#it's been unexpectedly... good for me I guess

[taketwoinink]

i feel... the need to rant... but about what? I do not know

[mieczyhale]

"i had to surrender my cat bc he's got incontinence issues and i'm just not equipped to deal with that"

i'm stealing your fucking kneecaps

[naamahdarling]

.

[dreamersscape]

Does it feel like life is permanently set to extreme hard mode and I still feel super crappy greater than 90% of the time? Yup. But! Emboldened by our relative success with last year's tomatoes, we have given it another go and have added a little pepper plant friend for them. :)

(It may look like the peppers aren't doing as well as the tomatoes, but it cannot be overstated just how bananas this plant's growth chart has been; it's determined to escape the confines of its basket-cage; it has to be constantly rotated so it doesn't completely lose the battle with gravity; I only took this picture the other day and it already looks SO outdated. Can't stop, WON'T STOP.)

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful

Summary: You have a long weekend that ends rather unexpectedly. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing. 

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, some brief violence at the end.

A/N: I'm in a bit of a crisis so you're getting a bonus chapter this week. It's a beefy one and I wrote like 90% of it yesterday, just had the brain sludge by the time I was close to finishing and decided to rest before I finished and edited. Things are starting to get a big suggestive here, so as a reminder, this fic will have NSFW content in later chapters so please do not interact with it if you are under 18. I'd hate to have to block you.

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“How are you settling in?” 

“Fine.” You shrug. 

“Any instinct to nest at all?” 

You shake your head. “No.” 

“That’s fine.” Dr. Keller says, writing something down. “It’s only been just over a week. Have you started kneeling for Captain Price yet?” 

You shake your head again. “No.” 

Dr. Keller tilts her head. “Why not?” 

You shrug again. “He hasn’t brought it up.” 

“Is that something you’d like to start doing?” 

Her question catches you off guard again. You’re not used to being asked what you want, afterall you’re an omega. That’s not important. You’re here to serve. To do as you’re told. You remember watching your mother kneel for your father while he watched TV, her dazed, glazed over eyes staring at nothing as he almost seemed to hypnotize her into the shell of a perfect omega. It was your first taste of truly how much power alphas could hold over omegas. One hand on the back of your neck and it’s over. 

“I...I don’t know.” You say, picking at your sleeve. 

“You’re allowed to want things too.” Dr. Keller leans forward just slightly, giving you a smile. “I highly doubt Captain Price will make much of a fuss if you ask for something you need. He cares about you. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here alone.” She tilts her head at you, watching you pick at your sleeve. “Is there anything you want or maybe need that you haven’t asked for?” 

Softer blankets. A fluffier pillow. Different body wash and shampoo. New clothes. A picture or a poster or something to make your room seem less clinical. Your instincts to finally start kicking in. Price to want you as much as he’s supposed to. Ghost to like you. To go back in time and let Soap kiss you. 

To go back in time and never present as an omega. 

“No.” You finally answer, shaking your head. “I’m fine.” 

Dr. Keller stares at you for a long moment. You avoid her gaze, picking at the seam of your sleeve. “I know you’re going to get tired of me saying this, but it’s important that you understand that this is a safe space for you. Everything that we discuss, everything that you say in here stays between you and me. Doctor-patient confidentiality is something I firmly believe in, even when it comes to alpha/omega relationships. Okay?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You say quietly, still avoiding her gaze. 

She continues to stare at you for a moment before she leans back on the couch again, shuffling some papers around. “The two betas, Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant MacTavish. How are you getting along with them?” She continues with her questions.

“Fine.” You lean back in your chair, hoping it might swallow you whole. “They’re easiest to get along with.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “Good. I’m a strong advocate for organic pack bonding. Helps avoid any dynamic struggles or false instincts down the line. How are you sleeping?” 

“Fine I guess.” You shrug. “I nap a lot.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Omegas need a lot of sleep and I can imagine adjusting to a new schedule has been rough.” Dr. Keller moves the papers to the couch next to her, looking up at you. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” 

You hesitate, pulling at the seam of your sleeve. It’s beginning to unravel a bit from your nervous picking. You’ll have to fix it. Dr. Keller is right, though. You could just ask for a new one. Price had told you they had a budget for your needs, plus they do get paid well. Anything you needed, they would gladly get for you. 

You just have to ask. 

It’s the asking that you’re not sure you can do. It feels strange to ask anything of your new pack. They’re supposed to be the ones needing things from you. If Soap had wanted to kiss you, he could have. Instead he left it up to you. He let you decide. You wonder if Price’s hesitation to move forward has been because he’s waiting on you. 

They’re all waiting on you, except maybe Ghost. They’re waiting on you to make the first moves, on you to set the pieces on the board. What is the first move? How do you set the pieces? Did you even need to? Would they fall into place organically if you just left them alone? Or would the tension continue to build up, would you continue to affect them until it became too much and the pressure causes everything to blow? 

“I’m affecting them.” You say, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

Dr. Keller tilts her head as she stares at you. “What do you mean?” 

“They’re soldiers. They’re good soldiers with years and years of training, that’s why they're here. But...but I’m changing that. I asked Price if I could go with them and watch them run a training course cause I read in a book that I should get to know them and the things they like and so I was just curious what they do during the day when I’m not with them. He let me watch and he told me their top speeds running the training course but...none of them met those times with me there.”

You take a deep breath, the words pouring out of you easily now. You feel as if you’re not even thinking of them, not even measuring them or using caution as you normally would in any conversation. They’re slipping out from somewhere deep inside and now that you’ve opened that dam, you can’t stop it. 

“Price made them run through it five times and they still couldn’t match their top speeds. He said it was a good thing that they figured that out, that they need to know how I’m affecting them and how to adjust to me. And every time they ran through it, I couldn’t stop thinking about...” 

You take another breath, the air catching in your lungs. Your fingers are shaking, your body sinking deeper and deeper into the chair, almost as if you’re trying to get it to swallow you whole. As if the chair might wrap its arms around you and pull you into its softness and keep you there until you can’t breathe and it suffocates you. 

“What if it was me? What if they were having to rescue me? I know that’s a risk, a low one, but it’s still a risk. The CIA and Kate warned me that I could become a target if the wrong person found out about me. That’s why I can’t know anything about what they do because that puts me at more of a risk, and I could be a threat to them and the entire world if something got out that wasn’t supposed to.” 

You’re breathing heavily as the words finally come to a stop. Dr. Keller’s eyes are shining with sympathy as she stares at you. This is the most you’ve ever opened up to her, the most words you feel you’ve ever spoken to her in the two times now that you’ve met.

It feels good. It feels really good to voice your thoughts and your fears to someone on the outside, someone you can trust won’t tell anyone. You couldn’t voice these fears to your pack. They’re used to this kind of thing. They live with the knowledge they could die at any point, that any mission might be their last. How many lives have they seen lost, how many close calls have they had? You’ve seen scars already on arms, hands, faces. How many others are hidden where you can’t see? 

How many scars do they have inside, too? 

“I want you to know that your fears are very valid.” Dr. Keller says, her voice soft. “Being involved in the military comes with a lot of risks, and then you get to places like this and those risks only get greater and greater. I can’t promise you that something like that won’t ever happen, because we have no way of knowing. The risk is not zero for a reason.” 

Dr. Keller stands from the couch, moving to the chair next to you. The calming beta scent washes over you, and you know you have to be stinking up the room. She turns the chair slightly to face you, leaning forward onto her knees. You can see the imprints on the sides of her nose from where she’d been wearing glasses earlier. 

“That risk is also only low for a reason. Your identity has been well hidden, just like those of your pack’s. You’re on a well protected and secure military base. This place is a black square on Google Maps. I know, I tried looking it up when I found out where I was being assigned.” She reaches out, squeezing your arm gently. “And I highly doubt your pack would ever let anything happen to you. Packs are highly protective over their omegas. Even bad alphas can’t fight that instinct when their pack is threatened. Your pack would quite literally go to war for you.” 

She is right, you know she is. Yet that fear continues to wiggle at the back of your mind. You know they’d never let anything happen to you, but they’re going to start leaving soon. What if something happens while they’re not here? Who will help you then? The other soldiers? The betas that stare and the alphas that catcall you? 

“I guess you’re right.” You say, continuing to pick at your sleeve. At this rate, by the time your heat starts, you’ll have unraveled the whole sweatshirt.  

The buzz of your phone on your nightstand pulls you from your half asleep state. Your book is on the floor, having dropped from your hands and slid off your bed as you drifted off. Your lamp is still on, casting a warm glow around your room. You prefer the softer light compared to the fluorescent overhead, as most omegas do. There’s something too clinical and sterile about fluorescents. 

You grab your phone, pushing yourself up onto your elbow as you try to blink the sleepiness away. It’s not terribly late, but you’ve been feeling the exhaustion all day since your conversation with Dr. Keller. 

“Be ready by 0500 tomorrow. Wear something meant for the outdoors.” 

It’s a text from Price, your brow furrowing as you read it over. Five in the morning on a Saturday? That’s the earliest you’ve had to get up since your arrival on base. And wear something meant for the outdoors? You can only imagine what he has planned for the day you had been planning on spending sleeping. 

You make a quiet noise of indignation as you text back in confirmation, setting an alarm so you can be ready by 5 am. Not up by 5 am, ready by 5 am. You have half a mind to call him, or to text back asking why he feels you need to be up before the sun. You know that’s the normal time they begin their mornings during the week, usually when you hear them up and moving around, getting ready to go work out. That’s usually when you roll over and go back to sleep for another hour and a half before your own alarm gets you up for breakfast. 

You pout a little as you set your phone back on your nightstand, reaching down to grab your book and set it next to your phone. You lay back down on your bed, turning off your lamp and bathing the room in darkness. Well, it’s not totally dark. The light from the lamp outside shines in your window, casting cold shadows across the walls and floor. You’ve never been a fan of total darkness. You’d grown used to having some light in the room at The Institute. One of your roommates had insisted on having a nightlight, and there were many nights you were grateful for it as you laid awake at the mercy of your racing mind. 

A nightlight. 

You add it to the mental list of things you want, but you’ll never feel brave enough to ask for. 

Your alarm rings too early in the morning, your hand lifting to silence it quickly. 4:30 am doesn’t feel like a real time as you rise in darkness, hand fumbling for the switch to your lamp. You glare into the dimly lit room, trying to blink the sleepiness from your eyes. How desperately you want to curl back up under the blankets and sleep until someone knocks on the door to check on you because you’ve slept so long into the day. 

You don’t doubt Price will knock in about 30 minutes to get you up. He’ll be disappointed if you ignore him, you think. He wouldn’t punish you if you went against his wishes, would he? 

You don’t know that. 

You haven’t even thought to push that boundary, nor have you discussed it. You don’t want to. You’re a good omega. 

You’re a good omega. 

You repeat it over and over as you get yourself ready, splashing cold water on your face to wake yourself up. You silently thank Kate as you pull on a pair of cargo pants and hiking boots, assuming that’s what Price means by “something meant for the outdoors.” Had she bought the items in anticipation of something like this happening? You are on a military base. You should have expected you’d be pulled into something like this eventually. 

You’re debating on a jacket by the time the knock comes, right at 5 am. You wonder how long Price has been standing in the hallway, or if he’s perfected arriving right on the dot after years of expected punctuality. You decide on the jacket after checking the weather, slipping it on as you open the door. He hadn’t mentioned needing anything, not that you own any sort of supplies for the outdoors anyway. 

He doesn’t say anything as you open the door, instead motioning with his head to follow. You quietly close your door, expecting the others to be waiting for you, but their doors are all closed and they’re nowhere to be seen. You feel slightly nervous as you follow Price out into the cold morning air, glad you decided on the jacket as your breath steams from your lips. 

Price is dressed in his usual boots and cargo pants with a cargo jacket and a beanie instead of a bucket hat. There’s two packs leaning against the side of the building, Price grabbing one and approaching you. 

“What are we doing?” You ask quietly as he helps you put on the backpack, buckling it across your chest. 

“Going for a hike.” He says, putting on the other backpack. 

“Why?” You ask as he turns on a flashlight, handing it to you before turning on another one for himself. 

“I’ll explain when we get there.” He says simply, motioning for you to follow him. 

You hesitate for half a moment. A hike in the dark? The base is surrounded by forest, but you sometimes forget due to the sprawling nature of the buildings, and your usual ventures outside the barracks being to either the mess or the medical center, all of which were central on the base. 

Why does he feel the need to hike in the dark? Surely it’s more dangerous, especially for someone not quite so physically inclined like you. If he wanted to go on a hike, why hadn’t he just said that to begin with? Maybe he would have, had you asked why last night instead of just immediately agreeing. 

Going into the woods alone in the dark with an alpha you barely know. 

Anxiety twists in your stomach for a moment before you force your feet forward, walking fast to catch up to him. He leads you down one of the roads on base, your boots crunching as the ground changes from asphalt to gravel. Your anxiety doesn’t lessen any as the trees loom high above you in the darkness, the forest like a black void before you. 

Your brain thinks up all the land predators that might exist in England. Do they have bears? You’ve seen Brave, but that’s in Scotland. What about big cats like cougars or mountain lions? Are there racoons in England? 

You’re on a military base, you think. Surely they have means to keep out large predators that might be dangerous. 

Your pack won’t let anything happen to you. 

Dr. Keller’s words float through your mind as you follow Price through the underbrush and into the trees. You’re not following any path, at least that you can see, though your experiences in the outdoors have been very limited since you left home. Your dad liked to camp and hike, and often you and your siblings were subjected to his weekend and holiday trips into the wilderness. 

You missed them in the early days at the Institute. You missed a lot of things back then. 

“What’s eating you back there?” Price asks as you weave through trees and underbrush. 

“There’s nothing...dangerous out here...is there, sir?” You ask, narrowly avoiding taking a branch to the face. “Bears or mountain lions?” 

Price chuckles. “The worst thing you might find is a stray badger or a snake that got through the fence somehow.” 

“Oh.” You say, shining the flashlight around you. “That’s good.” 

Price stops, turning to face you. “You’re fretting.” 

“Well, we’re in the woods in the dark at an ungodly hour and you won’t tell me why, sir.” You pout. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks, staring down at you with a hard look in his eyes. 

You stare up at him, your grip tightening on the flashlight in your hand. “Should I trust you?” 

He straightens up a bit, the corner of his lips twitching. “That’s something you have to decide.” He turns back around, starting to walk again. “All I can do is my best to try and prove myself to you. In the end, you’re the one that decides if I’m trustworthy or not.” 

You’ve never thought of it that way. He could do everything in his power to get you to trust him, but in the end it is your decision. He hasn’t proven you wrong yet, but then again...it’s only been a week. You’ve known him for a week and you’re following him through the woods alone in the dark. 

Your brothers would have a fit if they saw you right now. 

“Do you trust me?” You find yourself asking as you continue to trek through the woods, narrowly avoiding hurting yourself on various occasions. 

“You haven’t given me reason not to.” He answers, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder. “I’d prefer it stayed that way.” 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, sir. I hardly think I’m much of a threat on any term. Well, at least I don’t think I am. Ghost seems to disagree.” 

Price lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head. “Simon...Simon is a unique case. He’s good at his job, but that makes it hard for him to succeed in other areas. I’m sure Johnny has told you how much Simon couldn’t stand him at first. Now look at them.” He chuckles warmly, almost fondly. “He only sees you as a threat in your nature.” 

You frown, glancing up at the sky. It’s beginning to turn grey with dusk, the trees seeming to come alive around you in the dim light. “What do you mean by that, sir?” 

“You’re an omega. To bond with an omega, there is a degree of vulnerability required by the alpha. Being around omegas requires an openness that can be frightening if you’re not used to it.” He explains. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Simon isn’t the most open man.” 

You snort quietly. “Hadn’t noticed, sir.” 

Price chuckles at your answer. “You’re threatening to him, because you’re a challenge. Give him time. This entire situation is an adjustment for all of us, just as I’m sure it is for you too.” 

You don’t know how to respond to that statement. It is an adjustment. Joining any pack was, but a pack like this...a pack that has you tramping through the woods at 6 am for a reason you don’t even know yet is a major adjustment. 

Price stops after the sun has come up, taking a moment next to an outcropping of rocks. He clips your flashlight to your bag before unzipping it, passing you a bottle of water. You take it gladly, your mouth feeling dry after walking for so long. 

“How much further?” You ask as he drinks his own water. 

“Quite a ways.” He answers. 

“Can I know why we’re doing this yet?” You ask as he zips your water back into your backpack. 

“Not yet.” He says, continuing onward.

You let out an exasperated sigh, but follow him anyway. You don’t have much of a choice. 

Your legs are beginning to get tired, and you’re starting to feel a bit hungry. You’re not sure if you should say anything, or if he’d even stop. You assume he’s packed food, or at least you hope so. You’re going to get grumpy if you’re traversing all over the forest for hours with nothing to eat. 

Price slows his pace a bit as you approach what you think is a clearing. You can see a break in the trees ahead, the sun coming through brighter here. You’re sore and tired, your phone telling you you’ve been walking for just over two hours. 

How big is this base?

You break through the treeline, finding a small clearing with what looks like a fire watch tower in the middle of it. It’s not what you were expecting, the many scenarios of why you had been dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour and forced to hike through the woods you’ve been thinking up the last two hours, did not end quite like this. You stare up at the tower, your head tilting back to take it in. 

“Not scared of heights, are you?” Price asks, standing beside you. 

“Maybe.” You answer, eyeing the staircase winding around it to get to the top. 

“Come on.” He says, nudging you forward gently. “Up the stairs.” 

The last thing you want to do after walking for two hours is climb a never ending staircase, but you don’t think you have much of a choice. Perhaps you can finally sit once you get to the top, and maybe you’ll even get to eat. 

Price follows behind you as you take the steps, climbing slowly. Your legs are screaming, your feet aching in your boots. You wouldn’t be surprised if they’re bleeding a little, or if you wind up with blisters. You’re breathing heavily by the time you get to the top, sweat beading on your brow. Price doesn’t even seem winded behind you, and you’re sure he could have jogged up the steps if he wanted to. 

The top of the tower is mostly empty except for a small table and two chairs. There’s no windows, the tower open between the railing and the roof. Price sets his bag on the table, unzipping it. You sink into one of the chairs, letting your bag drop to the floor. 

“Can I know why we’re here now?” You ask him. 

“Drink some water and take a breath first.” He says, pulling a couple packets out of his bag. MRE’s. 

You dig your bottle out of your bag, taking note of the other contents inside. A few snack bars, a couple MRE’s of your own, another unopened bottle of water, and a book. There’s things in the other pockets but you don’t bother looking, guzzling down more water. 

You stand from your chair, your legs almost buckling in protest as Price gets the MRE’s cooking. You lean against the railing, looking down over the forest that stretches out as far as you can see below. 

“Can I know now?” You ask, knowing there has to be a good reason for him to bring you out here. 

“A training exercise.” He says finally. 

“A training exercise?” You frown, turning to look at him over your shoulder. It wasn’t a training exercise for you, was it? 

“Sometimes when we get a specific target on a mission, the only thing we have to go off of is a general location and a scent.” He explains. “We have to be able to track that scent effectively, sometimes for miles. We run training exercises out here to test their ability to track scents to hunt down a target.” 

