#it's been a long time since i tagged that

[notjustjavierpena]

(Mid)summer Loving

Main Masterpost

A/N: Yes, based on that new picture. I’ll call this my first contribution to getting railed in a sundress season. 

Summary: The last two years of being with Joel has transformed the both of you. Mostly him. For the better. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, joel’s kink is being loved and appreciated, long haired joel!!!, healthy joel, established relationship, piv sex, size kink (it's big), rough, loud and desperate sex, dirty talk, praise kink, creampie, railed in a sundress season contribution, they are so soft for each other, bit of aftercare. 

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55988128

(Mid)summer Loving

It happens when you hear him through the crowd of people in the community center. Your head whips in his direction, your eyes settling on the crinkles around his eyes as he laughs at something Tommy has said to him. He swirls the whiskey in his glass and downs it with slight difficulty because he is still smiling. 

You are only a table away, sitting with some of the women from your patrol group who gossip about potential suitors in the room, especially amongst the newcomers. However, you don’t really pay attention to what is being said because the love of your life sits across from you. It makes you able to admire him, struck by his transformation since he first came to Jackson and barged into your life. Your heart is so soft for him. 

The most obvious change is the hair. It’s gotten longer, the ends curling slightly in a way that softens his otherwise rugged appearance of big leather boots and tripled layered clothing. He used to have it shorter, and while you loved its fluffy bounce on top of his head whenever it was caught in the wind, it doesn’t compare to how it now frames his face by just brushing his collar in the back. It may be a subtle shift to others but to you, it means that Joel is more at ease with who and where he is, and that he has allowed change to find him.

His beard, too, has filled out. It is now thick and even, not at all the patchy scruff that you noticed the first time he talked to you by the rag pile in the trading center. He’d searched for fabric that could be used for shining the creations that he makes when seeking respite in wood carving. You had noticed the patch that resembled a heart first, your own heart skipping a beat as you forced yourself not to point it out to him immediately. That patch is gone but you’ll spend no time mourning it when the result is Joel looking healthier than ever, almost as if his body has responded to happiness with you by filling in all the gaps that heartbreak had left. 

Then there’s his face. It glows, despite his age, with a newfound youth, the signs of weariness and stress of years lived too hard it once bore completely wiped away. When you first met him, your heart had ached for his tired eyes, bags underneath them revealing all the sleepless nights and the burdens that he carried. The way they shine when they look into yours has your heart at ease and you can only hope he feels the same. 

Around you, the women keep chatting, talking animatedly and giggling while you sip your drink and stay silent until they are nothing but a low hum in the background. 

You only snap out of it when your name is said out loud. You furrow your brow, “Sorry?”

“I said that you don’t have to worry about things like this,” one of them chirps happily, “You already got your man.”

“Guess not, guess you’re right,” you chuckle softly and start to feel shy. You have never been one to be glaringly obvious in your happiness to the point where you display it at every opportunity but then Joel came along. He may worry about the gap of years between the two of you, often feeling undeserving of your love and attention but you only wish that he could see himself from your point of view. To you, he is everything. He doesn’t see how his presence calms and grounds you, how he makes you feel safe even in a world beyond repair. In his embrace, you feel even the biggest of anxieties and the worst of your challenges shrink into nothing. All he has to do is put his gentle, calloused hands on you and talk to you in that familiar southern drawl, and then your mind quiets down instantaneously.

However, if not his hands or his voice, his loving gaze also seems to do the trick. He suddenly turns his head in your direction, catching your eyes, and the sound of the lively conversations from each table mutes to nothing. He smiles at you and mouths a ‘you okay?’ at you. 

‘Save me’ you decide to mouth back at him, making a face to see him smile with amusement. He slaps his brother’s back before putting both hands on the table to push himself to stand. You didn’t think he would take it seriously but just the sight of seeing him approach you makes you want to go home with him. 

“Ready to go, honey?” He asks when he reaches your table, placing a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezing. 

“Hi Joel,” your friend group says in unison.

“Ladies,” he nods and they giggle like schoolgirls, “Gotta get this one home.”

You shake your head with a little smile at their reaction. Then you swing your legs over the side of the chair. Joel helps you up and a moment after having said your goodnights, you leave together like you’ve done for a few years now. 

Outside, people are scattered across the town square where a huge bonfire has been erected in the spot where the Christmas tree usually stands. Today is the annual midsummer celebration. Jackson is decorated with bundles of flowers that have replaced the painted eggs that tell people it is Easter. You smile at the memory of Ellie having been forced to join in on getting people in the spirit of Easter which had resulted in you trying to guess which of the eggs hanging from the sky had been crafted by the angry teen. You had decided that it might’ve been the one painted completely black.

Now, bright colors from nature hover above your head instead as you make your way down the main road. Joel holds your hand all the way home. He strokes the back of it with his thumb, feeling no pressure to fill up the silence between you as it has reached a point where it is comfortable. 

When you reach your shared house, Joel stops you by the front door instead of opening it for you in the gentlemanly way he always does. He stands in front of you, the porch light softening his features as he gazes at you.

“You seemed a bit distracted with your friends tonight,” he notes, “Is everythin’ alright?” 

“Just thinking about how lucky I am,” you answer with a smile, your voice sincere, “To have you.”

“I’m the lucky one, baby,” Joel huffs out a little laugh of disbelief, trying to brush off how flattered he always feels each time you say things like this. He gathers your hand in both of his, lifting it to kiss the back of it a few times, “Best fuckin’ thing that ever happened after the world ended.” 

“Don’t let Ellie hear that,” you tease gently. In your chest, your heart hammers against your ribs from being loved by him. 

“I’d never dream of it,” he steps closer with his eyes burning to get closer to you. You see them darken slightly as desire fills them and your heart jumps into your throat at the realization of what he wants. 

You. 

He wants you. 

That’s the one thing that has also changed since you met him; he has become much more untameable when he has you around. Who knew that his stamina was so impressive? Who knew that Joel Miller getting a confession of love - whether it consisted of the actual words or simply was said in your actions - would have him dragging you to somewhere private as soon as possible? 

“I love you, Joel Miller,” you say dreamily, pulling the trigger, “To the day that I die.”

And then suddenly Joel rips the door open so roughly that you’re afraid it might come off its hinges, pulls you inside along with him and slams it shut behind the both of you afterward. He locks it without hesitation, not about to be interrupted by any of your neighbors even if it’s most likely that everyone is out and about the town to be social. 

You are pressed up against the door next, his broad hands resting on your hips as he holds you against it. He bunches up the skirt of your sundress, groping your sides on top of the fabric, and you sling an arm around his back. Your other arm reaches up so you can cup the back of his head, your fingers sliding into the hair there. He has the perfect length for pulling these days - you should know - but you’ll wait for the right moment. 

His lips nearly bruise yours with how hard he kisses you, beard scratching your skin as he practically eats at your mouth to the point where your head swims and your belly swirls with hours of suppressed desire. You need him now, already soaked through your underwear and ready for him to be inside of you.

“Fuck me,” you whine against his lips, heart beating rapidly in your chest. So much that your breathing is already uneven, “Please, Joel, please.”

“S’alright, baby, I know whatcha need,” he rasps as his lips messily start descending on your chin, all the way across your jaw until his mouth attaches to your throat. You let your head bump against the door with a breathy moan, giving him access to bruise your neck too. He creates a purple mark that you will try to hide tomorrow during patrol to avoid interrogation on how Joel Miller is in bed. Only you can know. 

Your skirt falls down the slight amount it has been pulled up when Joel goes to unbuckle his leather belt. The noise of the metal sends a shiver through you, anticipation rising to your cheeks by heating them up underneath no touch. You look down to see the belt hanging open, him shoving the denim down around his thighs afterward and following up with his briefs too. 

The sight of his cock makes your mouth water. He is fully hard already, standing into the air at full attention and threatening to smear your pretty dress with his precome by poking into your belly if he dares get closer. You moan pathetically and he shushes you gently. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he soothes you like he would a child that has scraped their knee. He curls his fingers in the fabric of your dress once more before hiking it up along your thighs until he can stuff the bottom of the skirt into the top of your dress, effectively holding it up so it doesn’t fall down over your soaked panties again. 

You grab at the sides of your underwear to shimmy out of them but Joel doesn’t exercise enough patience to wait for you to step out of them, so he hooks his fingers into the front. He finds your eyes when he feels how wet the cotton fabric is, doesn’t directly say anything about it but just shows you how full-blown his pupils are at the realization. Without warning, he yanks your panties to the side. 

Satisfied with his work, he makes you gasp as he bends his knees to reach down and splay his strong hands on the back of your thighs. He lifts you off the ground and wraps you around him, pressing his knee into the door to hold you up while guiding his throbbing cock into you. You moan desperately at the initial sting, brows furrowing with slight pain as he sheaths himself inside of you to the hilt. 

“Oh my God,” you whimper, letting his name fall from your lips in a helpless chant as he pulses from how your walls choke him as you strain to take him like you always do in the beginning. He might just split you open right here in the hallway when he starts fucking you. 

“Shh, you can take it,” he whispers with the most brutally gentle peck on your zipped lips, “It’s okay. She knows it’s big, baby, but she can take it. I always fuck ya real good, don’t I?” 

You nod helplessly, and fuck you, he does. It’s fast and hard and dirty. The poor wooden door rattles alongside the jingle of his belt buckle with each slam of his hips, the doorknob painfully gnawing into your lower back, and you fear the fabric of your underwear will snap from the strain that is put on it as it sits to the side. Sometimes you think you might even cut a hole in some of your pairs with how often Joel, still two years later, rushes to get his cock into you. There’s something oddly satisfying and offensive about just being able to bend over and let him see that all he has to do is push in. 

“That’s it, look at me, baby, such a good girl f’me,” he praises to get you back to him, not here to lose your attention to the way his cock feels inside of your tight heat. Your eyes settle on him again, your mouth hanging open to elicit pathetic gasps each time he knocks the wind out of you by driving his hips up into you and effectively pounding your g-spot. His face is so close to you; you can feel his breath and share it with him, can study every little imperfection in the form of tiny scars and dark lines that you hadn’t been able to see earlier from your seat a few tables over. 

“Joel,” you pant, digging your heels into the small of his back, clinging on desperately and angling your hips as he has his way with you. The slight adjustment has him going deeper, touching something inside of you that ignites the first sparks of an orgasm. Your nails claw, dig and scratch at his back in ways that would have been enough to draw blood if he wasn’t wearing a shirt, “Fuck, baby! Don’t— ngh, don’t stop.”

“You feel so good,” he replies with a groan, most likely powering through the exhaustion and strain on his body to make you feel even better. He is everywhere on you, his hands on your thighs, gripping and squeezing. He is everywhere in you too, his cock twitching inside of you each time you cry his name.

“I’m—“ you sob.

“Let go, baby, I can feel ya,” he growls when you dance around the edge of your orgasm because your fingers on both hands tangle into his beautifully chocolate hair, yanking harshly as impending pleasure knocks the breath out of your lungs. Your skin burns, your whole system halts and goes into overdrive at the same time until all you can do is shout silently at the ceiling. Your walls clench in mind-altering ecstasy then and your quietness is over, replaced by a relieved whine as you come on his dick. It is intense from how fast you’ve gotten there since he entered you, your body writhing as it is held against the wall. He fucks you through it, has you wailing as he chases his own high. 

You cradle his head during his last few thrusts, feeling his damp breath against your shoulder as he buries himself inside of your spent cunt and comes hard. It feels so good when he groans as he fills you up, the sound vibrating through his entire body. You whimper at the ceiling with the way he pulses deliciously with each breathy moan until he has no more to give you. 

He leans all his weight into you as he comes down again, holding you in place with his chest against yours to make sure that you won’t fall down and drag him with you. He gives you a moment and places a string of lazy kisses on your lips until he slips out of you with a soft sound. 

Carefully, he places you back down on the floor and eyes you as he does it to be certain you won’t collapse. He moves off of you when it feels safe to do so. 

“I say it back?” He asks as he leans against the door with you. Automatically, you tilt your head towards him. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, turning his head a second later to fully look at your disheveled state. You have a hand on your chest to calm your breathing but it still matches your fluttering heartbeat. He still aches between your legs.

You look back at him, awaiting his words with short breaths, “Say what?”

He makes a gesture to the both of you, “Before what we just did happened. I tell ya that I love you too?” 

“No?” Your reply is almost a question. 

“Shame on me,” he smiles and turns his whole body so that he faces you completely, shoulder against the door. His eyes soften as he reaches out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his touch is nice when the sweat has started to cool you down, and you lean into his palm, feeling the roughness of his calloused skin against you. 

“Shame on me, indeed,” he murmurs, eyes on your slightly open mouth, “Because I do love ya. More than I can understand sometimes.”

“You don’t have to say it back every time, Joel. I know,” you try to brush off how much your body and mind buzz at the same time. 

He shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving your mouth, “No, I do needa say it. You deserve to hear it. I love you.”

You nod and reach to hold his wrist when he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your open mouth. Just a few minutes ago, the now-careful hands had been rough on your skin and his words had dripped with sin.

“Now, how ‘bout I take you to bed?” He asks and pulls your dress’ skirt out of the top, watching it tumble down and fall back into place around your knees. 

While you wait for him to get dressed again, fatigue seems to finally have caught up with you because you feel like you might collapse in your hallway at that suggestion. When it’s safe to do so, you let yourself fall into his arms and he catches you without hesitation. 

He scoops you up, goes upstairs with you in his arms, undresses you, washes you down with a warm flannel, and gets you into bed. You curl up on your side and after a while, after hearing his boots come off and the shuffling of clothes, the bed dips from his weight. 

The warmth of his body against your back lulls you to sleep. Oh, how simply he loves you. Forever doesn’t seem like a lot to ask for.

.

.

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[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope 4/5

Okaaaay, so there's 5 parts instead of 4! I realized that the last part was over 6k words, so we're splitting it into two! The last part will still be posted next Friday, so this will keep us on track!

Summary: The picnic has an uninvited guest that you're uniquely suited to greet.

-------

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

“Didn’t think I’d see anyone able to catch Marie,” the Lord says, brows raised. His golden eyes track Isla across the garden and he whistles when she jumps to tag his former knight. “That was not within the capabilities of a Villager.”

Ivan scans the crowd around them. Most of the townsfolk are too far away to eavesdrop and the ones close enough to potentially hear are engaged in their own conversations. “Careful, Brennan. If the Director hears you speculate…”

“Yes, the Director,” Lord Brennan sighs. He brings his teacup to his lips, but doesn’t drink. He contemplates Director Sarah where she crouches with a glass of water near Annie. “You know this is the first time we’ve met?”

It’d been a fight to get Sarah to agree to today at all. Ivan chooses his words carefully. “Your predecessor did not have the sort of…kind interest you do.”

The former Lord’s interest Sarah shared with them was a lot more horrifying. There’s a reason that Isla at only fifteen years old is the eldest at the orphanage.

“That’s one way to put it,” Lord Brennan agrees. He settles back into his seat and sighs in satisfaction. He watches the children gradually grow tired of their game and drift towards the dessert table. He grins when the townsfolk naturally make room for them, a few of them even fetching treats from the center of the table for the littler ones. “See my people together? It was very good of me to lure you and Marie to my territory.”

“You gave us a castle,” Ivan says. They weren’t so much lured as bludgeoned with generosity. Some days it feels like they blinked and ended up standing amongst fine silk and filigree.

“It’s a manor as far as paperwork goes,” Lord Brennan says.

“It has buttresses.”

“A very fortified manor.” Lord Brennan finally sips his tea and sighs again. “This tea is from our fields, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“It’s delicious.” The full canopies of the trees enveloping the estate rustle in the wind. The sun shines warmly overhead. Lord Brennan takes another drink. Delicious. “The land’s come a long way since we ousted my father, hasn’t it? Plentiful harvests, an established trade route, a new school. If it weren’t for the demons, my work would be done.”

“I would prefer you had no work then,” Ivan says dryly.

“Me too.” Lord Brennan sets his tea aside and rubs his eyes. “Any updates?”

“None,” Ivan admits, frustration leaking through his words. His face is still amiable and the disconnect between his tone and his visage is jarring. “We investigated the wolf tracks in the woods and only found carnage. No signs of the demons themselves.”

“So they are demons?”

“Regular wolves wouldn’t be able to evade a squadron of your knights, my lord.”

“Neither would demon wolves,” Lord Brennan says. He rubs his chin, brow furrowing. “I don’t like what that implies. Any sign of larger foes?”

Ivan doesn’t want to discuss this here. Marie’s eyes are on him, sensing his rising distress. He smiles and waves to her. “Besides the horned rabbit migration?”

“Is it a migration?”

“Isla saw five within the first four weeks of summer,” Ivan says.

The Lord’s attention falls on the teenager. She’s patiently letting one of the other children – Hera? The one who’d curtsied to him like a little noble – weave flowers into her braid. He tries to imagine her fighting a horned rabbit and his lips thin. “I’ll call for reinforcements from the capital.”

“Marie and I can—”

Lord Brennan waves Ivan off. “No, no, I’ve asked too much of you already. Aren’t the two of you too busy in your retirement already? I thought you’d be settled with a child by now.”

“It’s not good to rush these things,” Ivan says as he has the last three times Lord Brennan has asked. This time it’s Ivan who sighs. “It took Marie and I a good few months to win Director Sarah over after our misstep.”

“Asking about Destinies, was it?”

“Implying we’d value any child less for not being a knight like us,” Ivan corrects.

“There seem to be a lot of unusual Destinies in the orphanage,” Lord Brennan says. He’s not an Identifier but he’s got a good eye. Though no one can know for sure until a child either develops their mark or comes into their power at fifteen, he’s seen more than a few signs of a Scholar, a Guardian, and a Teacher. Once again he finds his gaze being drawn back to Isla. She’s got a child under each arm and is running from Marie again, the game having resumed after their snack break. “That one is a Guard, at least. Nobody else would have physical abilities like that.”

Ivan ignores the Lord’s comment. “It’s been worthwhile getting to know them all.” His smile turns a little more genuine. “They’re all good kids.”

“Surely you and Marie have an inkling of who’ll be a good fit?” When Ivan doesn’t reply, the Lord clicks his tongue. “You can’t choose all of them.”

Ivan’s voice is a study in nonchalance. “Can’t we?”

Lord Brennan opens his mouth only for no words to come out. At length, he has to laugh. His knights do like to keep busy. “You’d need a castle.”

“You did give us one, my lord.”

“I suppose I did.”

The two men lapse into a pleasant silence. It is good to see the townsfolk this cheerful. This town is the furthest from Lord Brennan’s own castle and he rarely has a chance to visit. The first time he had had been very different. The people still bore the wounds of winter in gouged cheeks and brittle smiles. Now he sees the glow of health everywhere he looks.

He contemplates the Director once again. She’d been the only one back then to not seem pleased to see him ride in on his white horse. Even now he can feel the chill of her scrutiny as she stood defensively between him and the orphanage. None of that chill is present today. Her smile is as sweet as his tea while she tends to a scrape the little Scholar sustained in this round of tag. “Ms. Sarah is very pretty, isn’t she?”

“I know we can’t adopt them all,” Ivan blurts out. He doesn’t seem to have heard Lord Brennan. His gaze is turned towards his own inner conflict which is why he also doesn’t notice the blush dusting the Lord’s cheeks. “It wouldn’t be fair to them. Marie and I decided to adopt a child who would benefit from what little we can offer. Military arts and luck.”

“I don’t think you’re being fair,” Lord Brennan says with raised brows. “You and Marie offer a lot more than a Knight’s experience. Haven’t you shown that already in your actions?” He’s not aware of everything his former knights have done, but he’s heard plenty from the children today. He didn’t think Marie had the patience to teach anyone how to read.

Ivan’s hands fist. “It’s not enough, it’s not—the little boy. Josiah. He’s so smart. I don’t even know where to start with him and even Marie says that he’ll soon outpace her—”

“Well,” Lord Brennan says, “Neither of you are Teachers, true, but there is a school for that--”

“And Annie wants to know why bread rises and why the sun sets and how many seconds are in a day—”

“All kids are curious—”

“Hera staged a whole theater production for my birthday and all we could do was clap—”

Is he missing something? “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“We don’t know any actors or directors to introduce her to!” Ivan cries out. He quickly lowers his voice, but can’t hide the stress around his eyes. “What could we give to a child like her? Like any of them?  Marie and I are out of our depth. It would be so much simpler if one was a Knight!”

The Lord tentatively offers, “If Isla’s a Guard--?”

Ivan gives a cry of distress that he barely capture in the palm of his hand. “Isla! That girl feels like my daughter already, but…she’s been through so much. She doesn’t need a father who teaches her how to fight or a mother who teaches her how to withstand a siege! She deserves to never have to fight again. What could we offer her? What could we possibly give to her she hasn’t already learned on her own?”

A light goes on in the Lord’s head. He takes in the festivities with new eyes. The town’s Baker, Blacksmith, Teacher… His friends have invited every possible parent they could in hopes of providing for the children in ways they felt incapable of doing themselves. As noble as that was…“Ivan, being a parent goes beyond the skills you can give a child. It’s more than fostering talent or an offering an apprenticeship. It’s—”

A horse’s scream drowns out the Lord’s next words.

Ivan is in front of Lord Brennan with his sword drawn before the horses and their blood-splattered riders even round the side of the castle.

-----.

 You throw Annie and Josiah behind you the moment you hear the sound of hooves galloping towards the manor.

“Isla, what—” Josiah starts to ask and then cuts himself off as the innkeepers and their entourage burst into the party.

You smell blood before your eyes register the terrible red staining their fine clothing.

“ORCS!” Mr. Innkeeper screams over the frightened snorts of his horse. He stumbles down from his mount and staggers towards the Lord. “They overtook our carriage—please, my wife, she’s hurt—”

Mrs. Inkeeper is holding her side and seemingly barely holding onto the saddle horn. “Our guards won’t be enough to hold them off—”

“Inside,” Sarah hisses into your ear. She points after Hera who’s already shepherding the younger kids into the building. “Now.”

“—an army—”

“—fast—”

“—waiting for us—”

You move faster than you’ve allowed yourself since you arrived. This is no time to take care in hiding your abilities; there are roars coming from the forest unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. Your senses seem to dial up with your heartrate and you can hear the clash of steel against rock and flesh. You scoop Annie into your arms and leap after Josiah and Sarah.

Mr. Dallen’s face is pale as he ushers you all into the manor. He holds the door open for the townsfolk. The hall fills with the sounds of panic and sobs as fear washes through you like a tidal wave. There have never been orcs south of the mountains, there have never been demons bigger than a horned rabbit in the last twenty years, even when the Winter froze the river—

Mr. Dallen waves down Marie as she sprints to the large doorway. You think that he’s going to pull her inside to safety, but instead he thrusts her bow into her outstretched hands.

“Do not open these doors,” she commands. Behind her the knights are assembling into a formation, their Lord at the center. Ivan stands before them all, barking orders to ready their spears as the trees in front of them begin to sway. Marie pulls a dagger from under her skirts and slices the bottom half of her dress clean off. She kicks it away from her feet as she talks. “Take everyone to the basement—”

“Ma’am, the escape tunnel still isn’t cleared of debris—”

Marie swears so violently that half the townsfolk gasp. She grabs Mr. Dallen by the shoulder, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and her husband. “Then we will draw them away. The moment you think you can, run to the wagon. Get the children to—” She bites her lip. You can see the devastating truth flash through her mind. There isn’t anywhere to go. “Damnit. Bar the door and arm everyone you can.”

Mr. Dallen’s lips are bloodless as he nods. “My lady.”

Marie turns to everyone. Her voice is unlike anything you’ve heard come from her lips; it’s harsh and barking. A commander giving orders much like Ivan is doing outside. “Listen, everyone. We are in danger. Our best estimate is that 25 orcs are marching on the manor. There is no guarantee of survival. The moment this door is breached, it will mean the knights have failed. You must be prepared to fight. Do you understand?”

Twenty-five? Your hands ball into fists and your breath catches in your throat. You’ve heard of entire villages being wiped out by three.

“Then we’ll fight with the knights,” the Baker says. He pushes away from the center of the group and marches to the wall. He pulls down the crossed axes, keeps one, tosses the other to the Blacksmith. She catches it easily. “You’ll need everyone who can hold a weapon.”

Marie never voices her protest. You can see the strain of holding it back in her tense shoulders and her poignant silence. At long last, she nods. “You’re right. Stay behind the knights. They know how to handle the frontline better than you.”

There’s a flurry after that. The townsfolk divide in half. Those unable to fight slide back as those who can start scavenging for weapons. Mr. Dallen grimly pulls two long daggers from under his coat while pointing your neighbors to decorative swords, to ornamental spears, to the heavy coatrack just inside the parlor.

Grimly, you stride past Sarah, ignoring her hiss and darting hands. You can leave the weapons to the villagers, there’s a large knife on the dessert table you can use—

Marie slams a hand against your chest. You stagger back at the weight of the blow, breath knocked from your lungs. You’re more stunned than hurt as you gape at her.

“Children stay here,” Marie says. Her eyes narrow. “No exceptions.”

“But I’m—”

“We don’t have time to argue!” She pushes you further back, clearing the doorway for the armed villagers to run outside towards the knights. “You’re strong Isla, but this isn’t your fight. Stay here. Guard the door.”

The winter wind howls in your mind. You splutter. “But I—”

Marie spins away from you. “Director Sarah.”

Sarah’s arms slide around your shoulders. “Yes, lady.”

 The closing of the door feels like a blow in itself. You stare sightlessly at the unyielding wood as your emotions rage. How could she? You’re strong, you can do more, you can help, you’re the one who kept everyone from starving—

“We need to barricade the windows,” Director Sarah is saying to the townsfolk. Half of them gaze at her uncomprehendingly. Her hands slide from your shoulders slowly, as if testing that you aren’t going to leap outside. When you don’t move, she lets go entirely. “Isla, move the furniture. Hera and Josiah, find something to tie it down with.”

You move on autopilot. There are other hands alongside yours as you push the sofa and armchairs in front of the windows, the townsfolk coming together to defend the manor. Hera darts between you all and pulls the curtains closed, reclaiming the curtain ties to use as rope. She’s got a grim determination in her eyes that looks uncomfortably familiar.

Your attention is on the noise outside. The orcs are slow, but loud. The roars change to squeals and bellows of challenge. Branches break and there’s a terrifying, splintering crash as a tree falls. Metal rings as the knights raise their shields. You can see it all in your mind’s eye, the knights in a defensive line across the length of the garden, the Lord securely in their center. Ivan is shouting about this being what they’ve trained for, that there are more of them than there are orcs, that this city won’t fall—

And the Lord is speaking too, quickly and quietly to Marie. The escape tunnel? Damnit, I should have sent more men—

It will be fine, Marie says. Her bow sings as she holds it ready and you know the way her muscles flex and her eyes narrow from experience. We won’t let a single one of those monsters past us. We won’t--

The knights bellow alongside the orcs. Your heart leaps and your focus is jarred. You’re standing in front of the door again, your hands balled at your sides. Everyone can hear the battle now and the townsfolk scream when the orcs’ battle cries shake the manor.

“Quiet!” Is that your voice? It is. Your eyes slide to the frightened faces behind you. “You’ll distract the knights.”

Sarah steps up alongside you. “And let the orcs know exactly where we are.”

The villagers quiet into aborted whimpers and muffled sobs.

The battle rages, louder and louder. Are orcs big? They sound big. When you close your eyes you can hear the way their feet pummel the earth. Do they have weapons? Metal clashes. A knight screams that their hides are too thick. The Lord shouts back to aim for their eyes. A table splinters, a bow sings, there’s a liquid gasp—

BOOM!

You slam your hands against the door, muscles straining as another blow lands against it. The wood convulses under your hands and the lock creaks. The villagers scream.

“No,” someone whispers. “No, they found us.”

You’re eight and the snow spirits are howling for blood. Your shoulders ache with the effort to hold the door against the wind. The cold is biting at your fingertips and there is an old hope dying in your chest--

Small hands slam against the door next to yours. Hera is snarling and swearing, Josiah is crying. Sarah is telling the kids not to worry, Isla and Hera and Josiah won’t let them in –

They’re here. You’re not alone.

“GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

The orc’s bellow isn’t nearly as loud as Ivan’s roar.

The blow you’re bracing for never comes. Ivan goads the orc to follow him, to leave the manor alone, to eat the man readily available to him—

It does not sound like the knights are winning now.

“My Lord!” Marie’s voice is strained.

“Do not fall back, they’ll corner us—”

“Who is that? Who is—”

The crack under the door lights with a sickly purple. The smell of ozone seeps into the manor. For a moment there is a silence so complete you think you’ve been struck. What was that? Magic? You’ve never seen magic before--

Screams rocket across the field. The Blacksmith’s screams. The Baker’s screams. Marie’s rage-filled howls.

“DEMON KING!”

Your Destiny burns.

---.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

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

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[bby-deerling]

Hc about the boys Law, Zoro and Kid catching you using a sextoy 😎😉🥰🙏

based request :D using this to get me back into the groove of writing smut after a brief break

catching you with your sex toy (nsfw)

ft. zoro, kid, law

masterlist

cw: sex toys, sanji being sanji, masturbation, rough sex, brat taming, snail phone sex

tagging: @willowbelle @eelnoise @sanjisprincesswifey @fanaticsnail @indydonuts

zoro

the last thing you expect when you enter your room is to find zoro there with your clit sucker in hand, but now that you've stumbled upon the sight, you're rendered speechless as you slam the door and lock it, trying to cobble together something to say to him.

"the cook said you had something interesting in your drawer. i thought he was just stealing your panties again, but i found whatever the hell this thing is instead." he says as he stares at it, brows knitted in confusion.

a flash of anger flows through you rapidly at the knowledge that sanji was rifling through your drawer again, but you feel a sense of relief knowing that zoro seemingly doesn't know what your toy is.

and then he shatters any sense of the comfort that you were regaining with a single sentence.

"do i not make you feel good enough?" he asks, though it seems to come more so from a place of curiosity than one of insecurity.

flustered, you shake your head with fervor. "i've had that for a long time, like since before i even joined the crew. i haven't used it in forever—" you say with a blush, though your words are cut off as he presses the button to turn it on and gives you a smirk.

"tell you what, i'm gonna make you cum with this thing, and then with my mouth, and you tell me which feels better." he says, tilting his head to urge you towards the bed.

though the toy gets you off quicker, zoro isn't surprised when you tell him his tongue feels far better when he unravels you. after all, he knows your body like the back of his hand, and all that training he does with his mouth has the added bonus of paying off during moments like these.

kid

you feel like you've been caught with your hand in a cookie jar when kid walks into his room and finds you grinding against the vibrating saddle he's made you, your cheeks flushed and lips parted in ecstasy. the laugh he gives you is full of mirth, but you know you're in for it now, severely.

"you think you're too good to obey the rules, huh, princess?" he asks with a toothy smirk as he approaches, flicking the switch on your toy to turn the vibration off. "you know you're only allowed to use your toys with me."

turning as bright red as his hair, you swallow hard as you collect your words; you were already in for a punishment, so you figured you might as well up the ante and bruise his ego a bit—after all, it'd be a win for you in the end as he takes his frustration out on your sloppy, wet pussy. "if you weren't so busy all the time, i wouldn't have to get myself off." you shoot back, holding your chin high to try to convey some form of confidence as he towers over you. with ease, he grabs you by the waist and tosses you face first into the mattress, harshly grabbing at your hips and pulling them towards him.

"you're gonna take this cock so hard you're not gonna be able to even think about your stupid toys for a couple weeks." he growls as he sheathes himself inside of you. normally the friction would have burned, but you were so wet from grinding against the saddle that his thick length slides right in with ease, making you yelp as he fills you to the brim.

"i'm gonna fuck you stupid, you fucking brat." he grumbles under his breath as he slams into you, the fingers on his metal hand vibrating against your clit as you squirm in his grasp.

law

though the rest of your crew is having a bonfire outside, you can't help but hide away in the polar tang for a little while. you've missed law so terribly over these past couple of months, and your own scent has overpowered his in your shared room; however, law's office is the one place where his presence still lingers.

and it's pathetic, the way you use your rabbit toy with your face buried into the throw pillow on his couch, the blanket over top of you poorly simulating the warmth of his chest against your back. you're so unbearably close as you daydream about his hands kneading at the flesh of your hips, letting out a soft whine until the sound of the snail phone ringing sends shock and adrenaline coursing through your body. turning your toy off, you keep it inside of you as you wrap the blanket around you and sit in law's chair before picking up the receiver.

"hello?" you ask, your voice soft and hesitant as you hope you're not met with a marine's voice on the other end.

"hey. it's me. i'm calling from the thousand sunny." law replies, making your heart and stomach flip with delight and relief with the confirmation that he's okay.

"thank god—when will you be back?" you ask excitedly, spinning around in the chair with glee.

"in around three days or so. are the others around?" law says, a bit confused as to why he hadn't heard bepo crying tears of joy through the receiver yet.

"they're all outside having a cookout." you inform him, smoothing your hair out as you stare at the snail, unable to hide your smile; it felt like a hallucination, hearing his deep, raspy voice after being apart for so long.

"how come you're not with them?" he asks with a bit of concern, though he picks up on exactly what your needy body was up to when you reply to him.

"i was, but i came back to the submarine to... take care of something." you say with a blush, hoping the snail on the other end failed to mimic the blatantly guilty expression on your face.

law's chuckle through the phone tells he's picked up on what you've been doing, and you take a sharp inhale as he teases you. "tch, you really miss me that much?" he asks, the lips of his snail curling into a devilish smirk. "let's hear it then. don't hold back." he murmurs as you hear a door slam and lock behind him.

obediently, you turn your toy back on and whimper softly as his low voice tells you all the filthy things he plans to do to you the second you two are alone together.

