sister, I’ll be right back,” then tiptoe through the house to your bedroom, leaving him and Rory alone.

Frankie steps on the heel of his boot and starts to wriggle his foot free.

“Hey, man, I wanted to tell you—thanks for looking after her last weekend.”

Frankie glances up at Rory as he kicks one boot off, then the other, “Sure, yeah,” then starts off towards his room. Rory keeps talking, though, so he pauses.

“When she didn’t respond to me for a day I figured, ya know…” he shrugs, staring at him.

Frankie frowns and shakes his head, “Figured what?”

“Figured she ran off with you, man,” he chuckles, but his eyes aren’t smiling. They’re studying.

Frankie snorts and brings his hands to his hips, “What, really?”

Rory stands and saunters over, looking the way you left to make sure you’re still occupied, then tucks his hands in the front of his jean pockets and shrugs again, “Seems like y’all are pretty close. She doesn’t really like to talk about you. Kinda weird for someone who’s supposedly a friend.”

What kind of macho man bullshit is this? Is he… flexing?

“Yeah, she’s pretty private,” Frankie searches the other man’s face.

“Y’all ever fuck around?” he asks.

Frankie jerks his head back and frowns, “Uhh, sorry, what?”

Rory doesn’t say anything, just lets the air between them grow more hostile, flicking his eyes around Frankie’s face like a challenge. One that he’s not fucking interested in taking. Christ, what a fucking mess that would be.

Frankie scoffs and shakes his head, “No, we don’t fuck around. We’re friends. Ok?” He holds his hands up and tries to soften his face, “So, take it easy, she’s all yours.”

Rory seems to relax a little, then says, “Alright.”

“Alright,” Frankie chuckles with amusement, “We good?”

“Yeah,” Rory grins, offering a clenched fist to Frankie, “Sorry, man.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” he bumps knuckles with the meathead and tells him, “You two have a good time, alright?”

Frankie retreats to his room and locks the door behind him.

Every muscle in his body starts to deflate.

His thoughts are fuzzy and loud.

He starts for his bed, but pauses, and turns instead to the dresser, thinking of that teal lace.

Today is one of those rare July days where it’s not just tolerable to be outside, it’s actually enjoyable.

A slight breeze rustles the palm fronds above. The sun kisses Frankie’s skin. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of a neighbor’s charcoal grill.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He cracks an eye open to find you standing over where he’s laying in the hammock and grins innocently, “What?”

“WhAt?” you mock him and snort, but pull up a chair and drop your little wicker basket in its seat, warning, “Ok, well, you’re sharing the hammock, at least.”

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” he tucks a hand behind his head and watches you roll into the hammock facing him.

You wriggle around for an entire minute, and when he starts to giggle at your restlessness, you whine, “Oh my god, scoot over.”

“Here,” he murmurs, shifting his weight so you lay roughly hip to hip, hooking one arm under your legs, “Better?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. Your body calms.

Then it’s quiet.

And the silence isn’t anything but peaceful, really.

“This is good,” you say eventually.

He’s not sure what this you’re referring to, but he agrees, “Yeah.”

You point to the sky, “That cloud looks like a gator.”

Frankie squints upward, examining the fluffy cotton balls hanging in the electric blue atmosphere, “That one looks like a cloud.”

A snort erupts from your face and you lay a playful smack on his thigh, “Oh, come on, use your imagination!”

“Ok, let’s see,” he clears his throat and tilts the bill of his hat back to take in more of the view. Then one catches his eye. He points to it, “Butterfly.”

You follow his direction and murmur, “Oh yeah, look at that. Neat.”

He studies it for a while, watching the two wings tumble and morph as it moves across the sky, until it’s just another nondescript cumulus cloud. Then he turns his attention to the basket you brought outside.

The hammock wobbles in protest when he sits up and lays it across the middle ground of your bodies. Frankie surveys the contents of the shallow wicker basket: a baguette; a dish of soft, white cheese with a little spatula-like knife sticking out the center; a bowl of red grapes and sliced strawberries; a couple of mandarin oranges.

He rips off a piece of bread and spreads some cheese across the soft inside, then sits back and takes a bite. You do the same, topping the cheese with some strawberries. As the two of you eat in a content silence, looking up at the sky, Frankie starts to ruminate on the confrontation that is surely lingering on the tip of your tongue.

Neither of you have dared to mention how you got off together in your bed. Surprisingly, it hasn’t changed the energy between him and you. But he’s found himself wondering if he’s just oblivious and unable to sense your disquiet, like he has in the past.

And now, since it’s Family Dinner, State of the Union, or whatever Ralph calls it, he braces himself for impact.

“Alright, let me have it,” he says after he finishes his second chunk of bread, nerves getting the best of him, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

The hammock shifts unsteadily as you sit up and put the basket back on the chair, then you lay back and stretch out, releasing a heavy sigh, “Honestly… I kind of don’t know what to say about it. I—I don’t know. I don’t feel different or have any kind of strong feelings about what happened.”

Frankie hums and looks over at you, watching your serene, skyward face.

“What about you? How do you feel?” you ask, leveling your gaze with his.

“I feel… the same,” he answers, frowning, “Like I should have a strong feeling, but I—I just don’t?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, shrugging, “Well, I don’t know, should we just… leave it?”

Relief washes over him and he nods, “I’m ok with that if you are.”

“Ok,” you grin, then look back up at the sky, “Anything else you need to get off your chest?”

Frankie rifles through his brain, pausing to think about Rory and the odd confrontation that happened the other day. It left a bad taste in his mouth. But, he shakes his head, “No. You?”

“I can’t think of anything.”

“Alright,” he inhales the blissful breeze that tickles his sun-warmed skin, then exhales, repeating your earlier sentiment, “This is good.”

[ Next Chapter ]

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