You stare at the sprawling woods, beginning to understand. “So, they’re hunting a scent that will lead them here?” 

Price chuckles lowly, his hands coming to rest on the railing on either side of you. Your stomach flutters as he leans in close, his scent strong in your nose as his breath fans your ear. “Technically, they’re hunting you.” 

Your knuckles go white as they grip the railing, your blood pulsing in your veins. You’re well aware that some alphas like to hunt their omegas. There’s some primal urge deep within your brains to chase and be chased. You’re well aware of how it usually ends, the thought making your stomach clench. 

“You gave me the idea.” Price says, the warmth of his body radiating through your jacket. “When you asked to watch them train, I saw how you affected them, I thought...maybe you can be useful for their training afterall.” 

“Do they...do they know it’s me?” You ask as he steps back from you. You fight the urge to whine at the loss of proximity. 

“They do now.” He says with a smirk. “They’ve already started, so if they can follow your scent successfully, then they’ll be here in about an hour.” He says, looking at his watch. 

You frown a little. “But...we walked for two hours.” 

He smiles a little, pointing to a break in the trees below you hadn’t noticed until now. “That trailhead is a 20 minute hike back to base.” 

Your frown deepens. “But-” 

“We weren’t walking in a straight line.” He explains. “We doubled back and recrossed the trail several times to try and confuse them, just as someone running from them would do.” He passes you one of the MRE’s. “That’s what I want you to do, if it ever comes to it. You don’t fight unless you have no other choice. You always try to run first.” 

“Yes, sir.” You say, sitting down again. You don’t think you’d do much damage fighting anyway, but you don’t tell him that. 

You open the package, peeking at the contents. Some sort of potato hash, you think, but you don’t really care. You’re so hungry you’ll gladly eat the mystery re-hydrated food. Price sinks into the other chair with a quiet sigh, digging into the food. It’s quiet out in the woods, the only other sound besides the two of you the sounds of birds. 

You’ve always loved the woods, the quiet serenity of such isolation. You could imagine Price living in a log cabin miles from civilization, with animals and his own garden, happily living in quiet peace away from the stresses of life and war. You blame the fluttering in your stomach on the lingering thoughts of a chase, of a hunt. The thought of running, trying to evade soldiers who train to hunt others by their scents has goosebumps forming on your skin. 

They’re not from the cold either. 

The sun has disappeared behind clouds, the grey weather of England quickly becoming normal to you. You haven’t seen the sun much since you landed in London two weeks ago, and you’re sure you’re not going to see much of it for quite a long while. 

“What’s got you all twitchy over there?” Price asks, breaking the silence. 

You turn to look at him, your mouth open a bit in surprise. “How can you tell?” 

“I’ve been trained to notice small details, sweetheart.” He says, grinning at you. “Your fingers always get fidgety first. Like you’re looking for something to do with them. Usually they disappear beneath your sleeves, or you start picking at your clothes. Your scent changes too. Subtly, but still noticeable.” 

Oh god. You wince a little bit. He can still smell you, even outdoors in an open area. 

“Your eyes start to move, looking all over the place, like you’re searching for something, or trying not to stare at one place too long.” He continues, making you want to sink deeper and deeper into the chair until you disappear. Of course he can read you like a book. They all probably can. “Your breathing always picks up, fast enough it’s noticeable if you’re paying attention. It’s easy to set you off too, sweet little thing.” 

Warmth floods your face at his words and his stare, the back of your neck prickling. You meet his gaze across the table, the look in his eyes making you feel like you want to crawl under the table and hide. You hate that he can read you so easily. You won’t be able to hide anything from him. 

He probably knows you already have. 

You continue to hold his gaze, not backing down despite the intense tickling at the back of your neck. Touch alphas like a challenge, you repeat it over and over in your head. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

A quiet growl rumbles through his chest, a shiver shooting down your spine so violently it nearly steals your breath. You fight the urge to bear your throat to him in submission, your head tilting back just slightly as your eyes squeeze closed. You’re panting, warmth pooling in your stomach as he chuckles lowly. He’s won, he knows it. You were never going to win. Nature was set against you. Your nature is to submit to him. 

“Innocent little thing, aren’t ya?” He says, pulling a cigar from one of his pockets. 

You know he smokes, you know they all do. You’ve smelled it on them many times, and it was to be expected. Your father hadn’t started until after he joined the Marines. Your mother hated it. “Dirty habit.” She always whispered as she smelled his uniform and the laundry he brought home from deployment. 

He could have had worse ones, you always thought. 

You can’t help but watch his lips curl around the cigar, the scent of tobacco permeating the air. His eyes are still on you, your own lips tingling a bit. You think back to how close you had been with Soap, inches from having your first real kiss. You regret it a bit now, not letting him kiss you. He wouldn’t have known he was your first, except perhaps by your awkwardness. 

You wonder how many times they’ve all been kissed. You wonder how many times they've kissed each other. You wonder how many barrack bunnies Price has been with, how many other omegas he’s been with. You can’t imagine Ghost being one for barrack bunnies, but then your mind sinks somewhere deeper. Ghost in his mask with an omega bent over the side of his bed, his hand wrapped around the back of their neck... 

Another shiver runs down your spine, your lower body beginning to pulse in time with your heart. 

“What’s going through that head of yours?” Price asks, still staring at you. 

“Soap almost kissed me a couple days ago.” You admit, not trusting yourself not to admit to the other things you’re thinking about. 

Price’s brows lift in surprise. “Did you not want him to?” 

Want. There’s that word again. You keep hearing it, but you’re not entirely sure what it means anymore. He’s asking to be sure that Soap didn’t force you into anything, even though you can’t imagine the beta doing such a thing. Betas usually weren’t aggressive without good reason, not like alphas. 

“Well...no, that’s not it...” You say, your face burning as you begin to regret your choice of topic. “I...I haven’t kissed anyone before...well, not like a real kiss. At The Institute, there was this omega, she was...progressive. Nothing they tried could break her of that and she got into the heads of a few other omegas. One of my bunkmates decided she didn’t want an alpha to be her first kiss, so...I volunteered.” 

Price continues to stare at you, a dark look in his eyes. You know some alphas like to watch omegas together. You’ve seen it in movies, things your brothers would put on when they were babysitting, things that would have gotten them hit over the head if your father found out. 

“Is that so?” He finally says, flicking some of the ash from the end of his cigar. “Not even a real kiss before you presented?” 

You shake your head. “No. I was...the weird kid in school. Most people considered it social suicide to be around me.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. “I bet quite a few of them are kicking themselves now.” 

“Why didn’t you want Soap to kiss you?” He asks, concern lacing his voice. He’s still wondering if he needs to have a long chat with the young Sergeant, or perhaps take other action. 

“Well...it wasn’t so much that I didn’t want it.” You say. “I just...thought you might be upset...if you weren’t my first...” You swallow nervously at his stare. “Since you’re pack alpha...you have the right to claim-” 

“I wouldn’t care.” He cuts you off, almost as if he’s uncomfortable with the idea of him having all the rights to claim you. As if he was uncomfortable with the idea of holding a claim over someone else. “If you want your first kiss to be with one of the others, then you shouldn’t keep yourself from what you want.” 

His words echo Dr. Keller’s. It confuses you, their willingness to allow you to want. You’re an omega, you don’t get to want. You get told what to do, what to wear. You get told what to want. You don’t make decisions, you sit and be a good omega for your alpha. 

“I don’t know what I want.” You say quietly. 

“Think about it.” He says, stubbing out his cigar. “I won’t be upset. Makes me feel a little better, in truth. Makes me feel less like an old creep trying to steal your innocence.” 

You try not to smile at his words. “I mean...you are, in a way.” 

He tsks at you but his eyes are playful as he checks his watch. “You’re trouble. We’ve got a few minutes before the hour is up. Let’s see if they can beat it.” 

You stare out at the treeline, taking deep gulps of the cool air to try and calm yourself as you wait for the others to arrive. You’re still tingling a bit from your conversation with Price, that slight tickle still crawling across the back of your neck. You want him to hold you there, feel his calloused skin against yours, feel the strength of his fingers as they press into your skin. You want him to take all the turmoil away, the fear and the insecurity and the confusion. 

You want to kneel for him. 

You’re saved from your thoughts as a familiar figure breaks through the treeline, big and hulking and wearing a skull on his face. You’ve never seen him in this mask before, only ever seeing him in his balaclava. It’s a haunting image, only his eyes visible as he looks up at the top of the tower. Soap and Gaz appear behind him, the three of them making for the staircase. 

Their boots echo on the steps as they race to the top, Soap the first one to appear with a wide grin. 

“Aye, we found the target!” He exclaims, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you into the air and spinning.

You yelp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hang on for dear life. He smells like musk and sweat, and you can’t help but wonder if they ran here. He sets you back on your feet, your legs aching in protest after sitting for too long. The soreness of your morning hike has caught up to you, and you’ll be feeling it for a few days. 

“Not bad.” Price says, looking at his watch. “For the first time with a new scent.” He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get back and you can have the rest of the day off.” 

You let out a whine in protest as Price grabs your backpack, gaining the attention of the four men. “You mean we have to walk back too?” 

“It’s not even a kilometer.” Gaz says with a grin. 

You pout. “I don’t know how far that is! I already had to walk for two hours this morning. My legs hurt.” 

“You didn’t stretch before you started?” Soap asks. 

“No! I didn’t know we’d be hiking halfway across the country when I was told to get up at 5 am!” You continue to pout. 

“Come on, you’ll survive.” Price says, clipping your backpack across your chest again. “You can sleep for the rest of the day.” 

You definitely have blisters, the sides of your feet burning as you walk down the stairs. You’re going to take a very long shower when you get back to base, and then crawl into bed and sleep until someone inevitably knocks because they’re worried about you. You’re still pouting, not having even thought about how you were going to get back to base. 

Soap stops at the bottom of the steps, turning to glance at you behind him as he bends down slightly. “Hop on, hen.” 

It takes you a moment to conceptualize what he’s doing before you break out in a grin, putting your hands on his shoulders to hoist yourself onto his back. His hands grip the backs of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on as he carries you piggy-back style. 

“I’ve lifted weights heavier than you, bonny.” He says, not seeming to struggle at all with carrying you. 

“Well, omegas are supposed to be small.” You say, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“Aye, like a wee bairn.” Soap laughs. 

He carries you all the way back to base, barely even breathing heavily by the time you break the treeline. The rocking motion of being carried, along with your exhaustion, has lulled you into a daze, your head leaning against his as you desperately fight sleep. 

You’re jostled awake as Soap gently bounces you on his back. “We’re back, hen.” 

You grumble sleepily, holding onto him tighter. “Comfy.” 

“You’ll be comfier in bed, love.” Gaz says, stroking your hair. 

“Carry me.” You murmur, both of them freezing. 

“You sure about that, hen?” Soap asks. “You wan’t tae let us in your space?” 

“Mmm...yeah.” You murmur, nuzzling Soap’s shoulder. 

You miss the silent conversation between them in your half asleep state, the way Gaz’s hand hesitates on the knob, their slow, cautious steps into your space. It was a big deal, infringing upon an omega’s space. It’s sacred. One could only enter with permission, or if it was an emergency. Infringing on that space without permission could be detrimental. 

Soap gently lowers you onto your bed, helping you curl up on your side. Gaz unties your boots, setting them on the floor next to the bed before pulling off your socks. He lets out a quiet hiss as he spots your raw and blistered feet. 

“That’s going to hurt later.” He whispers. “No wonder she didn’t want to walk back.” 

“Didnae say nothing either.” Soap says, his fingers trailing your cheek. 

“Stubborn little omega.” 

Gaz’s words are the last you hear before you’re lost to sleep, your brain forcing you to give in to your exhaustion finally. 

It’s knocking at the door that wakes you. You’re not sure what time it is, or what planet you’re on. Your eyes are crusty with sleep, your pillow damp from drooling. You’re in your bed in the barracks, tucked under a blanket. You vaguely remember giving Gaz and Soap permission to enter before you were out again. 

It’s still daylight, judging by the light around the edges of your curtains. Or maybe you had slept through the day and it was morning. You can’t tell, feeling a bit like you were hit by a bus and jumped dimensions. 

“C’mon lass, ye got tae eat at least one meal today.” Soap’s voice calls through the door. 

You let out a groan, pushing yourself up to sit. You haven’t even changed or showered, but your shoes have been removed. You flex your toes, wincing at the sharp pain from them. You pull the blanket off, staring down at your bandaged feet. They must be as blistered and raw as they had felt in your shoes. You don’t want to get up. You’re going to be sore and probably walking with a limp. 

You know what they’re going to think. 

The stares you’ll get. 

Soon it will be for that reason, though, you think. Why not let them think it now? Then maybe by then they’ll be used to it and it’ll be much less mortifying for you. 

You get up, padding barefoot to the door. You open it, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?” Your voice sounds rough with sleep, your tongue feeling heavy. 

“Almost 1800 hours.” He answers. “Price let ye sleep. He and Gaz already ate. Had something tae take care of.” 

You let out a quiet groan as you rub your eyes. You slept all day, past lunch and nearly past dinner. You likely would have kept sleeping, had they let you, but then you’d be up at an ungodly hour having to scrounge for food in the rec room. 

“Get some shoes on.” Soap says. “We’ll get food in ye, then ye can sleep more.” 

You let out a quiet grumble but do as he says, grabbing your most comfortable pair of shoes before following him out of the barracks. You let your hand slip into his, the base less populated on the weekend. The mess is still busy, though, most of those that stay keeping their schedules even over the weekend. 

Soap helps you make your tray before finding Ghost sitting at a table. You deposit your tray across from them before going to grab something to drink. You look over the options, your sleep-drunk brain trying to decide on what you need. 

“I recommend coffee.” A voice says behind you. 

You spin around, looking up at a familiar face. Your stomach twists nervously, the back of your neck prickling. It’s the soldier that had been staring at you your second day on base, the one Ghost had scared off with his glare. 

“You look like you need it.” He says, giving what you assume is supposed to be a friendly smile, except to you it looks like the grin of a hungry wolf in a storybook, and you’re the injured rabbit about to be devoured. You flinch just slightly as he holds out a hand. “I’m Corporal McKinney.” 

You don’t want to take his hand, you don’t want to touch him at all. Catcalling you could handle, the stares and the whistles were nothing. None of them have been so brave as to approach you before now, and you’re starting to realize you prefer it that way. 

An overwhelming scent suddenly washes over you, the prickling at the back of your neck intensifying. It’s rich and deep, the scent of leather and gunpowder lacing the ozone-like tang of anger, of danger. 

“Can I help you, Corporal?” The deep voice rumbles behind you, the warmth close enough all you’d have to do was lean back slightly and you’d be touching him. 

The soldier’s eyes lift from you to Ghost behind you, the wicked gleam to them fading as he stares down the giant alpha. “No, sir.” The soldier swallows thickly. “Just thought I’d introduce myself to the new omega on base. Figured we’d be seeing a lot of her around.” 

“She’s no concern of yours.” Ghost says, a dangerous rumble vibrating at the edge of his voice. “You were given the briefing.” 

He hesitates and you know he’s measuring the risk of staying, of saying something else. It’s not just the threat of a dangerous alpha, but also of his superior. “Of course, sir.” He finally says, eyeing you once more before he turns on his heel, leaving the mess. 

“What do you want?” 

You turn on your heel, staring up at Ghost. You’re shaking a little, staring up at him wide-eyed. You no longer feel the haze of sleep, wide awake and alert. Ghost is staring down at you, his scent far less prominent than it had been before.

“To drink.” He motions to the selection, waiting on you to answer. 

You stare at the options, your brain trying hard to snap back into the present, to comprehend what you’re looking at. You’re on edge, on high alert after that confrontation. 

“W-Water please.” You manage to stutter out, 

“Go sit back down. I’ll get it.” He says, turning his back to you. 

You scurry back to the table, still trembling as you take your seat again. You’re getting stares, likely from the change in your scent. It’s alerting every alpha and beta in close proximity, their instincts reacting to the scent of fear, of an threatened omega. 

“Ye alright, hen?” Soap asks, giving you a worried look. The scent of beta washes over you, Soap projecting his scent to try and cover yours and calm you all at once. 

You nod, trying to swallow the panic before you alert the entire mess to your current emotional state. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.” 

Ghost returns with a glass of water, setting it in front of you before taking his seat again. 

“Thank you.” You murmur, taking a long drink of it. It’s ice cold, the sensation shocking you back into reality a bit. 

You’re still trembling slightly as you eat, the back of your neck still prickling. You glance around the quickly emptying mess, eyes following every person that walks too close to the table. You know you’re safe. Soap and Ghost would make quick work of anyone who tried anything. 

Ghost did make quick work of the alpha that had approached you. 

You’re still in a bit of disbelief that Ghost had come to your aid. You remember the anger burning in his scent, the rumble at the edge of his voice. An alpha poised for a fight. Of course, you were being cornered by another alpha. You don’t doubt Soap could have easily won that fight if he had to, but an alpha had the natural advantage in a fight against other alphas. If it had been a beta cornering you, would he have still come to your aid? Or would he have watched and let Soap handle it? 

You're drawn from your thoughts as Soap’s phone rings, and he dismisses himself from the table to answer it. You wonder who it might be. Family maybe? Price? You wish you had someone that would call you regularly. You will, once they start leaving you. 

You’re left alone with Ghost, your eyes trying to look anywhere but at him. He takes your tray once you’re done, going to dump it before motioning for you to follow. You’re still a bit shaken, though you’ve managed to get your trembling under control, as well as your scent. 

He leads you back towards the barracks, your pace faster to keep up with him. Your feet hurt, but you’re eager to get back to the familiar safety of the barracks. 

You stop as a whistle sounds through the air, Ghost’s steps faltering as well. 

“Gonna go spread your legs for that freak, bunny?” A voice calls out across the courtyard. “I’m sure I could offer you a better time. At least you’ll be able to see my face.” 

The smell of ozone washes over you again, burning straight to some primal part of your brain. You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion, or the emotions still reeling from your confrontation in the mess, but you turn on your heel, stalking over to the group of soldiers. You’re trembling again, but not out of fear. The anger has gone straight to your instincts, burning hot through your veins. 

The soldiers laugh as you approach, the one that had spoken grinning vilely at you. “Gonna take me up on my offer, omega?” The sound of your title from his lips nearly makes you shudder in disgust. It’s wrong, it sounds wrong being said in such a way. “I’d love to bend you over and stare at that sweet ass all night-” 

It’s not until your hand is throbbing that you register what happened. The soldier stumbles back a step, hand moving to his face. Your hand is balled in a fist, knuckles throbbing from the punch you delivered to his face. The next few moments seem to move in slow motion, your body pushed backwards as a hulking form comes to stand in front of you. The scent of ozone is still burning hot in your nose, anger pulsing through your body. Your ears are ringing, your hands refusing to unball from the fists they’ve closed into. You’re breathing heavily, eyes training on a small speck of mud on the back of Ghost’s jacket. 

“-You even so much as look in her direction again, I’ll rip your intestines out, tie them to the back of a humvee and drag you all the way to London, understood?” The dangerous rumble is back at the edge of his voice, his own hands balled into fists. 

“Loud and clear, sir.” The soldier spits out, massaging his face from your punch. 