[spatialwave]

"yes, sir."

pairing: pre-war!cooper howard x fem!reader word count: 3k ask: “Cooper x Reader where reader’s a girl with a kink for cowboys, and Cooper plays it up for her? Kind of a roleplay situation (smut), also if he’s into how small she is, that’d be great.” warnings/tags: mdni! smut, porn with plot, cowboy/cowgirl kink, size difference, age difference, dom!cooper, sub!reader, oral (m+f receiving), doggy-style, riding/cowgirl, edging/denial, praising, slight verbal degradation, bondage, gagging, you’re cooper’s babygirl. notes: big thank you to the anon who asked for a cowboy kink/size difference fic, hehe. i hope it was okay that i wrote pre war cooper, but when i think of cowboy, i think of him in that slutty little cowboy fit, lol.

“come on, coop, don’t be a prude,” you said with a big smile, standing in front of your partner with your hands interlocked in his, “you played a sheriff before, why can’t you do it for me?”

his lips curved into a smile as he titled his head down, his hat covering the red blush rising on his cheeks, “maybe i am turning into a prude,” he chuckled, rousing a laugh from you as you led him into the bedroom with a coy smile spread on your lips.

you’d been seeing cooper howard exclusively for a few weeks, having weaseled your way into his life a few short months after his divorce had been finalized. you were a young stable girl at the ranch where he’d kept sugarfoot, no longer living with barb in their old house meant he didn’t have the capacity to care for her on his own anymore. it was difficult, but he trusted one of the best ranchers just out of los angeles.

it was a stroke of luck to have been the one to help him the first day he stopped by your grandfather’s ranch, keeping yourself from bursting into excitement as you got his mare situated in her new home. there was immediate chemistry flowing between each other, but you knew cooper was tiptoeing around you, and you couldn’t blame him. 

you were certainly much younger than he was.

the movie star came around often, and although he’d spent most of his time riding sugarfoot, you couldn’t count on two hands the amount of times you’d caught him staring at you, covering it up by hiding his eyes behind the cowboy hat you’d always seen him wearing.

the sexual tension was mutual, so you acted on it.

you saw first-hand how incredibly pent-up he was, but you still couldn’t believe how quick he was to say yes when you offered him a blowjob a few days later. you didn’t beat around the bush when you knew what you wanted.

you led him behind one of the stables, covered up by a stack of hay bails, as you took him down your throat like the good girl you were. cooper didn’t last long, choking out a moan as he came in your mouth after a minute or two. 

since then, cooper was head over heels for you—the country girl he always wanted. someone who would say yes in a heartbeat if he asked you to go up to bakersfield with him to live on a ranch. it was dangerous territory, he was sure of it, but he’d never once felt so much fire in his heart when he was around you. you kept his spirit young.

likewise, cooper howard was everything you could’ve dreamed of in a man. handsome, kind-hearted, and eager to please.

that’s why he couldn’t say no when you asked so nicely for him to do some roleplaying with you in bed. wasn’t your fault that you had a thing for cowboys, and he just happened to be the hottest one you’d ever set eyes on.

so, there you were in his bedroom in nothing but a skimpy bra and panties set that he bought you a week earlier. red, see-through lace that cupped your perky tits and accentuated the curves of your ass. you made sure he was fully dressed, though, from a cowboy hat all the way down to the worn-in boots.

“see, baby?” you purred, kneeling on the edge of his bed like a minx, “there’s no one sexier than you, cowboy.”

it was hard to miss the flicker of interest in cooper’s eyes as you cooed at him. his cock twitching under his denim jeans that he desperately wanted off.

if this is what you wanted, then he’d sure as hell give it to you.

“don’t talk like you’re the one in charge here. i’m the sheriff around these parts,” he drawled through a smirk, his voice alone making you wet in anticipation, “so, be a good girl and listen to me,” cooper stepped forward, towering over your small frame as a calloused hand tilted your chin up to look at him, “ya’ think ya’ can do that for me, sweetheart?”

“yes, sir,” you murmured, a soft squeak escaping your lips when he pressed his lips against yours in a sudden, passionate kiss that made your stomach twist and turn in all the right ways. his tongue forced its way into your mouth, and you opened your lips for him to taste all of you, but he pulled back just to leave you craving more, “please.” you whimpered.

“shhh,” his lips pulled into a half-grin, and you knew then and there that he was enjoying this power dynamic as much as you were, “i need ya’ to be nice and quiet for me. don’t want anyone else in town listenin’ to what i do to you.”

your lips trembled as you sat patiently in front of him, heat building in your abdomen as your cunt squeezed and ached around nothing. cooper took off his hat, placing it nicely over your head—claiming you as his.

“lay back, darlin’,” he whispered, dipping his head low and following you as you landed onto the soft bed. he crawled over you, pressing wet kisses to your neck, down your chest until his lips teased around the band of your panties, “now, look at how wet you are. i barely even touched ya’,” he chuckled, leaning in to kiss your cunt over the wet fabric.

you held onto his hat, keeping it on your head, as you arched your back and chewed down on your lip to keep yourself from crying out in pleasure. 

he tongued at the fabric, finding your swollen clit and giving it attention that you would’ve preferred without your underwear on. you kept quiet, though, knowing that if you were on your best behaviour, ‘the sheriff’ would be sure to give you everything you needed.

a whimper barely escaped your lips when he tugged the fabric aside, cool air making you pulse and twitch.

“christ, baby,” he groaned, “you want my cock so bad, don’t you? i bet you wanna’ ride me until you’re screamin’ my name and beggin’ for me to let you cum.”

you were fighting for your life as cooper’s thumb pressed slow circles on your bundle of nerves, the words falling from his tongue sending your stomach into a fit of butterflies. he had never been so vulgar with the way he spoke, you weren’t sure you’d be lasting long if he kept it up.

“cooper, please,” the words spilled from you before you could stop, a moan choking in your throat, “shit—i mean, sir,” you whined.

a man of his word, cooper pulled away from you, standing at the edge of the bed and watching the way you squirmed without his touch.

“i told you to be quiet,” he clicked his tongue in disappointment, unbuttoning the blue and yellow top that looked so perfect on him. accented with leather fringes hanging off his broad shoulder, and a little golden star on the left side—just like a sheriff, “i thought you’ were goin’ to be a good girl for me,” he sighed, “suppose i need to punish you, until you learn to behave.”

he finished unbuttoning the top, leaving his chest exposed, as he reached down and undid his belt buckle with one hand. cooper pulled the leather out from the belt loops of his denim, and your mind went haywire at the sharp sound.

“lay on your stomach,” he commanded, watching with a smirk as you obeyed. his hands took your wrists, pulling them behind you so he could snag them together until his belt had them forcefully restricted. he let out a whistle, “you look goddamn’ pretty all tied up,” he smiled, large hands reaching down and massaging your ass before pulling your panties off.

you looked over your shoulder at the cowboy, trying to pry your wrists apart, but he was good with a belt. eyes settled on his exposed chest and your mouth pooled with saliva, wishing you could turn around and let him fuck you while your fingernails scratched against his abs and left reddened marks on his skin.

cooper’s hands moved to your hips and lifted you onto spread knees on the edge of the bed, just high enough so he had the perfect angle to fuck you as good as he believed you deserved. you kept your face turned to the side, breathing heavy and biting back moans as you felt his fingers rub through your folds. already you felt your knees wanting to give up, but you willed yourself to stay upright. the last thing you needed was to upset him and be edged for hours—or worse, not allowed to cum at all.

he pushed a finger inside you, heavy-lidded hazel eyes watching your expression as your tight cunt contracted around his digit. your fingers bent and dug into the leather belt as he slid in a second, roughly finger fucking you as your eyes had begun to roll into the back of your head. it was so damned good, but it wasn’t enough—you rocked your hips back against his fingers, silently begging for him to fuck you harder and deeper. 

you held back a moan, the sound radiating deep in your chest and loud enough for cooper to hear.

“now, now, babygirl,” he murmured gently, free hand holding your hips still, “once i start fuckin’ you, i promise you can try bein’ as loud as you want.”

that alone made another whimper come from you, an agonizing feeling swallowing you whole when his fingers pulled out and left you empty and exposed. 

you opened your mouth, ready to talk out of turn and beg for his cock desperately, but you were met with your panties being shoved between your lips, rightly so. a makeshift gag that would make it near impossible to get any sounds out.

“good girl,” cooper uttered, his hand brushing back hair so he could see your face, “i did say ‘try’, didn’t i?” he chuckled, taking far too much pleasure in the dominance he had over you, and by the looks of you, he knew you loved it.

he shimmied the opened shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground as he unzipped his jeans and pushed them to his thighs, so his cock sprung free. the cowboy didn’t waste time running the head along your wet pussy, watching as his pre-cum dripped out and coated your entrance. the lace gag muffled your moans as each stroke along you made your thighs quake in pleasure, leaving you a complete fucking mess.

“fuck,” he groaned lowly, holding the base of his cock with his right hand, the other holding your hip up so you didn’t collapse, “i don’t know how you’re gonna’ take this cock,” he breathed heavy, slowly pushing into your cunt, “so small… just a sweet little thing.” 

you groaned, your tongue pressing against the fabric in your mouth when tears stung your ears as his cock filled you. he wasn’t wrong, you weren’t sure how you managed to take him; he towered over you in height, and he was very well-endowed. he often fucked you so deep that your stomach bulged with each rough snap of his hips, his hand would press against your lower tummy so he could feel his cock fucking you dumb.

cooper groaned when he reached the hilt, giving you only a few seconds to adjust to the fullness you were a good girl who could take it, you’d proven that many times.

his thick cock slid through your swollen walls and stretched you with each forward push of his hips, balls slapping hard against your clit. you were gagging on the fabric pathetically, the sounds from you nothing more than muffled whimpers.

his hand tugged on the belt strapped tight around your wrists, using it as leverage as he fucked you so hard you felt like you might pass out. your eyes fluttered closed as they rolled back, body shaking in tandem with the bed as spit dripped down your chin after your panties fully soaked in your mouth.

with how tight you were squeezing around his cock, cooper knew you were close. 

“don’t cum, yet, baby,” he moaned, head falling back as he rocked hard against you, tugging harder on your wrists so you were pulled up from the bed, tits bouncing with every thrust.

you were seconds away from cumming when cooper dropped your wrists and pulled out—your cunt dripping with juices down your thighs. you landed hard against the bed, face buried in the blanket as it swallowed up the tears streaming down your cheeks from the denial. your lover undid the belt around your wrists, and you were quick to pull them apart, relishing in the freedom to touch where you wanted.

cooper bent down and pressed his tongue to your abused cunt, lapping at you wildly and getting a good taste. you pulled the gag out of your mouth just in time to let out a strangled moan, vibrating deep from your chest.

“fuck, cooper—“ you cried, hips and knees shaking uncontrollably, “you’re gonna’ make me cum, please, don’t stop. i wanna’ cum so bad.”

“you cum when i tell you, you can,” he mumbled against you, hands grabbing tight at your ass as his tongue pushed inside you.

it took everything for you to focus on holding back your climax, the way his tongue penetrated you nearly threw you over the edge, but he was good at knowing your triggers. he pulled back from you, licking his lips as he stood back up on his feet and kicked off his boots and jeans.

“ride me,” he said breathlessly, watching you crawl to your hands and knees as he moved to lay back on the bed with his head in the pillows, “you like ridin’ cowboys, don’t you?”

“yes, sir,” you mewled, chewing on your bottom lip as you moved to straddle him. cooper had never looked sexier to you, his forehead and chest were damp with sweat and his cheeks flushed a perfect shade of pink. 

with one hand, he reached behind you and unhooked the clasp of your bra, snagging the fabric from your body and tossing it off the bed. his hands were quick to massage your tits, squeezing your nipples between his fingers as you sunk down on his cock with one quick drop of your hips. 

you and cooper moaned together as he stretched you out, your body flushed hot as you pressed your hands to his chest and rocked your hips. 

he praised you often, saying sweet little nothing's and showering you in compliments as you rode him just the way he liked it. there was no better gratification than watching the way his face twisted in pleasure as he moaned your name over and over like a prayer.

“i want you to cum in me,” you said through a quick inhale, beginning to lose your breath, “please, sir. i’ve been so good for you.”

a guttural growl came from him as he grabbed at your jaw and yanked you down roughly into a hungry kiss. he licked into your mouth, and you were much too willing to part your lips and let him take your breath away.

cooper lifted his hips with his remaining strength, just enough so he could pull his cock from you and thrust back up, fucking you relentlessly. you buried your face against his neck, gurgled moans bubbling up your throat and into his ear as your body rolled toward the edge once again. his stubble rubbed against your cheek, and it was the only thing you focused on as you held back your orgasm until he gave you permission.

you had become nothing but a toy of pleasure for him, your body limp as he slammed his hips into yours, and the sound of your skin slapping together echoed louder than the headboard banging against the wall.

“you take my cock so fuckin’ good, baby. i want you to cum with me,” cooper whined into your ear, and you could hear his voice shaking, “fuck, i’m gonna’ cum,” he growled.

cooper reached a hand between you and thumbed at your clit, circling it several times in a quick pattern—all you needed for your pleasure to erupt you into a state of euphoria. you saw stars, a fucked out smile on your lips as your cunt tightened around his cock and left you babbling his name as cooper continued to fuck you. his thrusts stuttered a few times, unable to keep up the rhythm as your pulsing cunt milked out his orgasm. he came inside you with a deep-throated groan, filling you with wet, sticky cum.

his body finally gave in, and he collapsed back on the bed with you dropping to his chest. you were both covered in sweat, chests heaving as you caught your breath and gave your bodies time to be still and quiet. relishing in the aftermath of one of your kinkiest rendezvous.

cooper was the first to groan and shift in his position, his body already sore and knowing he’d be aching for a couple days. those beautiful hazel eyes of his stayed focused on your face as you leaned your head back to get a good look at him. he smiled lopsided, making you blush, as his hand brushed hair out of your face that clung to the sweat gathering on your skin.

“you’re so damn perfect,” he whispered to you in that thick southern accent, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips that made you fall in love with him all over again, “my babygirl.”

[slytherinslut0]

theodore nott. | you’re mine tonight

summary: theodore nott is always willing to be used by you. if you’re going to use somebody, just let it be him.

word count: 800

tags: headcanons that once again turned into this. i try to keep things short, apparently im physically incapable🥹 nothing crazy here other then implied fwb, slight angst, reader heartbreak kinda cuz cormac sux, theo being good with words as always, make out session at the end

Theodore Nott, who watches as you and your situationship, Cormac, argue every single day.

Theodore Nott who sees you cry constantly as a result of these arguments, tonight no unorthodox exception as you come storming back into the Slytherin common room with tears streaming down your cheeks, kicking off your heels and throwing yourself down next to him on a secluded corner couch.

Your eyes, brimming with anguish and pleading for solace, lock onto his, a look he knows all too damn well.

Theodore Nott, who doesn’t have to ask, doesn’t have to pry, who already knows exactly why you’re here, sitting next to him, when you could be literally anywhere else. He reads the story in your tear-streaked cheeks and your trembling hands. It’s a scene he’s witnessed so many times he’s lost count.

Theodore Nott, who merely closes his book, runs a hand through his tousled hair, and rests the other on your knee. PDA is off the table since you don’t want Cormac to find out—even though he’s been sneaking off with more girls than you have fingers on both hands—so Theo simply looks at you with those steady, knowing eyes and whispers, “your dorm or mine?”

You swallow, grateful gaze shifting toward the door. It’s always so fucking easy with Theo.

“Always yours,” you murmur, rising to your feet and picking up your discarded heels. Without waiting for his response, you start toward his dorm, certain he’s right behind you. He always is.

Theodore Nott, who shuts the door and locks it behind you as the two of you enter. The lights are dim, the shadows of the Black Lake ripple against the walls, and moonlight flickers throughout the room. Theodore Nott, who notices the look on your face well before you do, who can already sense the words that are about to slip past your teeth.

Theo knows well enough by now that you only come to him when you’re hurt, and you never feel good about it until he reassures you it’s okay. He sees it in the subtle shift of your gaze, the furrow of your brow, the tremble of your lips—a silent plea for forgiveness he’s already long granted you.

“I’m sorry, Theo…”

Theodore Nott, who understands you just need someone to hold you right now. Someone who will look at you with warmth, with desire, with need, someone who will give you all of himself in this moment. A shoulder to cry on, bedsheets to lie on.

“It’s okay, bella, don’t apologize…”

Theodore Nott who steps closer, his hands stern yet gentle as they cup your cheeks, drawing your gaze to his. Reverent blue eyes glisten like two oceans, drowning you in their warmth. Theodore Nott who brushes the damp from your cheeks with his thumbs before leaning down, grazing his lips over yours, feather-light.

“I’ve said it about a million times, you know I’ve already told you—“

Theodore Nott, who interrupts his own sentence by pressing his lips to yours, inhaling a sharp breath as your salty sweetness ignites in his mouth. Tears mingle with your cherry lip gloss, his hands sliding back into your hair, and he’s lost and then found again—as though you’re the only beacon in a world shrouded in darkness, the answer to all his unspoken questions.

Theodore Nott, who needs this, who wants this just as much, if not more, than you do.

“—if you’re gonna’ use somebody…use me…”

Theodore Nott who practically growls those words into your mouth as fervour takes over, as hunger roars harder and stronger with each passing second. One hand grips your hair, holding your lips to his while the other falls to your blouse, slender fingers undoing the buttons with a speed that leaves you breathless.

“…I’m so fucking willing to be somebody you need…”

His fingers deftly slip the last button free, his hand sliding beneath the fabric to feel the warmth of your skin. The touch sends shivers through you, your body responding to his every move. His lips trail down your jaw, pressing hot kisses along your neck, making you gasp. Theodore's grip on your hair tightens just enough to tilt your head back, exposing more of your throat to his eager mouth.

The room seems to shrink around you, the flickering moonlight casting shadows that dance across the walls, mirroring the wild rhythm of your hearts. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze dark and intense.

"You drive me insane…how much I fucking want you drives me insane," he admits, his breath hitching. "Every time I see you with him…every time I see what he does to you…it kills me…”

Theodore Nott whose words are like gasoline to an open flame, igniting a fierce need within you, scorching while simultaneously taming the desire to be desired. Theodore Nott who groans as you clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to close any distance between you as he shifts you around and begins backing you up toward his bed.

"Show me, Theo," you whisper. "Show me how much you want me."

With a growl, Theodore crashes his lips back to yours, the kiss searing and urgent. He moves with you effortlessly, guiding you towards the bed, never breaking the contact. As you fall back onto the soft sheets, his body follows, covering you completely. His hands roam over your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, each touch more intoxicating than the last.

"You're mine tonight," it’s a promise. Not a question. "No one else's. Just mine."

pretty divider made by: @saradika-graphics

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.70)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The one where the pack goes on a group bender. 

Tags: Fluff, only a little hurt mostly just comfort, scenting, bathing, drinking, drunk characters, recovery from past abused, nightmares, trans! tae, dress up, girl on girl fluff, omegaspace, themes of forgiveness, vomiting, eating disorder mention but everything's good, Brief implied sexual content, Talks of mental disorders, murder,

W/c: 12.6k

Note: The part where it links to a playlist on youtube may be a little distracting if you do not like to read with loud music on! feel free to skip it and then go back to listen to it <3 although it is not the first song in the playlist- hot to go by chappell roan is the unofficial official song of the chapter <3

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

The pack spends the next three days getting drunk off their asses and trying their hardest to forget the last 3 weeks. Everything since you and Hobi found that body at the beach all those weeks ago.

There are no police officers at the door, no red and blue lights that cloud the air, or tense words spat between you. No plans devilish or delightful. Sometimes there are thin bands of sunlight that slip through the blinds and that's a big event. Other times- the big kitchen light shines brighter than any sun. Daytime and nighttime blend and blur together until you’re not sure what day it is or how many days it’s been since all of you became free.

Freedom. It feels like a dirty word.

Young, drunk, and honest, the days blend together. Drinking away the last few weeks might not be the best move, neither the healthiest nor the most productive decision to drink yourselves dizzy until it doesn’t matter that there’s a person buried in your basement, that Jin shot Jimin, or that you almost left them. The truth of love is clean compared to what you might do, what you have done- for the people you love.

For once no one judges, no one cuts you off after one or three or five drinks because it's too much for a pup like you. No one even stops Jungkook from getting giggly from champagne and drinking more than his seizures would normally allow. You deserve it, a few nights of fun, a few nights to live like the 20-somethings that you all are without the weight of trying to survive and secrets weighing you down.

It’s okay, if Jungkook has a seizure that will be the least of your worries.

The hours blend and blur. Jin submits his resignation paperwork for the FBI and has a quick video call with the director, the rest of the pack tries to be quiet but fails several times (once when namjoon pops a bottle of champagne and hits himself in the face with a flying cork, and again when he and Yoongi clink their glasses and predictably break them on accident sending champagne all over the floor. it's not the first glass that breaks that night but it is the first one that makes Jin laugh.)

You and Jungkook lay sprawl across his lap, just out of sight and giggling every few minutes. nuzzling under Jin's shirt to scent his sensitive stomach. Your fingers play with Jungkook's on Jin's hips, and you teeth listlessly at the soft skin just above his belly button, just so that you don't speak or let out an embarassingly needy whine. His hands and long fingers card through your hair and shushing your laughter just barely. Jin doesn't have the heart to tell anyone not to laugh, especially after the last few days no- Jin will drink down every bit of it.

The glass of very good and expensive wine in his hands just out of view of the camera lens, also gets drunk down, and very quick. Yoongi pauses to refill it once Jin's done, he drinks the second glass slower.

Hobi and Namjoon fill out their paperwork for emergency rut leave. Jimin doesn’t have to, already on emergency medical leave and cleared for his bodyguard job till the end of the month when spring will turn the ground lucid and heavy sweet. The winter won't be long now, although the cold pushes at the window and makes Yoongi put the thermostat up high just so that you can all lounge around in your pajamas and fuzzy socks.

Heat and rut leave, even though no one's in a rut or heat. You don't mind lying and abusing the system just this once. You just can’t think about leaving the house just yet. You need a few days to settle all of your instincts and remember that being alive- that surviving is a good thing. That surviving and being together is even better.

It feels like a good thing. It feels like this is the first deep breath you’ve taken in a long long while. Since long before Yoongi maybe- if you’re being honest.

You know you must be irritating your neighbors with the music- but it’s worth it when you get to sit on the counter and watch Yoongi and Hobi bicker over the playlist. Which song is better, which one has the better backtrack, the better lyrics, and the better vibe.

A big black block speaker sits on the kitchen island bumping and although Hoseok and Yoongi might be fighting, they're leaning further into each other with every over-exaggerated scoff like a pair of magnets. it might be midnight, it might be 4am, but no ones sleeping yet. you know too well what waits you when you close your eyes. The nightmares that will plauge all of you, so you keep them open.

It's kinda fun to watch them flirt, It's kinda your favorite thing to watch actually. sitting there on the counter sipping at your drink.

You stay close to Hobi just incase. He hasn't showed any sort of evidence of falling apart from seeing moonbyul yet, but you're ready and waiting if he needs you.

The long socks you wear have trouble staying up to your mid-thigh, thick and cozy, and falling down around your knee as you sit on the countertop, feet dangling and swinging as you look between Hobi and Yoongi. Jimin toys with them, pulling up and pulling down. Happy with the sensation of it. He's equally as entertained by the way that Yoongi and Hobi fight, half joking- half really not.

After the kind of fights you've had recently, you'll take it.

“Fuck you and your love for fucking tambourines- this song is not that good-” Your feet swish and Hobi bens in to peck your forehead and sneak a sip of your drink. You like them sweet and Jin's made each one extra sugary for you.

You don't know where Jin got the mini paper umbrellas from- but Hoseok has a red one tucked behind his ear and a green one in his drink, the same as your yellow one. They litter the kitchen counter along with the juiced rinds of lemons and limes and other mixers that the pack is chasing with their alcohol.

"Oh! Try it Tae, this is like- so you and so so pink" Tae tries your drink too, bending down to sip at it counter level and you watch Jimin swallow hard and fidget. he's so enthralled with the sight of her bending over and sucking that he misses her sneaky hand creeping around to his backside, pinching so hard he jumps.

Hoseok laughs and then does the same to Yoongi. "Oh my god what the fuck-" He's indignant, but Hoseok tugs him back to his side by his belt buckle.

Tae's eyes are nearly comically wide, she asks you what you're drinking, hand on your knee, fiddling with the ribbon on your socks. “I’ve never had a Miami vice before.”

Jimin’s growl is a near thing, a near purr, makes you giggle and tip into him, happy. “I’ll make you one babygirl.”

"Wait!" Tae snags Jimin around the waist before he sinks off to get her one, and even you can see the blush on his cheeks. It's a good sign, Jimin is recovering well from all the blood he lost.

"Help me sit on the counter first?"

Jimin had in fact, heaved you up there when you'd asked to sit, not that you couldn't get up there on your own- but the alpha’s like to do little things like that for you. Tae can definitely do it herself too but Jimin stoops to grip under her thighs, eye contact with her never ceasing, and almost drops her when she takes the chance to kiss him fully on the mouth and you giggle again.

Yoongi glances over at you, at the sound, and your giggle cuts off. cheeks the mirror of Jimin's.

The discomfort passes like it was never there, like he didn't look for the sound, like he's not keenly aware of just how many steps it would take to cross the room and kiss you firmly on the mouth. Yoongi's thinking all sorts of silly things like that.

It's not silly, it's not silly at all- Yoongi is just not quite sure how angry he is.

Yoongi’s all puffed up, swaying but somehow holding onto his whiskey. The counter digs into his hip where he leans and flips his hair like he doesn't know that Hobi's watching. Like Hobi's not biting his lip and staring. It's easier to look at Hobi than it is to look at you- easier to want Hobi than it is to want you right now. Easier to bicker and flirt than to actually initiate anything.

(Yoongi never did like sex or love when he's drunk, he's only ever loved love sober, drinking makes him- stumbly- less articulate than he likes, more rambly. Like his body and his mind are at two seperate tempo's and they won't mix).

“Like you’re any better with your fucking cowbell fixation. It does not add that much to a track."

“Hey! I am a millennial thank you very much, that was like such a meme when I was in high school- like people had shirts with that on it” 

their bickering is funny and it’s so much nicer than almost drowning, than fighting. Jimin’s stitches are still tender but you burrow into the front of his chest, hiding your face from view. Peeking over his shoulder to watch Yoongi and Hobi. 

Your mate tips his head, spits it almost vicious and slurry, “And I bet you had one of those fucking shirts, You and your fucking memes, just because a song has cowbell in it doesn't make it a good song-” 

Hoseok grins, teeth sharp looking and smelling so heady and rich that you tip your neck to the side, presenting your scent gland for Jimin and Tae to burrow into, between the two of them in a alpha sandwich. 

"You thinking about my shirt hyung? It's made of boyfriend material you know." 

Jin laughs from the couch in approval and tae groans but Yoongi's hand tangles with the front of Hoseok's shirt, black, generic. Pulling him closer so harshly that hoseok genuinely looks startled for a second. "I am thinking about your shirt- how it would look on my fucking floor." 

Jungkook swishes around his Miami vice from the couch, calling over to your little cuddle puddle, "Does anyone know what they're talking about?" 

Jin pipes up, almost undistinguishable from where he's pressed between Joonie and the couch cushion. "Are they angry at each other or trying to fuck?"

"Both?" 

"Both." 

You sigh at the same moment Tae nearly swoons, "Let them be."

"It's sort of hot to watch them argue," you agree.

“You and your fucking memes” Yoongi spits again, half a laugh, so in love that he purses his lips to keep from saying it and ruining the (admittedly fake) argument.

He pushes hoseok up agains the center island, lips colliding with his so sloppy and yet with so much love behind them that you see Hobi's knees go weak a little, watch your mates lips work in the way you are only too familiar with blushing and still peeking. As Hoseok's red hair mizes with Yoongi's black and Hoseok kisses back with just as much tension, finally snapping. Yoongi's hands on his hips. Kissing just to kiss. Pulling apart with a laugh because,

"Did you just fucking bite me?"

"And i'll do it again if you don't admit that my song is better than yours." They go back to kissing, and no one pays them heed.

Jimin’s scent swells sweeter and Tae touches the top of your head, long fingers threading through and long nails scratching gently behind your ears. 

"Feeling small pup?" She asks, all quiet and fond with it. Prepared to wisk you away upstairs or into the library room if you need a second of quiet, a second of less stimulation so settle you. you're a little quiet, a little less verbal- something she's come to expect from you in omegaspace.

You shake your head, words escaping you, eyes stuck on her fluffy sweater, the kind of mohair that leaves a pretty white halo, her shorts are more bloomers, ruffled at the hem and dove colored, the same color as your socks. Coordinating. Tae dressed you and she wanted couples outfits. Your hands fix on her sweater sleeves and you pet them once, twice, still shaking your head. 

"You sure?" Tae's lips quirk and you know that she doesn't believe you in the slightest. You press a kiss to her lips, slow soft, near reverent with how gentle you are with it. Her pupils dilate, and Jimin's' growl rumbles all the way to your fingertips.  

"M'okay, just a little sleepy but not like- sleepy sleepy yet." it is nearing 3 in the morning. Jimin's arms tighten around you protective and a little possessive, Tae's eyes go from your face to his. Apparently, she's learned a thing or two from Yoongi and Hobi because her tone is dripping with false displeasure.

“Stealing my pup from me Minnie?” She taunts, and you shiver at the sound of her voice, low, the most normal it’s sounded in days. You’d almost forgotten what it sounded like when Tae teased.

Jimin seems to have forgotten too, because he doesn't seem to understand that she's teasing, bullying you, nearly pushing you further into her with how quick he seeks to hand you over.  “Never.” He says softly, quietly. Like every syllable she says is treasured. It is. 

“Hey!” Jin flops over the edge of the couch. Jungkook and Namjoon near his feet. All but kissing up his thighs. Namjoon says something low and Jungkook giggles, almost tossing himself into the pack alpha’s shoulder. “Hey! If anyone is anyone’s pup, they’re- hic- mine!” 

Jin only manages to be serious for a second before he flinches, laughing and hiccuping again as Namjoon’s fingers dig into the meat of his heal. A carefully orchestrated reminder as the pack omega squirms and shrieks at the ticklish feeling. Swaying and almost toppling from the couch. You don’t think you’ve seen Jin look so young, act so young- in weeks. He ends up on the floor with Jungkook on top of him, blowing raspberries against his neck with a loud rippling noise. 

Your hands are healing slowly and Hobi’s bruises around his neck are beginning to yellow. The bruises on the back of Tae’s head have faded from painful to touch tender. You touch her there, oh so gently. Touching her hair as she touches yours, leaning into each other and giggling, touching, loving gently. Jimin watches blinking owlishly. Fingers flexing on the countertop.

Other wounds have faded that way too. Yoongi scoffs and turns to you. They've been lost in their own little world. Yoongi has his long hair in a top knot, his white teeshirt is so long it almost hides his shorts below. If basketball shorts could be coquettish- Yoongi would pull it off. The loose pieces of his hair fluff softly over his forehead as he huffs. 

“Okay. You can be the tiebreaker- which one’s better? This one or the song I showed earlier?”

Both of them look at you expectantly- watching and waiting, Tae curls a lock of your hair around her finger syrupy slow as you pause for a second. You turn to Yoongi already apologetic, “Okay- but Russian house music is like- kinda really really cool-” 

Your mate groans and all but smacks his head on the counter. “Oh come on!” Hoseok pumps his fist and almost hip-checks Yoongi across the kitchen. Your mate pouts, crossing his arms.

“Come on- epic high is a classic.” 

“Admit it hyung- she likes my playlist better than yours.”

At least Yoongi is sort of talking to you again. Sort of getting over it minute by minute. It’s hard. Namjoon watches you from where he's sprawled on the couch, holding a near-empty bottle of champagne by the neck while Jungkook and Jin wrestle on the floor, sort of making out, sort of scenting each other as they go. Jimin requests a song that Tae would like- and then Yoongi and Hoseok lean over Yoongi's phone to make her the perfect playlist. Happy to have something new and mundane to bicker over.

(Happy Pink Pup Time ▷ Play playlist?)

Morning is just cresting over the rooftops and the music is just turned down when Namjoon gets up from the couch, slowly, dizzy. You're perched on the counter in your pj's watching Jimin and Jungkook chase each other around the room. The need to scent and wrestle and get all your restless energy out near palpable.

Hoseok and Jungkook have a tiny paper drink umbrella tucked behind their ears, the same one that Jin stuck in your drinks so that you can keep track of whose drink is whose. He and Jungkook gang up on Jimin to stick one into his hair, the tiny little baby bun that Tae tied to match Yoongi.

You giggle as Jungkook gives up and just loops his arms around Jimin's neck, no technique to it and all body weight dragging the three of them to the floor. Sprawled next to the library room door, now open. Tae’s makeup collection spread out on the green shaggy carpet like the fallen petals of some red flowering tree. Nothing hidden in the room anymore, the lock will go unused forever. 

It changes from wrestling to tickling and then the three of them are getting up and surrounding Yoongi, a paper umbrella in their fingers, he takes it all with a huff and a surprisingly whiney, “guys.” 

You still when Namjoon walks over, the same way you'd still if a wild animal were approaching. He doesn't settle close, just stands next to you and pours himself the last melted bit of the drink in the blender. Pink and yellow swirling delicately. He makes a noise in his throat and looks at you like he hasn’t barely said a word to anyone in the whole last 24 hours, hasn’t barely said a word to you since you got off the phone with him and Moonbyul left the house. 

You sip at your drink, lips pursed around the straw and when you're done, Namjoon takes it from you and puts it on the counter. You think at first that he might be cutting you off but then he stares at the gauze around your hands.

"I should probably check these." You nod obedient, wordless, unsure what to say, you let him take your hands. 

Fingers prodding at the red skin, delicate but knitting itself together slowly. “How much do they hurt?” He asks. Eyes downturned, looking at them, not you. 

“Probably a two,” you rate, almost without thinking. His eyelashes still cling together from salt. Face glossy. You want to wash his face, blot across his cheeks gently the way that Jin does after you've been crying (something that you admittedly do a lot- the pack's resident crybaby). 