A rough hand closes around your arm, making you stumble as you’re half dragged towards the barracks. You’re breathing heavily, breaths coming in gasps as the flood of emotions through you grows to almost be too much. You’re led down the hall towards the rec room, Ghost pushing you inside. 

“Sit.” He snaps, pointing at the couch.

You scramble to sit where he pointed, your brain beginning to move in autopilot as you cradle your throbbing hand to your chest. It’s still curled in a fist, the adrenaline pumping through you preventing you from uncurling your fingers. You try to steady your breathing as Ghost digs around in the fridge for a moment. You flinch as the door slams closed, Ghost dropping an ice pack on the coffee table before he takes a seat next to you on the couch. 

He grabs your hand, pulling it towards him rather roughly. He forces your fingers to uncurl, his own rough fingers digging into your hand, poking and prodding. He moves your fingers, bending your wrist and moving your arm. “It’s not broken.” He says, grabbing the ice pack and slapping it across your knuckles. “Luckily.” 

You’re still trembling, your hand lifting subconsciously to hold the ice pack in place. You feel dazed, not unlike you had earlier when you’d been pulled from sleep, only this time you can feel the emotions still pulsing through you. The remnants of anger, the disgust, the fear both from attacking an alpha, and the reprimanding you’re sure you’re due for doing such a thing.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” You murmur, feeling far away, outside of your  body looking in. 

“Probably not.” Ghost says. 

You turn slightly to look at him, pupils dilated as you simultaneously appear to see him and look straight through him. “Price is gonna find out.”

Ghost nods again, the burn of ozone gone from his scent. “He’ll believe you, though. Anything you tell him, he’s going to believe you over what anyone else says.” 

You stare at him, the skull mask from earlier gone, leaving him just in his balaclava. His eyelashes are blonde, you think as you take him in, trying to ground yourself. His skin looks soft, but that could just be the omega screaming at you. You expect him to get up, to leave you alone until you find the will to move, or one of the others finds you. Yet, he stays where he is, eyes focused across the room as you sit there. 

“You’re a purebred alpha.” You say, breaking the silence with the thought that had come to mind earlier. You need to keep talking, to keep your mind steady while you relax. 

“How did you figure it out?” He asks, not denying it. 

“Your scent.” You say, recalling earlier in the mess, the way his scent had permeated your entire body. You hadn’t just sensed it, you had felt it. His emotions, his anger, the hint of desperation for the Corporal to make the smart decision and walk away. “It’s different from other alphas. Price smells good and I’d like to roll around in his scent, but yours hits some deep primal part of my brain.” You say, turning slowly to face him. “Makes sense you’d end up in a position like this. You’re supposed to be like, an apex human.” You laugh quietly. “Just a couple of purebreds. What are the odds?” 

“Very high.” He answers. 

You laugh again. “Yeah, I know. Both of my parents were purebreds, and my grandparents. Both of them came from a long line of purebreds.” Your brows pinch into a frown. “I didn’t see it in your file, though.” 

“I don’t want it to be.” He explains. 

“Makes sense.” You say. “If I’d had that choice I’d have it left out too. As soon as someone sees it, that’s how they measure your worth. It’s not about you anymore, it’s your status they want.” You lift the ice, moving your fingers. Your hand is sore, your knuckles starting to swell a bit. 

“It’ll bruise.” He says, staring down at your hand. 

“‘Spose it could have been worse.” You say, grimacing at the ache pulsing all the way to your shoulder.

“Yeah,” He scoffs. “You could have broken your arm with a punch like that.” 

“‘S not my fault the CIA didn’t teach me much.” You murmur. “They mostly made me run.” You remember the hours and hours you spend running circles around the gym. So many circles, over and over again. 

Get involved in their hobbies. Your brain flicks through that section of the book, an idea beginning to form in your head. You’d considered it a few days ago, when you first read that chapter. Ghost speaks in violence and warfare, fighting and defending. How do you bond with the apex of humankind? 

“Teach me to fight.” 

His eyes shift slowly until he’s looking at you. You wish you could see the rest of his face, read his expression. His eyes don't give you much to go off of, something he'd likely perfected over the years. 

“Or, at least defend myself.” You continue, fighting the urge to shrink back under his gaze. “I know, Price already told me to run first, but what if that's not an option? Am I gonna throw a shitty punch and hope it works? Aim between the legs and hope I'm faster than they can block? I promise I won't go around trying to fight asshole alphas.”

He continues to stare at you, his eyes locked on yours. Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach twisting nervously but there's no challenge in his gaze, not even a playful one like you'd initiated with Price. He's simply staring. 

You wonder what he's looking for, what he's thinking. Will he laugh at you for asking? Tell you to ask someone else? Get Price to do it since he’s actually your alpha? 

“Fine.” He grunts, breaking eye contact first as he pushes himself to stand. “We start Monday. Early.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips as you watch him leave the rec room. You may have just found your way into Ghost’s heart, or at least a way to get him to tolerate your presence. 

Monday. Early. 

You’ll be ready. 

Taglist Part 1:

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[luveline]

I absolutely love love love the way you write!! I was wondering if you could write a Hotch x reader where their relationship is pretty new and reader gets unexpectedly pregnant and is worried about telling Hotch since they haven't talked about having kids and it's just a lot of fluff when Hotch finds out ! Thank you :) <3

ty for requesting!! hotch receives some unexpected news, but he loves you, and he’s happy to prove it. pregnant!reader, 1.5k

Oh fuck, you think, pins and needles in your hands you can’t shake. Oh, fuck. 

Aaron’s car pulls into the parking lot outside of the doctor’s office, fifty metres away, forty, less. You have about twenty seconds to think of what to tell him, and to conjure a lie he’ll believe. You’re a bad liar when it comes to him. 

You’ve thought of him fondly as a human lie detector since you met, apparently because you’ve never needed to lie to him before. As soon as you open the passenger door, he’s concerned. You hadn’t allowed him time to get out first. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, frowning. 

“Can you give me a few minutes to think about it?” you ask. 

He clears his expression quickly, which would be impressive if you weren’t nauseous beyond words. “Sure.” His eyes soften. “I missed you.” 

He’s been away for a few days, and you'd thought it was great timing for him to come home just after your appointment, but now you’re not so sure. Regardless, he leans across the console and kisses the corner of your lips. 

You lean down under his touch. The pins and needles fade ever so slightly. 

Aaron looks good, you realise, despite the racing heart in your chest. It’s funny how you can think of two things at once, how you can struggle to put together what you have to tell him, and still acknowledge how sharply handsome he looks in his suit and tie. He must’ve been in the office before he picked you up. 

“I missed you too,” you say finally. “Really.” 

He squeezes your arm. 

Aaron turns onto the road out of the doctor’s office lot, past sparse greenery and into the city street that will lead to his apartment. “Is my place okay, or do you need to go home?” 

You aren’t sure. What if he doesn’t even want you there when you tell him? Panic flits through you and, evidently, across your face —Aaron catches it from a sideways glance and takes the first left into a quieter street. He parks as soon as he can. 

“What’s wrong, honey? You look like you’re waiting for me to yell at you,” he says. His brows pinch, eyes dark as always but not without tenderness as he turns in his seat towards you. 

“Please don’t be mad at me. I swear– I mean, I–” You stop. “Please don’t be mad.” 

There’s a pause. “I’m not going to be mad at you,” he says. He looks like he’s guessing the problem. You want to tell him before he can figure it out wrong.

“The doctor just told me I’m pregnant,” you admit, watching his face. When he doesn’t react, you stare down at your hands. You have no idea what to do.  “Almost four weeks pregnant. Aaron, I…” A hot flush rushes down your face. 

Aaron shakes his head. 

“I’m not mad. There’s no need to panic.” He speaks with deliberate slowness. You’ve heard him talk this way before, on the rare occasion where you’re upset and he’s been there to see it. 

“I would never try to trap you–”

“Okay,” he interrupts. You aren’t sure he’s ever done that, not once since you met. “I think you’ve just had very big news, and you’re panicking, but I need you to know that I’m not against you right now.” He holds your gaze. 

Your eyes water. 

“I’m gonna get out and come around, okay?” he says quietly. 

“Okay.” You sound pathetic to your own ears, like your voice is air squeezed tight from your chest. 

Aaron climbs out of the driver's side and walks around the bonnet. You can’t watch him. You’re still not looking when he opens your door, bending to touch your cheek. 

You turn into him. He takes it as permission to hold your face, giving you a quick once over before he kisses your cheek. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, “it’s okay.” More kisses, three then four, a fifth pressed to the softest high point. 

You lean into him, immediately read for what you need, his arms wrapping around you and hugging you close. Maybe he’s right, you were panicking rather hard, and it’s not as though he’s given you reason to believe he’d react badly to the news, just, what man wants to hear from his partner of barely five months that she’s pregnant? 

You suppose you don’t have to continue the pregnancy. Then you panic worse, because you’re not sure what you want, turning rigidly stiff in his embrace. 

“It’s okay,” he says softly, “I love you, you know.” 

It isn’t the first time he’s told you but you’re not used to hearing it, either. It’s reassurance you needed. Just as quickly as you stiffened, you relax. 

He feels it. “I love you,” he says again, “and I’m so happy.” 

“What?” you ask, pulling your face back from his chest. 

“With you. This is the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time.” 

“You want me to have the baby?” 

He blinks. “Honey, I want you to do whatever you want.” You smile at him softly. He cups your face in both hands, his thumbs at the corners of your smile and pressing mildly into your skin. “It’s soon, isn’t it? But I do love you, I don’t say that lightly, and so I’d love for you to have a baby.” 

“Really?” 

“Are you surprised by that?” 

“You really love me that much?” 

“I want a life with you,” he confesses. How terribly sincere a thing to say, stooped under the car roof, trying to stop you from crying into his palms. 

You don’t know if you want a baby just yet, but you have time to think about it, and a clearly supportive partner. He waits for what he’s said to sink in, rubbing semi-circles into your cheek, dotting a kiss heavy with affection into the skin just shy of his index finger and the corner of your eye. “That’s a cruel surprise, for you to have been told alone. I’m sorry you were by yourself. If I’d known…” 

“If I’d known I would’ve made you go with me,” you promise. 

“Do you feel alright? I suppose we know why you were craving Dora’s so badly a few nights ago,” he says. 

He sounds achingly in love with you. You’ve never heard him so gentle, not even the first time he took you home. 

“Honey?” 

“I love you too,” you say. 

“I know.” He hugs you, a rare smile brushing your cheeks as he leans down and in. “Can you answer me? Do you feel okay? Hayley was sick to her stomach the whole nine months.” 

“She was? Are you kidding?” You baulk wondering if that’s what’s in store for you. 

“Not kidding. Sorry. Not that you have to… well. You’re not feeling sick, are you?” 

“I feel better now,” you say honestly. 

He rubs your back, big rough lines full of fondness. “Okay, good. I’m gonna get back in, okay? So you can think about things at home. What do you think, is that alright? We’ll order something to eat and you can take your time.” 

“No, no–” You grab him tight. He can’t leave. 

Aaron laughs and hugs you tighter. You spend a long few minutes like that settling, no tears shed, just trying to catch up to yourself without panicking again. It could be nice to be pregnant. It could be an early start on your life with him, there’d be nothing wrong with that. You’d live together with Jack, you’d get to wake up beside him everyday. You’d love that, you’d love to be with him, you and him and your babies. But it’s not that simple. 

Aaron’s right though, you have time to think. In the meantime, he loves you. 

“I can take a few days off.” 

“What?” You laugh. “Have you ever had a day off in your life?” 

“No, but I should start. I will. No matter what you choose.” 

He tips your head back for a chaste, adoring kiss. You can feel it in every millimetre of pressure, and the way he chucks under your chin with his thumb as he stands. 

He goes to shut your door, but doubles back for another hug. “I’m so lucky to have you. I love you.” He seems surprised he’s said it, though not regretful, laughing sheepishly as he pulls away. “I’m very sorry for putting you in this position unexpectedly.” 

It’ll be alright, ‘cos he loves you. You manage a short laugh. “Well, it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re not mad.” 

“It never even crossed my mind.” He closes your door, walking back around to the driver's side to take you home. 

[theminecraftbee]

Also, shoutout to Impulse for getting stuck in two of those worlds in ONE DAY. Joe revealed that the recording for what we now know as vault hunters was also last monday. Impulse is really going through it.

Impulse sweats. For the past several minutes, Iskall has been staring at him and "hmmm"-ing for some reason. His only solace is that he's also doing it to Etho, but it's still making Impulse feel like he's got something weird on his face. That, or Iskall has suddenly and unexpectedly transformed back into his original villager state. One or the other.

He glances at Etho, who shrugs awkwardly at Impulse. He looks back at Iskall, who is still 'HMMM'-ing, increasingly furiously.

"Do you think he wants us to say something?" Etho asks.

"I mean, I guess?" Impulse says. "He could just ask."

"He's just going to keep humming at us, though," Etho says. "That's scary."

"Scary?" Impulse says, blankly.

"HMMMMM," Iskall says with an irritated expression.

"Scary," Etho confirms. Impulse sighs.

"Okay, I'll handle it. Hey, Iskall," Impulse says.

"Oh, I didn't see you there," Iskall blatantly lies.

"Right. You're, uh, sounding a bit concerned, buddy," Impulse says.

"Right, yes. Very concerned. Did you know you and Etho are already claimed? And, like, super cursed."

"Uh, I got a divorce with Cleo, you know," Etho says, completely straight-faced. "I'm a bachelor now. Not claimed by anyone."

"I'm not sure Bdubs and I ever got a divorce," Impulse says.

"No, no, not claimed like that! Claimed like--I did warn you all, yes? That my patrons would not like it if you came with other gods all over you? They get jealous of each other, let alone whoever you have... doing that to you."

Impulse and Etho glance at each other again. Impulse looks back at Iskall. "Yeah, I think I'd remember if I were claimed by any gods. I don't really... worship any, these days."

"If I worship any gods, Iskall, they're not the kind yours can do anything about," Etho says.

"What?" Impulse says.

"I mean, I'm old! I'm old, Impulse! I've met a lot of gods! Some of them I have opinions on!" Etho says.

"No, I've met yours too, they won't cause problems, yeah?" Iskall says.

"Thank goodness," Etho says.

"Sometimes I forget how old you two are," mutters Impulse. "That doesn't answer the whole... already claimed?"

"Yeah, like, it stinks off of you to me. It's like... you've got... someone's already claimed you to kill players, not mobs. And your health is all wonky. And you're keeping secrets or... kept secret? And don't even get me STARTED on how much time you have. All wrong. Who did you even find to do that to you?"

Impulse freezes.

"...the time was last season," he says, finally.

"Last season? What?" Iskall says.

"Yeah, that was--you know what, tell your gods not to worry about it," Impulse says. "I'm sure it's. Fine? Hey, wait, how can you tell?"

Iskall shakes his head like he's trying to knock something out of his ear. "They're annoying about it. Make whatever curse you're under go away while you're here or they're going to make it my problem. Mine! As though I can do anything about it. Go to the mortal world, they say. Bring your friends back here, they say. We want to meet them, they say. They're so annoying."

Etho, without skipping a beat, says: "Yeah, are those gods or the mother I saw last night?"

There's an ominous roll of thunder.

"Oh, definitely your mom," he says. There is a second, even more ominous roll of thunder happens, somehow entirely focused on Etho's location. Impulse decides to ignore it.

"I'll bother Grian about it," Impulse decides. He somewhat doubts Grian is a god--man, he really, really hopes Grian isn't a god, actually--but maybe he knows that Secret Keeper guy. That feels like the kind of guy who probably did this to them.

"Do that," Iskall says, and he wanders off to bother Stress.

Etho watches him go. "You know, maybe we should worry about the fact we're cursed because of the Life games. That seems, uh, bad," he says.

Impulse thinks about it and shrugs. "Eh, what's the worst that can happen?"

A long silence.

"Don't answer that," he tells the silence, before it can ominously thunder again. He knows the kinds of things that will lead to gods mocking him, after all.

[still-with-koo]

Stay | JJK

summary: when a creepy stranger follows you to your new job, your best friend jungkook makes sure he never does it again. but now he’s hurt and you’re determined to tend to his wounds, no matter how awkward if feels.

pairing: jungkook x reader

wc: 5,778

warnings/genre/rating: 17+, best friends to lovers; swearing; mentions of violence and bruises; insinuation of stalking; emotional distress; kissing; romantic touching; a bit of jealousy; vague reference to family estrangement; in this world, jungkook likes coffee but you don’t; and this is all obviously made up, none of it’s real

a/n: look, idk what this is. it just happened while i was missing a cute someone. having a really hard time writing rn so apologies if this isn’t what you were expecting. maybe you’ll like it (i hope so!)

The last few hours of your shift pass quietly.

You weren’t expecting any customers at this hour, especially given the warming temperatures, although convenience stores do tend to have some weirdos walk in at odd hours.

You duck below the front counter to clean the glass encasing the lottery tickets and hear the front door chime.

Quickly removing your hand, you start locking up the case when you hear something land on top of the counter. Tilting your head up, you see two Starbucks cups sat atop the counter.

“We don’t—“

When you meet the eyes of the customer, you realize it’s Jungkook.

“Done yet?”

“Not yet,” you reply, sighing as you glance at the clock behind you. “Nearly an hour left.”

Jungkook sighs. “You need a different job,” he says, looking over his shoulder before stuffing his hands in his pocket. “ I have a bad feeling about those dudes hanging out front.”

You look past him and shake your head.

You recognize one of the guys, the same guy that asked you out a few weeks ago. The one you’re certain belongs to some gang or mafia or something. You wonder if he thinks you may change your mind if you see him around enough times.

Little does he know, he’s the reason you’ve been applying to dozens of jobs to get out of this hellhole and as far from him as possible.

But you haven’t had much luck yet and you can’t afford to be jobless.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook. I can handle them. Anyways,” you stop for a second, pointing at the cups. “One of these for me?”

“No, I need both of these if I gotta listen to you.”

“This one better not be coffee or I’ll—“

You grab the one closest to you, sniffing the warm chocolate aroma and sighing in relief.

“I asked them to spike it with espresso.”

“Jerk,” you reply, smiling with the knowledge that Jungkook would never forget your drink order. He knows how much you despise coffee.

One by one, customers leave the coffee shop and you don’t blame them. With the number of mistakes the new barista is making, spilling drinks on the floor, on himself, on customers, you would be inviting a burn just to stay within 10 feet of him.

But you remain standing, grimacing every time one of the customers walks out with rather harsh parting words.

Too harsh, considering that his face probably drew in far more customers than the small shop usually sees.

Finally, you’re next in the line.

Well, you’re now the only person left in line.

When he sees you, his face brightens up tenfold.

“Y/N!! I didn’t expect you here. Hi!”

You step forward and smile at the beautiful boy behind the counter, hoping and praying that the warmth in your cheeks is not translating onto your skin.

“Hi Taehyung! Jungkook told me today was your first day so of course I had to come. How is it going?”

“Good,” is the first word out of his mouth but when you glance at the carnage of spilled drinks being wiped up by another worker, he quickly adds, “But it could be better. I guess I have much more to learn.” The way he scratches the nape of his neck is unexpectedly endearing.

“Let me make you a drink. You hit me as an iced Americano drinker, right?”

Iced Americano. The most repulsive, rancid drink on the menu.

“Yep, mhmm. That’s my drink.”