Namjoon sighs heavily, "So should I consider that a four or-" 

"No, this time I'm being honest." Namjoon stills, "It doesn't hurt when I touch stuff unless I'm not careful." Being honest about your hurts and pains has never been easy for you. But Namjoon has shown you time and time again that he's willing to take your hurts and fix them. You have no reason not to tell him the truth. 

Namjoon grips your palm, turning it over his hands again and again, looking down at your love line lifeline all tangled there before leveling you with a look that is neither angry nor resigned.

He holds your hand, “Do you notice?” He asks. You swallow, eyes itchy. 

“Notice what?” His finger presses to the center of your palm, the hollow there. 

“Still dry,” He says. 

You think of the mice. Of drowning. You don't pull your hand from  Namjoon's grasp, but you know he wouldn't Let you anyway. 

You think about the mice. Of dying. Of trying to stay dry despite the things that try to swallow you whole. Water is not gentle, water is hungry. The rain pitters against the dark glass and melts the snow outside. But you and Namjoon and the rest of the pack are dry and warm and safe in here. 

Your breath hitches, but you close your fingers around his hand and nod. Your heels hook around the back of his knees, pulling him closer to you. “Still dry.” You agree. 

Namjoon closes his eyes and breaks the tension and this distance between you. Letting you pull him between your thighs properly where you sit on the kitchen counter. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders to tug you to his chest, and breathing deep in the hollow of your throat. 

He pulls back just as abruptly. Hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs. All up in your space and sour-smelling. It takes great effort for you not to turn away and keep his piercing eye contact. 

“Don’t do something like that again. Ever.” His jaw rolls and his scent spikes angry. But it's all temporary as you nose under his jaw to soothe him. Namjoon has every right to be angry with you for leaving, the same way Yoongi does. 

“Never. Promise.” You hold out your pinky and you mean it. 

Namjoon looks at you for a second, staring you down, waiting for you to look away. But then after a pregnant second, he loops his pinky through. 

~-~

Eventually, you get drunk enough to play dress up with Tae’s collection of designer clothes. You wake up sleepy and pupish, Namjoon and Jungkook guide you to the dressing room before youre really awake.

"Sorry to wake you, Tae just needed-" you make a sleepy soft noise, nuzzling into Namjoon's throat when they hand him off to you.

Instead of getting pulled into pajamas you get Tae and the dressing room, almost her whole collection of dresses taken out of their careful organization. piles and piles of clothes on the floor, and a silk scarf keeps her hair back from her face.

Gold eye patches on her under eyes that slide off when Jin tries to drag her in for a morning scent mark to soothe her. Tae's anxious, you can smell it on the air, distracting and sharp, you squirm and Namjoon sets you on the floor. "Sorry pup, Tae's just-"

Tae's cheeks were wet, frustrated holding a slip in her hands. sniffling softly. She'd looks at you a little guilty, looking down at you in the middle of her tornado and nearly burst into tears,

"I don't have anything to wear."

Hugging Tae is always so easy, easier when she needs your comfort. you're sleepy, but this is something you'd know how to do even in your sleep- loving her properly has always been so easy. Jimin stands silent and fidgety in between the hollow of her closet obviously having handed her dress after dress to try and soothe her.

"Jimin, give me that dress and that Crinolin."

"The blue one?"

"The one thats purple and pink, stat." You know better than to think this is just Tae having nothing to wear, this is dysphoria, the way it clings to her shoulders, makes her turn away from the mirrors. You straighten up and turn to your pack in the door each of them standing at attention.

"Namjoon, go downstairs and bring me up the case that's under Tae's makeup vanity, not next to it, the one under it. It's got her favorites." You turn to Hobi, "find Noodle, she needs a cat in her lap asap."

Tae sniffles, wiping her cheeks, grimacing but then admitting, "a cat would help."

They scatter. "What should I do?" Yoongi asks, rubbing the back of his neck with his hands.

You pause, hover. But Yoongi waits, willing to be ordered around. "you could make us a drink?"

Of course, you don't need to be drunk to play dress up on a good day, it's just that Tae needed a bit of liquid courage after Moonbyul's words, you expect that they've gotten under her skin a little more than she's let on. But if that's under her skin, you're happy to help her put something more fitting over it.

Skirts of tulle and beaded flowers and stars that glitter brighter than the whole sky. Fancy tambour embroidery that must be worth its weight in gold. Pulled gently, mother-of-pearl buttons get stuck in your hair. Expensive draping and diamond collars stitched high against scented throats. Velvet bows and metal boning are hidden by the softest silk.

It's fun to be a girl sometimes, most of the time. Especially when your alphas ask for you to twirl for them.   Which is how Namjoon ends up breaking the lamp by your couch by tripping over the floor-length bright pink dress that Tae’s put you in. fluffy tiers of it, bright and flamingo pink. Tae's feeling alot better now, after you'd done her makeup and let her swatch colors of lipstick up and down your arms. Let her choose your outfit and change you a dozen times to find the right dress for you.

You'd done the same with her, you'd put her in the red dress and blushed, and immediately asked her to change. And had pointedly not looked at the delicate daisy print bralette she wore under it, the white and yellow flowers that did everything for her skin.

You remember when that bralet was just hidden in her makeup room. Remember when she'd never worn it, too risky, too much of a confession to the nature of her soul underneath. When it had stayed just there- hidden in the library room, ready to be savored. Now- the yellow on the straps wears off white instead of lemony and you pull them up her shoulders, a kiss to the spot where it sits on her shoulders.

Hoseok sits on the edge of the couch- because all of them had tried and failed to fit on the pink tufted bench upstairs in the dressing room almost breaking it so you had to relocate back to the first floor. Hoseok buries his face in your hip, disappearing into the pink glittery fabric. Laughing and smiling up at you. "You should wear this all the time, you look like a fucking peony,"

"That would be like so impractical." Hobi's cheeks are dotted with kiss prints, "if you want to put makeup on me you better kiss it on" he'd teased, getting drunk quicker than the rest. his cheeks have several small kiss prints four from Tae and five from you.

All of you bear her touch, either by kisses on your cheeks, pink and mauve, or by the glitter that tae's demanded you all wear. You’ve giggled and dotted it across their cheeks to match. Tae has a lot of glitter to go through in her makeup collection, more than she ever logically will in her lifetime or even before they expire. It's okay to use them now.

She sits with Jin, the pack omega's arms full of swatches the same way yours were all those months ago, as Tae explains the merits of each and Jin chooses which glitter he wants on his cheeks. The reflects in this one that's green, not purple- or the pink one with extra little heart glittery bits- her favorite. Jin listens on an astute student, Jimin close at his hip, absorbing her words like they're gospel.

They are gospel. After spending the last few days debating survival strategies- debating glitters is so much better.

Jin lets Tae put his on (white, with extra chunky stars) while you put some on Namjoon's cheeks (champagne colored, almost translucent with how it blends into his skin) and Jimin’s fingers draw idle circles over Tae's back. Between the velvet ribbons that crisscross and tie her corset.

Tae's corset is a deep plumb, but the color of her silk dress fades to pink around her waist and then gauzy white on the floor. Her red toenails are only visible when she sways, "Minnie i'm ticklish there." Jimin just growls in response. Half a pur and half a plea.

Are the others thinking about it like you are? Thinking about Tae in a big white dress, a veil across her face? Are they thinking about how lovely she looks in white? Or how much they'd like to see her in a white dress for them? Just like you are?

Namjoon leans close, between your thighs too. All of them- all of your packmates sit in a line across the couch, ready to be glittered and made up because Tae had requested it. Doing all of their makeup. They'd been so willing, so loving about it. They'd even washed their faces and you'd gotten to clean the salt from Namjoon's cheeks just like you'd wanted. But now-

Now the 4th finger on your hand hums sensitive, Tae has glitter across her knuckles. You haven't thought about your wedding ring since you took it off, and haven't thought about marriage at all. Jimin well- Jimin will be Tae's mate- same way you're Yoongi's. But Tae's ring finger is empty, she doesn't wear a lot of jewelry but-

You don't think about your wedding alot, not at all really. Such a brief little bit of time that started easily the worst time in your life, but you remember the feeling of the dress, tight on your hips- how you couldn't move a full step without help.

Hoseok burrows into the fluff at your hip, really- it must have taken a mile or two of tulle to make a skirt so poofy. It sort of feels like you're wearing a cloud. With Tae's ribcage size and your chest- most of her dresses fit you comfortably. This one is probably the closest, and Tae chose it for you.

Tae chose it for you.

You sneak furtive glances over at Tae while you do Namjoon's makeup. Not much, just a bit of eyeliner and mascara for his sparse lashes. He looks up at you from the couch, eyeliner on one eye, almost masculine in the way it makes his eyes look sharper and dragon like. Concealer for the bags under his eyes.

"Your scent went a little sour then sweet, what were you thinking about?" You continue to put it on him, pat pat pat- quiet for a moment where you choose your words.

"I was thinking about my wedding dress."

Hoseok quiets where he's still burrowing into your hip, maybe more a little alpha-puppyish than you've seen him. You don't blame him, the stress of yesterday has you needing a bit of omegaspace yourself. Your back and shoulders all tense in the way that only ever relaxes when you're brought low and sweet by their care.

But not now- not tonight- maybe tomorrow you'll indulge in omegaspace. Tonight, none of you will sleep or be sensitive just in case something bad happens. Just in case Moonbyul's promises were too good to be true. It might be a good night (verging on morning) but none of you trust the quiet. The rain still pittering on outside. Creaking under the doors with cold damp fingers.

Namjoon's fingers dig warm into the spot under your thighs, the squishy bit of skin between your knees and your mid-thigh. Under the dress but firm, keeping you there in the moment and not sinking back through your memories. 

Hobi's eyes are shiny when they look up at you, pinching a bit of the pink tulle between his thumb and forefinger. "What was getting married like? What did you wear for your wedding dress?" Was it everything you dreamed of or could you want that dream again. Who would you want that with, could it be me?

(Hoseok won't have to wonder for long, although he will be disappointed, just a little)

"It was so- so not me- I'd much rather have worn something like this." The dress might be a monstrous concoction of tulle but it's still so cute- so much more- you than anything Geumjae ever put you in.

"Getting married was kinda a blur, alot of people, a lot of talking but- I have pictures of me in it somewhere, do you want to see?" Namjoon nuzzles into your waist, your sternum, and nearly your chest, but you let him. He answers in a purr before Hobi has a chance too. 

"No, I don't need to see, you look lovelier in this, I'm sure."

"I never thought a bit of whiskey would draw compliments out of you alpha," You tease, it's a bit of a change from how firm with you he was yesterday but you're not going to look gift horses in the mouth. Namjoon just shakes his head, rubbing his cheeks across your bodice more thoroughly, almost clumsy in his scenting.  

"I clearly haven't been doing my job if you think you need to get me drunk to compliment you- I'll happily do it again when we all get sober."

"Like that will ever happen again," Jin snorts, then ducks away from Namjoon's /////' We really shouldn't have that kind of mentality look. They can avoid their pack alpha and pack omega responsibilities and sensibilities for a few moments more. a few days more. 

Tae had decided you'd wear this, had picked it out from where it had hung towards the side and she'd even said please. Even if the skirt is so long that you nearly trip over it every time you take a step you'll wear it all night if that's what she wants. Walking is what heels and alphas are for anyway.

You don't look at Hoseok and Namjoon, you just look at Tae, thinking of your wedding. 'I'm gonna marry her one day.' You think.  

The whole pack bursts into laughter, and you realize that you've spoken out loud the same second that you trip, hands jerking to catch yourself on Namjoon's shoulders, regardless of the container of glitter that you hold in your hands. 

When you look Yoongi has more glitter covering him than a stripper would at Mardi Gras. More than they put on Edward Cullen in Twilight. Their laughter redoubles, and when Yoongi breathes out in a huff, his breath sparkles. 

"Jesus fucking Christ."  

Your cheeks are brighter than your skirt while Jin tries to clean off his thighs swatting the glitter onto the floor but everyone's laughing too hard to properly help. Yoongi repays their laughter by shaking his hair out over them much to their dismay.

Jungkook is hiccupping with how hard he's giggling, and you're all drunk and in love, and just- there is no harm in it, even as Yoongi sighs and Hobi teases, "You're like fucking Tinkerbell hyung." 

Tae doesn't do anything about your confession, doesn't do anything but laugh and tip her hip into yours, it's so much squishier, so much curvier than it once was. The hormones that have been doing her job in making her soft and supple. Curves that you can't help but feel a little bit later when she pushes you into the side of the couch, your dress and her dress mixing their colors.

"So, you wanna marry me huh?" She's so much taller than you, especially in the Versace pumps she put on. So tall and willowy it has you stammering. 

"Yeah," you say, a little breathless looking up at her. Gulping as she leans, pinning you there. "If Jimin will let me." 

Jimin hasn't seemed to notice that you're having any sort of conversation that should involve him at all, hasn't registered your words at all, too busy staring at Tae with an expression that can only be described as lovestruck, maybe utterly devoted. Your sentiment and want to marry her- hasn't struck him as strange at all. You guess you'll have to ask Yoongi first but when you turn, his cheeks are as pink as your dress. 

Jin lunges forward, miming the neck of a champagne bottle as a microphone, doing a silly voice. "Anything to report? any comment Yoongi- knowing that your mate wants to marry someone thats not you?" 

Yoongi huffs and it casts a new puff of glitter into the air, "she can marry whoever she wants. She's my mate but- if she wants to yeah-" His shoulders shiver, "we'll not anyone- obviously she's limited to the people in this room but-" 

Jin is giggling and so are you, rolling your eyes, "Obviously- not like I'd wanna marry anyone else than you guys-" Hoseok looks away and then back at you but it's a missed moment. Jimin tugs on the laces of Tae's corset and her slight intake of breath has you looking back up at her. 

“Did you have to do it so tight?” He asks, eyes on you. 

“That’s kinda the point of a corset alpha.”

And then- Hobi slaps the couch. A loud sound but a look says he's not angry, he's running his fingers through some of the glitters there, a little pile, uncovering the faint stain below. 

It's a blood splatter. Faded from where Jin poured a whole bottle of hydrogen peroxide over it, but it's faintly there still. Soaked through the fibers and the foam below probably. Maybe all the way to the base and the springs. 

They washed it as much as they could, but they still couldn't get it out all the way. The couch, like a few other things in the house like the curtains- will have to be dealt with and disposed of one day. It is a kind of evidence. There's probably enough DNA to pull from it to be worrisome. 

“Can we like- burn this fucking thing already?”

He’s progressed past normal drunk to not quite able to stand on his own, might fall over, drunk. The glass in his hand sloshing with every movement as he leans over the edge of the couch. Hobi’s already got some on his cheeks, bright yellow gold that crests the highpoint of his cheekbones and the inner corner of his eyes. It looks like sparks a bit- especially with his red hair. 

Jin grimaces, “It was like totally soaked with blood. I did the best I could." 

"No one's blaming you hyung-" 

"Yeah you did like such a good job. It's just- still kinda covered." Namjoon's always trying to ease Jin's discomfort, encourage him, and that's still true even drunk.

“It's probably still got Namjoon’s cum in it from his last rut too.” Half the pack cringes and scolds Jungkook, but he's recalcitrant. "What? It's probably got your cum on it too- we kinda ruined it before the whole murder thing just saying." 

Jungkook hasn’t been drunk in years, he has the lowest tolerance among the eight of you. He bounces giggly, jumping from packmate to packmate, looping his arms around your shoulders and leaning so much of his body weight that you almost topple over, just giggling. Yoongi huffs, a little endeared and a little worried that Jungkook will actually make you fall over.

Jungkook does this to you alot. He likes to overpower you sometimes- not that the hierarchy still needs settling Jungkook just likes to hassle you.

“Hey!” Namjoon chirps from the floor as Jin carefully sweeps up some of the glitter and a few shards from the lamp that Namjoon broke. He’s too drunk to be properly scandalized. 

Yoongi sits back against the cushions, drink in his hands swirling. Ice clinking. “Yeah, let’s burn it.”

And burn it you do. The alphas try to lift it all together and almost fall over themselves, barely moving it even an inch before Yoongi decides to cut it up with his power tools and carry it out piece by piece. It makes a fucking mess in the Living Room before you lug it out to the squishy backyard.

Piles of stuffing litter the living room floor like dust bunnies and noodle swats at them, playing.

Yoongi's got the kerosene and you've got the match and the whole thing goes up in seconds, much to Hoseok and Jungkook's whooping delight. Jin's bundled in a blanket, but even he grins at the flames and the bad memories that burn away with it.

Hobi almost throws his car keys into the fire too but doesn’t. Whooping and waving his arms as the flames climb higher and higher. Yoongi squirts more of the lighter fluid until Namjoon says "That's enough" because a trip to the burn unit isn't what any of you want tonight.

The eight of you stand around it and watch it burn and then when you go back upstairs, Seokjin drags the mattress from your old bedroom into the big room- just like you did during Namjoon’s rut. Jungkook’s reallocating all of the pack's nesting materials to make a fort on the ground floor. Yoongi gets up on a chair to measure out where the studs should be so that he can use nails to secure a sheet to the ceiling like a big circus tent.

“It’s a fort hyung! It doesn’t need to be structurally supportive.”

Yoongi just pecks at Jungkook's head from where he stands on one of the pack's dining room chairs, "Not gonna let the world fall down on top of you bunny."

Tae asks Hobi to play bubblegum pop and they’re just so happy to see her smiling and acting anything like herself that they acquiesce to even her most ridiculous requests.

Hoseok turns the music up loud and you all fucking dance. You and Tae twirl and bounce, your big long skirts heavy and all big. Stained with a bit of mud at the bottom of the backyard. Namjoon makes both of you twirl and snag around your waists as you spin past.

You and Tae hop up and down, screaming along to the lyrics so loud that when it quiets- your voices are rough and raw. Chests a bit lighter with each screamed lyric, something awful working its way out of you with every laugh, something necessary in it as you grip each other's arms and yell out your frustrations against the speaker.

And by then Jungkook asks to wear a dress too- and then you’re really all having fun.

Yoongi is wearing a pair of Tae’s fuzzy knee socks and is dancing slowly with Noodle who chirps in his arms- apparently recognizing that your mate is too soft and squishy at the edges to be worth the hissing. Hair mused from some very involved kissing that you know Hobi dragged him away for.

Noodle keeps his claws sheathed for now as Yoongi dances although he does look vaguely annoyed. Like he doesn’t want to enjoy Yoongi’s touch but does. Watching you and Tae show Jungkook how to walk in high heels with beady yellow eyes. Jungkook gets it quick, quicker than you did.

Tae just nips at his cheek, a little bitey and a lot drunk. Jin and Yoongi have run out of frozen fruit so the drinks are a little stiffer. You’ll probably run out of alcohol by morning.

Someone will offer to drive to the nearest liquor store which will immediately be met by shaken heads and refusals, just this once- you can have alcohol and food delivered. Leaving the house right now still feels too scary. Too nerve-wracking.

Why would you ever leave when you have everything you could ever need, everyone you’ll ever love right here in this room? Wearing glitter and dresses and matching pajamas worn at the edges from love and cuddles.

Namjoon is wearing your bottoms. The very first courting present he ever got you, pink with red hearts. They're a bit tight in the ass and more capris, but they fit him either way. You watch as Namjoon’s fingers toy underneath Seokjin’s hem, splaying and petting a little higher. High enough to show a bruise that you didn’t know existed that lies against Jin’s ribcage.

For now, you’re all safe, and Tae tugs Jungkook upstairs in the direction of your dressing room. “Come on kookie I’ve got the perfect thing.” You know she's not tired of playing dress up with just you- she's just happy to have another canvas.

Tae has 7 other canvases actually, once Jungkook gets in on the dress-up, Jimin follows like the puppy alpha he is, and then Hobi and your mate, Jin, and Namjoon because they want to know what you're shrieking about upstairs. And come up to find Yoongi sprawled out on the floor, a fluffy something stuck over his head kinda making him look like a lampshade.

"It's not my fault your waist is like- super tiny. My head's just big."

And that’s how everyone gets in on it. Dresses and fancy shirts, bedazzled belts strung low over Hobi’s hip, and a silk scarf tied around Namjoon’s neck in a big bow. Jin ends up in a silky shirt that actually makes your heart stop, a glittery broach at the collar that Jimin toys with and Jin lets him touch to his heart's content. Dancing and dancing and falling onto the nest that you’re all building so so sloppy. Earning your first real laugh you’ve let out in days.

“Joonie? Can you please- I’ve waited forever to get my ears pierced and you’re like a surgeon- and you just look it up on YouTube and do it,”

You slip on someone's spilled drink almost tumbling into Hobi who goes to snatch your waist but misses. Giddy and giggly, “I can do it! I pierced mine once in elementary school but they healed over!”

“I don’t know if drunk piercings are the best idea.” Jin says, at the same moment that Jungkook chirps, “I’ll do my belly button if you hold ice to it."

Namjoon is the one who ends up doing it, with his gloves and antiseptic and numbing cream. You check to make sure Tae’s are symmetrical and then Jimin’s because of course he wants to be matching with her, then Jungkook and Jin, because they can be giggly and ridiculous too.   They’ve got high-quality surgical steal and fancy earrings upstairs that Jimin bought Tae during his mad dash to get her all the girl things after she came out (you're still honestly going through all of it). You give Tae the hoops because you know they won’t tug and pull on her hair and Jimin these little studs with a star on them.

Namjoon does it with a kiss on her cheek and a tiny gauze pad with barely a drop of blood on it folded and thrown away. “Good baby girl, was I gentle enough?” he was, he always is gentle enough.

By the end of the night, you’ve got a secondary piercing, and Tae’s already dreaming about getting more. One at a time Namjoon says, the edge of a pack alpha command in his voice. 

~-~

You wake with a pounding headache and to mimosas and a mountain of pancakes that Hobi practically forces down your throat to keep off the worst of the hangover. Until you feel like you might be sick and the pack piles in around where you sit in the bathroom to keep you company through your nausea. A bit more panicky and serious and sober than you have been. 

They stroke your back and pile the big blue blanket around you to keep off the shivers. But you don’t vomit somehow, drinking the electrolyte drink that Yoongi practically shoves down your throat. Quieter now that he’s sober but still unable to watch you suffer. Hand on your chin making you drink. You fall asleep soon after that again, overly full.

You sleep for 12 hours, and wake to the sound of retching, but it's just Yoongi- in a similar position as you are. Apparently he Jin and Namjoon stayed up while the rest of the pack went back to bed and decided to play drinking games that have turned into a bad decision. he'll need a shower before long.

He's not the only one whose in a bad way. Hobi wakes from the nest room staring at the ceiling listless. Still wearing the fancy designer clothes that Tae put him in under one of his hoodies. and you know without having to ask that he's thinking about her, about Moonbyul. 

But getting over this is going to be a work in progress. Everyone is good one moment and then bad the next, only to be good in an hour, laughing like you were never crying. 

Hobi doesn’t want to move, staring blankly at the ceiling Noodle purring against his hip and kneading him, putting holes in his pants. He can’t move from the nest fort in the living room, half open like a clamshell curled away from the entryway. Can't move until Jungkook gets you and you come close and he finally tears his eyes from the ceiling to look at you. You don't have to say a word to him you just guide him into a sitting position and let him rest his face against the crook of your neck. 

You help him take off his sweatshirt and when he nods that he's  ready, guide him up to the upstairs bathroom where tae is already showering off the scent of fire and glitter. You helped her take off her corset just the same, tugging at the ribbon until it fell loose because Jimin complained that he didn't know how to take it off without hurting the dress.

You strip all of them- Hobi and Yoongi and tae, and get them side by side in the bathtub. A firm layer of foam on the top from Jungkook's favorite purple bubble bath, and have a go at grooming them with Jin and Jungkook. Every inch of your alphas is inspected and tested with teeth and purrs. Hoseok closes his eyes to listen to the sound of them, just after Jungkook man handles the rest of the pack into the deep tub that Yoongi installed for this specific purpose.

Jin's purr is deep, yours is musical almost, and Jungkook's is really similar to noodles. He feels a hand on his cheek and knows without opening his eyes that it's yours rubbing away the wetness there. 

"Not crying cuz I'm sad just-"  he doesn't have to explain, doesn't have to do anything but close his eyes and let you make it better. If hurts could come out in the wash- you'd be able to get them out. You of all people know how hard it is for him to feel clean, the grubbiness of bad memories and old hurts that stains his bones.

And yet, you still wash him.

You rub a cloth over his shoulders, the tense part of his neck, his spine all gentle. Again and again until he starts to squirm- nothing about the touch, nothing about the grooming selfish. You ask him if he's done and he says not yet so you keep going until the waters gone cold and everyone else has gotten out of the tub.

Namjoon forces about a gallon of water down yoongi's throat, but the worst of the vomiting seems to be over. yoongi sleeps too- out of sync.

Love feels so tight in his chest that Hoseok can't open his eyes. He falls asleep there until Jin starts to tug at him, and when he opens them, he finds that you're in one of Tae's slip dresses- the kind that she likes to sleep in, translucent and soap sudsy at the hem where you got wet washing him.

His voice is croaky but he asks, "Have you eaten?" The answer, of course, is no. But he remedies it easily for you once he's dressed and scented sweet. An eye for an eye, a hurt for a hurt, and a heart for a heart. 

You order a new couch somewhere on the third day, blue this time instead of grey- to match the tile backsplash in the kitchen. With fabric that’s comfier this time and actually designed to be turned into a nesting nook when you need it. 

Yoongi puts it together sober and then takes it apart just to put it back together again- claiming that one of the legs is squeaky and the middle edge isn't flush. He's feeling better, less hungover and less angry. Happy to have something for his hands to do.

He still doesn’t talk to you more than a few words but he does ask “Hold the flashlight for me?” While Tae is upstairs putting away her torn-apart dressing room with Hobi and Jungkook. 

And you do help your mate- standing in your matching pj’s with clean hair and clean minds for the first time in days. Thoughts unclouded by terror or anger or alcohol. 

You hold his phone while he tamps down on the leg screws. the sound of the others laughing upstairs, both of you quietly accept for the clink click of the socket wrench. You hold the flashlight, hold it even when Yoongi drops his hands, not looking at you, squatting. It's quiet, Noodle sleeps in a puddle of mid-afternoon sunlight by the front door but it's morning for you- all of you slept till noon. 

“I need a moment okay just- give me a second, give me a few days.” You gulp and look at him. But it's as much as Jin has said to you too. As much as any of them have warned. “Give him time pup, he’ll come around.”

“Let me know when you want the next screw.” He turns around, still kneeling before you, hand on your ankle. Circling it slowly and simply. Petting over the ball of your bone and your Achilles tendon. Looking up at you and not saying a thing until you speak.

“You know I’m sorry for it right? That I regret it right?”

“Yeah,” he says, lips downturned “I know. Wish it hurt less that way.”

“If there was something I could do- something that would make it better- you’d tell me right?”

Yoongi pauses, his lips part for a split second and then go closed, and this time his cheeks go pink. But he sounds stronger when he says,

“Yeah, I’d tell you.”

~-~

But it does hurt less this way. All of your secrets and all your shortcomings are out in the open. Day drinking is either a fantastic idea or a terrible one depending on how you look at it. Because for the first time ever you all talk about it instead of keeping it bottled up.

The eight of you are piled into the kitchen, a second food order sits on the fringes in brown paper bags that Hobi doodles on idly with a sharpie, drawing bunnies and noodle and diamond rings and flowers- endless daisies. and then moves to doodling on Yoongi's jeans. Five days in and still completely unwilling to leave the house- still too scary, too many unknowns that linger just outside your door.

The 7 of them sit stretched between the cabinets while you bounce around above them mindful of not tripping on their sprawled legs, cooking up your tiramisu because Hobi had bragged about it and now they all want a taste.

You spin and turn, ducking and dodging needy hands. Jimin leans forward to sneak a quick peck against your knee when you’re mixing some of the egg whites. Jin gets up eventually to help, disliking the way that you teeter too pupish without a reassuring touch and your favorite baking companion at your elbow. Jin ties his apron around your neck and says. “Tell me what to do” Cooking with him is the most normal thing you’ve done in months. You have enough energy for it once.

“You’re making like a double batch, right?” You’re drinking less, all a little less intoxicated, you’d woken up this morning with a headache that faded and now you don’t want to drink anymore, done for the week and maybe the month. Maybe your whole lifetime after almost vomiting- was that yesterday? Or the day before?

“Hyung when I tell you you’re gonna wanna have the whole tray it’s like- so fucking good-”

“You talk a big game Hobi.” Jungkook looks like he wants to be a part of Hobi's big game. Scent swelling sultry and sweet.

There has been surprisingly less sex than you thought there would be although you know that Tae dragged Jimin upstairs late last night for a bit of privacy. It’s nothing like Namjoon’s rut. Without the alcohol, the pack is getting touchier. It’s strange- you almost would have expected them to want more while drinking but it didn’t happen that way.

Now Namjoon’s hand skims your hip whenever you walk past. Stepping over his thick thighs, squishy where they're pulled together to give Yoongi enough room. His hand comes up to toy with the edge of your shirt, A casual yet claiming touch that you pay no mind. Pinching the chub there and murmuring a quiet "fuck."

You raise your eyebrow at him, a bit self-conscious but still willing to let him do what he wants, "having fun Joonie?" You taunt. He leans forward, nose nudging under your shirt, dragging his teeth over the small swell of your stomach in reply. It's nothing new (well you being a bit chubbier is- but you're learning to live with it).

the mood is light until Jin asks you how you did it, how you killed the don and his beta. 

Your recipe book is open in front of him- and that has to be part of the reason why it comes to him. It’s not a secret anymore. Yoongi doesn’t look bothered as the pack quiets down and you tell them everything.

How Moonbyul convinced you to help her do it, how you actually killed them, how she disposed of the evidence. All of it. Jungkook's fingers come up to skim over the scars on your back and you catch his hand gently, taking it away from them because you don't want him to touch them now. 

It's the first time you've addressed the elephant in the room in 5 days and it feels- 

It feels good to talk about it. To get it off your chest. 

You've always told yourself that you had to kill them, it was either them or you, and they were bad people anyway. Who knows how many innocents had fallen under their hands- certainly more than have fallen under Moonbyuls. 

You did what you had to do to survive and there was no way out. But part of you has always wondered if that was true. 

The pack makes you feel like it is the truth. That killing to survive was all you could do. 

But it’s Hobi who bends forward along with Jin, “hang on hang on- fucking cupcakes? You poisoned the head of the fucking mafia using fucking cupcakes?” 

You blush, and Namjoon drags his finger through some of the whipped cream you’ve already made for the tiramisu. You gave him the bowl after you were done with it and he lifts it up to lick at the bottom, practically putting his face in the metal bowl. Jungkook licks the spoon and Tae tries not to watch his lips pucker. He fidgets, Thigh-shimming where he squirms tucked into Hobi's side. 

Jin's hand on his chin guides the alpha to look up, checking to make sure that he's alright. You don't have to wonder why because last night- Hoseok woke up from nightmares again. 

It was just like your nightmares. One moment you'd been nuzzling into him in sleep, and the next moment his hands had been shaking pushing you off of him. Smelling angry- his caramel scent going burnt and off the more he woke, you'd stayed up with him and piled blankets into the bathtub until he'd fallen back asleep again. Yoongi waited on the fringes with water until Hoseok had fallen asleep fitful- but asleep. 

He'd woken up without an appetite, but when you'd asked him he'd said the only thing he might be able to eat was your tiramisu, so here you are. Nightmares are easy to deal with, Hoseok's nightmares are something you can handle. 

“I bet they were fucking delicious.” 

“Thank you Joonie, they were.” 

Jin and Jimin are staring at you open-mouthed. But there are more questions- clarifications that everyone needs to ask. It feels good to finally talk about this freely. 

“Wait wait wait let me get this straight- Jin’s been working for the FBI for how many years?” 

“Only 6” Jin says at the same time Yoongi says, “6 and ½” and they shoot each other looks before Jin nods, and agrees. Eyes still on Yoongi. Jin and Yoongi are looking at each other with more love than is necessary. And Yoongi answers everyone’s unsure glances.

“I knew from the beginning and it didn’t matter.” Jimin bristles like it should certainly matter but Yoongi squeezes his good shoulder. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” Yoongi furrows his eyes, looking at Jimin's shoulder, and asks Namjoon if Jimin's stitches are ready to come out. 

They are, so Namjoon gets his medical bad and Jimin takes off his shirt. A pair of forceps and medical scissors in his hands as he snips through Jimin’s stitches and carefully pulls them out one by one, wearing sterile rubber gloves but pausing to let Jin feed him more spoonfuls of whipped cream. 

“Yeah,” Jin says, contemplating. “It doesn’t matter. They were so like bureaucratic anyway." 

"You're not gonna miss it?" Jungkook asks, and Jin shakes his head.

"It's not worth it, I'll find something else to do, I've got like a stellar recommendation from them anyway." 

It’s not just that secret that you talk through; you also talk through jimin and yours. nothing hidden anymore. No reason to hide it.

“Of course, I recognized you Minnie- I met you before I met anyone else- Before I even met you Yoongi.” Now that- Yoongi really doesn’t understand. But Jimin is already explaining before he has a chance to ask. And by the end of it- Yoongi wants to drive hoseok's car into the wall, trembling with how angry he is at past you for being so stupid.

“A fucking bar? You met Jimin at a fucking bar and you didn’t even try and hide the fact that you wanted to kill my brother?”

“Well I wanted to hire an assassin and he was there so-“ 

“Of course, she was gonna hire an assassin hyung, her ex-husband was like a total dick- like even more of a dick than Moonbutt or whatever her name is.”

“Moonbitch Kookie.” 

You skim your fingers through Hobi’s hair, checking to see if he’s alright and he nods, catching your hand and pressing a fleeting kiss there. You need your hands to bake but Hoseok holds onto them a moment longer than is necessary.

“God that's so dumb” Jin slaps Namjoon's arm and he realizes what he just said, his shoulders curling in, “wait you are not dumb and I am just stressed because I’ve never made ladyfingers before- please don’t think I actually meant that-” 

Namjoon rolls his eyes, he’s well aquatinted to how punchy Jin can get when he's tired. That’s nothing new. Jungkook spills across Yoongi’s thighs in mock misery, but he doesn’t react beyond skimming a hand up Jungkook’s back, first over his tee shirt and then under it. 

Yoongi turns to you, where you hold a piping bag filled with creamy batter, taking even deep breaths as you pipe out the first few ladyfingers, showing Jin how to do it without getting bubbles in most of them. “You knew didn’t you?” He’s not accusatory. Just surprised. “That it was dangerous, you knew you could die and you did it anyway.”

You nod without pause, “I’d done more dangerous things by then, It was only a matter of time before someone figured out I’d killed the don and I wanted to make sure I got to see him die before they got to me.” 

Yoongi takes a sip of his glass, angry at you for making poor decisions back before he even knew you. Angry even though his anger has nowhere to go that's good. 

“You have to be more careful.” 

“All of us have to be more careful,” Hobi replies he doesn’t like the reproach in Yoongi’s voice. Doesn’t like the way he’s been talking to you. But all the anger and all the pain is healing (it's all just love with nowhere to go. All you have to do is give it time.)

The wounds on your hands are closing slowly- healed enough already that it doesn’t hurt when you hand over the piping bag to give Jin a chance to try. You've done the first 12 ladyfingers and he does the next two dozen to get the hang of it. When Tae asks, you show her how to pipe out a little heart, and then JK wants to make a dick-shaped one and you let him. He gets more of the batter on his sleeve, but you made extra just in case something like this happened. 

Jungkook sits up abruptly, wide bunny eyes dark and glassy upturned at you, glancing between you and Jimin, “What did- what does killing feel like?”

“Oh my god Jk you can’t just ask that.” 

“No, he can ask I just-“ Jimin swallows, and puts his hand down. He's holding a piece of gauze where Namjoon puts the small cut pieces of the suture. Tinged pink from a little bit of blood. His chest shines in the half-light, the little bit of antiseptic glimmering around the freshly pulled stitches on his shoulder catching the light. Jimin’s face twists in pain, but you know it’s not his incision that’s bothering him. Namjoon's gentle as he pulls the last one.

“I don’t want you to think less of me.” 

Everyone’s silent, no one rushes to reassure him, because the truth is that you don’t know. You put your hand over his squeezing- the best that you can offer. Jungkook pushes on, undeterred, “Tell us about the first time.”

“The first time was an accident- it was- before you guys just before Tae went to school- right when she started and I wasn’t thinking. Someone rushed at one of my private clients and I just-“ Jimin's eyes go dark and he picks at one of the stures until Namjoon pushes his hands away.

"You did what you were hired to do," Namjoon asks, and Jimin nods. You and Jin finish the tiramisu and Yoongi reaches out a hand to help you sit with the two big trays of it, portioning them out onto the plates.

"I protected them at a cost." Jimin stares down at his plate, the perfect square on it. and you nudge it until he eats it.   “That music executive” Tae blurts, eyes shining, connecting the dots “you were really quiet after you came back but then you got buys, I just thought-” She goes quiet when you feed her the first bite, letting out a surprised but appreciative hum, distracted by how good it tastes, "This is really good."   Yoongi huffs, rueful in his understanding. “All they really need is one kill on you and they’ve got you for good.” But that's all in the past now, Jimin is never going to have to kill someone again, even if he did get paid for it.

He lifts a fork to his mouth, pulling back after a second and furrowing his eyebrows. licking the cream from his lips slowly, eyes narrowing.

"Okay now I'm really angry, how have you never made this for me?"

"You never asked Yoongi."

"We'll I'm asking now, I can't believe you kept this from me for so long. Can you make it on my birthday?" You blush, bright red, and Jungkook leans over to press his nose into your flushed cheek.

Jimin answers Jungkook's question after a few bites. “It didn’t bother me, after a while it didn’t bother me at all" Jimin turns to Jin, eyes shining with unshed tears, "hyung, does that make me crazy? Does that make me a psychopath?”

Jin swallows softly around his bite of tiramisu, it really is quite good, top 5- if not top 3 on his list of favorite desserts you've made. “I’m not sure. There is an assessment as a part of the DSM-5. I could test you if you want. Although I’m not sure I could be totally impartial.”

Jimin looks winded, desperate from the line of hope that Jin dangles in front of him, a chance at salvation. Jimin has always wanted to know- in that same twisted way he’s always wondered if he and Tae were going to go to the same place when they died- if he was honest to god crazy. Jimin’s always wanted to know what makes him so different than other people. always looked for a reason and now jin might give him one.

“What do you mean by impartial?”

Jin sets down his fork. “Jimin, do you think any of us wouldn’t do what we had to do to survive I mean- Tae and Y/n killed someone over there 6 days ago. Do you think that makes them psychopaths? Do you think that makes them damned?”

Jimin’s chest heaves and he can’t answer Jin, But after a second, Jimin asks again, “You’ll assess me then?” Tae's fingers rub mindless patterns over the back of Jimin’s hand, her knuckles are still bruised.

“The next day we’re both alone in the house.” He grimaces, “It’s the least I could do after shooting you.”

Jimin whines, mood lightening. “Come on, you know I don’t take it personally.”

At the end of the day, the fact that Jimin’s a killer hurts less than you might think, although their pack has their own questions about it, Tae too, although her questions are limited, Jimin answers each of them truthfully and honestly. He'd never think of lying to her about this, not anymore, not again.

When it comes down to it there is a lot you’re willing to justify when it comes to the people you love and the people you choose. You’re all killers and liars and secret keepers. No true sinner and no true saint between the eight of you. It’s a good thing that you have more than enough love to go around.

Enough for a lifetime you think. You’ll have to wait and see.

“You realize everything you’ve said is insane right” Namjoon’s not angry, just tired and full as he sprawls out. Uncaring of everything that’s been said, unthreatened. “Like- actual mafia movie insane right? Are your names even your real name?”

Yoongi can’t keep in his snort. “Of course? What kind of question is that?”

You give them a look, “Actually…” The uproar is immediate, and everyone shouts their indignance and disbelief. All but roaring in shock, your laugh rings high and loud.

“Kidding! Just trying to lighten the mood!” Jin playfully drags you over his lap, swatting your ass playfully in punishment. Your laughing only gets louder. He leaves a coco-colored hand print on your white shorts.

Tae’s in more of a joking mood now, “am I allowed to use this for my next storyline?”

“Yes” and “Definitely not!” are mutual cries.

Maybe you don’t need to know everything about the person you love. Maybe love is just understanding someone’s secrets and loving them anyway. Maybe the biggest lie that Namjoon can tell himself- to preserve their family that they’ve forged through fire and fucking blood is that Jimin only ever had to kill when he needed to. He parts his thighs after he throws away his gloves- not even bloody, and Jimin slides in between them relieved.

His back resting against Namjoon’s chest, a happy growl grumble slipping out as he tests his hands, and Namjoon tests how far Jimin’s fingers can bend. “Pt starts tomorrow” Namjoon intones, a warning in his voice. Jimin nods, perfectly obedient.

“The rest of our lives start tomorrow too.” No one disagrees.

Jungkook is giggly and sits between Yoongi’s thighs, whipped cream on his cheek, they’ve already finished the first tray of tiramisu that you’d made and are making a serious dent in the second one. Cooking for them fills you with that same warm feeling as it always does. Cooking is a love language. food too. Your stomach is full of it.

“Hang on hang on- let me get this straight-“ Jungkook ticks them off one by one on his fingers. “Jin’s an FBI agent. Jimin’s an assassin. And you almost were one too?”

You roll your eyes, but nod anyway. It's truth enough- it's pretty obvious to you that's what Moonbyul and Hyejin had to slated for (privately Jimin wonders what your moniker might have been. Would you have been the flower to his snake? The dove to Hyejin's bumblebee?)

Jungkook points his finger at Hoseok next to you, the two of you share a fork and a plate smudged with chocolate and whipped cream. Namjoon has completely given up on portioning out his onto a plate and goes at the tray with Jin, a fork between the two of them.

“Hobi’s exes are the current head of a fucking crime family- and Yoongi’s like the heir to some fucked up advice column throne thing- that I still don't quite understand but- Has everyone been keeping something from each other this whole damn time?”

“Does mine even count? It’s not like I knew my ex was like- a fucking mafioso or whatever-”

“I mean- I kept the secret that I was a girl for like- my whole fucking life so I feel like everyone else gets a pass.”

Jimin combs a hand through Tae’s hair, looking down at her and rubbing away a smudge of tiramisu with his thumb. And you hit Namjoon’s knees with your socked feet. Your socks have strawberries on them and a hole at the toe. “You definitely get a pass baby girl.”

“What about you Joonie? Any secrets up your sleeve?”

Your pack alpha shrugs. Eyebrow's furrowing as he thinks hard about it. “I think the only secret I’ve ever kept from you guys was throwing out the lease that one time-“

“Oh my god I completely forgot about that-”   “Yeah, Jin hyung was so so mad. Almost as mad as Yoongi is.”

Your mate spills his plate with you quick he leans over to pinch Hobi’s scent gland. “Hey, I’m working on it!” 

His last bite slips off his plate and plops onto the ground. Noodle darts forward, trying to get to it before you snatch him back. Unfortunately, no one thinks to do the same with Jungkook.

The hardwood floors have seen worse things in recent days than some whipped cream and everyone lets out belated 'No!' and Gross Jk' as Jungkook leans over to lick it up. You laugh as Hobi snatches Yoongi’s plate and holds it over his head, almost dropping it on himself with how Yoongi lunges. And Jin holds his plate of tiramisu out of reach of their roughhousing.

You rest your head on Tae’s shoulder and watch your pack bicker and then shoot it out for the last slice of tiramisu. Yoongi wins and licks the tray clean, getting a tiny spot of cream on his nose that Jin kisses off. She laces your hand with hers.

Both of you have lipstick swatches from yesterday still on the back of your palms, the faint imprint of the colors of your kisses that her fingers trace idly, gently. The memory there for now but not for long.   “What about you Kookie? Any secrets tucked up against your sleeve?”

Jungkook presses a finger to his lips, almost coquettish with how wide his eyes go. “What hyung? Me?”   Yoongi leans into his space, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Yeah, seems like everyone’s got a secret but you.”   “Hyung, you know if I’ve got a secret- it’s one I’ll never tell.”

~-~

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Notes:

Trying my hardest <3 I'm admittedly having a tough time right now, this chapter felt very nice to write because it's all about the beginning of the packs happy ending <3

i personally think they should have all fucked on the floor in tae's dresses, but thats just my personal thoughts about it all. this is one of the few times that i have pictures in my head of the dresses that tae and the m/c wear but i cannot find pictures online that match for the life of me!!!

The moonbitch moment made it into the chapter- idk who it was that commented that but 😂 i lowkey loved it so it made it in <3

What i've been trying to get at with most of the yoongi/m/c healing arc in this chapter is that they both need to be fully actualized and fully realized players in their relationship. yoongi does not and has not told her his wants and needs very often in the story- and that changes after this chapter- because in the moment they're putting together the sofa he realizes 'oh i actually can tell her what i need' it's important to note that the mc has healed to this point like- earlier in the story she might have taken any request from yoongi as criticism.

idk if anyone saw where i was talking about the eventual like 50 year end for the story like- where i think they all end up. but knowing that tae, hobi, and the m/c are the last packmates left alive into their 80's makes the conversation about the m/c marrying tae and not hobi all the more like...ah, sad maybe? i originally planned for tae and the m/c to be the last alive but maybe it should be the m/c and hobi- do you think they'd get married after tae died?

i love that tae and the m/c fit the tall and short lesbian niche that i am so so into like- i know i went on a bit about them but they are very in love and their love story has been some of my favorite in this book. i felt like this chapter needed a bit of glitter.

idk if i mentioned tae having her ears pierced before- but just pretend that i haven't!

i added the part with the m/c washing hobi at the last minute but let me tell you that part did almost make me cry so...

i ended up having to cut the after part of this chapter, but i kinda like it better that way because then yoongi doesn't forgive her right away. idk, that was the main part i wanted to work on for this chapter so its kinda good that i get to wait a little bit.

i've been...admitedly, dangerously depressed for the last two weeks, and i think working on this chapter made me realize that working on bily, writing stuff, is legitimately the only time i am happy and one of like 3 things that makes me feel okay, i hope it makes you feel okay too <3

Until next time!

[cupcakeslushie]

For your brainwash au, do we get so see exactly how Donnie got captured by Kendra? And would this au be a full comic or just bits and pieces here and there? (Not pressuring just curious) Love the au and I hope you’re having a good day! :)

Don’t know why, but I felt like writing this part out instead of drawing it! (Sorry for bad grammar. I wrote this lying in bed, sleep deprived and did no editing)

——

The sad, pained look on his little brother’s face is enough to set off that dark protective fire in Donatello’s belly. And Michael has been a tiny storm of negative emotions since Leo slapped the small cast on his ankle. Donnie may not be able to pick apart and decipher all of the subtitles his brother is feeling right now, but he knows he’s in pain, and that’s enough.

“How many strips of bacon do you think we can get from Meat Sweat’s corpse?” Donnie ponders as he wraps an arm around his little brother’s shoulders, and carefully pulls him closer. Mikey lets out a quiet huff, but the joke doesn’t land the way Donnie had been hoping.

“Michael?”

“I’m okay,” Mikey assures. Then a hesitant second later adds, “it’s stupid.”

“Oh well if it’s stupid, allow me to grab ‘Nardo. He might be able to help you better.”

That gets the laugh he was looking for.

“I’m not in pain or anything. It’s just, tonight was the midnight signing of Joshua Bear’s new cook book. He’s a YouTuber chef that I’ve been following for years, and I went to his first release…I really wanted the second for my collection.”

Donatello does vaguely remember Angelo telling Raph something about this event last night, during dinner. He’d been so excited, and now he looks crushed at the idea of missing it.

“What if I went?” At the suggestion, Mikey’s face becomes brighter than a super nova, almost too bright for Donnie to stare at directly. It takes a moment for Michael to really calm down enough to speak.

“You’d really go wait in line for three hours? Just to get a book?” Donatello laughs at the question. Any opportunity in which his brothers were interested in the world of literature, no matter the subject (except maybe geology) was a time to be supportive.

Mikey pulls him in for a tight hug, and holds up his phone to snap a picture of them. Donnie snorts and slides out of his little brother’s hammock, careful not to disturb it too much. Mikey is already bouncing enough that he’s in danger of falling out.

“Yes, yes. Sing my praises on all your media socials. Let the world know how I’m your favorite older sibling!” Mikey drops the phone to his chest and holds his arms up, practically vibrating for one more hug. Donnie complies. He’s long given up maintaining his bad boy image when it’s just the two of them.

“You’re the best, Donnie! Really!” The words do a hell of a job replacing that previous fury he’d been harboring, the smile and warmth coming from Mikey, now fully restored. The proper order of the universe righted with a simple solution. This was what he loved most about being a brother. Fixing his siblings problems, in any way he could. And if healing the broken bone outright was (for now) out of his control—at least he could do this.

Donnie glances at his watch and notes he should get going if the turn out is going to be as big as Angelo predicts. He sneaks past the living room where he can hear his other two brethren yelling over a game of Mario Kart. He has zero interest in either of his brothers tagging along. He loves them, but neither are suited to standing in a long line for hours. For the last Jupiter Jim reboot, Donatello was seconds away from a double fratricide before they were even allowed into the theater.

Besides. He’s practically 18 (in four months). He can run up to the surface for a few hours, without having to call upon the archaic buddy system.

———

He’s in line for about an hour, when he sees suspicious movement out the corner of his eye. A young woman, parting the line a little ways ahead from where he stands, walks quickly into the closest alley. That alone might be no cause for alarm—maybe it’s a short cut. But the tall, hooded creep trailing after her, has his metaphorical hackles rising. It’s a clear case of sinister intentions. He quickly glances around to see if anyone else has witnessed this, but he’s the only one who seems to be showing any type of concern. Typical New York.

“What a town” Donnie sighs. He doesn’t bother asking the old man behind him to save his spot, seeing as he’s practically at the end of the line, and quickly races to the alley to play hero.

It’s a deep one, the lights of the street not quite hitting all the eerie nooks and crannies. Plenty of blind spots.

“Hello there? Stalker and or damsel in distress? Is anyone in need of assistance? Anyone hopefully bear maced and in need of a being escorted to the nearest precinct?”

No answer.

The non-existent hairs on Donnie’s arms stand straight up. Just as he’s reaching for his ninpo to materialize a bo-staff, something thick wraps around his neck from behind. The arm is almost as big as Raphael’s, if lacking in the muscle department.

But before his can break the hold, the solid feeling of a needle slides into the meat of his neck and something rushes into his veins. Within seconds he’s released and stumbling from the lack of support.

Someone is talking to him. It takes a second of his gaze bouncing around to pick them out. Mildly embarrassing, considering they’re standing right in front of him now. Out of all the colors popping in and out of his vision, Donnie only just catches the same turquoise hoodie that seemed to belong to the unassuming young woman.

A honey pot trap, he realizes, stumbling and falling pathetically backwards on his own ass.

He sees pink hair and is almost relieved, if humiliated. With all their enemies, the Purple Dragons are D tier. But the chances he can free himself before his brothers even notice his absence is high. Just the thought of the savage teasing he would be forced to endure if his brothers found out—Donatello is not eager to hear any of it.

As the nauseating colors finally bleed away, and start to leave black growing in their wake, Donatello swears to cause a big explosion on his way out.

[sansaorgana]

maybe i’ve been watching too much GOT/HOTD shit but…tttw au where reader decides to seduce paul into p much being her servant (kinda like what cersei did to jaime except she still does actually care for him a bit). and lady jessica pushes for the marriage between reader and feyd to get her away from paul. i just feel like that’d make the fight between feyd and paul just that much more personal 🫢

THROWN TO THE WOLVES MASTERLIST

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Hello! I hope you still remember my multichapter fic 🥴 It's been a long time but I needed a break from it to create other stories and finally it's time for me to write the requests that were about this universe. For the start I went with this twisted AU and be warned because I have abandoned all my moral compass while writing it lol 😳🙈 I mostly explored the dynamic between the characters here and I don't think you have to know "Thrown To The Wolves" to read this story but it surely will make more sense if you do! 😊 Also, since it's an AU – and a wicked one as well – I didn't tag anyone from this fic's taglist. I also didn't tag anyone from the Feyd-Rautha's taglist because it's an AU of already existing fic that not everyone has read, so... I didn't want to bother anyone 😅

WARNINGS — INCEST, mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut), Reader is NOT a good person (as we already know... but she's even worse here)

WORD COUNT — 5,380

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

Watching your half-brother train, you only pretended to read a book in front of you. You couldn’t focus on the words because you were still rethinking the argument you had with your father earlier. Now, when Paul was officially an adult, Duke Leto Atreides signed a document that only solidified your brother as the heir and the next Duke.

He might not have been from a legal union like you were, but he was a boy. However, you had a feeling it was about more than that. After all, if your father wanted to change the law and allow women to inherit, he would do that. No, it was about Paul being his favourite. It was about Paul being prepared for this role from the moment he was born. It was about Paul being born from a woman that your father truly loved. Unlike your mother whose cold grave you had visited earlier that day. You were the only one visiting her.

To think that you were supposed to be born a boy. Paul was supposed to be a girl. Yet, the cruel universe played a joke at your expense. And now you were a burden of the Atreides family instead of an heir. Unless…

The book you were reading was a history one, telling stories of ancient times and the ways of the noblemen in the past. It mentioned gross and yet fascinating acts of the forgotten practices to keep the royal bloodlines pure. Incestous relationships between cousins… and even siblings. At first, reading the book late at night in your room, you had felt disgust at the mention of a sister-wife. But now, watching Paul training and reliving an argument with your father, you began having second thoughts.

The only way of getting the title of The Atreides Duchess would be to marry Paul. And he was of gentle, soft nature. He was not only devoted to you in his brotherly, naive love but also innocently easy to manipulate. You had done that multiple times before already; making him take blame for something you did or do something for you that you didn’t feel like doing yourself.

Would he be easy to seduce, though? You wondered, trying to shake off a small wave of guilt and disgust at the thought. You had to be stronger than your moral compass to survive. You knew already that Lady Jessica was plotting behind your father’s back to send you away, to marry you off to some awful, insignificant lord and get rid of you. Seducing Paul was your only way of staying at home and of getting the power you wanted.

To have an apple and eat an apple, you thought, biting on your lower lip.

Paul was inexperienced with women. Not that you were very experienced with men yourself but you were observant and interested in the subject. You studied books, interactions, gossip. Paul was not interested in such affairs at all. His whole life was studying and training, being moody and sad about his future role of the Duke.

Oh, the irony. He didn’t even want to bear this title that you so badly craved.

You closed the book loudly, startling him a little and getting his attention. He raised an eyebrow at you but you only smirked and gathered your things to go back inside.

At the supper table, you were acting moody and annoyed. You watched from the corner of your eye how it was catching Paul’s interest. When you excused yourself in the middle of the meal and left, visibly pissed at something, it didn’t take him long to follow you.

“Sister, wait,” he called for you in the corridor when you were near the doors leading to your chambers. “What is it? Talk to me,” he pleaded and grabbed your arm from behind.

“Oh, sweet Paul,” you smiled and turned around to face his confused face. He was sweet indeed. And he was a pretty boy, which you hadn’t been thinking of before for obvious reasons. But it wouldn’t be that difficult to force yourself to kiss him and lay with him. “You’re so adorable for worrying about me,” you sighed. “You’re the only one here who cares for me.”

“That is not true, (Y/N), you know that,” Paul fixed a hair strand on your face to push it off of your cheek. “Our father loves you and my mother… She cares about you, too. In her own way. I know that.”

“Your mother?” You snorted, looking up to meet his worried gaze. “She’s plotting already, don’t you know? She wants to marry me off and… And you as well,” you lied, looking away and pretending to get all shy.

“What?” Paul furrowed his brows as he let go of your arm. He was shocked to hear your revelation. “Am I not too young to get married? I mean, I know I could but… Shouldn’t I get older and wiser and…”

“I know,” you interrupted him and looked back into his pretty hazel eyes. “But what can I say? They want you to have a future Duchess already, so she can come here and be trained how to be a great leader one day by your side… To replace me…” You faked a shiver of your voice. “That was the reason behind my argument with our father. What did he tell you?” You bit on your lower lip.

“That…” Paul swallowed thickly, not wanting to anger you or offend you, “That… That you are angry about me inheriting. I wanted us to talk about it, actually. I wanted to explain to you that it is not my wish. I would love to give the title to you. I do not wish to rule,” Paul assured you and took you by your hands.

All those sweet, gentle gestures that you had been giving no second thoughts until now since they were innocent. But now, you savoured each one of them, coming up with ideas how to use them against him.

“He lied,” you sighed and looked down, sadly. You felt a small sting in your heart but you had to ignore it. “The argument was about me not wanting to leave Caladan… Not wanting to leave my home and my family. I don’t want to be sent away… I will miss you, you’re all I have,” you faked a sob and hugged him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck so he couldn’t see how fake your crying was. You sniffed a few times to make it more authentic.

Paul was surprised and a little petrified. However, he put his arms around you to pull you closer and rub your back.

“Oh, sweet (Y/N), my dear sister… I won’t let them send you away if you don’t want to… And not to anyone you wouldn’t desire yourself,” he assured you.

“I don’t want you to get married yet either… I… I…” You were looking for the right words as you took a step back to look at him again, faking a shivering lip and glossy eyes by blinking a lot. “I wish we were children again. Just you and I, always together. I don’t want anyone to ever come between us.”

“No one will come between us, (Y/N),” Paul squeezed your fingers. “I promise you that. You’re my sister, you forever will be. I love you,” he nodded and gave you puppy eyes.

“You… You don’t understand,” you pulled away and opened the doors to your room. “Go away, I shouldn’t be near you,” you took a deep and dramatic breath in. “It’s bad for me, I… Oh, I shouldn’t tell,” you sighed and walked inside your room, hoping your weird reaction would intrigue him.

And indeed, Paul followed you inside. He caught you by your wrist and made you stop as the doors closed behind him. You had him trapped between the wall and your body even though he was the one holding your hand. But his grip was gentle as usual.

“I don’t understand, (Y/N). Please, what’s wrong? I hate to see you like this,” he was worried and desperate to help you. You bit on your lip and smirked, changing the atmosphere quickly as you took a step ahead and got free from the grip of his hand.

Taking a step ahead, you forced him to retreat and his back hit the wall. Your faces were inches away and you batted your eyelashes innocently as you stared at his lips hungrily.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Paul swallowed thickly.

“You wanted to know what’s wrong with me,” you whispered seductively. “It’s a sinful disease, Paul, and believe me, I’ve tried to get rid of it but I can’t. You’re all I can think about,” your words were so soft and quiet, almost inaudible, for his ears only.

“We…We shouldn’t… “Paul whimpered pathetically. However, he didn’t even try to push you away. You raised an eyebrow at him, genuinely surprised at the lack of more definitive reaction.

“So, you want me to stop? Tell me then, sweet brother. I don’t want to hurt you,” you assured him and caressed his cheek with the fingertips of your right hand. He closed his eyelids and breathed in your scent. “Want me to stop?” You repeated the question teasingly.

Paul didn’t dare to say it out loud. He only shook his head as a no.

You had expected this task to be easy but you didn’t suspect it to be that easy. When you pressed your body closer to his, you felt how hard he was between his legs. Poor sweet Paul, so desperate for any girl’s attention, so inexperienced. He would really let his own sister take care of him. You chuckled and finally joined your lips together in a gentle kiss, not wanting to scare him away.

It was your first kiss, too, after all. And, for some reason, you really liked it. You liked that your first kiss belonged to your own brother, to your own flesh and blood. Even if Lady Jessica sends you away one day to marry another man, he would never possess you with his first marriage kiss for your own brother had the honour.

“I know you love your mother,” you whispered after breaking the kiss. Paul’s cheeks were flushed, his lips parted. He opened his eyelids slowly, looking at you in awe. It was adorable. “But she hates me,” you reminded him. “You must change her attitude towards me, you know. You don’t want them to send me away, don’t you? Who else is gonna kiss you so sweetly when I’m away?”

“I… I must leave now,” Paul swallowed thickly and pushed you away before running out of the room.

It left you confused but you knew that your confusion was no match with his. He was turned on and scared, he needed alone time. So, you gave him that and went to sleep yourself, a little anxious but also excited since the plan seemed to be working better than you had been expecting.

At first, Paul was ignoring you. Shyly looking away, blushing like crazy, avoiding your gaze. But you were relentless, always around him, talking to him with other people around, forcing him to answer and look at you. Eating by the same table, you would find moments when no one paid attention so you could treat yourself with fruit and honey in the most seductive manner while looking into his eyes. And you made sure to touch him briefly every time you walked past him. The poor boy was in physical and mental torture, you could see that and you only waited for him to snap.

You began to wear more revealing dresses and show off your body. But everything changed on the day you walked inside his bathroom, pretending it was an accident. He was in the bathtub, you just wanted to borrow a towel – a stupid and unbelievable excuse.

However, you didn’t walk in on him relaxing or taking a nap in the embrace of  warm water, no. You walked in on him being busy with himself with his lips parted, head thrown back and eyes shut close. The name he was moaning out loud was yours.

Gently, not wanting to startle him, you helped him to finish. And even though at first he was terrified of you seeing him like that he quickly gave in, too desperate to have any shame left in his body.

That act sealed your sinful union. He finally gave in to the ill-natured attraction and began to follow you around like the most loyal servant. And whenever you were left alone, he was like an overexcited puppy, wanting to kiss and be kissed, wanting to touch and be touched. Just in case – aware of the norms noble women were supposed to live by – you didn’t allow him to actually spoil your innocence. But everything else was allowed.

You were not only pleased with your seductive skills and the fact you had the future Duke wrapped around your little finger. Some twisted, wicked part of you was also happy from the fact that you managed to spoil your father’s favourite child; his little precious toy was broken now. Paul Atreides was rotten forever now. There was no going back from such sin.

You were damned already anyway. But it felt nice to drag someone down with you just for the sake of annoying your father and Lady Jessica.

Your own pride made you less attentive and careful, meanwhile Paul’s mother was very observant when it came to her son. He was the apple of her eye. She knew that his relationship with you had always been close but she noticed the sudden odd mood swings of Paul. First, he avoided you nearly shyly, only to follow you around even more than ever before again? You two had always been hugging sometimes, sharing an innocent kiss here and there but now Lady Jessica felt like it was getting more and more often for you to share affections. And she felt bad for suspecting a weirdly sexual energy behind those acts but after some time she stopped feeling guilty as she realised something had been going on behind her back indeed.

One time she decided to follow her son who went straight to your chambers after the training. Her footsteps were light and quiet, she took her time and gave you an opportunity to develop the situation. She pressed her ear to the doors and heard soft moans, sweet praises. Even though she had been suspecting it, she still felt shocked and disgusted to find out the truth.

Your heart stopped in your chest as the doors were pushed open and you spotted Lady Jessica catching you kissing her son. His cheeks went crimson red in an instant.

“Mother…” He swallowed thickly, standing up and clasping his hands in front of himself, trying to hide his erection.

Lady Jessica was speechless. Her eyes widened at first and then they squinted as she laid them on you.

“You little witch,” she hissed at you. “You twisted, evil minx. What have you done?”

“Me?” You acted innocent but you couldn’t hide a smirk.

Yes, it was scary to be found out. But it gave you satisfaction that she now was aware of how you had spoiled her sweet, precious son.

“Mother, don’t blame her!” Paul sweetly defended you, he was truly adorable. But he was ignored by the both of you. It was between you and her. He was only a tool.

“Have you got any idea what you’ve done?” Lady Jessica asked you harshly.

“What about it?” You asked and clenched your jaw.

What was the worst punishment anyway? You realised suddenly that even being sent away wouldn’t be so bad… The victory of spoiling Paul was the most delicious part of this situation.

“I will not tell your father,” Lady Jessica approached you to put her hands on Paul’s arms to walk him away gently. “For his own sake. He would be devastated. But this will be over. You better start packing,” she gave you a contemptuous look.

“Mother, no!” Paul pleaded. “I love her, I do. Can’t I marry (Y/N)? That’s what our ancestors were doing, why can’t we?”

You chuckled at him. He was so sweetly naive. Lady Jessica slapped his face.

“Stop talking nonsense!” She pushed him out of the room and then gave you one last look. “You look proud of yourself for bewitching my son. I’ll make sure you’ll pay for that.”

“And you’re not proud of bewitching my father?” You asked.

“I will send you to the Harkonnens, you spoiled brat. Their rot matches yours. But good luck with bewitching any of them,” she threatened.

The mention of the Harkonnens made you scared indeed. But you didn’t want to show it. Not in front of her.

But she was right. Wrapping Paul around your finger had been easy. Too easy. Doing the same to a Harkonnen would not.

However, you decided to keep your head high. You would never show fear or defeat in front of Lady Jessica.

Because of Lady Jessica’s words, you treated the marriage with Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen like a challenge. With many attempts, you finally managed to tame him and it was your biggest pride.

Now you laughed at the memory of how proud you had been for spoiling Paul. It had been meaningless and too easy. Taming Feyd-Rautha to be your pet made you feel invincible.

Paul had been so naive and innocent that in the beginning of your marriage, he had still been sending you secret letters about his love and devotion. The news of his death had been nearly relieving – there would be no more pathetic, desperate letters, you had thought, while burning the last one.

Your husband knew about your past. Feyd-Rautha loved everything sick, twisted and rotten to the core. You had told him about Paul to impress him and it had worked. You had even allowed him to read some of the letters from Paul before burning them.

Finding out that Paul was alive after all, and he had gained power on Arrakis that you and your husband could only dream of, felt like a punch. You could see a switch in Feyd’s behaviour while you waited for the confrontation. He was observing you quietly and battling with his own thoughts. Feyd-Rautha had never been insecure before. But now he had a feeling you might still feel attraction to Paul Atreides. Especially now, when Paul was a powerful leader, too. After all, what spurred you on the most was power and influence.

What would Paul do seeing you again? You both wondered silently, without sharing your thoughts with each other. Would he want you back or would he toss you aside? Feyd feared that Paul still wanted you. You hoped he would. It would provide you safety no matter what outcome of that day would be.

Not that you didn’t love Feyd-Rautha. In the process of taming him, you had found yourself enamoured with him. You were two halves of the same rotten apple. But the most important thing for you was your own survival. Your own and the child’s under your heart.

The guards took you and other prisoners of the Arrakeen Palace to see the mysterious Muad’Dib but you all had already known who he truly was. The Reverend Mother, Princess Irulan and you – all the women amongst the prisoners – had known it for sure that the brave Fremen leader had to be an Atreides. You shared a connection with Paul, you were of the same father, the same surname, the same blood, the same flesh… Each other’s first lovers.

He looked different now; more mature. His hair was longer and curly instead of being neatly combed. His eyes were harsher and blue from the spice. You were nearly petrified at the sight of him because he… He looked handsome and attractive. You suddenly remembered all the shared kisses and affections and it made your cheeks burn.

“There you are, sweet sister,” Paul’s eyes sparkled at the sight of you. “I’ve been missing you,” he pointed out but you could spot harsh irony in his words.

From the corner of your eye you spotted Lady Jessica. Her power and influence had grown as well those past few months. She was a local Reverend Mother with her face covered under veils, chains and tattoos. She looked like the most intimidating and the most powerful person in the room. She probably was, even though you were standing next to The Emperor himself.

Lady Jessica had to already turn Paul against you. She had to tell him that you had been doing nothing but manipulating him for your own gain. You suddenly realised that you were in deep trouble and you instinctively searched for Feyd-Rautha’s hand to squeeze it. He was your husband, the father of your child, your perfect match made in hell. You had to keep him close, stay with him. Paul was never an option after all. He had been nothing but a game.

“Brother,” you greeted Paul with a nod of your head. “I thought you were dead.”