This is a new low. You’re not proud of yourself for folding but after all the mistakes he made today, you don’t have the heart to add another one to the list.

He prepares it quickly and regretfully manages not to spill it on you. As you take your first sip, the door to the coffee shop opens up behind you.

“Jungkook! You made it, buddy.”

Shit.

You wish the ground could swallow you whole when you notice Jungkook in your periphery, staring at the drink now leaving your lips, your throat twitching from having to push the vile liquid down it.

“Is that… coffee?”

“Haven’t seen much of you lately. So this is where you work now?”

You drum your fingers along the counter of the coffee shop, trying not to let your panic show on your face. You don’t even bother looking at the guy, the same one that fuelled your desire to leave your old job. You assumed you would never have to see him again once you found a new place to work but you were wrong.

With some effort, you manage to muster up your best customer service smile. “What would you like to order?”

He steps closer and you can almost imagine his smug expression as you look past him, trying your best to avoid eye contact.

“What drink can I buy you, beautiful?”

You flinch at the last word, scrunching up your nose as if something smells. You can smell the bullshit on him.

You take one deep inhale and straighten up to face him head on, locking eyes with the creep.

“I don’t want a drink from you. Ever. So either order something for yourself or leave the shop.”

He chuckles. “Don’t get emotional, beautiful. It’s just one drink.”

You scoff, amazed at his audacity.

“Look, I’m not interested. Please leave me alone.”

“Come on, it’s just one drink—“

“She asked you to leave her alone. That means you leave her alone.”

Taehyung is now standing between you and the man, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Why don’t you butt out, man. I’m just talking here.”

“No,” you interject, pushing Taehyung gently aside as you face the creep again, “I’m done talking to you. Are you going to leave or would you prefer the cops escort you?”

“Open up, Y/N. I know you’re home.”

You run to the peephole in your apartment and see Jungkook standing on the other side, pacing back and forth with his hands in fists.

“Now, Y/N, or I’m breaking the door down.”

When you open the door, he practically jumps at you, grabbing your shoulders as he scans your face and then looks at the rest of you. “Are you ok, Y/N? Did he hurt you? Give me his name.”

You realize Taehyung must have told him what happened. You grab Jungkook’s wrist and bring him to your couch, guiding him down as you sit down beside him.

“I’m fine, Jungkook. Perfectly fine. He just asked me out again and I said no. Nothing else happened.”

Jungkook looks relieved. Then he turns back to you.

“Again? You know him?”

“It’s… no, not really. Just some guy.”

You avoid his eyes, picking at a thread on your jeans. He puts his hand on yours.

“Tell me.”

“It’s no one. You don’t know him.”

“Y/N…”

You sigh. “It’s that guy you saw hanging out in front of the convenience store. He had asked me out back then and somehow found me at the coffee shop today. But don’t worry, I told him…” You pause when you notice his eyes clouding over, seemingly in a trance as he stands up, hands tightening into a fist.

“Jungkook?”

“It was the same guy? You’re sure?” He’s looking at you but you know he doesn’t see you. He sees him.

You stand up to face him directly, trying to wade through the fog in his eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid, Jungkook. He won’t—“ He doesn’t wait for you to finish as he pulls his hood over his head, slamming your door behind him.

You run out into the hall but he’s already gone.

Jungkook isn’t responding to your texts or calls. You’ve spent the last two and a half hours walking the streets trying to find him, terrified he might do something incredibly dangerous.

He has a habit of being overprotective and you’re worried he might land himself in the hospital again.

Or worse.

You scan every possible spot he may be, checking in with Taehyung every few minutes ever since you asked him to join the search, but so far neither of you have had any luck.

It’s cold and you can’t stop the disturbing thoughts, the ones with a badly hurt Jungkook. You’re hoping Jungkook doesn’t find him. That asshole is undoubtedly dangerous and if he happens to be with the thugs he usually surrounds himself with, you can’t bear to imagine what they’d do to Jungkook.

A few more hours pass and Taehyung’s roommate forces him to come home, leaving you to continue the search on your own.

You feel helpless and completely alone, letting your feet guide you as you continue to beg the universe to let you find Jungkook safe and sound.

Without realizing it, you’re in the middle of the park where you and Jungkook first met. You look up, almost pleading by now and feel droplets hit your face. You didn’t even realize it was raining.

“Y/N…?”

You turn around to see Jungkook standing a few metres away. Without warning you cry out, hot tears free falling onto your cheeks. Through the tears, you can only see the outline of Jungkook standing in the moon light and wonder if he is really there or if he’s just a beautiful mirage.

“Where were you,” you shout through the tears, nearly wailing at this point. “Why didn’t you answer my calls, idiot? I thought you…you might…”

Jungkook had started walking towards you at some point because his arms are now wrapped around you, his hand cradling your head against his chest. “Shhh, I’m here.”

“I thought you might…might be hurt,” you mutter between breaths, your tears spilling onto his chest and you’re not sure if he even understands what you’re saying.

“I’m ok. Really.”

You sniffle, and Jungkook tilts his head back to look at you. But you immediately pull your arms out from his hug and punch him on the chest. “You jerk, you could have—“

You pause mid sentence when you notice Jungkook wince in pain, far more than you would have expected. You blink a few times and notice the cut on his lip. His eye also seems quite a bit more red and swollen than you remember.

You pull back and stare at him. Although he attempts a smile, it doesn’t fool you, especially when the action causes his cheek to twitch.

“What happened, Jungkook?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking away now. “Nothing.”

You tilt his face back to you and run your finger over his cut lip. His lip twitches though you know he’s trying to keep a brave face. You trace up to his eye and catch another flinch, and the very beginnings of a bruise.

“You’re hurt.”

“You should see the other guy.”

It takes quite a bit of convincing to get Jungkook back into your apartment. He keeps insisting he can clean himself up and you know it’s because it’s past midnight now.

But you can’t let him take care of himself. Especially when you’re the reason he’s hurt.

Jungkook is sitting on your couch and looking the least comfortable you’ve ever seen him, his leg bouncing so fast you fear he may take off.

“Stay still. I need to get the ointment on your lip or it’ll scar.”

“Wouldn’t I look handsome with a scar?”

Jungkook laughs when you huff in annoyance, but immediately winces in pain, reaching for the cut.

“You’re lucky your lip ring wasn’t ripped out, Jungkook. I can’t believe you would stoop to violence.”

You’re leaning into him now, tilting his chin up so you can get a closer look at the cut.

You notice your heart racing and can’t figure out why. Then you realize Jungkook is staring at you.

“It might be easier for me if you close your eyes.”

“Who says I want this to be easy?”

Groaning, you leave the couch, returning a few seconds later with a bag of frozen peas. You press it against his blackening eye, a little carelessly given his last comment.

“Such gentle bedside manner,” Jungkook mutters, taking the peas from your hands and gently pressing it against his eye.

“Shut up.”

You stand back and survey his face, noticing a crusted cut above his eye. Grabbing the wet towel, you start wiping it off when he grabs your wrist.

“You’re shivering.”

“Hmm?”

Looking down, for the first time you notice you’re drenched, having been far more preoccupied with getting Jungkook cleaned up.

He reaches over and pushes a wet strand from your eyes. You’re staring at him now, swallowing when he wipes away a droplet from your cheek.

“Maybe you want to change into something warmer?”

“Yeah, ok. Give me one sec,” you reply, jumping up to grab a change of clothes. You pause mid-step and look back. “I’ll bring you the hoodie you left last time.”

You let him hit the shower first, standing back in awe when he emerges 20 minutes later in his old hoodie (it’s yours now, but whatever) and a pair of your baggy sweats. He really looks exceptional in sweats, you think to yourself. When he catches you staring, you clear your throat.

“Right. My turn now.”

His reaction to you after your shower is not nearly as… complimentary. You had grabbed the first pair of clothes in your drawer and maybe that was a mistake.

“Duckies?” He looks like he’s fighting back a laugh, but you don’t see anything wrong with the pyjama set. “It looks like someone barfed ducks on you.”

“What? These are normal pyjamas,” you reply, eyes narrowing. “What do you wear? Ironman shorts?”

A grown man is now giggling in your living room. You’re livid.

“How did you know I was wearing Ironman shorts? Did you peek?”

“What the heck? Seriously?” Ease sets in again as you laugh freely, walking over to playfully shove him. He winces in pain again, prompting you to stare at him. “Are you hurt here too?”

You place your hand on his chest and slide it over to where you shoved him. He sharply inhales, the action answer enough for you. You blink a few times and consider the options before landing on one. You realize you need to go with the one that feels the least comfortable.

“Take it off,” you say, vaguely gesturing to his chest.

“Huh?”

“You heard me,” you repeat, grabbing the layer covering his top half. “I need to see what I’m working with.”

“What, again? You really like making me take my clothes off, huh?”

Despite the annoyed groan you let out, you’re actually grateful for his attempt at lightening the mood.

He struggles for a few moments but manages to remove the hoodie with your help. Once it’s completely off, you can’t help but stare at his chest.

“What the fuck, Jungkook. Your boobs are bigger than mine.”

When you look up, you expect to be received by a smug grin or at least a smirk. But he seems to be avoiding your eyes, his ears turning an impressive shade of red.

Instead of teasing him further, you lean in to examine the injuries. Thankfully it’s not as bad as you feared. There is definitely the beginnings of bruising, but nothing major.

You run your hand over the bruised spot on his chest to check for swelling, noticing him jump a little.

“Too cold?”

He nods.

Rubbing your hands together, you try again, resting a fingertip on his skin. He looks up at you and nods. You slide your hand lower to his ribs and Jungkook groans in response. The bruising is a bit worse there and you decide to apply an ice pack to reduce the risk of further swelling.

Unfortunately, ice is not very comfortable.

Every time your hand glides over his chest, he jumps, pulling away from your touch.

“I need to hold this in place for it to work.”

“Fine. Be quick.”

He inhales but the second your hand touches his chest, he jumps again.

“Sorry, try it again.”

You place your hand on his chest again and notice him tensing his body, his abs distracting you momentarily. As you glide it over to his bruised rib, you hear his muffled groans. A few minutes pass as you continue holding on, noticing how cute he looks with his eyes squeezed shut and his self restraint as he bites his lip, willing himself to endure a bit longer.

You let go one hand to reach for his face when you feel him grab your other wrist again.

With his eyes still shut, he whispers so low you almost don’t hear it. “How much longer?”

You blink at him and when you don’t respond, his eyes flutter open.

Suddenly there isn’t enough air. His breath sounds shallow and you wonder if yours sounds the same. With how close he is, you almost forget he asked you a question.

Clearing your throat, you glance into his eyes momentarily before averting your gaze to his hand wrapped around yours. “A few more minutes. Think you can hang in there a bit longer, hmm?”

He sighs, grip loosening but staying where it is. You chance a glance at him again and he is looking at you. The intensity of his gaze runs through you, an intensity you assume stems from his pain. Pain you wish you could take away.

Your eyes drift to his chest and your mind to somewhere further away. You would have never guessed he looks like that under all those baggy clothes. He’s always been so shy about showing his body, and now you can’t help wondering why.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of thumping. Jungkook’s leg is bouncing again and you reach over to rest your free hand on his leg. Your eyes meet and he gives you a small smile before looking away.

You lift the ice pack and press it higher. He hisses, biting his lip again, so hard you fear he may draw blood. Suddenly his hand squeezes yours again, eyes snapping shut. “Ok, enough, Y/N. I can’t take it any more.”

You exhale the breath you’d been holding, removing the ice pack from him. “Ok, fine. I guess that’s enough.”

A shiver passes through him and you watch as he rubs his arm, looking up at you with a sheepish grin. “Thanks.”

As you wrap up the ice pack, Jungkook reaches over you to grab his hoodie. With his face so close to yours, you notice how long his eyelashes are, and how cute his nose looks sitting above his pretty lips.

You quickly look away and wait for him to put on his hoodie. Once it’s on, you look at him again. He looks really tired, the very picture of how you feel.

“You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Jungkook quirks his brow and then shakes his head, pushing himself off the couch very slowly. “I’ll be way more comfortable in my own bed.”

You quickly run to your door, covering it up with your body. “Absolutely no way I’m letting you walk home in this condition. Besides, I’m taking you to the doctor first thing in the morning.”

Jungkook reaches behind you but in his exhaustion he ends up collapsing onto you. You let him lean on your shoulder, cradling his head as you imagine what he’s been through.

He slowly wraps his arms around you, and you two stay like that for a little while longer, standing perfectly still in each other’s arms. These last several hours have been hell.

“Ok fine, I’ll sleep here,” he whispers onto your shoulder, inhaling deeply before pulling away. “But I’ll take the couch.”

You manage to convince Jungkook to share the bed with you, something that Jungkook fights you on even as you’re guiding him under the covers. But you insist, especially since it means he can tell you immediately if he feels worse.

After you tuck him in, you leave for the washroom. When you return, Jungkook is already asleep.

You chuckle when you notice the little pillow barrier he built between you two. You flip off the light and get into bed, leaning over the barrier to give Jungkook the lightest kiss on the head you can manage. “Love ya, dork,” you whisper with a smile, flipping onto your side.

Before long you’re fast asleep. He chances a look over the barrier and confirms it.

Sighing, he lies back down, staring at the ceiling.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

You toss in bed, realizing you’re now awake. With a few blinks to adjust to the darkness of the room, you tilt your head up and catch the red glare from your clock. 3:42am.

Not morning yet.

Blinking some more, memories of this night float to the front of your mind.

With the utmost care, you twist towards the other side. The breath you’d been holding releases as you see Jungkook laying peacefully beside you.

It wasn’t a dream. He’s still here.

You prop up on your elbow as you lean towards him, reaching over the pillow partition to brush a strand that has fallen over his face. He stirs a little, one hand coming over his stomach as the other twitches under the covers.

You watch him breathe.

In and out.

In and out.

He��s such an idiot.

You shiver as that thought hits you. The thought of what could have happened to him.

Behind that rough exterior lies the gentlest person you know.

To the world, he is the bad boy. The tattoos and face piercings. The bruises on his knuckles from boxing. The sound of his motorcycle in the dead of night.

To you, he is the only good thing in your world. The bunny nose scrunches and elmo giggles. The giant hugs when you have to let go first. And the way he always shows up when you need him.

When you two first met, your father warned you away from him. He went so far as to threaten disowning you.

Well. Turns out it wasn’t just a threat. And when the final bell rang, you chose Jungkook.

He has no clue, though. He just knows you as that annoying rich girl who now struggles to make ends meet.

And he’s always been way too considerate to ask what happened. Instead, he offers his ramen whenever you come over and always gets two cups of Starbucks.

And he doesn’t need to know. All that matters is he is the best friend you could ever ask for. The one person who has stood by you through it all.

And the only person you have ever been in love with.

You only wish you could be brave enough to tell him that.

Maybe you could…

You feel an urge to lean over and kiss his forehead.

That should be ok, right?

You stare at him a bit longer, watching his chest rise and fall, soft sounds escaping his lips.

You lean across and rest your hand at his side, taking care not to touch him.

He is still as night itself.

You dip down and let your lips hover over his forehead.

His eyes are closed. Even with his eyes closed, he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

You wish he could see it too.

It’s comical, actually, because he truly is beautiful. But when you told him so, he made some offhanded comment about Taehyung being the handsome one and asked you not to lie. You just brushed it off but at this moment it bothers you. What does he mean?

Look at his cute lil nose.

If you had a nickel for every time you wanted to boop it, you’d be rich again.

And those perfectly pouty lips. Like rose petals on top of each other. You’ve always wondered how…

Only a split second and suddenly your lips are on his. Just the gentlest touch but it’s enough.

You gasp the slightest bit before you pull away, embarrassed and ashamed. But your hand remains planted at his side. When you look back you see Jungkook’s fingers circled around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jungkook’s eyes are still closed but he’s smirking now. With a quick tug at your wrist you fall on top of him and he groans, prompting you to prop yourself up again.

“Jungkook—,” you gasp but his other hand pulls you down, your lips crashing onto his again. He sighs against your lips and then kisses you, soft and hard all at once. You smile, kissing him back. When you finally pull away, his eyes are still shut.

“If this is a dream,” he murmurs, his hand making its way up your back. “I’m never waking up again.”

“Jungkook,” you whisper again, sliding your hand up his chest and he groans when you touch a sore spot, “oh, sorry,” you add, glancing down.

He hisses, pulling you onto him and wrapping his arms around you. “Hold me. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

You press a kiss against his chest before snuggling into him.

Then it hits you.

Just for tonight.

You wonder if he wants this to be a one-off thing.

Or he could still be half asleep.

Worries cloud your mind as his arms envelope you. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head.

You inhale deeply and lift your head a bit. “Just for tonight… is that what you want?”

He sighs, pulling you in tighter. “I want this forever. Just you and me.”

You notice he hasn’t said your name once. Maybe he is still dazed. You did give him some pretty strong painkillers.

He groans again and you lift your head. “Maybe you could…,” he starts and when he doesn’t say anything else you rest your head again.

“Wha—,” you exclaim as Jungkook then pulls you across him, dragging you over his body to his other side, the less bruised one.

“There,” he says, kicking away the pillows and nestling himself into the centre of the bed. “This is perfect. You comfy?” He looks down at you with the biggest smile and warmth spreads across your chest. You can only nod. He chuckles, pulling you in tighter.

And somehow you fall asleep like that.

Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Morning comes much too soon.

You blink open your eyes to white and yellow haze. The blinds must be drawn.

Fear creeps up your throat as you run your hand across the bed. The tangle of white sheets are just that. Sheets.

He’s gone.

The doubts start to swirl in your head as you remember what he said.

Just for tonight.

He probably regrets it. The kiss. The cuddling. Everything.

Was it too much? Are you too much?

Lost in your own world, you don’t hear the sound of footsteps growing louder as they approach.

Or the sound of something hitting your night table.

But you do feel the arms that snake around you, a hard body gently setting against yours, and warm breath on your neck.

“Mmm,” he hums, kissing your neck, “time to eat.”

When you open your eyes, Jungkook is staring at you. Contrary to the soft and easy way he spoke, there is uncertainty in his eyes. A searching look. A car waiting for a green light.

And it hits you.

He’s just as worried as you are. This is new territory you two are exploring.

He opens his mouth then shuts it, his teeth peeking out to catch on his lip ring. You watch, fascinated, as you wait for him to speak.

He comes in a bit closer then hesitates. “Is this ok? Should I leave? I didn’t know if what happened last night—“

You lift your head and kiss his nose. “More than ok. I want you to stay.” And just like magic, the lost look disappears. His nose scrunches up as he smiles down at you.

“Hungry?”

“Mhmm.”

He helps you up and pulls the sheets from your legs. You can’t help noticing the ease with which he’s moving.

“You seem a lot better than I expected. You’re not hurting still?” When he gives you a quizzical look, you gesture to his chest and ribs. His eyes widen and then he grins.

“I’m JK, remember? Here, I made these special,” he replies, setting a plate of pancakes on your lap. He then pushes off the blanket and sits next to you, setting a plate in front of him. “Do you wanna… maybe take a shower with me after this?”

You nearly choke on your bite, pancake spraying all over the bedspread. “What?” You manage to turn to him and he’s smirking at you.