“You hoped,” Paul fixed you with a smirk.

“No,” you only answered.

“Come here,” he ordered. You felt the eyes of everyone watching intensely, wondering what was really going on. After all, the only people who knew about your unusual connection were Lady Jessica and Feyd-Rautha. Although you were suspecting that the Reverend Mother knew, too.

Feyd’s hand squeezed tighter around yours. He didn’t want you to leave his side. Walking up to Paul meant exposing yourself, you could be easily harmed. And it was not only about you at the moment. You were carrying the Harkonnen heir. The future Baron was growing under your heart.

“Come here,” Paul repeated the order, more harshly now. You let go of Feyd’s hand and walked away, feeling him move uncomfortably. However, he granted you personal freedom to make your own choices. He only watched carefully, like a guard dog that he was.

“I am here, brother,” you announced, standing right in front of Paul, facing him bravely. One of your hands rested on your abdomen.

“I am wiser now,” he told you. “I know that your intentions with me were never pure nor driven by your uncontrollable desires. You planned it all. Calculated.”

You remained silent, keeping your head high. You only heard the whispers of other people, wondering between each other what the conversation was about.

“And despite that knowledge, I must admit, I remain infatuated,” he confessed. “But you’re spoiled for me now. Your stench is one of the Harkonnens.”

“For I am a Harkonnen,” you nodded.

“Apparently, so am I,” he raised an eyebrow and you furrowed yours.

“How is that so?”

“The Baron… The late Baron,” Paul explained. “The one your husband slayed last night. He was my mother’s father.”

Everyone went silent. Those were two secrets that he had revealed – you didn’t want people to know that it was Feyd killing his uncle.

“You might have the Harkonnen blood flowing in your veins, dear brother, but you are no Harkonnen. You’re weak like an Atreides,” you spat out.

“Me? You, dear sister, you are weak. All your power, all your successes, they all only come from the men you have managed to wrap around your pretty little fingers. But you have achieved nothing yourself,” Paul’s jaw clenched as he reminded you with hatred burning through his eyes. “The only thing you actually did was to open your legs for the Harkonnen and carry his spawn,” Paul looked down at your womb with contempt.

There was so much jealousy in him, you spotted. He was not angry at you for manipulating him. He was angry at you for carrying another man’s child. And there was nothing more dangerous than a rejected lover.

Paul grabbed your wrist and pushed your hand away, exposing your swollen abdomen.

“You cannot touch her,” Feyd barked and Paul looked up behind your shoulder to meet your husband’s gaze.

“There he is, my sister’s new pet,” Paul’s words were braver than you expected. No one would dare to speak to Feyd-Rautha like that.

“It’s a nasty thing to be jealous,” your husband spoke. “You see, she is my wife, she lays with me every night. You are nothing but a tossed aside toy who has only been given a taste but never a full meal.”

Paul was right, you suddenly realised. That you held no real power, that it only came from the men you had associated yourself with. Because now they were talking about you as if you were an object.

“Are we here to witness some wicked family drama? Spare me that,” The Emperor’s voice made you all turn your heads to look at him. He was disgusted and annoyed.

“You are here to pay for what you’ve done to our father,” Paul left your side to approach The Emperor and you took the opportunity to hurry back to Feyd. You stood behind him, clinged to his muscular arm, feeling protected by his strong, armoured body.

“Stop your pathetic show, Atreides,” The Emperor smirked. “There is a massed armada in orbit. You’re facing a full invasion.”

“How can you be so sure the Great Houses are here for me? They may be curious to hear my side of the story, don’t you think?” Paul asked him. “I am Paul Atreides, son of Leto Atreides, Duke of Arrakis!”

“He’s a fraud,” Feyd chuckled ironically. “My wife is the Duchess Atreides, I am the Governor of this world.”

“And so it is,” The Emperor nodded. “You’re nothing but a Fremen terrorist.”

“Gurney,” Paul called out the name you recognised. But when you looked at the man, he had no love nor sympathy in his eyes for you. So, you showed none as well.

“My Lord,” Gurney nodded at your brother.

“Send a warning to all ships. If the Great Houses attack, our atomics will obliterate all the spice fields,” Paul threatened. 

He was a madman now, you thought as Gurney nodded.

“You’re out of your mind,” The Emperor pointed out what everyone was thinking,

“He’s bluffing,” your husband spoke up as you clinged to his arm even tighter. You had a feeling already how this confrontation would end up like. It was either you and Feyd or Paul. There was no other way. And Paul’s behaviour was worrying. You were starting to suspect he had higher chances of winning than you had been predicting.

He wouldn’t kill you. He still cared for you, perhaps he still craved you. He would never be nice to you, but he’d keep you close, of that you were sure. But he would never let your husband or your child live. And that was the moment when you realised that you didn’t only care about your own self.

You cared about Feyd and you cared about your son. Way more than about your life. You’d rather die alongside them than live a few more decades alongside your brother without them.

“Consider what you’re about to do, Paul Atreides,” The Reverend Mother warned him.

“Silence!” Paul screamed, using The Voice, startling everyone in the process.

It was no secret that this ability was reserved only for the Bene Gesserit. For the women of the order. A man possessing this knowledge was not only dangerous but also extremely powerful.

You were doomed, you thought, covering your abdomen with one of your hands again. Your unborn son was your only hope. The Reverend Mother had mentioned before that he was out of control. The Harkonnen medics had outdone themselves with their genetic manipulations while helping you to create life. His abilities could interfere with Paul’s.

But it was only an unborn baby with its brain not even yet fully developed. You couldn’t possibly count on him to save you. Right?

“Abomination,” The Reverend Mother muttered to herself.

“Message sent, my Lord,” Gurney announced.

“On what authority was this message sent?” You spoke up again, finally gaining the courage although it was easy to do so when you were still hiding behind Feyd. “I am the Duchess Atreides. The leaders of the Great Houses know that, too. They will not listen to the threats of terrorists!”

“As a servant of the Imperium, you will bow at my feet!” The Emperor snapped. Paul’s behaviour was getting out of control.

“Your feet?! You’ll be lucky to keep your head!” Paul yelled at him and walked up to all of you as he took a contemptuous look at Princess Irulan. “I’ll take the hand of your daughter,” he announced and you swallowed thickly at his plan.

So… He did not want to marry you anymore. Perhaps you wouldn’t be as safe as you had suspected before.

“She will remain safe,” Paul’s voice softened as he spoke. “And we will rule together over The Empire. But you…” he looked at The Emperor again. “You have to answer for my father.”

“Do you know why I killed him?” The Emperor squinted his eyes and despite feeling very detached from your family those past few months, you felt a little sting in your heart at the mention of your father.

You realised that now you were standing by the side of a man who was responsible for his death. What a twisted world you lived in. And what twisted things you had been forced to do to survive.

The Emperor approached Paul now as well, they were facing each other and you had to admit that despite his age, he was a brave man to do that. Everyone claimed he was not in his best shape anymore and that was true but the strength of his mind and spirit was still visible.

“Because he was a man who believed in the rules of the heart. But the heart is not meant to rule,” The Emperor explained. “In other words… your father was a weak man.”

You had this conversation before. With the Baron Harkonnen. Late Baron Harkonnen, you remembered. Now your husband was bearing the title. But yes, a few months earlier, in a dark room, you had this conversation with the Baron. You had agreed with him then. And despite the pain in Paul’s eyes, you had a feeling he was agreeing with this, too.

And Paul agreeing with such a statement could only mean that he no longer wanted to play nice. He had discarded your father’s ways and chose the path of violence.

“You will be defeated and your Empire will be mine,” Paul drawled out through gritted teeth before laying his eyes on you and Feyd. “And the cancer of this Empire that is The Harkonnen dynasty will be erased,” he added. “I will tear your spawn out of her body and take your wife as my concubine,” he told your husband. You felt his muscles tensing.

“The only thing you take, will be your death at the end of my blade,” Feyd warned him and took a step ahead, ignoring the way you were clutching onto his arm, trying to make him stay.

“You don’t even have one on you,” Paul pointed out.

“Then spare me a weapon and stand to fight me like a man,” Feyd dared him.

“Accept mine,” The Emperor offered and you stiffened at the realisation that it was not only the blade he was giving your husband but also the fate of the outcome of this day, the fate of the Empire, the fate of his and his daughter’s life. Feyd nodded and you approached him one last time before the duel.

“Do not fail me,” you pleaded harshly.

“You want these to be the last words you tell your husband before his death?” Feyd teased with a smirk. Fearless as usual; he never feared the end of his life. Not in combat at least. He had told you already that this sort of death was everything he had been wishing for. To die like a warrior.

“No,” you shook your head with a nervous smile. “So make sure they won’t be.”

MASTERLIST

[muniimyg]

6: the madness // series m.list

note: say u missed me or else i’ll cry 🫵

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “aao” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

Timing.

You’ve never really understood it. Not to mention the whole invisible string theory and how implausible it seems… How is it that you can coexist with the love of your life for years and not be with them until the time is right?

Isn’t that strange?

Love is all-consuming, inevitable, and perfect, but its greatest weakness is a mere concept: time.

Speaking of time, you’re early.

As you enter the restaurant and greet your friends, you can’t help but check your phone every other minute. Waiting for a text from him, checking the time, and wondering when he’ll arrive… It feels exhausting to be in this state of longing.

How is it that you’ve been friends with him for so long and now you need him more than ever?

To hold you and tell you everything is alright.

To smile at you like you’re his favorite person in the entire world.

To just be with him.

Even if today wasn’t life or death, you felt so helpless. It felt like everything was against you.

Yes, it was just about a stupid presentation (that barely scratches the surface of your future), but it was still a tough thing to get through alone. It was unexpected and filled with minor mistakes, making it feel like a complete defeat.

So much happened.

First, you slept through your alarm.

Though you made it right on time, you didn’t have the extra moments to prepare and run through your presentation like you had originally planned.

Then, since there was no time for prep, you encountered technical difficulties. Your notes were missing for some reason…

And your stuttering!

God, you never stuttered so much in your life.

It was truly an off morning.

… And it doesn’t end there.

Nope!

As you texted Jungkook and updated him, you remembered that you had a rescheduled quiz to take… You know, the one that you completely forgot to review last night because your head was all over this stupid presentation.

The quiz went fine but it could’ve been better.

You know you could’ve done better.

That’s probably what annoys you the most. Everything that occurred today wasn’t up to your standard performance level. Humanizing it is difficult because the truth is simple…

Some days just aren’t good.

Some days you just have to take the L.

Some days you just need to breathe through.

And that’s okay.

Because after all the bad, losing, and catching-your-breath moments—there’s him.

The very thought of him eases you. Talking to him makes you feel like you’re bigger than the bad and the losing. Being with him is as easy as breathing.

“Hey ___,” an unfamiliar voice disrupts your thoughts. You turn your head to see who it is. Beside you, a tall man with a broad build offers you a smile. He has short hair and dimples. Even with just his appearance, he’s charming (you can’t deny that).

Politely, you return it but it’s obvious you’re confused.

“… I’m so sorry,” you feel slightly embarrassed to not remember his name. “You are?”

“Mingyu,” he introduces himself, stepping closer and offering his hand. You take it, shaking it slowly and unsure.

He tries again.

“I’m Jungkook’s friend,” Mingyu explains. “You’re Jungkook’s… Uh?”

“O-oh!” you avoid the question and redirect the conversation. “Are you in his friend group with Jaehyun and them?”

He scoffs. “By ‘them’ you mean those guys?”

Mingyu points to a group of tall guys hovering over the menu display. You count them and can’t help but laugh.

Then, you notice one.

“Is that DK? I think Jungkook introduced me to him when we were walking home a few weeks ago!” From where you are, you wave at DK. DK sees you from the corner of his eye and sends you a smile. He gestures for you to come over. For the second time, you smile politely and feel stuck.

What now?

“What’s Jungkook doing introducing you to DK and not me?” Mingyu chuckles, attempting to lighten the mood.

You purse your lips. “Ohh.. I get it.”

“Get what?”

“You’re cheeky,” you observe. “Yup… You’re definitely friends with Jungkook.”

Mingyu puts his hands up in surrender and then on your shoulders. “Guilty as charged.”

You laugh.

He likes your laugh. It’s soft and attractive—especially when you throw your head slightly back. Intrigued, he invites you to sit with them.

“You know the others, right? Hobi and them?”

“Yeah!” you answer him happily. “Hobi and I are actually pretty close—“

Mingyu’s puppy eyes light up with excitement. “Oh, shit really? So you don’t need to get to know them or anything?”

You blink at him.

“I guess?”

“Great!” Mingyu beams. “Good. Cool... Sit with me! I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

You know it’s all friendly nature.

Mingyu is known for being like this.

Goofy, a little deceptive, but a good guy overall. You have nothing to fear! Especially when he’s friends with Jungkook, right? He wouldn’t think of trying to flirt with you… Right?

What are you to Jungkook again?

Before you know it, Mingyu’s hands find yours. As he laces your fingers together, you feel your chest tighten.

This feels weird.

It feels like betrayal even though you know it’s not. Isn’t it ridiculous to be thinking this way?

You run excuses and options in your head.

Do you pull away and laugh it off? Do you just let him hold your hand and lead you to sit with him and the others? You aren’t sure… But the one thing that is clear is the look of annoyance on Jungkook’s face as he steps into the restaurant and his eyes land on your hands.

“Jungkook!”

As cinematic as it can be, that’s what it is. You shake Mingyu’s grasp off and rush to Jungkook. He’s completely taken aback, stumbling as you crash into him. A small laugh escapes his lips, as he finds your tiny charge at him to be the cutest thing you’ve done thus far. He barely walked in and you’re already in his arms.

Heaven, he thinks to himself.

As he wraps his arms around you, he kisses the top of your head. “Wow, look at you. Are you sure you’re my girl? Not shy anymore? Not avoiding me? I’m so proud of you, mi.”

He smells like him. Like his laundry detergent and his skin after his workout—a little sweaty but so addictive.

Is that weird?

Most importantly… Who cares?

He’s here.

You can breathe him in. You can breathe again.

You groan in embarrassment. Pulling away, you keep yourself close enough to rest your chin on his chest. He lowers his gaze at you, eyes softening as his lips curve into a pout.

“Bad day?”

“Better now,” you hum, hugging him tighter. He laughs and gently tickles your sides. Your laughter increases, causing you to let go of him. He takes your bag from your hands and swings it over his shoulder. His fingers brush against yours as you two walk to join your friends who go ahead and get seated.

“Hey, am I crazy or was Mingyu holding your hand—”

“___!” Mingyu calls for you.

You and Jungkook turn your heads and see him patting a place for you. Without a second thought, Jungkook lifts his hand to wave and you hold onto him tighter. Exchanging looks, he then proceeds to guide you towards his circle of friends and away from the ones you’re familiar with. Passing by Hobi, you give him a look.

A ‘help-me-get-out-of-this,’ look.

Hobi sticks his tongue out at you and mouths, “you’ll be fine, bitch.”

By the time you gather your thoughts, Jungkook has already introduced you to his other group of friends. You completely blank out as they respond and introduce themselves. It’s only for a few seconds and you already had an idea of who they all are anyway.

The campus calls them the 97 liners.

They’re known for being…

Boys.

Decent ones at that, but they’re definitely energetic. Amusing almost all the time, competitive and intimidating when they need to be. Through rumors and observations you’ve made from afar, it made sense to you where Jungkook gets his playfulness from.

He’s…

A lot like them.

He’s definitely himself. It’s interesting.

Mingyu scoots over, making enough room for you and Jungkook. He dabs Jungkook up, greeting him as warmly as he greeted you. The others continue their conversations, asking for your input every so often. You quickly realize how charismatic everyone is, and to be completely honest, it overwhelms you.

But with Jungkook beside you, it doesn’t feel like a bad thing. He squeezes your hand under the table every so often when he notices your gaze wander. It’s like he’s gravity to you.

“Okay, so we already ordered… But we can order again if there’s something specific ___ wants,” Mingyu says, rather bubbly. He clears his throat, reaches over the table, grabs the menu and offers it to you.

“Yah, yah, yah,” Jungkook sends a glare to Mingyu, yanking the menu from him. You turn to look at him and find that he doesn't look amused. His eyes are fixed at his friend. With an intimidating tone, he warns; “Mingyu, stop flexing.”

Mingyu shakes his head, not taking it seriously. Jungkook and him have always had a playful friendship anyways. “I don't know what you're talking about... I’m not flexing. ___, feel it! I swear I’m not flexing right now.”

Jungkook tightens his grip on your hands.

Taking a sip of your water, you take your time to swallow and gather your thoughts.

“Don’t you gym with Jungkook?”

Dumb question.

“I gym more than him,” Mingyu corrects you.

Wow.

Stupid answer.

You can't help it. A laugh escapes your lips. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

Jungkook lets out a hearty chuckle, liking the way you answer. He feels proud of you. He feels like he definitely chose the right girl.

Mingyu smirks, leaning back.

He thinks this is fun.

It is fun.

“Ehhh.. I mean, if you ever let me take you on a date, I’ll show you what it means to be impressed.”

Jungkook’s smile drops.

Yours does too.

You shift closer to Jungkook and avoid Mingyu's eyes.

“H-honestly, I’m not feeling picky tonight. I’m sure whatever you guys ordered will be delicious.”

The rest of the conversation is easygoing as everyone patiently waits for the food to arrive. Mingyu’s attention turns back to his friends, as he takes the hint from your avoidant eyes. To him, it was unserious.

Hopefully, it’s also whatever to you.

As the food arrives and is set on the table, Jungkook exchanges a few side comments and whispers context into your ear. You giggle and feel your heart race when he places his hand on your thigh.

“Jungkook…”

“Hm?”

“Your hand,” you warn.

“What about my hand?”

“It’s on my thigh.”

“I know,” he snickers. “Wish it was somewhere else.”

You gasp and can’t resist hitting his chest. He takes the hit like a man. He knows he deserves it.

On the table is a plate of shrimp. You pick one up with your chopsticks and begin to peel it. As Jungkook eats, you place the freshly peeled shrimp on top of his rice. He smiles at you brightly, his heart close to combusting.

“You didn’t have to—”

Jungkook’s words are cut off as you hear Mingyu whine, “Awh, no fair! Peel me one too, please!”

You nod and answer his request. Taking another shrimp and beginning to peel it, you then finish quickly and place it on top of his rice too.

Mingyu eats it happily.

Meanwhile, Jungkook’s chest tightens. Again, it’s such a minor thing to happen… Yet, it irks him so much. He’s no boy, though. This isn’t a perilla leaf tantrum—no, he was much too mature for that.

This was… Clarity.

In between bites, Mingyu brings up a fascinating topic.

“Why are you looking at her like that?” he blurts. Jungkook hadn’t even noticed he was looking at you a certain way. What was it? Was it too revealing of his feelings?

Wait… What even is he feeling?

There’s a sense of jealousy and frustration wrapped around the core of it all; his liking of you.

“I’m not looking at her in any way,” Jungkook responds, taking a sip of water. You continue to chew and look away.

“You totally are,” Mingyu laughs. “Hey, is it because you used to like her?”

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat. “Where did you hear that?”

“Ohh.. So it’s not true, then?”

“Nah,” Jungkook scoffs. “I just don’t get why it’s a rumor and why it’s in the past tense. It’s true… I like her. She knows it too—wait, you fuck… Do you even read the group chat? I talk about her all the fucking time.”

Mingyu’s eyes light up.

“Oh my god!” he gasps, piecing everything together. “Shit, right. I remember now. God, why’d that take me so long to connect? Of course! This is ___. The ___! Ice skating bullshit, right? Pocky kiss or whatever?”

Your eyes widen as you turn to Jungkook. “You told them?”

Jungkook smiles innocently.

“I have the best kiss of my life and you expect me not to tell my boys?”

He has you there.

Mingyu laughs, murmuring about how down bad Jungkook is. When you feel your cheeks heat up, you quickly bury your face into your hands. You feel so embarrassed… But at the same time flattered.

It’s awful.

To make matters worse, the butterflies keep fluttering as Jungkook tilts his head and smirks at you. He finds your shyness the most precious thing in this entire world. The mere fact that he makes you feel and act like this?

Oh, it’s remarkable.

Jungkook can't help but compare your behavior from earlier to now. How you took initiative and ran into his arms as if they were your safe haven—and now there's this.

You like this, right now.

So utterly his without him much being done or said. It's an understanding. It's simply how it is.

He chuckles, as he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you into a tight hug.

“Ahh... You totally folded."

With his words, your eyes widen. You push him away and roll your eyes at him. He teases you, mocking the way you cling onto his body.

You huff but let him hold onto you. From here on out, you two keep it casual and continue your conversations with everyone. He piles food onto your plate and in exchange you bring the food to his mouth.

Jungkook eats happily.

When the dinner is over, everyone goes their separate ways. 

Jungkook’s friends all hug you goodbye (Mingyu takes his sweet time) and leave him to walk you home. Hand in hand, you two wave goodbye and earn a few winks from Hobi. To that, you roll your eyes and brush it off. 

The walk with Jungkook is nice. 

The conversation between you two is so natural and good. You talk about the presentation mess up in more detail and he listens well. He empathizes with your feelings and understands. He’s so easy to talk to. He gets you. He makes you laugh even when what he’s saying isn’t funny. 

Is this how it’s like when you have feelings for someone? 

How embarrassing. 

When you two reach your front door, he looks at you longingly. 

“Feel better?” he asks you. You notice how gentle is tone is. How thoughtful.

“… About everything? The presentation and shit… Bebu, at the end of the day you did what you could. The grade your received is literally still an A—w-what”

Jungkook is startled. 

You grasp the fabric of his hoodie and pull him close. Without a second thought, you take a step closer to him and lean in. With urgency, you kiss him. 

Deep. 

Needy. 

Lovingly. 

His eyes flutter shut as you deepen the kiss with your tongue. He gives you way, parting his mouth open for you to explore and do as you please. As he kisses you back with the same kind of energy, you smile into the kiss. 

When you pull away, Jungkook is in disbelief. 

“... Now what?”

You clear your throat, feeling your lips tingling from the kiss. 

“S-sorry,” you gulp. “I d-don’t know what came over me… I just—”

“Why are you apologizing?” he blinks at you slowly. “I didn’t ask for an apology. I asked, now what?”

You tighten your lips. 

“Now? I… I just need some air.” 

Jungkook nods his head, eyebrows furrowed together. He understands you. 

Before you can open your mouth to defend or redirect, he beats you to it. 

“Yeah? Me too.”

Before you know it, he kisses you. 

Jungkook kisses you like a silent plea. Even though he has already confessed; this felt like another. 

The way he kisses you feels like a new language. He knows just when you kiss you more and when you to be delicate. He cups your jaw with the palm of his hand, tilting your head so he can kiss you better.

Which is so fucking weird… But it happens like never before.

He kisses you better.

Breaking away from the kiss, you two catch your breaths. As you do so, you clear your throat.

“Wanna come inside?” you ask, taking his hand.

He smirks, unable to stop himself. 

“Sure… But I’m gonna need some clarification on that offer… Come inside where?”

In your dimly lit kitchen, you two make yourselves a cup of tea.

Jungkook multitasks by making passes—saying that the water is still cold since you’re hotter than it. He sneaks in a few kisses on your cheeks as you tell him he’s being stupid. You two laugh as he lifts you up to sit on your kitchen island. He makes himself comfortable in between your legs.

There, you caress his hair.

He is so handsome. You love the way his nose just fits his face… How round his eyes are and even the scar on his cheek. It’s so precious.

He’s perfect, you think to yourself.

As you get lost in your thoughts, Jungkook feels so much comfort and freedom with your touch. It feels like rest. For a moment, he shuts his eyes and takes in how much he loves your touch.

Breaking the silence, you tug on his hair. “You need a haircut.”

He shakes his head, eyes still closed.

“Literally got one two weeks ago.”

“Yeah,” you realize he’s right. He did cut his hair two weeks ago. He came over that night just to show it off. “... But I liked Mingyu’s hair! It was so short. I feel like it would suit you too.”

He opens one eye and gives you a weird look.

You mimic it.

“What?”

Jungkook lifts his face.

“So… Was it just me but I definitely caught Mingyu trying to shoot his shot with you, right?” He snickers, tilting his head as he recalls what he saw. "He literally asked you out."

You shrug, explaining Mingyu's attempt to hold your hand as a friendly gesture. "He’s just friendly, right? He also tried to hold my hand to lead me to the table and that was kinda… Unexpected? But he’s like that, right? He’s just friendly. Like a puppy! Golden retriever energy.”

"Maybe," Jungkook responds, his tone betraying a hint of uncertainty. "Y-yeah. I mean, the shrimp thing was worse."

You laugh softly. "What? This is about the shrimp thing? I peeled it for you too… And it’s not like I peeled his because I wanted to. He asked. It was lighthearted."

"I know that," he reassures you, his tone softening. "I’m not that insecure to pick a fight over peeling shrimp. You don’t have to convince me it was nothing. I know it was nothing.”

Confusion flashes across your face at his mixed signals. "Are you upset?"

"Maybe," he admits quietly.

Then he hesitates.

“Actually, I think I’m frustrated. I’m not mad. Sorry if I sounded aggressive—"

"N-no, it’s fine," you reassure him, gently cutting him off. "Why are you frustrated, bebu?"

Jungkook offers you a weak smile. "I don’t get it…"

"Get what?"

"All this shit and we’re still not together.”

Your brows furrow slightly in confusion.

Taken aback, you ask him, “what’s that supposed to mean?"

Gesturing between the two of you, Jungkook expresses his confusion. "This… I mean, what is this? We’re together, aren’t we?"

"Jungkook—"

"I’m just… I don’t get it. Even if you thought he was just being friendly, why didn’t you just say you were my girlfriend? Mingyu would’ve stopped flirting with you."

"So it’s my fault?" you huff, feeling offended at the pitch of this idea. "I thought your friends knew—"

"Well… Yes. I talk about you, and it’s not like I’m ditching parties to study in that stupid library—"

"Can you leave the library out of this?"

"Okay," he sighs, relenting. "Sorry… I just… They know how I feel about you. I guess they don’t know how you feel about me, and… I mean, did you tell him we were together or not? Because if I had to remind him who you were to me, I don’t think you told him that we—"

"Jungkook—"

"No, I’m being serious," he interrupts, his tone becoming more stern. "Why didn’t you just—"

"You never asked me out!" you interject, frustration evident in your voice.

Jungkook stares at you blankly, prompting you to continue. He runs everything back in his mind.

You were right.

With all these moments, he’s been so busy planning how to get reactions out of you and completely missed out on so many perfect opportunities.

“You never asked me to be your girlfriend. All you’ve been doing this entire time is trying to get me to flirt with you, kiss you, or trick me into dates… You want me to act like your girlfriend? Ask me to be. I’m not built for situationships… And honestly? I’ve been waiting—patiently and elegantly at that. There were so many times where I wanted to hold your hand and give in. You talk about how you’ll get me to fold or whatever—fine.”

You take a breath, caving in. “This is it. I’ve folded! God, do you even know how hard it is to study next to you in that stupid library because y-you… You give me butterflies.”

Jungkook reaches for you. You let him touch you but your heart stays still, fighting to get these feelings out. Your voice wavers with emotion.

“A-and it’s so… I don’t know how you do it. At some point, I set them free. Like, fine, okay! Fly high, my butterflies… But for what?"

There’s a sense of urgency that awakens in you. Never in your life have you ever felt the same way for anyone.

It feels like defeat and victory all at once.

It feels like peace and war all at once.

It feels like love.

Oh, the madness.

To love someone this wide and deep… To love someone at all. It is everything beyond you. How it radiates through your body and onto his lips… How everything unfolds and reveals him no matter what.

You can’t decide if the way you’ve fallen is utterly heartbreaking or romantic. Maybe it’s both.

Let’s say it’s both.

All you know is that with glossy eyes and a fragmented understanding of timing, you tell him;

“Jungkook, I set my butterflies free, and they flew to you."

[chaiifluuf]

Heart to heart — d. osamu

synopsis. seeing your boyfriend’s ex makes you question if you really are enough for him

content. fem!reader, ada!reader, hurt/comfort, has a made-up character

notes. a request written here ! @hyunorue, @walnutnut since you wanted to be tagged, i adjusted a few things but hope you enjoy nonetheless <3

“‘samu, we just had a lunch break..” 

you mention softly as you let him lead you out of the agency office. of course dazai wants to ditch work with you once again despite all your efforts to make him do the opposite. often you don’t go along with his antics since you actually value the paperwork and don’t want to stress kunikida even further. unfortunately, today was one of those days where dazai wins.

“so? we were still working then and have every right to get a break now!” dazai tells you as if there is no problem with what he said. you raise an eyebrow and stare at him sceptically. “more like i was the one working, you just pouted and sat next to me because i wasn’t focusing on you.” you point out while both of you walk down the stairs.

“how cruel, bella! i did write on my report,” he says dramatically, holding his free hand to his chest when the other hand is still intertwined with yours. “i saw you add exactly five words.” you respond bluntly as you remember your gaze flickering to his laptop to see what he was doing from before. dazai gives you a fake offended look before opening the door for you to exit.

the cafe right below the agency was the go-to place to take a break or even have lunch. and today was no different. two of you sit down at one of the tables and order your usual. you still weren’t at ease though. “you know if kunikida happened to be at the office currently then we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.” 

dazai hummed indifferently, taking your hand in his again as he rubbed gentle circles on the back of it. a warm smile tugged at his lips. “kunikida this and kunikida that but how about you relax? don’t worry, i’ll just—”

he abruptly stopped speaking when he looked behind you towards the entrance of the cafe, the sound of the doorbell ringing filling the space. you feel confused and decide to call his name, but to no avail. before you can even turn around a woman’s voice can be heard throughout the room.

“oh my god! is that you, dazai?” she gasps and you saw the way his body stiffened. almost right away you can tell something is wrong. the woman walks up to the table you were sitting at, an amused grin on her face. you can’t help but wonder who she is. dazai has never mentioned knowing other women besides you and some others at the agency. what is going on?

“why long time no see! you do remember me right?” she says to him with an upbeat tone, her gaze shifting to you afterwards. the moment she did you realised something. she looked pretty. stunning even, her golden wavy hair fitting so well with her hazel eyes. while her expression seemed friendly, as soon as she looked at you, you felt somewhat uncomfortable. you felt as if she judged your whole being right now.

“i do, yuna. what are you doing here?” dazai’s voice was much colder in comparison to talking to you earlier. okay so dazai does know her. then she has to be someone from his past. someone he has never told you about. perhaps a friend, a relative or a… oh.  

yuna merely hums in response. “this cafe is a public place, no? just wanted to get a coffee but ran into you instead. how have you been?” she asks dazai, mostly ignoring you and it makes you feel like you’re not supposed to be here. your suspicions about who she is make this even worse. 

dazai sighs rather heavily. “now is not the time. seriously.” it’s obvious that he is trying to get her to leave but yuna doesn’t seem to get the hint. “woah you’re so tense, i mean no harm…” she says with a softer tone despite the playful smile growing on her lips, calmly bringing her hand to dazai’s shoulder as if i wasn’t even there. it’s becoming harder to not get annoyed because who does she think she is? 

your lips form into a thin line as you watch her get dangerously comfortable around him. you were about to give yuna a piece of your mind but dazai already got ahead of you. without hesitation, he pries her hand off his shoulder and she’s surprised by his action. 

“yuna, this is your last warning. i need you to stop acting like we’re anything more than strangers and respectfully, get the fuck out of here.” he spoke with a stern tone and looked into her eyes the entire time. you’re definitely not used to seeing him get genuinely mad at someone. 

small shock crosses her face and she seems taken aback by his sudden words. a moment of tense silence passes before yuna scoffs. “fine, be like that then. have fun with your new little girlfriend,” she says mockingly, her friendly tone long gone and you were not ready for the look she gave you. it was full of loathing and bitterness, like you were far beneath her.

and now you want to sink six feet underground. you hate how much she managed to affect you and you pray that she can’t tell from your expression. you shouldn’t even care what she thinks of you but assuming that she had some type of relationship with dazai before, you can’t help but feel out of place.

yuna finally leaves the place and dazai’s eyes soften when he looks back at you. “i’m so sorry that you had to witness this,” he says with a sigh, “are you okay?” you can see it in his gaze that he is really apologetic and you don’t how to feel anymore. all of this could’ve been avoided if you just stayed at the agency.

“yeah, i’m fine. was that your ex?” you ask, ignoring the stirring emotions in your chest. dazai seems to think a little before answering. “not exactly. i haven’t talked to her in years now. i thought she moved away… but it doesn’t matter. let’s just focus on us, yeah?” 

you still had so many questions but you simply nod and take a sip of your drink. a worried glint remains in his eyes but you decide to ignore it and act like you’re okay with everything that happened. 

because you’re anything but okay.

yosano keeps giving you strange looks as you look through some files. you try to focus on work but the cafe incident won’t leave your mind no matter how hard you try. she can probably tell something is wrong. she’s a doctor after all. 

“y/n, did something happen?” yosano speaks up calmly while she sits on her office chair. you shift your gaze from the paper to her and blink in surprise. “ah, no. why are you asking?” you respond, trying to seem clueless.

“you’ve been staring at the same page for over five minutes now and i know for a fact you’re not that slow of a reader. your thoughts are elsewhere.” okay maybe it was more obvious than you anticipated. you know there’s no use to denying her at this point. with a defeated sigh, you sit down on a chair near her desk.

“it’s kind of stupid.” you’re still a little hesitant about this because while you and her got along well, you haven’t opened up about your problems to her before. her face softens slightly as she leans back on her chair. “surely it’s not if it has you acting this odd.”

a minute of silence passes before you start talking. “well me and osamu went on a break to the cafe and then this woman appeared out of nowhere, someone who he knew in the past and…” you pause, gathering your words, “after a tense conversation she finally leaves us alone. even if she did try to look friendly at first, i could tell she did not like me.”