“I ran home to check on Bam before you woke up and now I’m kinda sweaty. And too tired to wash myself,” he replies, throwing in a quick wink that almost stops your heart, “Don’t you wanna help me wash?”

You groan. Jungkook might be the best person you know but he’s also the most annoying.

Maybe that’s why you two are a perfect match.

“Here,” he says, reaching over to grab the cups from the tray. “Thirsty?”

“Yep,” you reply, taking the cup he’s holding out to you. You sniff it.

“Wait, what is this?”

Jungkook giggles as he takes a sip of his own drink.

“Try it.”

You bring it closer but one sip has you gagging and nearly spitting it out. “Fuck, Jungkook, why?”

He’s laughing, but the moment you look back at him, his expression turns serious. “What? You drink coffee for Tae but not me? I see how it is.”

He starts to get up but you grab his arm. “One sip! I had one fucking sip! You can’t possibly be angry about that,” you yell back, reaching for him. When he turns back around, he’s grinning.

Then he holds out his own cup. You eye it suspiciously and he laughs. “This was yours,” he says, smiling, “It’s hot chocolate. Your favourite.”

He swaps the two cups and pulls you in for a hug.

“And you’re my favourite. I love you, Y/N.”

You’re startled by how suddenly and easily those words fall from his lips. Then you realize you might not have imagined those same words last night.

You wrap your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his hug and the way it engulfs you in a feeling of safety and security. The way Jungkook always makes you feel.

“I love you too, dork.”

so…? did you like it? ♡

[guccifrog]

you don't even know my name

chris sturniolo x f!reader

warnings : SMUT hm hm hm hmmm 😈🙏

I cringed so hard writing this but here is your fic also it's not proofread ☝🔥

•As the sun slowly sank below the horizon, you and your best friend Ava found yourselves nestled comfortably in the cozy confines of your car, as you had been for the past few hours. The scent of freshly popped popcorn filled the air. You had been discussing everything from your favorite TV shows to the latest celebrity gossip, all while capturing it all on camera for your loyal YouTube followers.

"I just can't get over how hot he is" Ava gushed as she scrolled through a picture of a popular actor on her phone. "I kid you not y/n if this man asked me to get on my knees and bark" she paused looking up at you with seriousness in her eyes "I'd do it!" You couldn't help but laugh at her dramatic tone. "Oh please" you chuckled.

"I mean he's hot and all but imagine moaning his name"you added, taking a sip of your root beer. Ava paused for a moment, her face scrunching in concentration. "yeah you're right" she finally said, "It's so unmoanable, like you can't even do it right!" You couldn't help but snicker at her poor attempt. "Okay, enough of that," Ava said, rolling her eyes. 

"no, but like let's talk about unmoanable names," You said, sitting up straight. "Like, imagine moaning something like 'Bradley' or 'Austin' or something, it's just not it!" You both giggled at the ridiculousness of it. 

"how about 'Christopher'" Ava asked, making you both laugh. "oh Christopher, yes! Just like that" you whined sarcastically. The two of you were in hysterics now, tears streaming down your faces as you tried to catch your breath.

"Wait wait, you could use the short version too like Chris or Topher, and then it'd be like 'Oh-Topher!' That would be so much worse!" You both collapsed into fresh fits of giggles, unable to contain your amusement any longer. "Oh my god, I can't believe we're laughing so hard at this" Ava managed to choke out between laughs. "But like seriously, imagine trying to moan out 'Oh Christopher' while you're bouncing on it..." you trailed off, unable to finish the thought without losing it again.

"WOAH" Ava's eyes widened as she processed what you had just said. She covered her mouth, trying to muffle her laughter. "Oh my god, oh my god!"

Your sides hurt from laughing so hard, tears streaming down your face. "okay I guess we should probably-" you started, but Ava cut you off with a loud laugh. "end this video here" You snorted, trying to catch your breath. 'Oh, Christopher'..." Your voice trailed off, before ending the video, and the two of you dissolved into another fit of giggles, clutching each other for support.

After regaining your composure, you both decided to go home and edit the video before posting it online. you couldn't help but giggle to yourself as you watched back the footage, "I can't believe we were laughing so hard at something so stupid," Ava chuckled, shaking her head. "But hey, at least it made a good video," you replied, your eyes still glued to your laptop. Once you were satisfied with your editing, you quickly uploaded the video to your YouTube channel.

The next few days, the video went so viral unexpectedly that you and Ava couldn't believe your eyes. Thousands of comments flooded your YouTube page. The likes and subscribers to your channel were duplicated, and everyone was sharing clips from the video on TikTok and Instagram. You even got invited to a huge influencer party this weekend. You and Ava were both completely overwhelmed by the sudden attention, but you couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous the whole thing was. You even found yourselves scrolling through the comments, reading all the different interpretations of the 'Oh Christopher' joke. Some people thought it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard, while others were confused as to why it was so funny at all.

-

The dimly lit room was filled with the familiar sounds of typing as Nick, was sat on the sofa across from Chris scrolling through his phone. The two brothers were in their usual setting, the living room of their apartment. It was just another normal evening for them until a video that popped up on Nick's screen caught his eye and sent him into fits of laughter.

"Dude, you gotta see this" Nick exclaimed, barely able to contain his laughter as he threw his phone at Chris. 

Chris, confused by his brother's sudden outburst , took the phone and began to watch the video. It was a clip of two girls, sitting in a car.

"But like seriously, imagine trying to moan out 'Oh Christopher' while you're bouncing on it..." One of the girls in the video trailed off,

"WOAH!" The other one looked at her in shock, before they both burst into laughter. 

Chris stared at Nick's phone in disbelief, his eyes widening as he continued to watch the video. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle, and soon enough they were both doubled over with laughter. "Oh my god," Chris gasped between laughs, "this is too much." He handed the phone back to Nick, still chuckling.

Their laughter died down as they both sat there, breathing heavily. Chris grabbed his phone, opening TikTok."Nick send me that video" Nick raised his eyebrows but decided to comply. 

As Chris watched the video, again, he clicked on the hashtag that had one of the girls' names in it and found hundreds of similar videos, and some edits. He clicked on the first video that popped up. It was a different clip from the same video.

"how about 'Christopher'" the girl asked

"oh Christopher, yes! Just like that" the other one whined, sarcastically. But something about the way she said it made Chris' heart race a little too fast. it turned him on.

 He couldn't believe it, but there was something about hearing his name come out of her lips like that, in that suggestive tone, that did it for him.

He couldn't help but feel a strange tingle in his pants. He quickly looked away from the screen, trying to pretend it wasn't affecting him. he felt stupid for getting turned on by some random girl on TikTok. But the more he thought about it, the more aroused he became. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, wishing he could just focus on something else. He felt guilty, ashamed even.

-

"I hate traffic," you complained as your best friend Ava pulled up to the curb in front of the mansion. The address was an unlisted number in the most exclusive part of town, and you'd been circling the block for over twenty minutes. "Why couldn't they just have this party somewhere normal?"

"This is normal for them," Ava shrugged, throwing her car into the park. She grabbed her small, designer purse and hopped out of the car, glancing around at the other luxury vehicles surrounding you.

You both walked up to the huge, gold-plated doors and were immediately greeted by a bouncer who checked your names off a list. The inside of the mansion was even more luxurious than you'd expected, with marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and expensive artwork adorning the walls. The party itself was in full swing, with people dancing to the loud music and laughing as they sipped on their drinks.

"Hey, check out that guy over there," Ava pointed at a tall, dark-haired man standing by himself near the grand piano. He looked like he was lost in thought, not paying attention to anyone else around him. "He's totally cute. Let's go say hi!"

"girl, no," you said shaking your head, "you don't even know him" you whispered to your best friend. Ava rolled her eyes" When did YOU start caring if we know people or not? Come on, he's cute and looks lonely" she insisted. 

You sighed"Fine, but let me get a drink first" Ava nodded, and You made your way through the crowded room, carefully navigating between people as you made your way to the bar. The bartender smiled warmly at you as you approached. "What can I get you tonight?"

"Surprise me," you said with a small smile. The bartender reached for a bottle behind him and began pouring liquids into a shiny martini glass. "On the house," he said, sliding the drink across the polished wood. "My name's Damon, by the way." You took a sip of the drink, savoring the smooth, fruity flavor. "Thanks, Damon," you said, setting the glass down on the counter.

While you were chatting with Damon, you kept an eye on Ava and the mysterious man she'd been so interested in. You decided to let her have her fun, but you weren't quite ready to join them yet. As you took another sip of your drink, you found yourself lost in thought.

You were just about to set your glass down when you felt a hand on your waist, gently guiding you off to the side, before letting go. You turned to see who it was and was met with the most beautiful pair of blue eyes you had ever seen.

"Sorry," a gentle voice said, before disappearing. You turned back to the party, taking in the scene, Ava was now dancing with the tall, dark-haired guy. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, and Ava looked like she was having the time of her life.

You took one last sip from your drink, before placing it down with a 'clack' on the counter. With a smile, you slowly made your way through the crowd, the rhythm of the music guiding your steps. The dance floor was packed, but somehow you managed to find a spot where you could lose yourself in the music.

Kiss It Better by Rihanna started playing and you smiled, the beat was perfect for your mood. You raised your arm in the air and began to sway to the music, feeling the rhythm in your bones. You closed your eyes, letting the music take control as you moved your hips and spun around, singing along to the words. 

unbeknownst to you, the same blue-eyed stranger from before had been watching you as you danced, to the music, and seemed to enjoy it as much as you did.

His eyes locked on you as you swayed, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. You span around, your eyes catch his and hold them, you smile tilting your head slightly in confusion as you continue to dance, and you gesture to him with your index finger to come closer. He nods slightly, walking over to you, his hands in his pockets. He took a step forward before swiftly moving around you, guiding your body with his hands as he spins you around the dance floor.

You gasped, your heart pounding in excitement. The music seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of your breath and the beat of your heart. He held you close, his big hands resting on the fabric of your skirt, his chest pressed against your back. You could feel his hardening length pressed against your ass, and it made you want to moan with pleasure.

As if sensing your arousal, he slowed down the dance, moving you in a lazy circle on the dance floor. His hands traveled up your back, cupping your shoulders, before sliding down to your hips. He pulled you closer, grinding his hips against yours, his erection pressing harder against your ass. You arched your back, pressing yourself against him, wanting more of his touch.

You were aware of the fact that he was just a stranger, but like Ava said, when did you care if you knew people or not? You let yourself enjoy the moment, and enjoy him. His hands traveled down to your hips, lifting you higher against his body. He pressed his lips against your ear, whispering, "You feel so good, so warm in my arms."

You shivered, feeling a wave of pleasure wash over you. The alcohol was beginning to make you feel light-headed but in a good way. You pressed your back harder against him, wanting more of his touch "Careful, princess, we're in a public place" he whispered, loosening his grip on you slightly. You felt the cool air brush against your skin as he pulled you away from his body, but you reached back, grabbing his hand and dragging him behind you, as you hurried out of the dance floor.

 You led him to a bathroom, grabbing the knob and twisting, just to realize that it was locked, he watched in amusement as you give the door an aggressive kick, sighing in frustration when it still doesn't open. "Hey, I got it," he says, crouching down and wrapping his arm around the space between the back of your knees and the small of your back, lifting you up in the air effortlessly. "Gotcha." He carries you to the end of the hallway where there's a small, unused office, its door slightly ajar. He kicks it open, revealing an empty room with a small desk and a few chairs. He carries you inside, setting you down next to the desk with a gentle thump.

You turn to face him, your hands grabbing the edge of the desk, and leaning back on it. "That's better," you pant, your breath hot. His eyes meet yours, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "And what do you want to do now?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You swallow hard, feeling a wave of desire wash over you. "I don't know... show me something I've never seen before," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the muffled music. His eyes flash with amusement and he leans in closer.

"you don't even know my name," he whispers back, his lips brushing against your ear. "hmm?" he asks, his warm breath tickling your skin. You inhale, feeling a shiver run down your spine. You tilt your head to the side, offering him better access to your neck.

"I don't care" You muttered as you closed your eyes, giving into the sensation of his breath on your skin. "Just show me something I've never seen before..." Your voice trailed off as you felt his fingers gently brush against your cheek, pushing a stray hair back behind your ear.

"that's crazy coming from someone who thinks Chris is an unmoanable name" Your eyes snapped open and met his. You quickly looked away feeling ashamed as you realized he had definitely seen the video.

"way to ruin the moment," you said, trying to sound annoyed but failing. He let out a chuckle, seeming to enjoy teasing you. "It's okay, sweetheart. I don't care about that either. You looked like you were having fun in your video, and that's all that matters." His hand traveled down your cheek, cupping your jaw, and turning your head so that you were looking at him again. "let's see how much will it take you to take back your opinion about my name..." He leaned in closer, his lips just millimeters from yours. "If you do, then I'll stop teasing you."

Your heart raced as you stared into his eyes. A part of you wanted to take back your words, to kiss him just to prove yourself wrong, but another part of you wanted to keep him teasing you, wanting more of his attention. You hesitated for a moment, feeling the anticipation build up inside you, before finally leaning in and pressing your lips against his. His hand moved to the back of your head, gently pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

You felt a thrill run through you as you explored his mouth, tasting the beer on his tongue and the hint of mint from his breath. He tasted so good, better than any of your past hookups. You moaned into the kiss, feeling your body start to respond to his touch, wanting more of it. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

He broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. His pupils were dilated, his cheeks flushed. "Well, I guess that answers that question," he said with a smirk. "You're so stubborn" He leaned in again, his lips pressing against yours, and you felt your body melt into his touch.

His hand slipped down your back, over the curve of your ass, and gripped your hip. You moaned into his kiss, feeling the heat between your legs spread throughout your entire body. He pulled you closer, grinding his hips against yours, and you could feel the growing bulge in his pants pressing against your leg. His other hand found its way under your shirt, tracing lazy circles on your bare skin, making you shiver.

As he walked you backward, your back hit the wall with a soft thud. He didn't break the kiss, instead, he deepened it, his tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that sent shockwaves through your core. 

One of his hands slid up your body, and grabbed your neck, pulling your head back. He pressed his knee on your clothed center, grinding against it roughly. His lips left yours, trailing down your jaw to your neck. He sucked gently on your skin, leaving a mark that stung pleasantly. "You're so fucking wet" he chuckled, his voice rough with desire. You moaned, arching your back against him. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his voice laced with entertainment. You shook your head frantically, feeling the heat between your legs growing more intense by the second.

He released your neck but didn't let go of your hip. His other hand found its way under your shirt, teasing your nipple through your bra. You gasped as he pinched it hard, rolling it between his fingers. "Fuck," you whined, squirming against him. He chuckled darkly and bit down on your neck. "Maybe I should just take you right here," he whispered, his words hot against your skin.

Before you could reply, he reached down and quickly slid down your panties, baring you to him. You gasped as his fingers brushed against your slick folds, feeling the cool air of the room against your exposed cunt. He placed his knee back between your legs, rubbing roughly against your swollen clit. His hands were now gripping your waist tightly as you rode his thigh, your hips moving in a desperate rhythm.

You arch your back, as he continues to tease you. His thigh is hot against your clit. You feel your muscles tense, your breath coming in short gasps as you edge closer and closer to your release. You close your eyes, lost in the sensation of his hands on your hips, guiding you on his thigh, and the way he looks at you like he can see every thought and feeling inside you.

You feel him kiss your neck, his lips trailing down your shoulder as he sucks gently on the skin. "Fuck, I want to feel you around me," he whispers, and with one swift motion, he stands, lifting you up with him. You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling his hardness pressing against you, and the wetness between your legs spreading on his thigh. He carries you back over to the desk, setting you down gently on the surface with a thud. Your legs spread wide as he kneels between them, his hands on the desktop for support as he leans in, his lips just above your center.

You watch him as he looks down at you, his eyes dark with desire. He parts your folds with his thumbs, revealing your swollen clit to him. His tongue flicks out, circling your sensitive nub before pressing against it in a long, slow lick. You arch your back, moaning loudly as he sucks on your clit, teasing it with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. Your hips rise off the desk, seeking more contact with his mouth.

As you feel yourself getting closer, he stops, pulling his lips away from your center. You look up at him in confusion, breathless from the pleasure he's been giving you. "Please," you whisper, your voice shaky. He smirks, reaching down and rubbing your clit roughly with his thumb. "Please what?" he teases, his voice low and seductive. "Please make you come?"You nod frantically, your hips bucking against his hand. 

 "use your words" He demands, his gaze locked on yours as you struggle to form a sentence. You can't speak, your words tangled up in the pleasure flowing through your body. He watches you with dark, intense eyes, his thumb still rubbing your sensitive clit in small, slow circles.

You felt the pressure building inside you, your body tense and ready to release. You dig your nails into his shoulders, urging him to keep going, to help you get there. He chuckles, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me what you want," he whispers, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "Tell me how you want it."

You gasp, your eyes flashing up to meet his as you try to catch your breath. "I want you to make me cum," you manage to choke out, the words barely audible even to your ears. "I want it so bad," you whine, your hips grinding against his hand. You're so close, that you can feel the heat rising up from your core. You arch your back, pressing your swollen clit harder against his thumb, desperate for release.

"What did we agree on though ?" He asked, teasingly slowing down his hand movement as he watched your face twist in frustration. You grit your teeth, his thumb still circling your clit. "I take..." you breathed out, your voice strained as you tried to focus. "...I take it back."

He smiled, his lips curling up into a wicked grin as he continued to tease you. "take what back, sweetheart ?" he whispered huskily, his thumb still moving in small circles. You gasped, as you tried to focus. "Your name," you managed to choke out between breaths. "it's moanable."

"oh yeah ?" he asked, a smirk curling his lips as he glanced up at you from where he knelt between your spread legs. "prove it" he challenged, his thumb still working on your clit in small, relentless circles. He leaned in closer, his breath fanning across your wet center as his lips parted, revealing his teeth. "Prove to me that it's moanable."

You inhaled, feeling your body tensing. His finger pressed harder against your clit, his thumb, and forefinger forming a perfect circle as he circled and pressed. You arched your back, your hips lifting off the desk as you moaned his name, your voice low and throaty. "Chris!." you panted, your words coming out in gasps.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" He asked, his voice low and amused. 

You moaned again, your hips moving faster against his hand as you felt the familiar tension building inside you. "That's it," he whispered, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against your thigh. "Let it out for me"

You cried out, your body arching as you came. Your muscles clench and release in rapid succession, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as pleasure washes over you in waves. His thumb continues to circle your clit, milking every last drop of pleasure from your body.

"Fuck, it feels so good," you pant, your head falling back against the desk. You feel a shiver run down your spine as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. "Don't... don't stop," you whimper, your hips still moving helplessly against his hand.

He chuckles, his thumb continuing to circle your clit, his other hand moving to cup your hip, holding you in place. You whimper, arching your back as you feel the last tendrils of pleasure wash over you.

"I can't believe how submissive you are," he giggled, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. "I feel like I could make you cum just by thinking about it." He leans in closer, pressing a gentle kiss against your thigh.

You moan, your body still trembling from the intense orgasm. His hand moves to gently stroke your clit, teasing the sensitive skin as he asks, "Want more?"

You were about to answer, but a loud ring interrupted you. "Shit," Chris muttered as he reached for his phone, glancing at the screen. "It's my mom." He rolled his eyes and put the phone to his ear, shooting you a sheepish smile. "Hey mom, what's up?"