“so it was jealousy or something?” yosano guessed, listening intently and you sigh again in return. “i don’t know. i asked osamu about her too and i didn’t really get any answers,” you say as you think about it. why did he barely tell you anything? is he hiding something? god you’re starting to overthink again.

yosano notices your troubled expression and decides to slowly move a little closer to you with her chair. “listen, let me ask you this—how did he react when she started talking to him?” she asks while looking into your eyes. 

“very irritated, in a way that I rarely see.” that’s true, there was a genuine glimpse of anger in his irises, it was surprising even to you. yosano nods and seems to think for a moment before speaking.

“do you trust him?”

you’re slightly caught off guard by the question. of course you trust him. through all the missions you have gone on with him, he always makes your safety the top priority and you know that you can trust him with your life. 

without thinking twice you nod in response and a small smile appears on her face. “then i’m sure you don’t need to get too concerned. plus from what i’ve seen, he loves and cares about you more than anything else.” she tells you with a warm tone.

her words manage to somewhat ease you because she must be right. you love him dearly and he feels the same. and that’s what is important. yeah, you can’t forget that. you give yosano a grateful look. “you’re right, thank you.”

the confidence you had a few hours ago is long gone. you don’t know how long you have been sitting on your bedroom floor alone, stuck in your thoughts. you left the agency a while ago, telling dazai you were going to a case related place so he wouldn’t get suspicious. in reality you couldn’t understand yourself. why are you so upset? even yosano assured you that there’s no need to worry.

everything was fine before going to the cafe and having that encounter with her but it shouldn't matter because it’s plain to see that dazai doesn’t care about her nor like her anymore. it’s not like he’s cheating on you which you know he would never do. but you do wonder how they met, you wonder if they were actually together and on top of all, you wonder what happened between them. 

because despite her cold behaviour, she was gorgeous to say the least. and maybe if you got along with her then she would have a nicer personality as well. honestly yuna seemed like everything you’re not. it makes you doubt yourself. just what does dazai see in you? you have heard his flowery and flattering comments more than you can count but what if he doesn’t mean them?

it’s such a silly thought but you can’t stop pondering over it. you’re so much in your head that you didn’t even notice to hear the soft creak of the door opening.

“love?”

your breath falters. you know that voice all too well. you can’t find it in yourself to answer, keeping your face buried in your arms as your knees are pressed to your chest. you hear him moving and you can tell he’s closer to you now.

“what’s wrong?” dazai asks gently and you can’t help but feel embarrassed since you are not sure how to answer. you wish you could act like you’re fine.

you stay quiet and after a moment he speaks up again. “yosano told me some stuff regarding you,” he says and now you really have no chance of hiding anything. it never crossed your mind that she might tell him. he knows why you are like this and you hate that.

“osamu, why are you with me?” your voice is more unstable than you would’ve liked. you raise your head and see that he’s sitting right beside you on the floor. his gaze goes softer and more concerned when you look at him. you then realise your cheeks are wet.

“why? because i love you of course,” he says so easily, a tender smile adorning his lips. you remain doubtful. “then will you tell me who she was? was yuna really not your ex?” you question him as you can feel your throat getting tighter, desperate for answers.

dazai’s smile fades and he lets out a quiet sigh. “me and her were friends with benefits at best. sometimes i could tell she wanted to be more than that but unbeknownst to her, i was aware of all the other boys she was hanging out with. we had an argument over it and i ended everything with her on the spot.”

you stare at him for a few seconds as you process his words. he is not lying, you can tell that much. you suck in a breath as your vision grows slightly blurry. “i just don’t get it. she was so pretty, osamu. out of all people you chose me when i’m barely anything in comparison to her. i—“ your voice cracks as you try to stop your tears. you have never seen yourself the way he does and at times it scares you because what if one day he will see you exactly like you see yourself?

you avoid his gaze and the fact he hasn’t said a single word makes you want to cry more. he brings his hand to your cheek and slowly guides you back to face him. what greeted you instead of pity was a warm smile and eyes full of fondness.

“my dear, are you hearing yourself right now? without any exaggeration, you’re the most breathtaking woman i have ever met inside and out. i would never love someone so much based off only their appearance. and do you know what makes you so precious?” 

you sniffle as your gaze is connected to his. you can’t help but lean into his touch while his hand cradles the side of your face. “what.?” you ask.

“you make me feel human. you make life worth living and i couldn’t be happier to spend the rest of my days with you.” his tone is filled with tenderness and sincerity. it almost makes you question whether you’re dreaming but his touch wouldn’t feel so real and soothing in any of them. 

and then you smile lightly. you really were overthinking it. as relief washes over you, your body moves on its own and your wrap around his waist, hugging him tightly. dazai returns the gesture and places a kiss on your head, softly rubbing your back. tears were still escaping your eyes but this time it wasn’t out of sadness. 

he suddenly seems to remember something and whispers into your ear. “oh and there are some flowers waiting on the table for you.”

my writing is so weird in this i’m sorry (ㅠ﹏ㅠ)

[k-aay]

DATING SATORU GOJO

୨୧ synopsis - how I think it would  be like to date with the strongest  ft. satoru gojo a.n - comment who you'd like to see this trope with next !! i do not proof-read my work, please don't judge ! any pictures used in this post are not mine !!

LAZY MORNINGS 

- Trying to get away from him in the morning is like trying to escape a top security prison without getting caught, this prison being way more enjoyable though. 

- He would throw every single limb of his body onto yours to prevent you from leaving him alone in bed and it works every single time. He takes it as far as to hugging you from behind, koala style. 

- Whines when you don't agree to stay in with him by the time he's still cuddling with you. "No, y/n! Stayyyyyy!" Even stoops low to the "If you don't stay in bed with me, you don't love me anymore!" If you leave, it's likely that he'd give you silent treatment for as long as he can: two whole minutes. 

- He's in love with cuddling with you and there's nothing you could do about it. 

WEEKLY SHOPPING TRIPS

- Takes you shopping often as a way to relieve stress for the two of you after a long week for the both of you (he also loves spoiling you and has the money for it). 

- Encourages you to spend as much as you need to since it won't put in the slightest dent in his bank account and he's not ashamed to mention it multiple times. Smacks your hand when you try to check the price tag and tells you that it doesn't matter. 

- Enables you to the fullest when your shopping. Holds your bags, suggests outfits or clothing that he thinks would look good on you and so on. It turns into a mini fashion show in the making. 

- Ends the day off with a lot of food you both have been craving. 

DATES WITH HIM

- Two types of dates he would pull off depending on your mood;

- First: He would take you to expensive restauarants and would rent out the entire thing you both can have it all to yourselves. As you say that "it's too much," he'd shrug it off because he thinks you deserve the best. 

- Second: You both would stay in and play board games. This man is competitive as hell and does NOT like to lose. He'd bend the rules to his liking as much as he can to reassure his chances of winning. Most of the time, it doesn't work as you catch on quickly which leads to a lot of petty feuds. 

- It doesn't matter which one it is, as long as he's spending time with you, he doesn't mind. 

HOW HE SHOWS HIS LOVE

- LOVES to tease you as much as humanly possible. Whether it's a typo while your texting or when he finds a funny picture of you. He loves seeing your different reactions as he's teasing you. 

- Drags you into the stupid shit that goes through in his head. like helping him prank people, getting in trouble and having fun in general. he loves that he could be himself and share his ideas of fun with you even if it's stupid.

- Very open about your relationship. He doesn't care if it's a stranger, he's bringing it up constantly that he has an amazing partner. Literally does not mind PDA to the slightest, he loves it so much. He loves showing you off in general. Definitely the type to wear an I <3 MY GIRLFRIEND shirt in public

- Steals your stuff even if he has his own. Steals things like a bite of your food, your clothes and even your toothbrush (that one just to piss you off). But when it comes to you taking his things, he whines a little and then gives in. 

[stars1997]

Alone with you

Paring(s): Quinn Hughes x Fem! reader

Warnings: SMUT!!! (18+), car sex, unprotected sex, semi public sex, mild hair pulling, desperate Quinn.

(Not edited)

Summary: The lake house has been packed with friends and family. Y/n and Quinn have not been able to have any alone time. The guys ask you to go and pick up some food and drinks for them. When you get back Quinn helps you unload the car. This then leads to you and Quinn in the backseat.

Authors note: thank you guys so much for voting. I will be holding another one soon. but here is the story you guys voted on!

____________________________

You have been staying at the lake house all summer. The whole summer the house has been packed with friends and family. You and Quinn have not been able to have any alone time together. Not even your room is free of people. Poor Luke has to sleep on an air mattress in your and Quinn’s room.

Every time that you do have some alone time together Quinn literally gets pulled away from you. Anytime that you have something planned the other guy’s somehow end up tagging along. You have a date planned, nope that has now become a group hang. Even if they don’t know they somehow find where you are.

You don’t really have a problem with it, the guys always include you in whatever they are pulling Quinn away for. You know that it’s been so long since the boys have gotten to hang out because of their schedules, so you always let them take Quinn away from you. sometimes it just gets frustrating.

_

“Guys I want to hang out with my girlfriend for a bit. Leave us alone.” Quinn says trying to push them away from us. The couch cushion next to you now occupied by Cole. You give him a smile and he’s quick to return it.

Jack grabs Quinn’s hand and try’s pulling him up off the couch.

“Don’t worry Quinn I’ll keep y/n company.” Trevor said as he sits down in between Cole and you.

“No, you won’t dick head. We need an even amount of people for the teams. Y/n can sit on the lounge chairs out there and she can watch you play.” Jack says giving his best puppy dog eyes.

“As long as he’s shirt less.” You say, giving him a smirk. He lets out a little laugh.

“I can be shirtless as well Y/n.” Trevor said, trying to remove his shirt but Luke was quick to pull it back down.

“Seriously dude you got to stop.” Quinn says. Luke gives him a pat on the back.

_

You guys were outside for three hours before the boys were done playing basketball and chose to go swimming instead. Quinn told them that he was going to go change into his bathing suit and that he would be right out.

“Y/n can you go to the store and get us some beers?” Trevor asked you as he takes off his shirts and tosses it onto one of the chairs next to the pool.

“Yeah, and some food too. like chips and dip.” Jack puts his hand on your shoulders.

“Why do I have to be the one that’s going?” You question them. They all look at each other and run and jump into the pool. You throw your hands up to protect yourself from the splash.

“Because we are all in the pool. We don’t want to get the car all wet.” Luke says. You shake your head at them and walk into the house to get your keys. You yell out the back door for them to text you what they want.

“Hey where are you going?” Quinn’s voice stopped you. You turn around to see him walking towards you.

“The Guys asked me to go and pick up some food and drinks for them.” He pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around you.

“Do you want me to come with you?” His thumbs make circles on your back.

“No, its ok. But will you help me unload the car when I get back?” He nods his head, leaning into kiss you.

“It’s been so long baby. I need you so bad. All the guys have been such a huge cockblock, especially Luke because he’s staying in our room.” He try’s pulling you closer to him if that’s even possible. You could feel his boner pressing into your thigh, his swim shorts not doing much to hide it.

His forehead rests on your chest as he continues to hug you. You give him a kiss on the top of his head before you start to pull yourself away from him.

_

When you got back to the house you were quick to text Quinn. It didn’t take him long to meet you outside. He was very quick to unload the car, that it felt like you didn’t even bring anything in. You were still outside at the car closing all the doors when a pair of arms wrapped around you.

Quinn kissed your neck, sucking and biting at it. He turned you around so now your chests are touching. His lips quick to find yours. He pushes you back against the car, his lips still on yours.

“Surprisingly the one thing that we still haven’t crossed off are list, car sex.” He says his lips now on your neck again.

“Yeah, but here? I was thinking more of doing it in the parking garage after winning a game” You can feel his lips move into a smile against your neck.

“Who says that we can’t still do that. But the guys have been driving me crazy, I haven’t gotten a chance to even hang out with you alone for like more than an hour. Its driving me nuts not being able to be alone with you.” His hands run up and down your sides. He pushes his waist into yours.

Your hand reaches for the handle of the door behind you. A smile forms on Quinn’s face again. He’s quick to pull you away from the door, opening it so your able to climb in.

He turns to close the door, turning back to see that you have taken off your shorts and shirt. Leaving you in nothing but the bathing suit you had on underneath.

“Turn around for me baby.” You did as he said. Grabbing your hips and pulling you back into him, his boner now poking your thigh.

He pulls the bathing suit bottoms to the side. One of your hands on the arm rest the other on the window. He takes his cock in his hand, slapping it on your ass a few times before lining himself up.

“Fuck. God baby I’ve missed this it’s been too long. I think I’m going to get us a hotel for the weekend and just fuck you till your dumb.” He thrusts his cock into you hard and slow. His hand reaches around you to play with your clit.

“God Quinn. Please go faster.” Your breath fogs up the glass. The car already starting to feel a lot hotter than when you first got in.

“You’re doing so good for me.” He leans forward kissing your back. His hand still working your clit.

His thrusts pick up speed, the sound of his skin hitting your mixed with heavy breathing are the only thing you can hear. He moves his hand from your clit to grab a handful of your hair, pulling so your back is touching his chest. One of your hands on the head rest the other now on Quinn’s thigh.

Thankfully the house has a long driveway surrounded by trees so no one will be able to see what is going on. The car now moving along with Quinn’s thrusts.

“I’m going to cum. Be a good girl and cum with me.” You nod your head. Your grip on his thigh tightens. You let out a loud moan as your orgasm builds up. He brings your head back to his lips can latch onto your neck. He leaves marks along your neck as he continues to thrust into you.

“Quinn. Yes, keep going. I’m going to cum.” It didn’t take long for you to cum. Quinn’s following right behind yours. He lets out a grunt as he bottoms out, shooting his cum into you. He turns your head and kisses you hard on the lips.

“That’s my good girl. The guys are probably getting suspicious so we should head back inside.” You nod your head.

_

You and Quinn walked inside to see the guys already eating and drinking what you bought them.

“Guys we were just looking for you. we were planning on going to the diner down the road. Do you want to come?” Cole asks. You nod your head sure.

They guys were quick with getting dressed. Everyone making their way into the car. Quinn and you in the front seats the rest of the guys in the back.

“Is it just me or is it sort of muggy in here… wait is that ha handprint on the window?” Trevor says. You let out a little laugh.

“eeeewwww.” They guys all say at the same time when they realized.

[transholmes]

When I first started typing this out I apologized for this vent but you know what? I'm not the least bit sorry, the BG3 fandom needs to hear this.

Being a queer fan in this fandom is beyond depressing, even more so if you're a queer dude or masc aligned person. It's like being transported 10-15 years back in time and I mean that in the worst way. Back to when producing queer content whether M/M or F/F would at best get you passive-aggressively ignored by the majority of fandom. Worst case involved doxxing and financial ruining people for writing characters as queer just in case you were wondering what that was like back then.

If you're trans of any stripe then it's even worse.

People will bend over backwards to defend this with preferences but you've conspired to create a climate where events will be promoted no matter the content as long as straightness can be assumed and centered, but the moment an event is created to specifically promote and create queer content it is suspect and needs to be vetted before it can be considered if it can maybe be promoted.

The BG3 fandom's frankly reactionary and conservative behavior is almost making me regret picking up this game in the first place. It is certainly making me regret getting involved in the fandom even in a small capacity. This isn't a place where fans like me are welcome, the best we can hope for is being allowed to be tolerated and only if we accept living at the edge of it and lived for too long in a world where this is all I'm ever allowed to put up with it in a space that's supposed to be for fun.

[stayevildarling]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader- Russian Roulette

A/N: I know my followers and Sarah lovers will kill me for posting this before posting another Sarah fic but honestly I'm just lacking motivation for those characters right now 🫶🏻 I had this kinda enemy to lovers idea and I couldn't resist 🤷🏻‍♀️ thank you @billiebeanhoward for your help with this one <3

prompt: Natasha wasn't very fond of you and she couldn't hide it. Noticing the tension between you two, Tony ends up sending you two on a ,,mission'' causing for you both to get to know and love each other a little better.

tags/warnings: female reader, mention of cursing, mention of violence/fighting (mild), mention of guns/drugs (mild), Natasha being a little mean at the beginning, angst, fluff at the end

word count: 10k (I apologise for the somewhat rushed ending but I know some people hate reading long fics. I also apologise for any mistakes. I tried proofreading this twice)

taglist: (if you want to be added just sent me an ask/dm or comment)

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay, @whitelotus00, @ninaahs, @vintagepaulson, @isle-of-earle, @paulsonsratched, @stepintomyworld, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @lucyintheskywithxanax, @fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself, @awritersometime, @ohrwurm26, @wastdstime

It had been an ordinary day at the avengers compound so far, the weather had been lovely today, despite some dark clouds lingering in the air. It even made training some new recruits outside today possible, which most of you enjoyed, sending them running across the fields, especially Steve who it often reminded of his earlier days in training for the army. For you, the day had been ordinary so far, starting with breakfast, before hitting the gym and doing some weights and cardio before joining some others in the sun and enjoying the weather outside. The only thing on your agenda today had been a meeting with some of the other avengers, including Tony who had called for the meeting.

The meeting started off normally, as it would always, some chatting and bickering before Tony interrupted you all by telling you what he wanted. Wanda had made some pastries for everyone and you couldn't help but chuckle at how most of them stuffed their mouths full and suddenly turned from intimidating and strong superheros to almost adorable beings. However you couldn't ignore the tension, reminding you of the weather before, sunshine and laughter before being replaced with some dark clouds and long faces. It wasn't really many long faces, it was Natasha Romanoff. As soon as Tony had mentioned the upcoming missions and that he was sending you on another one, the room had turned much quieter as her green eyes shot daggers at both you and Tony.

You had always been fond of Natasha, since joining the avengers almost a year back. You appreciated the thought of another woman on the team. Of course there was Wanda, but she was mostly around when her magic was needed, plus she still had her own things and didn't always join you. You appreciated the thought of another badass woman who definitely knows how to fight and you assumed it would make being on a team with mostly men a lot easier. However, you quickly learned that Natasha was either- just like those said men or she simply didn't care for you or anyone. You had tried to make friends with her, often offering to train some new recruits with her, bring her a meal after a long mission and she refused to join the others or even make light conversation. However, she was always closed off around you, never sharing any details- let alone a smile or polite gesture the way she would with the others.

In the end you had brushed it off, assuming she simply didn't like you or that it took a very long time for her to get used to someone. The thought of her being jealous or even intimidated had indeed crossed your mind once, however you had brushed it off before you could properly think about it, knowing Natasha was definitely more experienced, tougher and stronger than you are. And you had been confused, as to why Tony kept sending you on missions. Why he never paired you up with Natasha or made it even between you two. When he broke the news of the last mission, you had even thought about offering it to Natasha or her coming along but with her death glare, you didn't dare speak up to the redhead woman.

It took mere seconds after the meeting ended, Bucky sharing some details with you as he had been familiar with the country and area, the others chatting along before Natasha stormed out. Clint's eyes following her and him quick to follow behind. After some more chatting, you excused yourself, before making your way into the hallway, feeling the strange urge to follow the redhead as well, despite knowing it may not be a good idea and equally having to get going as one of the jets would be ready in about an hour. As you make your way towards your room, you notice the shadow of both Natasha and Clint in the hallway, her features tense and his noticing your presence. Despite feeling the urge to say something, you simply brush past them, unable to ignore how stern her eyes followed your every move and feeling slightly intimidated, despite the comforting smile that Clint tried to give you to ease the tension.

,,This is bullshit'' you hear her say, her accent thick due to her frustration, before you make your way into your room to gather your things and prepare for your mission.

----

The next time you find yourself at the all too familiar avengers compound which had also been your home for a while, it's about a week later. Your mission had been successful, gathering all the information that Tony had intented for this big operation they had worked on. Your work had been small really, working undercover in one of the labs they had managed to sneak you inside and gathering all the information by accessing their database but also talking to the employes. Somehow, despite not having powers like Wanda possessed, your gut always told you when someone was lying or was hiding something, equally when danger lurked nearby. You never managed to quite put a meaning or reasoning behind this but it had always been that way so you eventually stopped questioning it and simply went along with it.

As you exit the jet, rain instantly greets you as you hurry inside, wanting nothing more than to get in the shower before the debriefing and having to work on your mission reports. As you walk past some of the avengers, you do some joking with Steve, Bucky asking some questions and Wanda asking how you truly are. She often asked you, checking in with you and with her you genuinely feel like someone cared about your wellbeing, of course the others did too but she had a very different way of showing it. After eventually washing of the stress from the past few days, quickly braiding your hair as you aren't in the mood to dry it and throw on some clothes, you join the others in the meeting room. Your eyes dart around the room and search Natasha's for some reason and you notice that she seemed much less tense than the other week.

What you had missed the previous week was how Clint somehow convinced Natasha to speak up for herself, to tell Tony that she didn't appreciate you getting all the missions since joining, how she felt neglected and that her needs weren't met anymore. Some of the guys had overheard the conversation and simply shared knowing glances as they had noticed the tension between you two but also the undeniable attraction towards each other, despite both you and the redhead oblivious to the later feeling still. He had promised her to include her in missions more and that he had no intention of making her feel those things, despite cracking a few jokes here and there which the Russian definitely didn't appreciate given the circumstances.

,,Great work Clint, Y/N'' Tony tells you as he begins the meeting, both Hawkeye and you having been on separate missions but practically around the same time as he left a day after you and returned a few hours prior to your arrival. The team ends up chatting a little as you fill them in on the details and intel you had managed to gather. Your eyes occasionally find their way to Natasha who simply looks either through you or with her usual stern expression, you couldn't really tell. ,,Well, considering how things went'' Tony begins, trailing off a little as he walks around the table, eventually looking into the distance and overlooking the grounds. ,,I have another mission regarding another matter... top secret stuff'' he tells you and you truly hope he wasn't about to send you on another one considering you had just returned.

,,I think we need some girl power for this one, so I'm sending Natasha and Y/N tomorrow'' he begins and your eyes widen a little as your breath hitches. The redheads jaws drop, while the others simply share knowing glances, Steve and Bucky even chuckling a little and their eyes almost speaking silently as if they knew more about this. ,,That sounds great'' Wanda tries, lifting the mood a little but Natasha again simply looks at Tony as if she is about to kill him, clearly not what she meant when she said she wanted more missions. ,,And it's in a beautiful location too'' Iron man continues talking as your eyes keep wandering to the redhead who simply acts like you aren't present. ,,Which is?'' her voice rings through the air, her accent again thick due to her frustration. ,,Paris'' he exclaims almost cheerfully and this time the two of you fail to register the knowing glances and smirks from your other members. ,,City of love'' Steve exclaims with a chuckle ,,Sounds romantic'' Bucky teases which causes for you and Natasha to equally roll your eyes. ,,It's the city of light actually'' she mocks them, fake matching their giddiness.

A few minutes later, the meeting comes to an end and this time you are the one pretty much straight out, not minding the mission with Natasha, despite having a feeling it wouldn't be pleasant. You simply wanted to finish your mission reports and catch up on some very needed rest. As you pass the gym on the way to your room, you watch as Natasha walks in, preparing one of her protein shakes in the corner after equally storming out of the meeting. This time you listen to the feeling in your gut and linger by the door a few moments before knocking gently, not to startle the redhead. ,,Hi'' you exclaim quietly and she simply watches as you linger by the door. ,,How do you feel about the mission?'' you ask sincerly, ready to offer her to speak to Tony so he could maybe convince to swap you with Clint as you had a feeling she hated this.

,,How am I supposed to feel? it's a mission'' she exclaims, scoffing almost before continuing to mix her protein shake and the question makes you feel stupid, despite your best intentions. And somehow, something within you snaps, having been nothing but kind to the woman and her never repaying you in the slightest, not even with being able to have a normal conversation with you. And so the words following practically burst out of you ,,You know you don't have to do it with me, considering you hate me so much'' you huff in annoyance, trying hard to ignore the lump in your throat before turning on your heels and walking off, not necessarily in the mood to hear the words that would probably follow. To your surprise, Natasha turns around at your words, her eyebrows raised, not in anger but in shock as she certainly didn't expect you to be this forward as usually you are always kind, quiet around her and she knew you cared about her feelings and wellbeing due to the little acts you would do for her.

,,I don't hate you Y/N'' is what she really wanted to say, despite having some line ready about ,,Stop being ridiculous, it's a mission and we have to stay professional''. The words simply get caught in her throat as you leave and she can't help but feel bad for having sent you away like this. Truth to be told, Natasha didn't hate you, she felt intimidated by another female Avenger who shared the same abilities than her. You were clever, had some great instincts and you for sure could fight. She never minded the backup at first and she felt some strange connection between you two despite not really knowing all that much about you. However, she hated when it eventually turned into you getting all the missions she desired, despite the stubborn redhead deep down knowing that it wasn't your fault, that you never bragged, never asked Tony and that you probably wouldn't have minded giving some of them to her. With a roll of her eyes, mostly towards herself, she continues doing some of her training, trying to ignore the bad feeling in the pit of her stomach for how this conversation went.

Eventually the avengers find themselves in the dining room, it being pizza night everyone actually joining this time. The sun was slowly setting in the background, coating the room with several large glass windows in beautiful shapes of orange and yellow. As they all flow into easy conversation, your absence doesn't go unnoticed. Especially Wanda knows you absolutely adored Pizza night and the concern was practically written across her face as she hadn't seen you since the meeting hours before. Despite trying to tell herself that this was probably due to you wanting to get some rest, she still couldn't help but feel concerned. ,,Hey Wands, have you seen Y/N?'' the voice from Clint rings through the air, startling the witch a little as she almost clumsily drops her plate. ,,No I haven't'' she almost frowns and she misses how a certain redhead follows the conversation, also having noticed your absence and despite her not knowing about your adoration for pizza night, she had noticed.

,,I'll check on her'' Wanda announces and Natasha watches as she retrieves some slices of your favourite pizza before heading off. ,,You alright there?'' Clint asks as he takes a seat besides Natasha, gladly accepting one of the beer cans Thor handed him. ,,Yeah'' she absentmindedly announces, avoiding his gaze. ,,Ready for your mission then?'' he trails off, causing Natasha to meet his gaze as she simply nods. ,,You know what they say Paris is beautiful'' he begins as he takes another bite of his pizza. ,,And after all, maybe the two of you will actually get to know each other better'' he encourages which Natasha mostly ignores, not necessarily in the mood for this conversation and her being ever the perceptive one, having of course noticed the knowing glances and smirks from the others about this mission and your usual bickering.

Meanwhile a soft knocking startles you a little as you finish sending the last bit of your mission report, muttering a soft ,,Come in'' before laying eyes upon a certain ginger. ,,Hi Wands'' you chuckle a little as you watch her carry in a plate of pizza for you. ,,Are you alright? you're missing pizza night honey'' she announces, her voice soft but laced with concern nevertheless. ,,Sorry just finished these reports and was hoping to get an early night'' you exclaim, gladly taking the plate as she takes a seat at the edge of the mattress. ,,How are you feeling about it?'' she asks curiously, her eyes reading your expression before you huff. ,,I don't know'' you sigh before taking a large bite of your favourite pizza, your mouth instantly watering. ,,I'm sure it will be okay'' she announces softly, tilting her head a little as her green eyes meet yours. ,,She hates me you know'' you sigh again after swallowing. ,,She doesn't hate you darling'' Wanda assures, of course knowing who you are talking about.

,,She's always hated me and I think I hate her too'' you begin and you notice her shocked expression as this was quite unlike you. ,,Come on zlatko you don't hate her'' she tries as you really didn't feel hatred towards anyone or anything other than maybe the villains and scum you fought on missions and spiders. Of course the witch had noticed the tension between you two but she couldn't help and notice the connection you two have and having seen this type of thing a few times before. ,,I think I do Wands'' you sigh again, trying to ignore the anger bubbling out of you. ,,I have always been nice to her and she always treats me like I'm nothing'' you huff, chewing your pizza angrily which causes Wanda to giggle a little. ,,I think this mission will help you two'' she recalls, speaking as if she was very sure of her words. ,,Now get some rest'' she tries before giving you a reassuring smile and leaving you to rest.

Unfortunately rest never really arrived, as the whole night you ended up tossing and turning in bed, not being able to shake the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach and the ,,what ifs'' about the upcoming mission. And so to no surprise, you almost stumble into the kitchen the next morning, dropping your bags on the floor as you would need to leave any moment, before walking over to the coffee machine, barely awake before bumping into something. As you rub at your sleepy eyes, still yawning a little, your vision slowly fills with shades of black and red and your eyes widen as you realise you stumbled into the woman who you would go on a mission with in a few moments. ,,Shit I'm sorry'' you curse, taking a step back as she looks over your tired features with an eyebrow raised. ,,Seems like your well rested for this'' she sarcastically remarks, taking her coffee before leaving and you can't help but roll your eyes at her antics before making a coffee, grabbing one of the Iron man to go cups that Tony stacked in the kitchen and walking outside with your bags.

,,Good luck to you two, I'm sure it will be an epic one'' Tony remarks as you both pass him, Wanda giving you a reassuring smile despite frowning a little seeing your sleeping state. To both of your surprise, it's simply a quinjet with some supplies, no one is joining either of you and so as you two step inside, both of your eyes land on the seat with the controls and you knew this was gonna be one hell of a fight. ,,I assume you'll be flying?'' you remark, settling for the seat next to that one. ,,Yes, one I'm the better flyer and two I can't let you fly in this state'' she speaks before setting into her seat and strapping herself in. You simply ignore her words, before getting settled yourself, taking a sip of your coffee before glancing out the window and seeing the avengers compound slowly become smaller and smaller in the distance and with the increase of altitude.

Your eyes occasionally glance at the slightly older woman and you can't help but notice how badass she truly looked, already wearing her usual outfit and her red hair glowing. She looks very focused as she flies the jet with ease and despite the hatred you felt towards her, you couldn't ignore the feeling in your stomach, pushing it off for feeling hungry as you skipped breakfast. Eventually you lean back on your seat and Natasha glances at you, seeing you softly and soundly asleep beside her and she tries hard to fight back the little smile escaping her lips, seeing you so sleepy and adorable. Paris was for sure quite the distance and so it takes several hours before you make it remotely close, Natasha having eventually settled on auto pilot and equally relaxing in her seat. As soon as your eyes open, you stretch a little, feeling embarassed to have fallen asleep and already knowing this wouldn't have gone unnoticed by the redhead. As soon as she notices you awake, she stiffens in her seat, putting her hands back on the wheel and her eyes darting towards you. ,,You know if I had fallen asleep, we would be screwed right now'' she remarks and you simply take a deep breath, before walking towards the back.

,,Here'' you offer after a few moments, passing her a protein bar, assuming she also hadn't eaten since leaving. Her green eyes meet yours and she looks at the bar as if you had poisoned it. ,,Fine, more for me'' you huff as she hesitates before pushing one into your mouth, hoping it would fill you up. ,,You didn't poison it?'' she questions, jokingly before you roll your eyes. ,,No, here'' you offer it again and this time she takes it, taking hesitant bites. ,,So what is this mission exactly?'' you ask, really not having too many details about this. ,,No idea, I have an adress for the hotel and a target to observe'' she remarks as she looks at her Ipad, connected to the cockpit. ,,Okay sounds good'' you remark. There's a few moments of silence before you speak again ,,Ever been? to Paris I mean?'' you question before she looks at you for a brief second. ,,Nope.. you?'' she asks before you think back to your earlier days in europe mostly.

,,Yes'' you simply say, trying to fight back the flashbacks of your past. ,,Is it nice?'' she questions and you aren't sure if she's actually trying to make conversation or not. ,,I didn't really get to see a lot of it'' you trail off ,,I spent many years in europe, forced to work for an organisation'' you explain and her face grows a little serious, as your words remind the redhead of her own past and not remotely knowing about yours. ,,I'm sorry Y/N'' she speaks sincerly and this time for the first time in a very long time it feels genuine and if, even for a split second, getting to see the real Natasha Romanoff.

,,Five minutes out'' the redhead eventually breaks the silence, causing you to nod and focus on your mission rather than the hauntings of your past. With practiced ease Natasha lands the jet in a remote area, where a car is already waiting for you, keys inside which Tony surely arranged. After putting the suitcases and gear in the trunk, Natasha glances at you before throwing you the keys. ,,Your turn'' she speaks and you simply nod before settling into the drivers seat. The car ride is silent for a while as you drive through the Parisian suburbs before eventually making it to the busier areas, having driven in europe many times and therefore knowing your way. Before too long, the two of you arrive at a fancy looking hotel, a white old looking building with a valet who is quick to take your keys and someone offering you a hand with the bags.

By the large swinging doors, both you and Natasha are already greeted, quickly handed two key cards with a room number and being pointed towards the elevator door. You are the first one to realise that they gave both you and Natasha the same room numbers and your eyebrows furrow whether this may be the hideout rather than where you would be staying. It takes a minute longer for Natasha to realise as the two of you find yourself in front of the same door, stepping inside and finding a spacious hotel room, however only one bedroom with a large double bed. ,,What is this?'' she huffs before the beeping from her tablet rings through the air. Before too long she accepts a call from Tony, before he appears through a projection in front of you both. ,,Hi girls, nice journey?'' he questions with a smug smile. ,,What is this Tony?'' Natasha questions, very much not amused by the hotel room. ,,This is where you'll be staying, more intel will follow'' he explains and Natasha simply rolls her eyes. ,,Tonight I need you both at a dinner, checking out the place''' and you simply nod, listening to his instructions.

,,For your undercover identity, you are newlyweds and this is your honeymoon, rings are in the bedside table draw'' he smirks before his projection quickly leaves a very confused you and very annoyed Natasha behind. ,,Great'' she huffs before setting her bags down on a nearby floor. ,,So married and only one bed?'' you question rhetorically, hoping to lighten the mood a little but the redhead is having none of it. ,,You can take the bed'' she announces stubbornly before slumping into the small and uncomfortable looking sofa. ,,No it's okay, you can have the bed'' you try but the stubbornness practically radiates from the black widow. ,,Used to sleeping on the floor'' she announces and you simply shrug your shoulders, knowing this isn't a fight you would be able to win. ,,Fine'' you announce before taking your bags to the bedroom, before reaching for your laptop and reading up a little bit more on the mission and trying to find out more about the dinner and your target.

After some reading and much needed rest, you eventually open one of the suitcases that was left in the quinjet, having your name written on it. Inside you find a small silenced gun, as well as a fancy looking black suit, a white shirt and some shiny shoes. It certainly wasn't what you assumed would be inside but nevertheless you get dressed, the Parisian sunset coating your room in shades of dark orange and red. After a shower, you get yourself dressed, hiding the gun inside the blazer jacket before stepping out of the bedroom and finding Natasha in the other room, adjusting her dress and the sight almost takes your breath away. The redhead is wearing a long black dress, some sparkly details on it, the matching heels, her hair perfectly styled. Subconsciously your jaw drops a little as she looked absolutely breathtaking, adjusting her hair one more time before turning towards you, having noticed your presence of course. A little smirk coats her features as the outfit choices were quite something. She simply looks at you before reaching for the matching purse before asking ,,Ready?'' for which you simply nod and follow the redhead towards the car.

Considering the heels, you opted for driving again and despite it not taking too long, you couldn't help but feel a little taken back by the scene, Paris lit up in beautiful colours as the sun had set a little while ago and the sky being filled with stars by now. You even manage to catch a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower, the seine and countless people sitting alongside it and enjoying the night sky. Your eyes occasionally dart towards the woman sitting beside you and you simply act as if you tried to look out the window whenever she catches you, despite her green eyes equally darting towards you, as undeniably she also enjoyed the view. ,,Here we are'' you announce after parking and considering the outfit Tony had chosen for you and your undercover objective, you act gentlemen like, opening the door to the car for Natasha, as well as the door of the restaurant before stepping inside. She plays along of course, always staying professional, thanking and smiling at you almost in adoration, playing the role of your wife perfectly.

,,Bonsoir'' a waiter greets you, before you smile politely ,,Reservation for Smith'' you announce, wanting nothing more than to roll your eyes for the name Tony had chosen for this one. ,,Certainly, if you follow me'' he announces before walking the two of you towards the table. ,,After you darling'' you mock a little, letting Natasha follow him first and she simply smirks at you and you knew you would certainly hear about this later. ,,Would you like an appetiser?'' he asks after leading you to the table and you simply help Natasha to get settled in her chair before speaking again ,,I think Champagne sounds great, what do you think darling?'' you question and she simply nods before the waiter leaves with your order. ,,I'm going to kill you once this mission is over'' she speaks through gritted teeth and you can't help but chuckle as you place a comforting hand on her shoulder, quite enjoying this little game of this undercover mission supposedly your honeymoon.

The objective for this mission was somewhat simple, Tony and the others assumed some people owning or working for this restaurant belonging to some organisation that they had chased for a long time. And so both you and Natasha are supposed to explore the place a little, check for anything unusual, maybe even scoop around for a little bit tonight before some more objectives in the following days. ,,Cheers darling, to our first night in Paris'' you announce, holding your glass up after the waiter had brought over your drinks and taken your orders. ,,Cheers honey'' Natasha mocks you, staying in her role perfectly despite her eyes speaking a very different story. The two of you eventually settle into some easy conversation, trying to act like a normal married couple on their honeymoon, sometimes sharing fake loving glances, placing a subtle hand on Natasha's cheek or her hand lingering on your leg. As the meal progresses, neither you or Natasha had noticed anything unusual or out of the ordinary, it seemed like a normal five star restaurant, the staff friendly, other guests equally seeming normal and going on about their nights and tasks.

,,Noticed anything unusual yet?'' she whispers a little as she pretends to kiss your cheek, her mouth ghosting over your ear. You simply shake your head, your stomach greeting you with an unfamiliar feeling as you feel her lips ghost over your ear. Swallowing hard, you simply shake your head before speaking again ,,I'll go check downstairs'' you speak after a little bit and Natasha simply nods as she watches you leave towards the staircase and bathrooms.

Downstairs you find the bathrooms, inspecting those a moment before passing by some supply rooms and the kitchen, quickly checking out the place but finding nothing unusual and simply returning to your table. Natasha gives you a questioning look but you simply shake your head, causing for confusion to fill her features. ,,Can I offer you some desserts?'' the waiter returns and you glance at Natasha who reclaims her role of the loving wife perfectly, passing you the menu ,,You choose my love'' she speaks, almost in a perfect british accent. You smile politely before ordering you both some dessert and the waiter once again off. ,,Did you enjoy your food?'' you ask and she simply nods before asking whether you did too. The remainder of the evening goes by fast, the two of you finishing dessert before eventually getting the bill, deciding without words that there was nothing else to explore before eventually returning to the car.

,,Well that was..'' you begin speaking before she sighs ,,Exhausting'' she finishes your sentence which causes you to frown a little. ,,You didn't enjoy it? you for sure played the loving wife role perfectly'' you smirk a little but she simply rolls her eyes, quick to take off her heels that you assume hurt by now. ,,I don't understand what Tony's aim is here, there was nothing'' you sigh in frustration a little and she simply nods, her features stern, before the two of you return towards your hotel. Arriving there, Natasha is quick to storm towards the bathroom, soon after the shower running in the distance and you settle into bed after getting changed. ,,You sure about the floor?'' you ask as you watch her return with some sweatpants, a hoodie, holding a towel and drying off her wet hair. ,,Yes'' she huffs as she brushes past you, before you simply turn around, quickly drifting off to sleep as the day had been long and the lack of sleep from the night prior.

The stubborn redhead isn't as quick to settle however, she tried the sofa first, however it was so small that she couldn't keep her legs on it and they simply kept sliding down. Eventually, she decided for the floor, retrieving a mat from her bag and a pillow and blanket that you had left on the sofa for her. She ends up tossing and turning for hours, unable to sleep a wink as her back hurt, despite the luxurious hotel, the floor undeniably uncomfortable. It was no lie when she said she was used to sleeping on the floor, however she hadn't slept on a floor mostly since joining the avengers. Her pride gets in the way as she faces an internal battle before eventually muttering ,,Screw this'' and retrieving the pillow and blanket before walking into the bedroom, setting into the space next to you, making sure you are asleep, hoping if she gets up early enough, you would never notice. She makes sure there is enough space between you two as she lays right on the corner of the side that she had claimed.

By the time Natasha wakes next, the sun is already streaming through the windows and white curtains and her eyes widen a little as she notices your arm wrapped around her, as you lay on your side, your face buried in your pillow, a leg loosely draped around the blanket. The redhead remains quiet, knowing if she moved even an inch now, she would instantly wake you and therefore ultimately admit that she was too stubborn to sleep on the floor after all and joined you in bed a few hours ago. The sound of your alarm blaring, wakes you a few minutes later and as you open your eyes and realise what is happening, you quickly jolt away from her embrace. ,,Shit- I- I'm sorry'' you apologise. ,,It's okay'' she speaks almost softly before she makes her way out of bed and towards the bathroom.

,,Sofa or floor too uncomfortable after all?'' you smirk a little proudly as she returns before she simply rolls her eyes at your antics. ,,Not even coffee this is shit'' she curses under her breath, noticing the absence of a coffee machine. A knock quickly interrupts you two and Natasha is quick to draw her knife, in her usual spot by her ankles, before she walks towards the door. ,,Room service'' a friendly woman with a thick French accent announces, before handing Natasha a tray with some coffee and breakfast. ,,I hope you are enjoying Paris and your honeymoon'' she speaks softly before Natasha forces a smile, hiding the knife in her sleeves. ,,By the way if you.. you know wish to not be disturbed, the sign is just here for the maid'' she explains with a wink, glancing between you both. Natasha's cheeks burn red before smiling politely and closing the door and putting the tray on a nearby table.

,,Jesus Natasha it's only room service, no need to kill the poor woman'' you chuckle before taking one of the coffee cups and having a sip. ,,You can never be too careful'' she shrugs her shoulders, before reaching for a croissant and coffee before disappearing onto the small balcony and soaking in some of the sun, clearly not wanting to be anywhere near you, unless necessary for the mission.

,,I spoke to Tony, looks like a stakeout today'' you tell her a little while later as she remains on the balcony, dressed for the day by now. ,,Let's go then'' she announces, reaching for her things before you follow her towards the car. The next few hours are mostly spent in silence as the two of you watch the building that you are meant to watch, not remotely seeing anything unusual or the target that Tony had described and given you intel on. You could tell Natasha was growing impatient as this mission really hadn't given you anything yet, her fingers angrily tap against the wheel, her leg bouncing up and down ever so slightly. ,,I'm going for a walk'' you announce and she barely acknowledges your statement. You had spotted a little boulangerie nearby and so after a few minutes, you return with two coffees and some pastries. ,,Here'' you offer her and her green eyes suddenly meet yours as she takes the coffee and pastry. You could tell she was grateful as she relaxed a little, her legs having stopped bouncing by now. But you also knew Natasha lacked any way of showing you gratitude but you didn't mind, feeling like you know the redhead quite well after all.

,,Anything you want to talk about?'' you ask, feeling yourself grow a little bored as you finish the coffee and pastry a little while later. Her eyebrow raises as she glances at you, scoffing at first thinking you are joking. ,,Y/N, what do you think this is? girls talk and braiding our hair afterwards?'' she questions sarcastically before her eyes dart back towards the building. ,,I mean.. we could?'' you question, your expression almost adorable and she can't help but chuckle at your antics. Another half an hour of silence follows before she speaks again ,,Fine tell me something about yourself then Y/N'' she huffs, growing increasingly bored as the minutes pass and lack of actions. ,,Did you know that I'm an avenger?'' you joke, smiling at her almost smugly and she can't help and again raise her eyebrows and hide the smirk. ,,Oh really, no I didn't know that..'' she remarks ,,Tell me how is that going for you?'' she questions fake curiously and you think about it for a moment.

,,I'm not sure, I like it and I like the others'' you explain before her eyes meet yours ,,But?'' she holds your gaze as she questions you, noticing the hesitation in your voice. ,,I guess I imagined it differently you know? I never really belonged and I assumed being part of it makes me sort of belong? but I guess that's stupid'' you sigh before glancing out the window, some tears lingering in your eyes at the sudden admission and definitely not expecting those words to fall from your lips. Natasha is left speechless for a moment, over the last few days with you, having learnt that you equally didn't have a family, you were practically raised by a terrorism group and hence had quite the traumatic past, almost matching her own. ,,You do belong Y/N'' she reassures, the same feeling settling in the gut of her stomach, similar to some other incidents she had with you before. ,,Don't pity me Natasha, we both know you hate me'' you sigh biting your lips a little anxiously. Before the redhead can respond, she is again cut off, similar to the other time you had said those words to her as you notice a suspicious person exciting the building, wearing black clothes and a hood. ,,Watch out'' you quickly announce, pulling the redhead away from her thoughts, her expression turning from a serious one to a focused one.

Natasha doesn't say anything, simply starting the car and following the man slowly, until he eventually walks into a building, leaving both you and Natasha, once again camping out in the car and watching carefully. ,,Y/N- I-'' she begins speaking after a while but you stop her as your hand raises slightly, your senses quickly alerting you of something or someone present as you close your eyes and try to focus your attention on whatever your body was trying to tell you. ,,What is it?'' she asks seriously, having seen that same expression on your face on missions a few times and knowing what it means. ,,We are being watched'' you quickly announce before the redhead glances out the window, trying to find the source, before a few shots are being fired towards your car and both of you quickly ducking to avoid those.

In a swift motion, you exit the car, leaning your back against it before carefully glancing towards the building again. As your eyes scan the unfamiliar surroundings, they dart towards the front door of the building, the same man from before sprinting out the door, dressed in black, wearing a hood and carrying a gun in his hands as he walks away. The black widow watches as you sprint away ,,For fucks sake Y/N'' she mutters under her breath as she watches you chase him, without her. She is quick to start the car again, knowing from experience there was no point in you both chasing the suspect on foot. As you try to catch up with him, assuming this must have been the target Tony had mentioned, despite the description and clues not quite adding up, he occasionally glances behind, firing some sloppy shots in your direction but you are experienced enough to dodge them.

Approaching an alley, your heart practically beats out of your chest as he cuts into a corner, more shots fired in your direction and a bullet gently grazing your skin but not enough to enter you. ,,Shit'' you curse before collecting all of your strength and eventually catching up with him. You watch the familiar car stopping abruptly in front of him, cutting off all the ways for him to escape. Natasha glances at you, gesturing towards you whether you are okay and you simply nod before she is quick to exit the car and tackle him to the floor. As she does, he doesn't only drop his weapon but you also find several different drugs on him. Your eyebrows furrow as Natasha uncovers his secret, as Tony would have mentioned this if this was the mission objective. As the two of you have him cuffed on the floor, the redhead is quick to call Iron Man himself, informing him of what had happened. While she takes a few steps away, you glance towards your shoulder, noticing a piece of your clothing slightly ripped, assuming from the bullet gracing you. As you gently pull your shirt down your shoulder, you notice a scratch and some blood but nothing serious and so you quickly adjust yourself as Natasha finishes the phone call.

,,You won't believe this'' she chuckles sarcastically as she glances between you and the guy on the floor. She gestures you to walk towards her so he couldn't hear. ,,Not our target'' she mutters and your eyebrows furrow yet again. ,,So why was he shooting at us and why did we happen to be here?'' you ask slightly dumbfounded, having seen a lot in your line of work but never a coincidence of this kind. ,,I assume he figured we followed him and thought we were cops'' she shrugs before glancing at him again. ,,Feds are on their way'' she announces before you nod. ,,You okay?'' she asks, noticing how you are still a little out of breath. In return you simply nod and smile at her, before getting back to the car, wanting to catch your breath.

After another hour, the two of you finally make it back to your hotel room, the sun again having set by now and nothing else on your agenda for the day. The redhead agreed to let you use the shower first and as the cold water eloped your skin you felt a little at ease after the day you had. The mission so far really hadn't been bad, the encounter today nothing you aren't used to by now, given your past and work alongside the avengers. However it irritated you, still nowhere close to gathering any information, despite you and Natasha undeniable the best at this sorta thing. It infuriated you a little, even causing you to doubt your abilities that after several days you still had no clues, that the investigating and your abilities hadn't alerted you of anything so far. I mean there was no pressure, Tony wasn't pushing but you still feel a little defeated. As you get dressed, your thoughts travel to your partner for the mission and how it really hadn't been all that awful so far, despite Natasha clearly hating you but even after everything for some reason you couldn't hate her and you didn't understand why.

As soon as you finished, you collapsed into bed, despite the busy and loud streets outside still filling your hotel room with the occasional noises, the days and thoughts had tired you out, causing you to quickly fall asleep. Natasha had missed you slipping out the bathroom and pathetically knocked a few times before finding it unlocked and eventually finding you in bed. At first she gave the sofa another go, quickly regretting that choice before trying the floor. However, her thoughts kept circling, first about the mission and how it was failing so far, eventually about you, what you had told her about your past, what it was like for you being part of the avengers and she couldn't help the guilt consuming her. She couldn't help but feel like she made you feel that way, the constant bickering, the constant distance towards you and her being cautious and vary of you at first. Over the last few days she feels like she has really gotten to know you, the fact your past and pain was so similar and undeniably that you had impressive abilities, catching the guy today and connecting the pieces. If it wasn't for you, there would have been a high chance of her getting hurt today as she missed the guy, missed the shots and if it wasn't for you noticing and ducking both her and your own head, she knows it could have ended very differently.

And so after several hours of her thoughts circling, she again mumbles the same words ,,Screw it'' before walking towards the bedroom, finding you already asleep on your stomach, your upper body exposed as you are wearing a tank top, the red scratch on your shoulder visible and some faded scars. Natasha carefully crawls into the same positions she had slept in the night before, closing her eyes and soon drifting off to sleep, the thoughts finally quiet, the circling having stopped after being near you. Your presence made her feel safe tonight, even though she would never admit it, not to you or herself.

A few hours later, you shuffle slightly as the sun coating your hotel room, softly wakes you from your slumber. At first you feel how stiff and tired your body still feels from the day prior, feeling the scratch on your shoulder throbbing a little before feeling an unfamiliar weight on your body. As you carefully open your eyes you see red hair first before realising. Natasha was laying on your shoulder, her arm draped around your stomach, almost as if she was holding onto you, shielding you from something. Realising the situation your eyes quickly shoot open, eyebrows furrowing as if to figure out whether you are dreaming. Next you feel the familiar sensation in your stomach, your heart fluttering in your chest a little and you can't help the slight smirk playing on your lips, considering this was the second night of finding Natasha in your bed and undeniably loving the fact that the roles are reversed and she is now the one sleepily cuddling into you. If you could, you would take some photos as proof as she would undeniably never speak of this and act like this never happened, probably even threaten to kill you if you ever dared mention this to anyone or her. But nevertheless you enjoy it and so you close your eyes again for a moment, enjoying the warmth both from the sun drawing in from the curtains but also the redhead still sleepily holding onto you.

A knock on your door startles you a little while later and you quickly shuffle and escape Natasha's grip on you, as you walk towards the door. The redhead is quick to wake as well, of course having seen and felt glimpses of her holding onto you before she is quick on her feet, knowing it was room service but not necessarily trusting this mission. ,,Breakfast Miss'' the same woman informs you and hands you the familiar tray and you simply thank her and smile before taking the tray and closing the door. As you take it towards the little table, you find Natasha standing by the door, watching you carefully.

,,Captain America Boxers really?!'' she remarks and suddenly your face goes bright red after setting the tray down, noticing how you never changed into any pyjamas the night prior. ,,Um yeah they are comfortable'' you try to play it cool, hiding your face as you reach the coffee and take a sip. ,,Wait so you are staring at my ass'' you smirk amusedly, you now the one making the Russian's cheeks glow red. ,,No I- it's just'' she huffs, rolling her eyes at your antics. You watch as she shoves one of the croissants into her mouth before you speak again ,,If it makes you feel any better, there are no Black Widow ones, you really should talk to your marketing team'' you chuckle causing her green eyes to meet yours. ,,So you're telling me you would wear those?'' she asks with a raised eyebrow. ,,Course I would'' you smirk, enjoying this a little too much. ,,Just imagine how much nicer it would be to stare at my ass if it was you on it'' you smirk before she throws the other croissant towards you. ,,I'm so going to tell Steve about this'' she remarks with a grin.

----

Within the next few days in Paris both Natasha and you have grown more frustrated by the minute, you had returned to the restaurant, the building from the day before and following up with the compound for any leads but there was nothing. Nothing suspicious, no clues and pretty much no objective. At first Natasha had doubted whether Tony may have gotten the whole location wrong, insisting for him to check again. Eventually the two of you simply fell into the same routine, checking out the same places throughout the day but equally taking breaks. One day, the two of you decided to walk alongside the seine and sit by the river for a while, despite it mostly being in silence you enjoyed it. Another day, Natasha managed to get a motorbike for the night and took you to the same restaurant again, on the way back going a different route so the two of you would pass the sparkling Eiffel tower. And undeniably it had been magical, you couldn't help but feel closer to the redhead and you aren't sure what happened exactly, maybe the fact that she didn't throw sarcastic remarks at you every two seconds, instead actually allowing conversations with you.

There was that one moment however, the night prior to this one when you knew. Natasha was zooming past the lit Eiffel Tower, the lights illuminating the city and people and cars around you. Despite the speed, everything seemed to have stopped for a moment and while you held onto the redhead you knew for some reason. You felt it in your heart then and in that moment as everything stood still your brain knew. Suddenly it all made sense to you, why you felt so comfortable around her, why you had always tried to be so nice to her, always taking how she feels seriously despite her being so closed off. Why you didn't and really couldn't hate her because you cared about the redhead deeply. It felt bittersweet as the realisation rippled through you, knowing the redhead could and would never see you this way, her having made her intentions with you quite clear in the past and despite the little moments with her and feeling like you had gotten to see some real glimpses of the woman and the person behind the walls and facade, it killed you a little, the sudden realisation almost paralysing you as you drowned in the intensity of it all.

Your last night in Paris and this time you couldn't sleep a wink, eventually leaving bed and settling with a blanket on the little balcony, watching the city at night and you finally understood then why they had called it the city of light as despite the darkness of the night it felt alive. ,,Y/N?'' the voice of Natasha startles you, causing you to jolt as you had sat there in the cold for what feels like hours. As your tired eyes look up, you find her standing next to you tilting her head slightly as if to observe you and figure out what you are doing. ,,Are you alright?'' she asks, her voice laced with concern however, the coldness you are feeling draws that bit out. ,,Fine'' you remark, still staring into the distance. The black widow remains there for a second, thinking whether to give you space and leave you be, knowing if the roles were reversed she would want to be alone, however something within told her to stay. And so she simply sits beside you, the small balcony causing for your shoulders to touch as she stares into the distance with you. ,,What's on your mind Y/N?'' she asks after another moment of silence.

,,I'm okay'' you try again, not meaning to sound cold or to send her away but you had no idea how to voice your feelings or how much you both hated and loved this mission at the same time. ,,You don't seem okay'' she remarks, still staring into the distance with you. ,,It really doesn't matter'' you huff, trying to fight back the tears forming in your vision both from frustration and lack of sleep. ,,It does to me'' she almost whispers and at first the words don't register and when they do you can't help but chuckle almost bitterly. ,,Why would it?'' you exhale before adding ,,You hate me''. This time Natasha paused, feeling a pang of guilt in her heart as this was the third time you had repeated those words and the redhead didn't have a chance to set things straight even once. ,,I don't hate you Y/N'' she whispers and this time its barely audible as the avenger didn't enjoy these things, deep conversations, admitting feelings and laying emotions out openly. This time Natasha glances at you, wanting to see your reaction as her green eyes try to find any sign of you believing her words as the thought of you truly thinking so killed her deep down.

However she is met with silence again and so the words flow freely from her lips ,,I care about you no matter what you think''. This time your head snaps towards her, her green eyes locking with yours and you hold her gaze, almost getting a little lost in her eyes as you find nothing but honesty in them. She watches as your eyebrows furrow, trying to understand how closed off and distant she had been at the start, why she had been mean at times, the sarcastic comments when in reality she cared about you. It doesn't add up and not only can Natasha see it in your eyes, she can feel it too as her feelings both overwhelm and confuse her. ,,So.... does that mean you like me after all'' you joke, trying to lighten the mood a little and in return she nudges your shoulder, rolling her eyes in a playful matter. ,,Wouldn't go that far'' she jokes, causing you to giggle which the redhead can't deny was quite adorable.

,,Ready to go home tomorrow, wife?'' you grin at her, offering her your hand and helping her balance on the small balcony. ,,Yes darling'' she jokes putting on the british accent from days before. ,,Let's go to bed then'' you invite and this time Natasha simply follows you and settles on her side. Despite your best attempts in the last few days, Natasha always remained stubborn, you either found her on the small sofa, her legs dangling down the sides or the floor, offering her to join you but she always refused. Yet, every morning when you woke up you found her in bed after all, either you subconsciously holding onto the Russian or her holding onto you and both of your faces startled as you realised, as if it wasn't obvious by now. ,,So am I cuddling you tonight or are you cuddling me tonight?'' you break the silence after a while and if it wasn't so dark you could have seen the smirk spread across her face and the rolling of her eyes yet again. ,,Shut up or I will actually kill you'' she warns.

,,I'd like to see you try, wife'' you chuckle and before you know it, she throws a pillow that had separated the two of you, your way, causing you to squeal a little at the sudden sensation. ,,You're an idiot Y/N'' she remarks. After your giggling quietens down, you turn to face the woman and to your surprise she is already looking at you, her green eyes quickly meeting yours. For some reason you can't help but smile, never thinking for a single moment that this trip would lead to you two not killing each other and ending up in bed with the black widow herself. Natasha watches as your eyes grow heavy, it now being the middle of the night and you barely getting any sleep. She can't help the smile as she watches you try to fight sleep but failing, before soft snores fill the room. ,,My idiot'' she whispers before moving a little closer and wrapping an arm around you.

----

After one last breakfast in Paris and several hours on the quinjet, the two of you finally make it back to the avengers compound, joining the others. Despite the flight being spent with the usual joking and giggling by now, the two of you walked into the meeting room with long faces as the mission really hadn't been all that successful and you both felt like you had failed a little. ,,How was it?'' Wanda asks both concerned and a little excited as she watches you follow behind Natasha, noticing the redheads features almost a little softer around you than usual. ,,It was so great, I can't wait to tell you all about it'' you giggle, causing the witch to smile before following you. As you take a seat beside Natasha, some of the other avengers lingering nearby, you wait for Tony to walk inside. ,,So, Paris?'' he questions, taking some steps around the large table. ,,Not a success'' Natasha remarks sternly, having been upset with Iron Man and the lack of information regarding the mission. ,,I mean come on, you caught a random drug dealer'' he remarks, causing you to glance at Natasha.

,,Did it work?'' Bucky suddenly bursts out, Steve punching him in return, causing you and Natasha to glance towards him confused. ,,Did you finally kiss?'' his words follow after, causing Natasha's features to grow serious. You watch as she connects the pieces, pretty much seconds before you connect it. Hastily she pushes away her chair, her fists banging on the table as she approaches Tony. ,,Don't tell me you sent us on a fake mission'' she hisses before his guilty eyes meet hers. The black widow remains silent, his glance enough to confirm her suspicion and then she walks out, leaving the people in the room behind, stunned and guilty expressions on their faces. They had no bad intentions of course but they had noticed the tension between you two long before you had figured it out, wanting to give you the necessary push but only now realising that maybe making up a whole mission across europe may have been a bit much.

,,Natasha.. Natasha'' you try as you speed out of the room, quickly catching up with her after finding her in the hallway on the way towards the elevator. ,,Are you okay?'' you ask concerned, meeting her features. ,,This is bullshit, a fake mission really?'' she questions, her accent thick as she sighs in frustration. ,,Come on.. it's not too bad, we got to be wife and wife for a week and in Paris of all places'' you chuckle, trying to lighten the mood a little. ,,And we established that in fact you do quite like me'' you add, glancing into her green eyes. Time seems to stand still for a moment as everything around you blurs, Natasha's green eyes suddenly the only thing mattering and the only thing you focus on as her eyes lock with your own. Within seconds you are suddenly much closer than you had originally intended and the lack of distance causes you to stare at the only other thing on your mind, her lips. The redhead studies your features carefully, knowing by now she hadn't read this wrong and after a moment of hesitation she mutters ,,Screw it'' before closing the gap.

As soon as her lips crash onto yours, you again knew. The all too familiar sensation in your stomach, the fluttering of your heart, it all suddenly made sense to you. This was all you had dreamed of, ever since meeting her and despite hating Tony a little you couldn't be more grateful, considering this was due to Paris and getting to know her better. Natasha's lips felt surprisingly soft, despite not taking her for a chapstick kind of girl. The kiss wasn't rough, wasn't needy, it simply felt like everything you two had been trying to tell each other all along. Natasha put everything into the kiss, her longing for you, apologies for how she had treated you at the beginning, realisation that this was what she wanted all along and wanting you to be hers, her idiot, her detka. To hold, to kiss and to cherish for the foreseeable future. ,,My idiot'' she chuckles as you both pull away in search for oxygen, your eyes meeting again and communicating in silence.

[measuredingold]

pretty boy

authors note: hey 🫣 almost a year ago i posted my first bad omens fic onto ao3 called sweet boy and i thought… what better way to celebrate that than to write its sequel ? barely proofread so i apologize for any mistakes btw, getting back into the swing of writing “consistently” so i feel a bit rusty lol ! as always i hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated. :-) sweet boy can be found here.

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 3k~

cw/tags: pwp ( porn without plot basically ), p in v ( wrap it up ), established relationship, dom/sub undertones ( sub noah ), 18+ minors do not interact

The faint hum of the television fills the room, volume so low you barely can register what's even being said. You don't mind though because your focus isn't even on whatever episode of The Office that's playing, instead it's focused on the boy laying beside you, long limbs tangled with your own. Legs tangled with yours, an arm draped over your tummy, and head against your chest, you couldn't give a flying fuck about Michael Scott at this very moment.

You hum to yourself, a happy little sound, as your fingers card through his hair, finger nails lightly scratching at his scalp. You feel his chest vibrate against your side, probably making the same happy sounds that you were, and if you could see Noah's face you're sure he's smiling to himself, eyes fluttering shut.

You can't remember the last time you got a moment like this with him, just able to laze around in bed with nowhere to be. Noah wasn't running around or locking himself in his studio - nothing scheduled, nothing due. It was nice to finally be able to breathe with him in your arms again, and it was nice to know he wasn't worried about something for the first time in weeks. Maybe even months.

You let your eyes slip shut as you bask in the moment, fingers never leaving the home they made in Noah's hair. It's almost noon, you think, and you had already eaten breakfast. Maybe a quick nap wouldn't hurt... then you could get up and make some lunch for the two of you, or maybe finish the laundry you started last night. Sleep doesn't come to you, though, because you feel Noah move beside you, lifting his head up to bury against the crook of your neck.

You think nothing of it, even when you feel the ghost of his lips against your skin. You sigh, a happy sound, and by instinct your fingers tug gently at his hair before letting your nails scratch at his scalp again. You feel him whine rather than hear it, feeling the vibrations against your skin as he continues to trail kisses up your neck. Your eyes flutter open at the first roll of his hips against your thigh, and heat swirls in your stomach.

Oh.

So, you’re definitely not about to take a nap.

You thought he had been asleep, and maybe he was on the brink, but you think your little tug woke him up. You gasp quietly when you feel his teeth graze the skin of your neck before another sloppy kiss is pressed there, his hips rolling into your thigh again. You can practically feel him growing harder with every roll, the sweats he's adorning leaving nothing up to the imagination.

With another scratch to his scalp, your fingers tangle in his hair again, tugging much harder than you had moments prior. The force was enough to pull Noah's head back only slightly, inches away from your neck, and the sound he released was so delicious it had you shivering. He grinds against you again, this time with purpose, and you hear a faint hum of your name as he tries to press another kiss along the length of your neck.

"What is it, baby?" You mumble out, voice hoarse from barely speaking today.

Noah doesn't reply in words, instead lets out a few broken noises in response before attaching his lips back to your neck, another desperate roll of his hips against your thigh. You pull his head back again.

"Use your words, Noah."

It's been so long since you've shifted into this dynamic, usually Noah being the one to have the control recently. You loved that you were able to shift back and forth, because sometimes you needed him to be the one under you. Something shifts in his eyes as they widen and his tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth, still not saying a word.

You sigh, tugging at his hair once more. "Don't make me ask again."

"Just..." He finally manages to whine out, pupils dilating. "Miss you."

"I'm right here, baby."

"I know, but..." He groans, trying to bury his face back against your neck, hips rolling into your thigh again. "I miss you."

"Hm..." You hum as you card your fingers back through his hair, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with him. Your stomach flips at his dilated pupils, big brown eyes staring at you with such need that you physically have to restrain yourself from surging forward and kissing him right then and there. "My poor baby. I can tell you miss me a lot, yeah?"

He nods, a bit too desperately, pressing himself against your thigh again. You bite down on your bottom lip to keep any noises of yours at bay.

"Yeah." He mumbles and his tongue darts out to slide over his bottom lip again, eyes watching you closely. "Miss you. Need you.”

For some reason those words strike a chord within you, your heart clenching beneath your chest at his confession. You couldn't help but get emotional sometimes whenever he gave this part of himself up to you, putting all his trust in your hands. There was a time where that was rare, and in your years spent together, you watched the walls he built around himself slowly come down. There was no better feeling in this world than having his trust, and you would never take it for granted.

You scratch at his scalp again and smile at the way his eyes flutter shut, body shuddering against yours. "You have me, sweet boy."

He whines again, a pathetic sound, and you take the chance to lean forward, lips pressing against his for the first time in hours. The last kiss you shared was innocent, early in the morning when you had made breakfast for the two of you - this was the complete opposite. It was full of need, Noah whimpering into your mouth as your free hand slid between your bodies, pressing against the front of his sweats. His hips cant forward, pressing into your touch, and you couldn't stop yourself from squeezing.

"Shit." He hissed against your lips and you took it upon yourself to slip your hand past the hem of sweats and boxers, letting your fingers wrap around his length.

"Oh." You gasp quietly once you have a firm hold on his cock, thumb brushing over the tip. "All for me?"

He nods quickly, lips brushing against yours as his hips roll into your fist. "Yes. You. All for you."

Pride swells up beneath your chest and your hand strokes up and down his cock a few times. The angle is awkward, and with a very displeased sound from the boy beside you, you let go for just a second to push him onto his back. You roll onto him with ease, hips pressed firmly against his aching cock. He arches up off the bed with a loud noise, and you take a moment to admire the way he looks beneath you.

Cheeks flushed, lips slick and bitten and parted beautifully, brown eyes hooded as he stared up at you. All fucked out, out of his head, and you've barely even started.

"Oh, look at you." You can't help but reach down, swiping your thumb over his bottom lip. "Aren't you just the prettiest thing, hm?"

He nods, a deep groan escaping him as your hips roll over his for a second time. His mouth follows your thumb and before you can pull it away, his lips part. You watch with widened eyes as his lips wrap around your digit, slipping into his mouth with ease and out of curiosity your thumb presses down against his tongue. You feel him hum around it, a delicious sound, and you press harder, further.

"Such a pretty boy... especially with your mouth full." You feel his cock twitch beneath you, the bounce having you sucking in a breath as your hips roll without much thought. "How do you want it, baby? My hands? My mouth?"

You're not sure how you're even making complete sentences, the feeling of his tongue circling around your thumb having your brain feeling like complete mush, but you push through it. This is about him. His brows furrowed and he shakes his head, hands coming up to grip your hips, grinding you down against him again. You gasp.

"Oh. Baby wants me to fuck him?" He nods, whatever noise that leaves him being muffled by your thumb. You slowly pull it away from his mouth, dragging it down his chin. "Words, Noah."

"Yes, please." He breathes out, voice already wrecked. "Please, please, please."

"Shhh." You hush him, grounding your hips into his one more time - nice and slow. "I got you. I'll give you what you want."