As he spoke to his mother, you took the opportunity to collect yourself, pushing the desk back and sitting up straight. Your heart was still racing, and your body felt warm and tingling all over. Chris glanced at you from time to time, a small smile playing on his lips.

When he finally hung up the phone, he let out a sigh. "Sorry about that," he said, shaking his head. "So, um... I have to go" he added, glancing at you with a sheepish grin. "But I had a really good time. You were great, and I can't wait to see you again."

You were a little disappointed, but you still smiled at him. "I had a great time too, Chris." He leans down, his face close to yours, and brushes a stray hair from your cheek. "Maybe next time, I'll make you cum even harder," he giggled, and before you can react, he's gone.

-

Chris walked into his room, The air in the room was thick with the scent of his cologne, and the bed was unmade, sheets twisted around the pillows. He quickly took off his clothes and walked over to his shower, turning on the water to warm it up. As he stepped in, he couldn't help but think about what had just happened with you. The memory of your body beneath him, your moans in his ear, the feel of your hands on his skin... it was all still fresh in his mind.

"Fuck" He groaned, as he reached between his legs, his hand finding his already hard cock. He began to stroke it slowly, imagining it was you who was touching him. He pictured your soft, warm lips wrapped around him, your tongue swirling around the head, your hands gripping his hips as you took him deeper.

He closed his eyes, letting out a moan, trying to focus on the feel of his skin under his fingertips, and the hot spray of the shower against his body. But it was impossible to ignore the images of you that flashed through his mind, making him even harder.

He remembered how you had looked earlier, sitting on that desk, your legs spread wide, your eyes meeting his as he approached. He could feel the heat between your legs even from across the room. it was driving him wild.

Chris gripped his cock tightly, his hips moving in time with his strokes as The memory of your moans filled the shower stall, echoing in his ears. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body tense with need.

 He imagined sliding his cock between your legs, hearing the wetness as he penetrated you, feeling the tightness as he thrust deep inside.

His strokes grew faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he neared the brink. He pictured your hands gripping the desk, your head thrown back in euphoria, your loud moans filling the room. His hips bucked wildly, his body tensing as he felt the first, powerful wave of release wash over him.

Chris cried out, his voice muffled by the sound of running water, as he came hard, his cock throbbing in his hand. The hot spray of water pelted his skin, but he barely noticed as he rode out the waves of pleasure. When he finally regained his senses, he quickly cleaned himself up and stepped out of the shower.

He dressed in comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt, his movements still a little unsteady. He layed down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to calm his racing heart. He couldn't help but wonder when he would see you again.

⤷taglist ☆@mattestrella@chrisfavoritepepsi@sunsetsturniolos@littlebookworm803@sturniozo@sturniolooooo@athaliahxoxo@rac00ns-are-c00l4@ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @secret-sturniolo @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss @braindead4l @sturniolosreads @mattsturnzzz09 @itssophiasstuff @mayhem-72 @b2cute @buckys-celestes @graceciesiels22@urmom2bitch@junnniiieee07@breeloveschris@b2cute@1horrormoviewhore1@mattswrld@urmom2bitch @andreea2992

[yorshie]

Dunno if you still take requests. But maybe for when you feel like it? (No pressure tho. You can totally ignore this if it isn't up you alley.)

How do them turtle dudes like to romance their honeys? Like who uses strategy (badly)? Who goes with the flow (also badly)? Who just blurts it out the first moment they realize what they're feeling (so SO badly)? And who just buries it behind heaps and heaps of repression (the absolute worst)?

And what about after being assured that their feelings are reciprocated? Is there a change in behavior or demeanor?

🧁

Cupcake Nonnie, I am so sorry. I have no excuse. I have no idea why this was so hard to write, or why it took so long.

I decided two birds one stone sort of thing with this one, a blurb about how exactly starting a relationship with each turtle might go, followed with headcanon style of what they would expect out of a relationship, how it would progress, and how a good relationship would affect them.

As always set in 2023 so turtles are 24-25, SFW

Michelangelo

By the time Michelangelo asked you to be his girlfriend, you low key thought you’d already been going steady for about a month. The turtle shows up like clockwork every Friday at your place, with a pizza and a soda, and the two of you stay up late watching movies while cuddling on the couch. Several times, you’ve woken to him stealing a hug or a nuzzle before leaving before the sun’s up. 

So when he turns from the movie unexpectedly one night, the last item on your ‘what is Angelo about to ask me’ bingo card was a sheepish:

“Hey, babes, would you- will you be my girlfriend?”

You stared at him for a whole scene, taking in those baby blues, before you blurted out your own question. “I thought I already was?”

“Oh. Ok. Cool.” And he grinned like it was nothing, turning back to the tv, leaving you still staring at the side of his head like he’d turn back around with a ‘gotcha’. 

Needless to say, you didn’t pay attention to the rest of the movie. Mikey, to his credit, picked up on your mood during the credits, and you had a long conversation over what exactly the two of you wanted to be to the other.

Mikey’s love language is physical touch and quality time spent together

Angelo loves PDA. Soft kisses and nuzzles, hugs, you name it, he’ll try and get away with it. One of his favorite things to do, because he’s a little shit, is to see how many innuendos he can fit into a conversation while still maintaining decency, just to make you turn red and his brothers sigh in exasperation. 

Lowkey though, he doesn’t expect much from you other than your affection, and doesn’t have an overarching game plan. Sure, he celebrates anniversaries, but all the big milestones are simply tackled without him making a big deal out of them. One day you’ll just look up, realize you can’t tell where his stuff ends and yours begins, and have to come to terms with the fact that somehow the two of you are living together with no conversation about it happening.

Sunshine turtle approaches romance the same way he approaches life, with the firm belief that fun is the most important factor. Get ready for movie dates, late night parkour trips, canoodling on rooftops, etc. Just as often though, he will want to stay in. He’ll cook for you, cuddle while you while playing video games or watching a movie, include you in schemes and plans to drive his brothers crazy, anything to include you in his life or show off your bond to others. 

There isn’t a big difference to Mikey’s behavior after he knows you’re into him, though now when he gets in your space he doesn’t hold back from touching you. Turtle was a flirt beforehand, he’s a flirt afterwards. The only difference is, now when he says something you know eventually he will get around to trying it. He says something flirtatious that gets a reaction? He’s not gonna forget, and he’ll bring it up at a later date. 

He will stop flirting with everything that walks by eventually however. Guess calling you babes/babycakes/angelcakes in private had some spillover connotations (ie he can’t say it without thinking about you and it makes him gag trying to say it to anyone not you)

Donatello

Donnie’s blurted out his feelings for you in the middle of the Lair during Sunday Football. You’d arrived to find the turtles acting weird, leaving the room whenever you entered to grab snacks, suddenly making excuses and disappearing so every time you were left with an increasingly nervous Donnie who seemed to trail you around the Lair. By the time kick off happened, Raph, who seemed increasingly edgy, asked you to bring him another beer from the kitchen. You readily agreed, but when you turned from the fridge with the cold can Donnie blocked the way back to the others.

“Hey Don. You ok?” You asked, giving him a smile, craning your head back to meet his wide eyes.

“I like you.” He blurted out, practically looming over you.

You tilted your head, fighting the blush, convincing yourself not to read too much into it. “I like you to, Dee.” 

When you went to move around him though, thinking the moment was over, he caught your hand, grip slightly sweaty. “No, I mean…” He waited for you to meet his eyes again, and he visibly swallowed. “I- I like you.”

You eyes widened, a second before your smile followed. “Oh! Dee…” You set the beer to the side, covered his hand with your own. “I like you too.”

His answering smile lit up the whole room.

Donnie’s love language is gift giving and quality time. 

This turtle wants affection, but he doesn’t always know how to ask for it. You’ll have to pick up on his little cues to catch what he wants. Such as, if you notice him standing over you for periods of time before moving off and then returning, he might want to cuddle, and is just working up to asking for it. If you want things to go smoothly between the two of you, it’d be prudent to make a list of things you’re comfortable with and things you aren’t. It’ll stop him from worrying over things like hand holding and kisses, if he knows you’ll welcome his advances, and it’ll save you some headache trying to parse out what his nonverbal cues are if he is given free reign to just tell you what he would like. 

Dee’s idea of romance is to spend time with you, in whatever way you’ll let him. If you want to park your butt and watch him tinker in his lab or the garage, this turtle is all for it. If you mention there’s a play you want to see or a museum you’d like to go to, he’s already scheming on how to get the two of you in. The turtle disguise doesn’t work as well on him since he’s so tall, but he can sit in the very back and turn into a ninja statue just for you. 

He makes gadgets for you to stay in touch when you’re not with him, and readily goes into tangents about things you’ve said or done, or projects he’s working on for you. His brothers have learned to tune him out to various success. 

As far as changes after the two of you start a relationship, it’s easy to say that that it’s leverage over him and his habits. If he needs to eat, sleep, or just get away from his computer’s before the blue screen fries his brain, his brothers send in you. He gets in a snippy mood and clearly needs a night out or a break, you’re the only one that can convince him to go. Ooo, feel the power.

With you in his corner, Donnie blooms. Yes, he’s a genius and a sarcastic little shit beforehand, but now he has a cheerleader, a partner in crime, someone to fuel his crazy schemes and to be his rubber ducky on occasion. Anytime any old doubt trickles in, he only has to turn to you and be reminded that someone is always there for him, through thick and thin.

Raphael

You ended up confessing your feelings for Raph long before he’d gotten the courage to say anything. He probably would have continued to ignore his feelings, if you hadn’t cornered him in his weight room and spelled it out, angry that he’d been successfully giving you the cold shoulder for weeks.

“Hey, you wanna tell me what I did wrong, or are you gonna go sulk in the corner?” You asked, arms crossed and hip cocked, blocking the entrance to the weight room.

“M’not sulking.” Came the instant reply, though Raph didn’t turn to address you directly. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Leo said I could find you here.” You narrowed your eyes as he rolled his.

“Course he did, stickin’ his nose into-”

“Your brother isn’t my concern, you are.”

“Yeah?” He grumbled, still not looking at you, moving to rack up the manhole covers on his bar. “Why’s that, princess?”

Normally, that nickname made you feel special. Now, it pissed you off. Made you stupidly, sarcastically honest. “It’s probably because I’m not into him, I’m into you, dum dum.”

The weights clanked loudly together, and he turned just his head, glared at you. “Oh, real funny. Don’t go jokin’ about that.”

“I’m hilarious.” You answered. “And I’m 100 percent serious, Raphael.”

He turned to face you fully, head cocked, eyes slowly going from defensive to wide the longer you stood your ground. “You serious?”

You nodded emphatically, and he snorted, ran his hand over his face. “Damn. That’s fucked, babygirl.”

“It is not!” You started angry, but the wide smile on his face broke you out of the emotion.

Raph’s love language is verbal affirmation and physical touch

Yea this turtle can’t decide which is worse, telling you how he feels or seeing his large hands next to your small ones. But he so desperately wants to find the words, so desperately wants to ask you to hold his hand. Expect for him to start coveting private moments with you. He’ll agonize over what to say, what to do. You’ll have to lead the way most of the time, at least at the beginning, until he gets over waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to change your mind about him and all the issues that come along with him. 

Date nights with him are simple. He doesn’t like people, doesn’t like to be out of his comfort zone. He’d rather stay in with you, or up on the roofs where no one can see the two of you. He is very aware of how he is different from a human though, and so he will go out of his way to make sure he can bring normal things to the relationship. His gut instinct is to turn down anything new immediately, but all you have to do is pull out the goo goo eyes and he will bend. He wants to be helpful as possible to you to make up for the things he can’t do, and it’s up to you to make sure he understands how appreciated he is.

He loves to hear you voice your feelings for him, but he won’t outright ask for confirmation. Expect quiet moments where the two of you simply exist in the same space, or maybe cuddling while talking. Raph doesn’t like to be reminded of how different the two of you are though, so you might spend some time reassuring him that you love him, without telling him you don’t care about how different he is, because he will not believe you, or worse will get upset.

The differences in Raph are a long way down the line. At first, he might be even a little more standoffish, doubt and worry overtaking his usual responses. You’ll have to be dedicated to get anywhere past the initial ‘there’s no way this is gonna work, we’re both crazy for thinking this would work, you’re crazy for liking me, and I’m crazy for listening’ phase that will grip him hard. If you can weasel past that, however, be prepared to have someone that will never give up on you, ever. You’ll have a significant other that will come to your aid at the drop of a pin, at the first sign of trouble. 

He’ll mellow out over time, become a little softer around the edges and a little less ‘the world is out to get me and mine’. He might even tolerate his brothers’ teasings over the two of you, as long as they do it where you can’t hear, trading huffs and denial for small smiles and easy laughter at their pointed questions.

Leonardo

You found Leo waiting at your window, the same way you’d found him countless times. This time however, when you let him in, you were concerned at his formal movements. He was always careful, but now he was watching you as though waiting for something.

“Hey, Blue?” You asked, moving automatically to start tea, the way you had every time he came to visit. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” He answered, and you could tell it was a knee jerk reaction, but you let it slide.

“M’kay, well, I was just about to start dinner? How does that sweet chicken with the rice I made last month sound?” You asked, already knowing his answer, moving to grab the ingredients.

He surprised you by moving into your space, catching your hand. “Can we talk, for a moment, first?” 

You turned to give him your attention, careful to keep your movements slow as you took his hand. “Sure. Of course.”

Leo stood there for a moment, petting his thumb over the back of your hand, before he took a deep breath. “Stop me if I’m overstepping, but I need to speak my mind.” 

At your nod, he continued. “I like you, more than a friend, more than I should. I wanted- wondered, that is, if you could feel the same for me?”

If he had lifted his head at all, he would have seen your answer in the high wattage smile plastered across your face.

Leo’s love language is verbal affirmation and quality time spent together

This turtle has thought of everything. He’s intimately turned his feelings for you over and over in his mind, viewed them from every angle to inspect for marks or imperfections before he even accepts how he feels for you. Once he’s accepted them, get ready for slow burn romance. He has a sequence of steps the two of you must dance through in his head, and if you try and skip any steps he will want to backtrack to correct it. You want to hold hands for the first time and share a first kiss? He’s not going to turn down smooches, but he might not even notice you are posed for one, considering he’s too busy marveling at the feel of your much smaller hand in his.

Dates are simple things, he’s too paranoid to sneak into movies like Donnie or Mikey, instead he’ll go for walks with you, try and spot stars with you through the light pollution. If you want to do nothing but watch movies and lay against him, he’s in heaven, but he absolutely loves to hear you read from books out loud to him.

Expect lots of talks with Leo, but it’s less about sharing information and more he just wants to hear your voice, turn his brain off and simply exist for a moment where no one expects anything from him. Not to say he doesn’t listen, and not to say what you tell him isn’t important, but its calming to listen to simple workplace gossip after dealing with crime fighting and high stakes espionage. On the flip side, there will be times when he comes to you clearly lost in his head. In those instances, he just wants to be reminded that you care for him, that you’re by his side, that you willingly chose to be with him.

Most of the changes with Leo are the two of you are together happen privately, after all he is a very private person. The others don’t get to see him unravel, set aside everything bothering him. The first time you realized you cracked the code, is when Leo told you something that was bothering him, without getting defensive. Like he knew even if you disagreed with him there would be no judgement. After that, the two of you were inseparable. 

The only outwards change, that everyone picks up on, is his sense of humor. Before, it only came out in high stress situations, during fights, one-liners to goad others into making mistakes. But after meeting you, it morphs into quiet, humorous observations. The first time he dropped a joke in the middle of dinner just to make you snort into your soup, his brothers froze, wondering what the hell was happening. Raph legit asked Donnie if body snatching was a thing and if they needed to quarantine Leo. 

[crosshairlovebot]

birthday revelations / crosshair x gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: crosshair discovers it's your birthday, and in an effort to try and understand birthdays, he gets you a gift.

word count: 3,793

warnings: none. crosshair ovethinks a lot

Another request! Maybe not technically a request, but @starrylothcat sent in an ask for an ask prompt and said it would be nice to see me write a fic where crosshair buys a gift for the reader for their birthday or christmas and it's been stuck in my head since! so here you go! i hope i did it justice!

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated <3

Crosshair didn’t like crowds. He gritted his teeth as he walked alone through the market on Sorgan, sidestepping people as they entered his path. It was noisy, but that didn’t bother him so much. Vendors called out to passersby, promoting their various goods for purchase with enthusiasm. Voices chattered and laughed. The smell of food wafted through Crosshair’s nose and his stomach tightened with hunger. Rations were poor choices compared to the sizzling of flavourful meat on grills, but he didn’t have enough credits to buy himself something to eat.

He only had enough to buy something for you.

He had been helping Tech with cataloguing files when he saw one on their nat-born medic. You had joined Clone Force 99 just over half a standard cycle ago with your plucky yet kind attitude, falling into the group dynamic easier than Crosshair had thought. Sure, it had taken some adjustment for him and his brothers to become used to another presence they had not grown up with, but it was inevitable you would eventually find your place in the team. You were hardworking, strong and compassionate. You paid attention to each of his brothers, giving them your undivided focus during conversation and indulging them in questions about what they were doing or their chosen skill. He had watched you talk with Tech about data decryption, Wrecker about proton-based explosives, Hunter about tracking strategies, Echo about ARC trooper training, and of course, him about sharpshooting.

He recalled the way you sat next to him for the first time on his bunk during their time in Hyperspace. He had disassembled part of his Firepuncher rifle, readjusting the scope and the barrel after it had unexpectedly jammed on their previous mission. He’d been annoyed – his prized weapon never faltered, and he was trying to figure out why it had failed on him when the thin mattress dipped next to him, and you asked what he was doing. When he’d given a particularly surly response, you nodded and then just continued to watch him. His eyes had slid to you.

“Can I help you with anything else?” He hadn’t meant it to sound so icy, but he had been frustrated with this rifle, with himself.

“Can you…explain what you’re doing?” you had asked hopefully.

He had looked at you sceptically. “Why?”

You just shrugged. “It looks interesting.”

He had studied your expression, trying to discern if you were being genuine. But you were. You always were with things like this.

So, he explained what he was doing, answered your questions and by the time his weapon was fixed, he didn’t even really remember his initial annoyance. You had smiled at him, your mouth stretching in a way that made your eyes light up. He felt a little flicker of something in his stomach before it was promptly extinguished.

Since then, you have spent time with him like that more often. Not just when he was cleaning his rifle, but other things. Like throwing Lula back and forth across the bunks as you both talked, joking about things that happened on missions. Sharing looks over briefings. Stealing Wrecker’s snacks.

But his favourite time with you was drawing on your datapad and trying to guess what the other was drawing. He had learnt you liked to draw and enjoyed drawing out something other than a medical diagram. He felt a sense of pride in making you laugh so hard you cried with his silly caricatures during long hyperspace trips. Exaggerated doodles of his brothers, tookas and the like, a portrait of you with a funny expression. You liked to draw him with a smile too big for his face, chuckling as you drew and then collapsing into laughter when you showed him. It always made the thing in his stomach flicker.

He really liked having you around.

So, when he came across your file when helping Tech, he couldn’t help but open it. You had told them all any information they had asked for, and information they had not. There wasn’t really anything you kept secret. But when he saw your ID holo looking particularly embarrassing: with wide eyes and a half-formed expression – like you were taken off guard by the photo, the corner of his mouth twisted up in an impish smirk.

He had intended to tease you about it; set the holo to the show on every Marauder screen so it was everywhere.

He opened the file to take a copy of the holo when he spotted details about your age and date of birth.

He frowned at the date. “Tech, what is today’s galactic date?”

Tech looked up from his datapad, adjusting his goggles before rattling off the date. “Why?”

He said your name before telling him, “It’s their birthday tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Tech blinked.

Age and birthdays were almost foreign concepts to clones. With accelerated aging and growing in a capsule, they didn’t really matter to them. Awkward to calculate, they weren’t celebrated. Crosshair had no idea when he had been ‘birthed’ or decanted, and if the Kaminoans documented such dates, then it was classified information. He knew his chronological age, but his biological age was a little murky. He knew he was a “mature clone”, however with the accelerated aging, he didn’t know where exactly he stood. None of their brothers knew any of these details. It was normal for them.

He read the date and your age. What would it be like to be so sure of something like that? To be sure of the parts that made up who you were?

Crosshair cleared his throat and closed the file without even copying the ID holo. He frowned to himself. Maybe he should’ve asked you about it before, but birthdays weren’t a part of his world, so he hadn’t thought to. But they were important to nat-borns, weren’t they? At least that’s what they’d all been told during their training modules.

When he lay in his bunk that night, he circled his mind for all he knew about birthday traditions. Gatherings. Food. Gifts. Would you like all that? Did you like all that? You seemed like you would. He didn’t know if it was something he would enjoy if he had a birthday…it didn’t really seem like his thing, but maybe he would. He would never know. He thought that Wrecker might be the only one who would enjoy a birthday. Maybe Echo too if you did it right. Same with Hunter.

But you hadn’t said anything about your birthday.

He had tossed and turned. You were part of their squad. You cared. Listened. Laughed. Did you not feel you could share the date with them? He didn’t know, and a part of him felt a little hurt that you might not feel you could. Were you not friends? Crosshair didn’t have many friends, but he knew they were supposed to tell each other things.

He turned again, crossing his arms against his chest as he faced the wall. Why did he even care? If you didn’t want to tell him it was your birthday, fine. He wouldn’t mention it.

He squeezed his eyes shut before sitting up on his elbows and craned his head to see you sleeping in your bunk. Through the darkness, his enhanced eyes saw you curled in yourself, and your nose twitched as you breathed deep and evenly. Something in his chest pinched. He sighed before laying back down and pulling the thin blanket over his head.

Now, as he found himself in this market the next day, he wondered what he was even doing here.

Once they had landed on Sorgan, they completed their mission easily with no complications. But Crosshair was still distracted by your birthday. You hadn’t even said anything when everyone woke up this morning. Just acted like it was any other day. You had just smiled at him as you tucked into a ration bar, saying good morning before throwing one to him to eat.

It puzzled him.

When you all started walking back to the Marauder after the mission, Hunter could tell something was up with him, nudging his shoulder.

“You alright?”

Crosshair had scowled at his brother. “…Yes.”

“You look deep in thought,” Hunter pointed out, falling into step with him.

Crosshair broke his gaze and looked away, back towards where they came, to the village they had just liberated. The thought had barely formed before he said, “Do we have time before the next mission?”

Hunter’s surprise showed in his voice. “We have a couple of hours, why?”

“I’ll be back later,” Crosshair walked off in the direction of the village before Hunter could say anything. His long legs carried him to the marketplace, where he stood now amongst the bustling bodies.

He just couldn’t get your birthday out of his stupid head; that you hadn’t said anything because clones didn’t celebrate birthdays. Just because he didn’t understand them, doesn’t mean he couldn’t try…for you.

He started combing through the vendors, most of which were finishing up resetting their stands after they fled suddenly several days prior. He moved from stall to stall, gazing at the different items over people's heads. Kriff, what were you even supposed to buy people for birthdays? Something they needed? Something they wanted? It was all a little overwhelming. And Crosshair didn’t get overwhelmed.

“Looking for something in particular, my friend?”

Crosshair startled and looked up to see the vendor, a greying man with a wrinkled face, horns protruding from his forehead and curled up in an elegant spiral shape.

Crosshair frowned, clearing his throat. “It’s…my friend's birthday today.”

The man’s face lit up. “Wonderful! Birthdays are special.”

Crosshair’s mouth tightened as the man continued to speak. “What were you thinking of gifting them?”

The hairs on Crosshair’s neck stood up with nerves. “I…I don’t know.”

The man’s face lit up. “Perhaps I can help.”

The man then went through the different items at his stand. He held up scarves, strings of beads, and handmade pottery. Crosshair thought they were all nice enough, but he wasn’t swimming in credits. And none of the items really felt like you. The vendor was patient, more patient than he should’ve been. Either he really wanted to help or was desperate for a sale in a competitive marketplace.

After many minutes and many items, Crosshair felt himself gradually stiffening, becoming more and more on edge and uncomfortable. He felt so out of his depth. He was always so sure of everything, and trying to do this thing he had no experience in, made him more vulnerable than he had in a long time. It was not a feeling he felt comfortable with. Never had been.

And as much as he liked you, maybe this was all a stupid idea. You hadn’t mentioned your birthday for a reason. He shouldn’t bring it up. If he did, he’d have to explain how he found out…and he didn’t want to go through that awkwardness. He was about to open his mouth and tell the over-enthusiastic vendor: thank you, but he wouldn’t bother with a gift, when the vendor clapped his hands loudly, making Crosshair jump.

“I may have something back here, hold on,” he said as he turned away to rifle noisily through a crate behind him.

Crosshair felt his fist curl at his sides, and this should’ve been his opening to slide away unnoticed until he looked down and saw a brown leather book. Crosshair halted and lifted a gloved hand to the soft worn cover, running his fingers over the engravings in the bound leather. He opened the cover, seeing it was a blank notebook, and it had a writing implement tucked into the spine. Not many people recorded things the traditional way anymore; datapads were much more efficient and stored more information than the pages of a notebook. He flicked through the pages, fanning them with his thumb. The dust drifted up and it was a smell he didn’t recognise, but he supposed it was the smell of paper.

“That’s a good choice.”

Crosshair retracted his hand as if he was a cadet being scolded, and looked up at the vendor, who held an oversized pot that would break the second it came aboard the Marauder.

“That would be a perfect gift,” the vendor continued, nodding at the notebook.

Crosshair looked at him before picking up the notebook – more surely this time, and turned it over in his hands. He imagined you in your bunk, scribbling in it at night with a torch in one hand. He imagined you keeping it under your pillow for safekeeping. He imagined you doodling in it, showing him your drawings with that smile on your face. He imagined drawing in it with you. The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

“How much?” Crosshair asked.

“It’s yours.”

Crosshair’s head snapped towards the vendor. “What?”

The vendor waved him away. “Take it.”

Crosshair blinked, confused. “…I have to pay you.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve been trying to sell that for years. You’d be doing me a favour.”

Crosshair furrowed his brow. “…Isn’t the customer supposed to be right?”

The vendor barked out a laugh. “Not this time, my friend.”

Crosshair dug into his pocket anyway and pulled out half the credits. “For your patience…at least.”

The vendor chuckled and took them. “Thank you. I hope your friend likes it.”

Crosshair didn’t respond as the man turned away, placing the pot down before calling out to other marketgoers, trying to entice them.

Crosshair walked back through the market, the notebook feeling heavy in his hand. Leaving the village, he made his way back to the Marauder, thoughts swimming in his head.

Kriff, what if you hated it? Or thought it was stupid? What if all his knowledge on birthdays was completely inaccurate and you would think him strange for giving you something? Or what if you just thought he was weird for getting you something at all?

Crosshair’s grip on the notebook tightened. He just wanted to do something nice. Like you always did for them. But this is why he avoided it. It was so vulnerable being nice. Being nice left you open for hurt, open for aching. It was much easier to keep it at bay, to restrict it. To hide it behind actions inconspicuously where it wasn’t out in the open. Being so open with it for you…he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it scared him. The doubt crept in. Crosshair had conviction and confidence, and he wasn’t used to it wavering like this.

He was just about ready to throw the notebook into a bush and never speak of it again when he heard your voice ring out from the steps of the Marauder.

“Crosshair!”

You placed your datapad down and ran over to him. He hid the notebook behind his back with both hands, gripping it so hard he knew his knuckles would be white as you approached him with a smile.

“Hey,” he said, hoping he sounded normal.

“Where’d you go? You disappeared after the mission.”

“I was just…looking for something,” he said carefully. Dank farrik, how was he supposed to do this? He thought he might just leave it on your bunk when you were distracted with a little note written inside the cover saying, ‘Happy Birthday’. That way he could avoid your reaction when you saw it. He didn’t even know how to get into the Marauder with it now that you were here in front of him.

You tilted your head with a quizzical smile. “Looking for something?”

Crosshair nodded. “I couldn’t find it,” he lied.

“Oh…okay,” you looked at him weirdly. Would you look at him like that when you saw his gift?

Crosshair nodded to the Marauder, desperate to get on board and stow the notebook away until he could leave it on your bunk. “Should we go inside?”

You looked at him, narrowing your eyes. “What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything, meshurok,” he lied, his grip tightening again.

“Yes, you are,” you sidestepped him to look behind him and he leapt out of the way. You grinned. “You are! What are you hiding, Cross? Why can’t I see?” you tried to chase him around, but Crosshair kept angling himself away. Kriff, he had never felt so stupid in his whole life.

“It’s nothing. Get your meddling hands away from me, you di’kut,” he walked backwards in a circle, his face and neck hot.

“Crosshair,” you chided, smiling at him. “Come on, is it really that bad?”

“Go away,” he grumbled, hands aching from holding the damned notebook so tight.

“Crosshair,” you said his name again, and your face was stretched in that playful grin that he’d unwillingly memorised. That thing in his stomach flickered again.

Then he remembered how you didn’t tell him about your birthday. And how you were friends, but you didn’t say anything about it. And how he had this unexplainable feeling he couldn’t name sitting in his stomach that compelled him to go to a village market and pick out a stupid gift for a birthday tradition he didn’t even understand just to do something nice for you the way you did for him and his brothers.

Crosshair’s expression flared and he shoved the notebook at your chest. You startled at your hand came up to grab it, sliding against his like a searing snake. He pulled his hand back and balled both at his sides as he gritted out, “Happy birthday.”

All he saw was your eyes were wide before he stalked off, almost stomping his way to the Marauder. His face burned, and embarrassment flooded his body. He felt so stupid, and he hated feeling stupid. He hated the feeling of being on the end of someone’s judgement. He hated knowing that he’d just been forced to make himself vulnerable. But mostly, he hated the feeling of you not trusting him with what was supposed to be the important parts of you.

“Crosshair!”

Your voice came from behind him, but he didn’t turn around. He was already planning different ways he could avoid you. He was going to lock himself in the ‘fresher until the next mission and make sure Hunter placed him on watch at opposite times to you. Whatever it took. His heart panged. You were one of the only people outside his brothers he liked. He would mourn the shared jokes and laughter, and time spent with you, knowing it couldn’t happen anymore.

“Crosshair, wait.”

He felt a hand on his arm pull him back. He swayed backwards, but he let you stop him. He avoided your gaze, scowl burning an outline in his brow as he stared off into the middle distance. Your hand stayed on his arm, and he felt it through the plastoid wrapped around his forearm, squeezing him there. It felt like part of him, and that made him feel both warm with content and spiked with anger simultaneously.

“Cross, please look at me,” your voice said quietly, and his heart squeezed. He slowly moved his gaze, looking down, then sliding his eyes to your bare hand on his arm before they lifted to your face. Your brows were slanted downwards, looking at him with such softness in your eyes he felt the flickering in his chest again.

“How did you…” your voice was soft and trailed off, notebook in your other hand.

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismissed with gritted words.

He felt your hand flex with your grip. “It does to me.”

He studied your face carefully before saying, “…I was helping Tech with cataloguing his files. I saw your birthday in yours.”

You continued looking at him with an indecipherable gaze and moved your hand slowly from his arm to his wrist, your bare fingertips brushing his gloves. You gently grazed his fingers as you let his hand drop softly. He watched you as you inspected the book, hands turning it over, fanning through the pages. He studied your expression, trying to discern what you thought, feeling anxiety grow in his stomach, his throat tightening. He felt something hot poke inside him as he watched your mouth turn up into a smile as you gazed at his gift.

“I’ve been so busy this year that I forgot about my birthday.”

Crosshair hoped he hid his surprise. You not telling him about your birthday…it was never about him. Of course, you had forgotten. The past six cycles had been a whirlwind for you trying to adjust to a soldier’s lifestyle, countless missions and trying to fit in with his brothers. His face burned again. He was a fool.

You looked up at him, a smirk itching the corners of your mouth. “Been too busy keeping you boys in line.”

Crosshair scoffed lightly, letting a puff of breath out of his nose. Your smile widened.

“This is a beautiful gift, Cross. Thank you for getting it for me,” you place your hand on his arm again, squeezing gently to show your appreciation He felt his heart lift and his cheeks redden, but this time, not in embarrassment.

He nodded at you. “I’m…glad you like it. I don’t have much experience with birthdays.”

Your smile touched the edges of your eyes. “That’s what makes it even more special.”

You reached up on your tip toes and wrapped your arms around his neck, embracing him. Crosshair stiffened in shock and surprise before he slowly wrapped his arms around your torso. His fingers grazed your sides, and there was something wildly comforting about holding you like this. He could feel the side of your face pressed into his neck, just below his ear, and your breath tickled the sliver of open skin not covered by his blacks. You were so warm. He felt you squeeze him gently and he didn’t stop himself from squeezing back.

You were his best friend, after all.

You pulled away, but not before you cupped his face and placed a kiss on his cheek. Crosshair flinched and his eyes widened as you lowered yourself back down on flat feet with one of the most joyful smiles he’d ever seen gracing your face. The action had surprised him more than anything else had.

“I’m going to show everyone what you got me,” you said before running off towards the Marauder.

“No, don’t, they’ll—” Crosshair started but you were already halfway up the gangplank. His brothers’ teasing was going to be ruthless.

He sighed, shaking his head before following you, that thing flickering in his chest. He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t try to extinguish it.

banner art by @vimse

mando'a / meshurok = gemstone thank you for reading! i did find this one slightly challenging bc it's very much crosshair in his head and i tried to write him how i thought he would react to a situation like this, but if it's a little OOC, i apologise! but i think he would react like this if someone he cared about didn't tell him something important about them; someone who was his friend and who he liked very much. i think he'd be kinda mad and hurt but he cares too much to not do anything at all. i have more gen requests on the way, so stay tuned if you're interested! <3

tags @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @snarky-mans-gf @chopper-base @wenalena @shredderwest @leavingkamino @rexamongthestars @r2d2staser @bluebird-dreams @pb-jellybeans @a-streakofblue @theawkwardartist12 @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo

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[the-oblivious-writer]

Let The Light In |1|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter One: Princess Tara

Summary: You and Tara Carpenter never got along much. One of the things she looked forward to when leaving Woodsboro was never having to see you again. But one day she unexpectedly bumps into you on her first day at Blackmore University

Warning(s): Swearing, underage drinking and mentions of intoxication, the loving part of their enemies to lovers story has definitely not started yet

Notes: This is gonna be fun

Masterlist|Next part

It was Tara’s first day and of course she was already running late for her first class. She had turned down the maps that were offered at the entrance..goodness did she regret that now. About seven minutes left until the start of her class and she was ninety nine percent sure she was walking in a circle. Tara decided to make one more attempt before asking for help when she bumped into somebody. Just as she was about to apologize she stopped herself when she realized who she had bumped into.

“Sorr- oh it’s you.” You rolled your eyes as Tara responded with a scoff. “What the hell are you doing here?” She asked as she picked up her things and you did the same with your fallen belongings.

“Attending college. What does it look like, princess?” Tara roughly shoved one of your books to your chest. “We’ve been over this, don’t call me that.” You’ve had the same nickname for Tara since highschool and every time it pissed her off. Oh, how you loved getting a reaction out of her. 

“What I mean is, what the hell are you doing in New York? It’s one hell of a coincidence.” You let out a dry chuckle before answering. “Decided to go to a college near my family. What’s it to you?” Tara rolled her eyes. Gosh, she despised you. Just when she thought she finally got away from everything that she left behind, you show up. 

Just as she’s about to let out another remark she realizes the time. Tara still has no idea where she is, meaning she’ll have to swallow her pride and ask you, of all people, for help. “Listen, I don’t have time to go back and forth right now. I’m gonna be late for my film class and I have no idea where I am right now.”

You grinned and looked at the girl,“Lucky for you we’re headed in the same direction, my class is right by your destination.” 

“Great, show me?” Tara asked, causing you to wear a smug smirk. Oh how she wanted to slap it right off your-

“Of course, princess” you winked at her and started walking, Tara let out a small groan but followed. It didn’t take long for you both to arrive at her destination. “Are you serious, it was right here?” Tara scoffed.

“Yeah, you never were good at direction” you remarked, which earned you a shove to the shoulder. “And you’re still as infuriating as ever.” You tsked and shook your head at her. “That’s no way to thank somebody, Tara. Where have your manners gone?” 

“I need to get to class before I’m even late.” She shoved passed you and entered the classroom. As you walked the short distance to your class, the younger Carpenter sat down next to Mindy with a huff. 

“Uh oh, I know that look. Who pissed you off this time?” Mindy asked as Tara settled in her seat. “The same pain in my ass from highschool.” Mindy raised her eyebrows, knowing exactly who her friend was referring to.

“Shit, really? Never thought I’d get to see you two at it again. But never say never I guess” Mindy sighed as Tara groaned and put her head down.

—

You opened the door to your shared apartment, throwing your bag on the floor and dramatically plopping down on the coach. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes as the door to your roommate’s room opened.

“Y/N, you up?” She asked, you opened your eyes and nodded at her. “Okay good, I need your opinion.” She held up two tops. “Which should I go with? This one or this one?”

“Uhhh, left one for sure” you answered, pointing to the left top. “Right?” She has been talking to this girl and tonight would be their second date. “So, when do I get to meet the girl that has my roommate so smitten?”

“And then you embarrass me? Yeah, gonna hold off on that for a bit.” You jokingly scoff at her comment. “Come on, Anika. I’m not gonna embarrass you or anything.” Anika let out a small laugh, “Yeah that was super convincing.”

Later that night, you’re left alone in the apartment with nothing to do while Anika is out on her date. You try to pass the time by re-watching Abbott Elementary before getting a message from one of your friends asking if you were free. 

Henry (8:32 pm) you free? I’m so fucking bored rn 😩

Y/N  (8:33 pm) what do you have in mind?

Henry (8:33 pm) heard about a frat party goin on tn

Y/N (8:34 pm) Idk, you know how I am with parties

Henry (8:34 pm) ohhh come onnn my little wallflower pleaseee

Y/N (8:35 pm) I don’t feel like being around people rn

Henry (8:35 pm) you NEVER feel like being around people. besides..there’ll be alcohol and you can stay in your little corner if you want

Y/N (8:36 pm) Fine. You win, asshole.

Henry (8:36 pm) YAYY pick you up in fifteen?