You don't waste any time after that, sitting up on your knees to tug your sleep shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor. Noah groans beneath you and with the way his cock twitches under your hips you're sure he's more than pleased to see that you wore nothing else underneath. You grin down at him, admiring the way his skin flushed from his chest up to the tips of his ears before leaning down, pressing another kiss to his lips. It doesn’t last long until you're trailing your kisses down his body, trying to taste every part of him that you could.

This was about getting him out of his head and letting him continue to not worry about everything like he typically would. Sometimes when he was home he’d be… sort of a nightmare, fixated on the next song, the next tour, the next merch drop. You didn’t want that. You wanted him relaxed, without a care in the world in that pretty little head of his. Tomorrow he can go back to his worried self, but today… he’s yours, and you’re going to do everything in your power to have your boy feeling like putty once you’re finished with him.

Your fingers hook in the waistband of his sweats and boxers, not wanting to waste anymore time. He was squirming beneath you, becoming impatient, and you’re selfish enough to admit you can’t wait much longer to have him inside of you, either. The thought of his cock had heat shooting straight to your core, and you tugged at his sweats. He immediately got the hint, hips rising off the bed and he helped you shimmy them off his body, discarding them on the floor with the rest of your clothes.

“Pretty boy.” You gasped, eyes widening at the sight of his cock resting against his stomach. You subconsciously lick at your lips, the need for Noah growing more and more by the second, and your fingers hook into your own underwear, sliding them off with haste. “All mine?”

He nods, words being followed by a whine as his eyes watch you toss your underwear to the floor. “All yours.”

You smile in response but can’t help yourself from leaving forward, licking a stride up the base of his cock all the way to the tip. He shudders beneath you, especially when you place feather light kisses around his tip before crawling back up his body.

“Baby…” He groans, hands reaching for you.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. That wasn’t nice of me.” You giggle despite your apology, lips finding home against Noah’s yet again. “No more teasing, okay? No more. Promise.”

You pull back and sit up on your knees again, hips shifting over Noah’s. His cock twitches beneath you and you don’t stop the moan that falls from your lips. Your head drops to watch the way his cock slips between your soaked folds, tip nudging against your clit. He shudders again, hands gripping your hips to stop you.

“Wanna…” He takes a deep breath to collect himself, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Inside. Wanna be inside. I’ll come if you keep going.”

You giggle, a little breathless, and nod at his words. “Already so worked up? How cute.”

You lift your hips up just slightly as your fingers wrap around him, lining him up with your entrance. You caught his eyes just as you began to sink down on his cock and the sight was... everything. From the way his brows furrowed, his pretty lips parting as you slowly sink further and further, and then the way his body arches the second you bottom out. You gasp, the arch of his body pressing him deeper into you, and your eyes flutter shut at just how deep he was.

"Shit, Noah." You moan out, your current facade breaking for just a moment. “Always feel so fucking good, baby. Oh my god.”

You give yourself just a moment to adjust to his cock, no prep making the stretch burn slightly more than usual - still delicious all the same. With a sigh of pleasure, you rise and slowly drop, the slow drag of his cock making the both of you moan in unison. The hand that was on your hip slid up your body to the back of your neck, pulling you down to him. Your lips slide together messily as you roll your hips into his, picking up speed.

“Oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.” He pants against your mouth, no longer kissing you, too consumed by the feeling of your pussy clenching around him.

You sit up again, resting your hands against his chest as you continue your relentless grinding, gasping every so often whenever Noah’s thrusts would meet your own. You knew he was close, so worked up and overwhelmed even before he had gotten inside you. A part of you wants to tease him, get him so close to the edge before stopping completely. You want to see him cry, feel him shake underneath you and hear him beg for you to keep going, but today wasn’t the day for that. No, your poor boy was already there, cock twitching inside you with every roll of your hips, and you weren’t that far behind him either.

“Baby.” He gasped out, fingers digging into your hips as you grounded into him. “Gonna… fuck, ‘m gonna…”

His words get stuck in his throat and you stare down at him in awe, truly captivated at how beautiful he looked beneath you. Skin flushed the perfect shade of pink, brows knitted together and mouth dropped open, the most delicious noises leaving him. You’re not even sure if he even knows what he’s saying at this point, too consumed by you and the way his cock feels buried inside your pussy. You grin lazily down at him, giving another slow, deep roll of your hips, nails digging into his chest.

“Yeah? Gonna what? Use your words, pretty boy.”

“Oh.” It’s a choked sound and you feel his cock twitch inside of you the exact time you clench around him, and you swear his grip on your hips will leave a bruise tomorrow. “Fuck. Gonna come, ‘m gonna come. Please, please, please, baby please.”

“You can come.” You sigh out in pleasure, never stopping the movement of your hips. “Fuck, yes, you can come. So good for me, baby.”

With a few more sporadic thrusts from Noah he stills with a choked sob, cock twitching while he spills inside of you. You moan at the feeling, body shuddering as he fills you up, and it almost pushes you over the edge. Almost. You sit up and let a hand slide to your center, middle and ring fingers rubbing against your aching clit as you continue to ride him. Your body slumps forward the second your orgasm crashes into you, burying your face into Noah’s shoulder as you cry out in ecstasy.

All that was left to be heard in your bedroom was the combination of both yours and Noah’s labored breathing. You stayed still for a moment, catching your breath, and smiled lazily to yourself when you felt his lips brush against the side of your head.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, voice low, and you could tell just how… gone he still truly was. “Needed that.”

“You’re welcome.” You reply just as tired, but your words get drowned out by the soft moan you let out when he shifts under you, reminding you of his now softening cock still buried inside.

“Fuck.” He whimpered next to your ear, obviously sensitive from you still wrapped around him, but made no effort to move just yet.

You pull back to finally stare at him, heat swirling in the pit of your stomach again at just his fucked out he looked. Eyes barely open, the happiest little smile on his lips, cheeks stained with tears that you must’ve missed during your climax. He whimpers again, pathetically at that, when you roll your hips and clench around him one last time, his body shaking under yours.

“Sorry, my love.” You mumble, sitting up fully and then reaching down to wild at his cheeks. “Just look so beautiful like this. Can’t help myself.”

You could easily take him again, and you knew he’d let you, especially with the way his cheeks flush at your compliment. He’d probably let you take him six more times if it meant not parting from you - when he got in this headspace all he ever wanted to be was closecloseclose. Though, instead, you rise on your knees and the two of you groan in unison when his cock slips from you, the mess between your legs becoming very apparent.

“Come on, shower time.”

It takes a second to finally get him out of the bed and into the bathroom, and you knew with the way his eyes were fluttering every five seconds you had about ten minutes before he’d pass out from exhaustion. You speed through the shower and before you know it, you’re back in bed with Noah’s face buried against your chest once again. This time sleep does find you both, and you nap into the afternoon with a grin on your lips and your boy in your arms.

[carmyboobear]

Blood Orange (Ch 2: The Bathroom)

Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18, MDNI)

Rating: E (5.7k)

links: fic playlist, pinterest board, ao3 link, ch 1

Chapter Summary: No more fucking your boss. That’s what you’ve been telling yourself, but he doesn’t make it easy, even as you find yourself wanting to scream. Somehow it all falls away when you lower yourself to your knees before him. You don’t know if there’s any stopping this anymore. 

Content Tags: work sex, blow jobs, mouth fucking, CUM PLAY, dom/bossy carmy, coworkers with benefits, carmy being difficult, mental illness, they/them reader, gender neutral reader, the usual

A/N: WHEW. It’s here! Thanks for waiting y’all. I think I embarrassed myself writing this one (flushed emoji). It’s ramping up. Next chapter is gonna be big one. Let me know what you guys think, and enjoy! <3

Before you go to work the next morning, you make yourself come on your fingers. It would've been twice if you had more time. 

You open your eyes waking from a dream with his ghostly blue eyes and low voice, and you already know you're wet before you even touch yourself. The pads of your reaching fingers chase the tender spot Carmy stroked inside of you, but they don't quite make it. Of course they don't. 

Fingering yourself eases the ache for a little while. On the early morning transit with headphones over your ears, you still manage to find yourself aching for him. The music doesn't cover up the sound of his voice, and you catch yourself grimacing in the faint reflection of the dirty metro windows. 

This is not a good way to start your second day at work.

Since you left the walk-in yesterday, Carmy's been following you around like a mosquito in the summer, whizzing around your head, buzzing in your ears. You can't rid your thoughts of him. When you close your eyes, you're trapped in the fridge with him, again, and his fingers are deep inside you. 

Fuck. You're standing in front of the restaurant, willing yourself to go in. Just stop it, you think to yourself. 

You really should be more mad at him. He technically never apologized for insulting you, but you suppose you didn't expect him to in the first place. You didn't usually get apologies at places like this, from people like him. You don't want to get in the bad habit of expecting good things from broken people.

No more fucking your boss, you think resolutely to yourself, and that's the thought you meditate on as you open the door. 

By this time yesterday, there were already a couple of people floating around the kitchen. Today, you find dim lights and silence. Your footsteps feel too loud on the white linoleum as you walk to the lockers to drop off your stuff. You can’t pretend to understand the schedule yet.

“Carmen?” You pace around again as you secure your apron with a tie. No response. Surely he's here, at least. Someone had to open the place. 

You take a couple more steps when you hear his voice. 

“No, I'm not—that's not what I was sayin’.” The direction of his voice sounds like it's coming from his office. “Of course I miss him. Sugar—” A pause. “I know. Yeah. It's bullshit.” He laughs then, you think. You can't measure how genuine it is. “You're bullshit. Look, I'll call you back later, okay? And I'll—yeah, I'll look at it. Promise. Yeah. Bye.”

It's quiet after that. You're standing there, not sure what to do with yourself when you hear footsteps. Sure enough, Carmy pops out of the office, and you catch just a glimpse of something haunted in him before surprise takes over.

“Hi,” you say at the same time he says, “Jesus Christ.”

“How long have you been here,” he asks, as you go, “That's an interesting way to pronounce my name.”

“Um,” you start, and he stares at you blankly, unreactive to your joke. Too early, you guess. “I just got here.”

“Okay. Cool. Uh…” Anxiety radiates off of him, making his hands fidget and run through untamed hair. Not that you were looking at his hands at all. “You’ll be doin’ prep again.”

“Alright.” You expected as such. You’ll probably be on prep for the rest of the week, if not the month. That’s how most places go, but this isn’t most places. 

“Your station was dirty when you left yesterday.” You walk up to your station, and it’s spotless. “I had to clean it before I left.”

“Ah. I’m sorry about that,” you apologize quickly. I was preoccupied with other things, you think bitterly to yourself, thinking of locked doors and heated kisses. Not that you’ll mention it. “I’ll make sure to clean it this time.”

“Prep’s gonna be a bit different today,” he says, completely ignoring your apology. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from snapping. “You’re gonna inspect produce, and then you’ll prep the stock again. Correctly this time.”

“It was nearly perfect, I just misplaced it,” you mutter under your breath.

“Yeah, nearly.” Looks like he heard you this time. Asshole. He places a box of onions on your station, rattling the table slightly. “Do I have to tell you how to sort out the bad ones from the good ones?” You’re honestly not sure if he means that as a jab, but the way he says it makes your insides sizzle with irritation.

Don’t take it personally, you remind yourself. Don’t. Take. It. Personally. 

“How about you show me just in case? Just so we’re on the same page.” It’s a wonder how calm you keep your voice. To your surprise, Carmy doesn’t roll his eyes, doesn’t sigh, he just nods and proceeds. Every time you think you’ll predict him properly, he does the opposite. 

You follow the line of his callused finger pointing to brown splotches on some of the onions. Intently, studiously, you examine the dark spots (indicative of mold), the sprouts (initial stages of deterioration), and the mushy areas (a sign of decreasing freshness). He’s talking about details as he seems to do when it comes to food, even elaborating on the farming process, but you don’t quite pick up that part. You just pay attention to the parameters you need to follow.

No more fucking your boss, you remind yourself again, because you catch yourself aching at the sight of his fingers. Your eyes have a hunger of their own, flickering up and down his muscular arms. God damnit. Maybe there’s another reason you can’t quite pay attention today. 

“Are you listening?” Carmy’s pointed question snaps you out of it. Fuck. You hope he didn’t catch you staring at his fingers again.

“If I can save it and just chop off the bad parts, then I should,” you regurgitate on instinct. “Those are the best ones to use for the stock. Otherwise, I should just toss it.”

For a split second, all he does is fix you with his focused stare. You feel the intensity of it in your chest, your beating heart fluttering with its weight. No matter how many times you scold yourself for finding him attractive, your eyes can’t ignore what’s right in front of them. You find yourself counting his moles. 

“I caught you staring,” he murmurs, “for real this time.”

“I—uh—” Your eyebrows are so raised you’re sure they’re bound to shoot off your warmed face. He’s smiling like he knows something you don’t. You weren’t going to mention yesterday, and after your first interaction this morning, you were sure he wasn’t going to, either. Guess you were wrong again.

“I’ll be in the back if you need help. The others should be here soon.” He’s moving on without giving you a chance to recover. Your brain can’t process the shock. “Just call if you need anything."

Before you get a chance to scrounge up anything to say, you’re alone in the kitchen again. 

This time I'm really gonna do it, you fume internally. Because you have a healthy amount of anger management, you don’t let yourself continue that thought.

Sydney is the third person to show up after you and Carmy. You give her a nod and a thin smile as she walks in, and she waves back. Soon after she arrives, the others trickle in one by one. As you're learning to expect, the quiet never lasts for long. 

There are tasks circling you just like yesterday that you don't fully grasp yet. Everyone seems to be instinctively following their own schedule, their circadian rhythm matched to the chaotic ecosystem of the kitchen. It’s just as suffocating as it was yesterday. You remind yourself that as a new hire, you don't need to understand the madness yet. Nonetheless, an invisible pressure presses down on you. 

“Hey, d'you mind telling me where this produce goes?” A triple stack of filled containers sits heavy in your arms. With Sydney out of the kitchen, Marcus is your next safest option in terms of coworkers. His head flicks up from where he was focused on kneading dough. A streak of white flour is across his nose. 

“Oh, that one's bottom shelf, near the back.” He claps his dusty hands together, flour falling between them like snow. “Here, I'll just show you. You know where the walk-in is?”

With Marcus, it doesn't feel like there are any stupid questions. It's a gift you don't take for granted, especially around here. You let him lead you to the fridge again, even though you remember where it is. It doesn't hurt. 

“Thanks. I'm, uh, still having a hard time figuring out where stuff goes,” you say after you put the produce away. 

“It’s cool. It's only your second day, right?” You nod. “Just takes time. Don't sweat it. You ever work in a restaurant before?”

“Yeah, a couple of times.”

“Then you know what you're gettin’ into.” That makes you laugh. 

“Sorta.” You shrug. “To be honest with you, I just need money, and I like cooking enough, so…now I'm here.” You're not quite as honest with how desperate your situation was on the verge of coming, but it's fine. Not really the time and place for it anyway. 

“I gotcha. That's how it was for me too, actually.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. Well, that's how I started at McDonald’s. That was a while ago now.”

“I see. It's better here, I hope.”

“Hard to say,” he says, but there's a little smile on his face. “For the most part, Michael was cool, but—”

“Michael!” You blurt out, startling the both of you. “Holy shit, I'm sorry. I've just been trying to remember the name of the previous owner for forever now and—wow, sorry. I didn't mean to shout.”

“It's fine.” Marcus has this amused expression, but it dissolves quickly. “You met him?”

“I did. I came here a couple of years ago when I first moved. Just once, but—anyway, what's his deal?”

“His deal?”

“Yeah, like, why'd he give the restaurant away? Carmy said he didn't want it anymore.”

“Oh.” You can't read the way Marcus’ face shifts. “That's what he said?”

“...Yeah?”

“I see. Okay. Uh…” He pauses, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, I know how this sounds, but just try not to bring Mike up for now. It's still kind of a sore subject.”

“Ah, my bad.” Your brain instantly supplies stories of estranged families, sibling spats, and stolen money. You suppose it's a sour sort of relationship—something you're intimately familiar with. “Can I ask what happened, or…?”

“I'll tell you later,” he replies evasively. “You know what else they got you training on today?”

“No idea,” you answer honestly. The nosy part of you wants to hear more about the Berzatto family, but the responsible part of you reminds you to cool your jets. “Carmy just told me I was on produce. Know where he's at? I peeked into his office, but he wasn't there.”

“Oh, he just left.” Your blank stare makes him elaborate. “He's off doing Carmy things.”

“Doing Carmy things?” Looks like the person in charge has abandoned you yet again.

“Business stuff, probably.” Marcus shrugs. “He does that sometimes. He probably won't be back for a while, so I can help you with training for now if you want.”

“That would be great.” There's a remark on the tip of your tongue about poor management, but you hold it. “Is Carmy a better boss, at least?”

“Compared to Michael?” You recognize sadness in Marcus’ pinched brows, even if it's only momentary. “I dunno. It hasn't been long, but this place has been running more smoothly since he started doing things.” Your shocked expression makes him laugh briefly. “I know, it used to be worse if you can believe it.”

“I'm not sure that I can,” you admit. 

. . . . .

The next several days at work continue to test your patience. While Carmy keeps you on prep, keeping your tasks simple, he continues to find ways to keep you on edge. You stiffen up every time he enters the kitchen, waiting for him to point out yet another mistake. 

Chef, this cut's too uneven. Chef, you're taking too much time on this. Chef, you should’ve cut this part off. Chef, you’re creating too much waste. 

Yes, Chef, you always reply, even as his comments become more and more grating. A childish part of you wants to do a worse job out of spite, but another part of you is hungry for his approval far more than you would ever admit. You wonder if he's this tough on everyone. 

The incident in the walk-in does not get mentioned again. A childish voice in you wonders if Carmy has forgotten about it. Of course he hasn’t, but every time he critiques you, you wonder about the Carmy who kissed you. You wonder what that Carmy's thinking, because you have no clue. 

Has he been thinking of you, too?

This is how things should be, you remind yourself after you touch yourself for the fourth night in a row to the thought of him. Your fingers are wet, and your wrist is embarrassingly sore. I can't have sex with my boss again. I just can't. 

Would it be different if he also touched himself to thoughts of you?

You desperately suck your own cum off your fingers, and you wish it were his fingers instead. It doesn't taste the same. 

The bright lights are irritatingly bright when you come in this morning. It looks like you're the first person here again, other than Carmy. You hear his irritated voice as soon as you enter, which is clearly a good sign. 

“I appreciate you thinking of me, I do. I do. It's just—” He sighs. Looks like he's having another phone call. “I can't come back. Not right now.” Silence. “No, uh, won't happen for a while, I think. The place's fucked.” A shaky breath. “What? What did you say?

“The head chef asked about me?” Carmy's voice has gone tight. “I see. Of course he said that. No, it's fine.” Pause. “...I know what they've been saying. I figured they'd look down on me.” His laugh is hollow and painful. “Look, I got shit to do. Thanks for asking me, but it's a no. I can't.” Another pause, drawn out and tense. “Sure. Bye.”

After he hangs up, you hear him muttering to himself. You can't pick out any of the words other than the curses, but it sounds bad. As you put your things away, you silently pray to the abstract idea of a god to give you both strength of patience. Seems like you'll need it today. 

“Morning,” you tentatively greet him when he sees you. He's not surprised by your presence today, it seems. He nods back. 

“Morning.” His eyebags are dark with a lack of sleep. Upon closer inspection, his whole everything screams sleep deprivation, perhaps a bit more so than usual. His messy hair seems particularly unkempt today. “You're doing prep again today.”

“I figured.” 

“You need to get better about cleaning your station.” His words are full to the brim with irritation. “I keep having to clean it after you.”

“I thought I was—” You stop. Calm down, you think, but it's getting harder and harder to repeat. “Sorry. I didn't realize.”

“I told you the other day that it was dirty. Were you even paying attention?”

“Of course I was!” Annoyance bubbles over inside of you, potent and unbridled. Carmy barely reacts to your raised voice. Somehow, that pisses you off more.  The cap on your contained anger has popped off, and there's no fitting it back on. “Are you always like this towards your employees?”

“Like what?”

“Like an asshole?” You're too irritated to hold yourself back. 

“Depends. Are you always like this with your boss?” He retorts immediately. 

“I don't usually have sex with my boss, so no, I suppose not,” you respond stupidly, and that makes him go dead silent. He narrows his eyes, fixes you with his gaze. Like you're a new problem that needs solving or something like that.

God damnit, you think to yourself. Why'd you have to say that?

“You've been thinking about it.” The air feels thicker, suddenly.

“I never said that.”

“Then why did you mention it?” Shit. “You said you were going to do better.”

“And I have been. I've been trying to do everything you've been telling me to do.” You don't know why you take a step towards him. “You said you were gonna be nicer.”

“And I have been,” he echoes, and his sincerity makes you roll your eyes. 

“Bullshit! You've been nit-picking me all week!”

“We have standards here, and you need to learn how to follow them. That's all.”

“You're right! I'm learning,” you argue, throwing exasperated hands up in the air. “Cut me some fucking slack!”

“Then learn. Improve.” He slams a hand down on the aluminum surface next to you, enclosing you partially in. Being this close to him, you can really see how dark his dark circles are. You could easily move to the side if you wanted to, but something in you stays put. “There's no excuse for a dirty workspace in a kitchen. I thought you would know that already.”

“I'm so fucking sorry, chef,” you spit back with about as much venom as you can muster. Which, right now, is a lot. 

That shifts something inside him. You see it flash across his face—surprise, anger, and then…something else.

“Dirty work station and a dirty mouth,” he murmurs. His voice is lower, quieter, and it sounds just like how it did in the walk-in. You hate how that change instantly makes your heart pick up speed. “You think you get a pass to act like this because of what happened in the walk-in?”

“You motherfucker,” you hiss, meeting his glare with your own. “So now you're going to acknowledge it? And for the record, I get to act however the fuck I want. Especially with someone like you.”

“Someone like me.” He doesn't ask you to elaborate. He just laughs, breathy and condescending, and he's so close you can feel his breath fan across your face. “You think you're above all this, don't you?”

“What?” The question takes you so off guard that it almost dissipates the strange mix of anger and arousal simmering in your gut. 

“I know it doesn't feel good to have to take orders from someone you hate, but here's the thing. You have to.” He's not smiling, but you swear he's getting some sort of sick satisfaction from all this. Why else would he be saying any of this shit?

“I could leave right now if I wanted to,” you threaten him. “You won't be able to find anyone else that wants to work in this shithole of a place.”

“You're right. You could leave if you really wanted to.” His eyes narrow curiously at you. “Then why haven't you?”

You’re well within your right to leave already—it checks all the boxes. Chaotic work environment. Awful management. General workplace misconduct. Unprofessionalism between coworkers. You suppose you're partially to blame for that last one, but still. 

If it's bad, I'll just find another job, you told yourself. You're not sure why you're not listening to your own advice. The simple truth of the matter, though, is that other jobs won't have him. They won't have the man that's been keeping you up at night, the man that you want to simultaneously devour and destroy. They won't have Carmen Berzatto, and for some reason, that's all it's going to take.

You don't understand yourself. It scares you, but not enough. Not enough to leave.

“...I don't know why I haven't left yet,” you say quietly after a while. “I have no clue.”

“I see.” If he's dissatisfied with your answer, he doesn't show it. “Then for the time you're here, let's make one thing clear.”

“What is it now?” You sigh.

“I'm in charge here,” he whispers. His other hand is on the counter now. You're completely blocked in. “I'm the one who runs this place, so you're going to be good and listen to me when I speak.”

“You're not really giving me a lot of incentive, chef.” You lower your gaze to the counters next to you. “Maybe if you gave me something to work with.” You don't mean for it to come out as suggestive as it does, but with him surrounding you like this… 

“Incentive?” He brings a hand to your face, tucking his fingers under your chin to pull your gaze back to him. His touch is achingly gentle, but it forces it to look straight into his eyes. Your fidgety gaze catches glances of the dark blue speckles that border his pale iris. “Hey,” he whispers, “look at me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your heart's pounding like sprinting feet thudding on concrete. You can't place what feelings are excitement or anxiety or both, but maybe no separation exists. Shutting your eyes was a weak attempt to temporarily block him out, but now all you can focus on is the sensation of his rough hand on your hot face. 

Hesitantly, you open your eyes to face him. Ice blue and dark circles. His intense stare is difficult to match, but you try. 

“What do you want from me?” You ask quietly. 

“I want you to clean your station. Think you can do that?”

“Don't patronize me. Of course I can. I just—happened to forget.”

“Hm.” He smiles briefly. It's just a bit mocking. “You don't have a good track record so far, so you'll have to prove it to me.”

“...And how would I do that?”

“Depends,” he replies vaguely. “Depends on what you want.”

“What I want? I thought you were supposed to be in charge.”

“When I touched you, you told me you wanted to touch me.” The realization clicks in your head. “Do you still want that?”

You hesitate. Memories of the walk-in flood in. You remember the silhouette of his tight jeans over his bulge, and you ache. You shouldn't say yes. You really shouldn't. A distant voice says, you don't want to do this. What have you been telling yourself? This is a bad idea.

Unfortunately, it's far past a matter of want anymore. It's a matter of need.

“Yes,” you whisper back. Your fate is sealed. “I do.”

That's how you find yourself in the cramped bathroom with him. It's dark with one of the lightbulbs having gone out, making it feel even smaller. An eerie green cast coats the room. 

“You're going to show me that you can listen. That you can clean up after your messes.” He's leaned up against the wall, broad hands unbuttoning his pants. Your eyes shamelessly zero in on the motion. “Think you can do that much?”

“Of course I can,” you reply, but it comes out a lot softer than intended. 

“Good.” You force your eyes away from the outline of his bulge in his boxers to look at his face. His darkened eyes are trained on you. “Get on your knees.”

Oh, you think. So this is how it's gonna go.

You wish you could say that you hesitate even a little bit, that there’s even a shred of contemplation left in you. However, there isn't any of that remaining. Obediently, you fall to your knees, resting them against the cold, hard bathroom floor. You're at eye level with his unbuttoned jeans. Slowly, you raise your eyes to look at him. 

His downturned face is framed by wild strands of hair. Looking down at you casts darker shadows across his face, but not enough to hide his expression. It's an odd mix of hunger and what you think to be admiration. Surely not, but that's immediately the thought that comes to mind. 

“Waiting for directions, chef,” you murmur. 

“Mm. Right,” he says, like he was lost in thought. “You look better like this.”

“Watch it,” you warn him. “I could still bite your dick off.” To that, he just briefly smiles, and then it's gone.

He's pulled his black pants down just enough to let his clothed bulge hang over the waistband. The sight of it goes straight to the simmer starting in your gut. You watch his veined hand disappear into his boxers. He's doing this far too slowly for your taste. 

Finally, he pulls out his cock, nearly completely stiffened, and you can't deny the way you begin to salivate. 

You were right. It's big, though not just in length. His cock is thick. You immediately know you won't be able to take the full length of him into your mouth, but what fits is going to be a stretch. You're already imagining how those bulging veins are going to feel against the flat of your tongue. 

“Use your mouth for something other than talking back to me. Make me come,” Carmy orders quietly. “Enough direction for you?”

“Shut the hell up,” you mutter, ignoring the feeling of the growing heat inside you, and you pull the reddened, shiny tip of his cock between your lips. 

His pre-come mixes with the saliva on your tongue. You savor the taste of his salty musk, suckling slowly, and you hear him exhale shakily above you. Looks like you've been given something of an opportunity to get him back for the walk-in. Not repayment—payback. The distinction is important. 

When you pull back, thin strings of spit connect the pink head to your glistening lips. One of your hands moves to hold the base of his cock as you close the gap again. You drag your tongue down the side of his length, licking the thick vein you were eyeing earlier. You feel him twitch. 

“Do that again,” he breathes. Without question, your tongue retraces its path, running back over the line of spit it created. That gets you a quiet, strangled moan, and it's music to your ears. 

“Is this part sensitive?” You ask as you stroke the vein with your thumb. You suck your way down the vein again, making small, wet seals of pleasure. 

“Somewhat.” He sounds good like this, breathless and flustered. A smile twitches on your lips. You lick across the inside of your hand, wetting it before lazily curling it around his cock. He slides effortlessly in your grasp. 

“You gonna come already?” You can't help but tease. He's surprisingly reactive, more so than you would've thought. It's not that you're complaining—it's not that at all. The sound of his low groans is making you drip. 

“Hah—no. You'll have to work harder than that.” You feel a hand pushing back your hair, and that makes you raise your head towards him. His touch is surprisingly gentle. You watch the movement of his lips when he speaks. “Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue.”

You can't quite figure out what it is about all of this that makes you submit. Just moments ago, you wanted to wring your hands around his throat. It was far too easy to abandon your anger and kneel in front of him. Maybe it's the incomprehensibly part of you that undeniably needs his validation. Maybe it's the soft, low tone of his voice, gentle yet commanding. Either way, it has you obeying with a thought in your mind. 

You do as he says. You part your lips and extend your tongue. As your eyes flutter upwards towards him, you're struck with the impression that you must look obscene. 

“Perfect,” he whispers, and just the one word sends something of a euphoric rush through you. “Doin’ so good for me.” 

You soak up the praise, basking in the warmth of it. Then, Carmy spits onto your tongue, and his saliva slides towards the back of your mouth. 

You can't hide your surprise. Your breath hitches, but you don't say anything. Fuck, that should've made you angry, but it just made your clit throb painfully hard. 

He drags his thumb down your tongue, slow and sensual. You have half the mind to suck on it until he glides the head of his cock on your tongue, leading it into the heat of your mouth. 

“Ah—” You lose the words you were going to say, along with the empty space in your mouth. The tip of his cock's nearing the back of your throat. You breathe shakily through your nose. You were right again—you can't take him fully in. It's enough of a stretch as it is. 

“Fuck, that's it…” Carmy sighs. “Just like that…”

His hand holding your hair turns into a tighter grip as you begin sucking up and down his cock. It's an awful mess, the size of him forcing spit to drip down your chin. It's not just that, though. He's thrusting his cock back into your mouth quicker and quicker. You wish he would slow down so you could lean back and suck on his dribbling tip, but his hand has you anchored. 

Time slows as he starts fucking your mouth. Your hands fall to your hands. Your knees are starting to hurt. You care surprisingly little about that fact, instead opting to care about rubbing your clit as quickly as possible. When you get your hands under your underwear, you find your whole pussy already smeared in wetness. You've seeped through the fabric. 

When he pulls his cock out of your mouth (or rather, when he tugs you off), you think he's going to give you a new order. Or that he's going to say something. You don't realize what's really happening until it's too late. 

You watch him bring a hand to his cock. He strokes it twice, keeping his hand tight in your hair, and with a low groan, he comes.

With his hand on you, you can't move away. Not that you try. When the first glob of cum streaks your cheek, you freeze. All you can do is pause as he comes on your face. Even your hand under your pants has frozen, your palm pressed up tight against your pulsing clit. 

With each rope of cum across your face, you feel yourself throb. Carmy is a sight to behold as he comes, long-lashed eyes falling shut with his parted, gasping mouth. He's jaggedly fisting his cock as he just keeps coming. You feel the cum starting to drip down the slopes of your skin, even your lips. 

By the time he's come down, he's left your face an absolute mess. Your jaw feels heavy, and his cum is hot against your swollen lips. You've come down as well, and it's left you with the irate realization that he just came all over your face without asking.

“You could've at least told me you were gonna come on my face,” you snap. Your cheeks are burning. Your argument feels weak with how worked up you feel over watching and feeling him come, but the irritation is still very real. 

“Clean your station, chef,” he responds, infuriatingly smug even as he catches your breath. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Are you kidding me?” Of course. That's what this all was. A fucked up lesson, a twisted sort of discipline. 

“I'm not.” He uncurls his fist from your hair. “Stand up—your knees must hurt.”

You pause for a second before you shakily get back up on your legs. One minute he's messily fucking your mouth, and the other, he's worrying over your sore knees. He continues to become more and more confusing. 

“You're gonna make me clean up your mess.” You catch your face in the small, shitty rectangular mirror hanging on the wall. God, are you a filthy sight, cum and spit all over your face. 

“I had to clean up yours for the past week, so yeah.” He's zipped himself back up. He's clean, not a drop of anything on him. Unlike the mess parading itself on your face. At least there's not any in your hair. 

“This is not the same. This is—” You frustratedly search for the right words. He's remaining as stoic as ever. “You didn't even kiss me,” you blurt out, and as soon as you say it, you regret it. 

Carmy stills. You can't tell what he's thinking with his unmoving expression. You're sure he's about to insult you again, but then he’s leaning in and sealing his lips against yours. 

You're stunned. A small noise escapes you as he kisses you deeply, thoroughly. His tongue drags up a trail of cum and spit up your chin and back into your mouth. Or back into his. You're unsure, with the way they're all blending together. 

“There,” Carmy murmurs against your lips. When he pulls back, you see his tongue running across his lips, collecting the pearlescent sheen that was on them. 

“Um—” You start and immediately stop. You’re speechless. 

“Now clean up.” You hear the sound of distant company. Your other coworkers must be arriving now. “I expect improvement now, chef. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” you reply bitterly. “I suppose I met your expectations, then?”

“Sure. Closely enough, anyway.” Potent aggravation hits you like a cast iron pan. He drags his thumb in one last infuriating line across your cheek. He sucks it into his mouth and cleans it off. “Don't take too long. I have a lot planned for you today.”

Without waiting for a response, Carmy leaves. He leaves you alone in the shitty bathroom with a now flickering lightbulb, left to clean his cum on your face with water, hand soap, and thin paper towels. You don't know if you've ever been so angry before. 

The anger doesn't make the arousal go away. You rub your needy clit to orgasm, your back pressed up against the wall like Carmy's just a moment ago.

As you come with Carmy's cum slowly trailing on your face, you wonder if there is any coming back from this. If there's anything left to be done to stop whatever's happening. You can't come up with any solutions or suggestions. Only one thing is undeniably clear:

You hate Carmen Berzatto, and you're already thinking of ways to get his cock in your mouth again soon. 

~

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