Y/N (8:37 pm) Alright

Read at 8:37 pm

When the two of you arrived at the party you immediately wanted to curl up into a ball. Henry stayed by your side for a while but then ventured off to do his own things. You sat down on a couch, beer in hand as your right leg bounced. 

—

“What about her? She’s cute” Ethan pointed to the couch and Chad looked over to find you. “Holy crap-” Ethan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Uh, you know that girl that Tara was ranting about earlier?” 

“Yeah, but what does that hav- oh. Oh. It’s her?” Chad nodded, looking back at you then back to the curly haired boy. 

Henry walked over and sat down beside you, “What’s up, buddy?” You took another sip of your beer before responding. “I feel like eyes are on me but I don’t know where and it’s really starting to tick me off.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’re not being stalked if that’s what you’re worried about.” You went for another sip of your beer but noticed you’re all out. “Can you come with me to get another one?” Henry hummed and you both got up to where the drinks were.

Henry was talking to somebody else, you were beside him and it was when you grabbed another beer that you heard, “Oh you have got to be kidding me.” You rolled your eyes and turned towards the voice. Revealing it to be Tara Carpenter. 

“At this point you’re stalking me. You have to be” Tara said with scoff as you rolled your eyes again. “Someone’s full of it. Actually, I was dragged here by a friend. Not everything pertains to you, princess.” 

“I’m supposed to believe you actually have a friend?” Tara questioned with a look that said ‘really?’

“Now you know how I felt when I discovered there was more than one person that supposedly tolerates you” you shot back, tilting your head slightly. 

“All I’m hearing is that you can’t comprehend what it’s like to be tolerated.” Tara lifted one of the bottles of  Vodka, inspecting it before tucking it to her side. 

You noticed this but didn’t say anything. Maybe you just never thought you’d see the day when princess Tara would be drinking and going to frat parties. 

Tara walked away before you could respond to her comment. You were pulled out of your train of thought by a tap on your shoulder. You turned to see Henry. “You alright?” He asked you, the person he was previously talking to had left. 

“Yeah. Yeah I’m good. I’m gonna go back to the couch.”

“Want me to join you?” You shook your head,“Nah, it’s okay. You can go, you know where to find me.”

“Alright but let me know when you wanna leave,” he said, patting your shoulder. You nodded and he left, already talking to somebody new. 

You sat back down on the couch, cracking the beer open and taking a sip. It was disgusting but it was something to do. You took out your phone and scrolled through your notifications. Some from  Tumblr, tiktok and two messages from your older brother. You clicked on one of the messages.

Dickhead (9:01 pm) mom wants to know if you’re coming over for Lily’s birthday 

Y/N (9:43 pm) as far as I know, yeah

Dickhead (9:45 pm) took you long enough

Y/N (9:46 pm) relax, it was only 42 mins

Dickhead (9:46 pm) how do I know you didn’t get kidnapped in those 42 mins????

Y/N (9:47 pm) you're so fucking dramatic

Dickhead (9:47 pm) am I?? Or are you not dramatic enough?

Dickhead (9:48 pm) where even are you rn

Y/N (9:48 pm) some stupid party. Why’s it your business??

Dickhead (9:49 pm) whatever, idc

Y/N (9:49 pm) kindaaaa seem like ya do

Dickhead (9:50 pm) if that’s what helps you sleep at night

Before you could text back you hear something smack against the wall. You look up to find an extremely drunk looking Tara being held up by Chad. “Alright, it’s time to go home.” You recognized him from Woodsboro as one of  Tara’s friends. “No I’m fineee” Tara slurred, still struggling to stand.

Chad waves over Ethan, leaving with him and the intoxicated girl. They finally get back to the Carpenter-Bailey residence with Sam waiting for them in the living room. 

“Where were you guys? I was worried sick- Is she drunk?” Sam questioned, with a raised voice which caused Tara to groan from the volume. “Tooo loud.”

Sam sighed, “Tara, I’m gonna wash you up and then in the morning we’ll talk about this when you’re sober.” Chad mumbled a ‘sorry’ as Sam walked Tara to the bathroom. Ethan and Chad said their goodbyes to the older Carpenter before leaving.

—

It was the next day and you had history. 

Ten minutes had passed and as you were taking notes you heard the door slam open. Everybody turned their heads and you saw Tara was the one who had opened them. She was wearing sunglasses, a black hoodie and gray sweatpants. No doubt, she was suffering from a killer hangover after last night. The professor looked at her for a second before lazily saying, “Find a seat” and continuing the lesson. 

Everybody else turned back to the professor but your eyes still followed the younger Carpenter. You noticed the only available seat was beside you. Which was just ridiculous to you. Of course today was the day people didn't feel like skipping out on learning.

As Tara painfully approached the seat beside you, you looked back towards your notes. Trying your absolute hardest to ignore the girl beside you. A few minutes pass before you speak up. “Ya know, you could’ve just skipped.” You whispered to Tara without looking up from your notes.

“Sam made me go.” She whispered back, slightly tilting her head to look at your notes. “You live with your sister?” You asked as you blocked your notebook from her view with your arm. 

She rolled her eyes, painfully due to her headache. “And?” You shook your head. “Didn’t mean anything by it. She seems nice.”

“How do you know my sister?” Tara’s voice had a hint of suspicion. “I met her briefly back in Woodsboro.”

“Really?” Curiosity started to grow inside Tara. “When was that?” You sighed and turned to meet Tara’s stare. “I just remember bumping into her at some point. It was a while ago though so I don’t remember the specifics.”

“Maybe if you spent as much time taking notes as you did interrogating me, you wouldn’t have to try to copy my notes.” Tara looked away from your notes and rubbed her temples. 

“Whatever, Y/L/N. You think I wanna be here? Only reason I am is because it’s a mandatory class.” You mumbled something before throwing a pencil at Tara. “At least look like you’re doing something.”

After what felt like forever, the class was finally over. You and Tara had enough of each other and were ready to get out of there. Anika met you outside the classroom, Tara shoving passed you and not sparing a single glance to you.

But Anika immediately noticed the tension in those couple seconds. “Y/N, please don’t tell me that’s the girl you rant about.” You furrowed your eyebrows at her. “She is..”

“Of course she is,” Anika sighed. “You know that girl I’ve been seeing?” You hummed. “She’s friends with her.”

“You’re serious? That’s..great.” You said trying to sport a supporting smile for your friend.

Of all the things that could be consistent in your life, why did it have to be Tara?

-----------

A/N: First chapter finally posted!

[martyfive]

i lay in bed sick for two weeks straight. first there’s body temperature i never knew was possible for a human to have, then there are coughs that feel like they may be the last ones i could ever have in my life, then there’s weakness, then my five year old phone falls down from the bed ending up completely broken, then the bed sheets become something i couldn’t bear to see anymore. then i get up, go outside and unexpectedly find myself at the offer of a somewhat steady part job at this small italian restaurant we’ve been visiting every sunday sharp for the last year and a half except for these two weeks i spent lying sick in bed. we are leaving the bar for the night when R. asks me if i’d like to help her at the bar a couple hours a week.

“i have no experience or anything,” i say, feeling extremely daft. “i’m not even sure i can talk to people properly. i never really could.”

“it’s okay,” she says. “you’ll be polishing the glasses. it’s not hard. i’ll teach you everything.”

on our way home A. says, “it could be good for you, you know. being among people and trying something new,” and i feel like he’s right.

at this point this small restaurant already feels like another home i want to belong to. going there every sunday for so long totally helped with that. they have one of my works i gave them as a present for christmas on the wall. it hangs up above the table me and A. occupied the first time we ever came to eat there. the frame contains pages from a sketchbook i used to draw in while visiting italy five years ago. it feels too personal, but also somehow on it’s place. i hate to hoard the stuff i create. i want to be bolder.

regretting my life choices, i spend all what’s left from my last year’s salary on a new phone. it’s a first phone i bought without anyone’s help. it costs more than i deserve.

i can’t find any will to start drawing again after being sick for two weeks.

a couple days later i go to the restaurant to ask R. about the time i can get to work. she says, “this thursday, 6:30 pm,” and then adds, tugging on my star wars hoodie, “and put on a black shirt, if you have one”.

so i find one that looks like A. has been wearing it during his teenage years when he looked more like a stick than a human and i go for the job that for the first time in my life has nothing to do with any kind of art except the art of making cocktails i still keep messing up. a couple hours a week somehow soon turns into ten as normally as “polishing glasses” turns into “doing everything there is possible to do as quickly as possible”.

“would you like to do thirty hours a week?” R. asks one day looking hopeful as if i hadn’t broken ten of their glasses in the first five days of work.

“my back is gonna die sooner than you expect it to if i agree to that,” i answer. and it really is the only reason i don’t say yes.

i soon notice there is no time to think of anything else except the work to be done while i am behind the bar once again forgetting the difference between prosecco and chardonnay or picking the ice from the ice machine or freezing in the giant fridge while looking for the specific crate of beer everyone in this town drinks more often than water. the countless amount of crates are brought from and to the back room. the ten glasses are crushed, four of them in my own hands just from squeezing too hard on them. i cringe about every single one of them before falling asleep after coming home around midnight with my aching back and more money than i ever earned drawing pictures. i think about that one time my friend told me that once you start working in catering, there’s no way back. i haven’t talked to her in a while and i can’t ask her if she still thinks it’s true.

i still can’t draw. i guess it will pass. i still cough although i’m trying not to be loud when i’m behind the bar.

“you smoke?” R. asks. “i do. i just don’t have time.”

“i’ve been smoking since i was sixteen. but not anymore really,” i say to that. “when my mother calls me, then i smoke. but that doesn’t happen very often.”

M. laughs at that as if he understands what i’m talking about and says, “with this job, i either smoke a cigarette or kill somebody,” and i laugh with him.

M. is the chef and the restaurant is named after him. he cooks so good there is surely nothing better i’ve ever eaten in my entire life. i hear all about it from guests while picking the dishes from the tables, smiling and pretending my hands are not shaking. he and R. speak to each other in loud italian and i like how they sound even if i only understand a couple words from their dialogues.

“what’s allora?” i ask one time.

R. looks at me like i’m the only one who ever asked her a silly question like that, “huh,” she says, “i don’t know. it’s like here we go or something like that,” and she smiles.

i like talking to her. for some reason i like asking her questions and seeing the surprise on her face. she’s five years older than me but i feel like a child around her. she also has her birthday in november.

“all my family are scorpions,” she says after revealing the fact that there’s ten days between our birthdays. she names at least ten of the members of her family and all their november birthday dates in a row.

i say, “the parties must be hilarious when you all gather together.”

more often i feel like she’s my serious boss i keep disappointing with my every move but at the end of the shifts she turns into what feels more like a friend. i secretly hope i can be her friend one day even though it seems like she knows the name of every human being in this town and even some other nearby towns and doesn’t really need any more friends than she already has. but after all, i’m a part of this town now, too.

“what is your favourite thing to do here here at the bar?” i ask the other day.

she looks puzzled for a second, “maybe serving fish,” she says and this time it’s my turn to feel surprised. i saw how it’s done, and i don’t really know what she means.

“i thought it’s talking to people or something,” i say.

“nah,” she waves her hand, “it’s just my job, you know.”

i regret entering this territory but i still ask, “would you better like to do something else? some other job?”

“nah,” she says again, smiling, “i like it.”

and i like it too. horrifyingly, i like it too much. thinking about sitting at home and drawing stuff like i used to do all my life feels like a torture. it surely is one when i pick up my tablet and pencil and stare at the white canvas not knowing who i am anymore. there is nothing in my head i want to say. there is nothing my hands can do. i have no idea why. i want to go back behind the bar and ask R. what her favourite colour is.

“i’m proud of you,” A. says one night while we’re going back home from the restaurant where he got his two beers and one glass of whiskey i poured for him myself. he spent two hours sitting at the bar not far from these three teenage boys who have been drinking an enormous amount of beer and playing cards and then trying to guess where i come from according to my accent. “i’m proud that you’re doing good and you found something that you like so much.”

i buy two black shirts and jeans. i take my old black coat out of the wardrobe. i walk for two minutes from home to the bar and back looking fancier than ever. i feel happier than ever. i don’t look at my social media. i feel like this rotten sadness and loneliness that occupied my head for so long has nothing to do with my life now. i wonder if it’s just a phase. i consider finding a new therapist just to ask them if it’s okay to feel this good or i should be medicated before it’s too late. i want to go to bed at proper hour, wake up earlier, spend the day feeling good and then go to the bar and ask R. stupid questions and be stressed about the things i can control. i look at my workplace at home, at the white canvas that reflects nothingness in my head, at everything i have ever known, and i don’t know what to do.

i go back to work.

“you like it here?” M. asks almost every time. “is everything okay?”

“everything’s okay,” i say, smiling. and i mean it.

someone’s ordering an espresso at 11 pm. R. says, “tell them the coffee machine is already off,” turning it off while saying it. i laugh. i feel happy. i go home knowing there’s gonna be more work to be done tomorrow. i miss drawing stuff. i have nothing to say. i fall asleep thinking of the ten glasses i broke. in the morning, i can’t draw. i used to draw most of my stuff at the evenings and during the nights. now they are full of beer glasses and beer crates and adhd people who want an espresso before bed.

i ask myself if that really is how growing up feels like. i ask myself what i am going to do if i will not be able to draw a single piece of art ever again. i read the email of the person who wants me to draw an artwork for them. i wonder if they should know i’m an imposter who can’t draw anymore. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i go to work.

there’s a wedding at the restaurant. i once again bring what feels like an endless amount of bottle crates from the back room to the bar. i smile. i talk to people. i wipe the tables. i polish the glasses. i pour beer into them.

“my back hurts,” R. says.

“willkommen to the club,” i tell her, although for some reason my back doesn’t really hurt.

someone orders a beer and then changes their mind after the bottle was already opened.

“it’s yours if you want it,” R. says. “your shift is over anyway.”

and i stay. i sit at the bar as if i don’t really work there. i drink my beer, i talk to R. while she puts the new napkins on tables, makes sure everyone from the wedding paid what they had to and lets me ask her my questions. i pay for another beer, taking money from my fresh salary. R. rolls her eyes at that but allows me to pay anyway. she’s not a boss anymore. just… a friend. i tell her i don’t wanna go home.

“i can see that,” she laughs. “do you have friends here in town?” she asks.

i look at the bottom of my glass.

“no,” i say. there’s a lady on our street i sometimes walk our dogs together with. she’s as old as my mother. i always forget the names of her three kids although they’re all around my age. i wonder if i should mention her. “i have friends in other places. you know. not here.”

“i can be your friend here,” she says, smiling.

i feel like it’s the happiest day of my life. i’m also a little drunk on schwarzbier. even if my back would hurt i wouldn’t have noticed.

“if you need someone as me as a friend,” i say, “then. yeah. sure. uh. why not.”

we talk some more. the beer tests my language skills. i tell her i want a new tattoo. she says she got the first one when she was sixteen and it was a horrible butterfly.

“what is your favourite colour?” i finally ask.

she looks really baffled at that, then pulls out her phone. “i guess it’s red,” she says, showing me some of photos from her instagram where she’s younger than me now and is dressed up in red. “see, it looks good on me,” and she’s right. “but white is also good. and pink. and maybe purple. not black though. with my black hair, it doesn’t look good at all.”

we’re both dressed in black for work.

i come to the conclusion that colours are the least important thing in the world to her. that’s okay. i think about all the years i spent trying to make colours work. i wanna say something, but end up saying nothing.

she turns the lights off and locks the restaurant up. we spend a couple minutes walking in the same direction to our houses. i tell her about the name my friends from other places are calling me. i don’t tell her why it’s different from the one she saw on my id card. i’m not that drunk. she says she’s gonna use it from now on. she kisses my cheek before we part. i was at school the last time someone did that.

i go home. i sit at my workplace. i answer to the email of the person that wants me to draw an artwork for them from a new phone i spent enormous amount of money on. for a second i wonder if i should still tell them i’m an imposter and my career will be over by the morning when i wake up sober.

i think about the ten glasses i broke, then let myself forget about them. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i draw.

29/02/2024

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Can you please do a hero x villain spice where hero punishes villain for something 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 and make it VERY spicy im begging

When the villain woke up, they were delirious and sweating. At first, they squeezed their eyelids together, for the stinging light seemed to burn their retinas.

They gulped for air and let their head fall back, taking in a few breaths before they could register that they were bound to a chair.

“What the…”

Although they needed a few seconds to get used to the brightness, they were fully aware that they weren’t alone.

“Oh, hello,” the hero purred once the villain spotted them leaning against the wall in the corner. From what the villain could see, they looked smug, very satisfied too and the villain wasn’t sure if the burning desire under their skin was normal or from the sedative.

They seemed to be in an interrogation room but thankfully there were no cameras. The villain always said dumb shit when they were alone with the hero.

“What did you…”

“Shhhh.” The hero sat down on their lap, hips against hips with their arms on the villain’s shoulders and —fuck— that woke up the villain. “God, your eyes are really pretty.”

The villain felt heat conjure in their cheeks and they wanted to look at the floor. However, there was only the hero they could look at and, admittedly, it was a good view.

“All those muscles, too. You’re really stiff, though.” The hero grabbed their shoulder and squeezed lovingly as their nails dug into the villain.

“I…Christ—” The villain couldn’t help but moan. They’d been sore for days, ever since they’d helped some other villains during a heated hostage conflict.

“Listen,” the hero said. They grabbed the villain’s jaw gently. “You’re clever, I know that. We all know that. But taking people hostage? Not your style and not smart.”

“I…” The villain’s laboured breath became more controlled but still lacked any calmness. “I’m sorry.”

It had been…a complicated situation. Hostage situations were incredibly difficult to pull off and obviously illegal as well as dangerous. When the villain had agreed to it, they had had their reasons.

“You’re ruining your chances at redemption. I thought that’s what you wanted? I thought you wanted to be better.” The hero pressed their hips deeper into the villain’s which made the latter close their eyes, reaching for the self-control they needed so bad. The hero was so close and still out of reach.

Yes, the villain wanted to be better. They knew their methods were wrong and making them a criminal but there was also strategy involved in this.

“This is important to me.” The hero brushed the villain’s throat with their lips. “You’re not a bad person.”

“You kidnapped me,” the villain whispered as a little tingle of excitement formed in their stomach. They loved it when the hero wasn’t sticking to their moral code. It was like they were rubbing off on each other.

“The police were after you, so I caught you first. I saved you,” the hero replied.

“I love how you’re trying to tell yourself that this is heroic,” they said, grinning tiredly.

“What is this then?” The hero repositioned themselves on the villain’s lap, resulting in more friction against the villain’s crotch. God, this was some other type of torture.

“Mean.”

“Mean?” the hero asked. “Oh, dear, I eat villains like you for breakfast. I can be so much meaner.”

They tugged on the villain’s hair hard enough to be pleasurably painful. The villain knew they were too desperate.

“You’re seeing other villains?” they asked. Unexpectedly, the hero gave the villain’s neck a wet kiss and the villain swore it activated their whole nervous system.

“Of course not. I’m just teasing,” the hero murmured.

“Mm, good, good.” Their eyes found each other and for a second, the villain could only stare at their enemy. Sometimes, they regretted what kind of life they had chosen. If they had chosen another path, become a hero, maybe they would already have the hero to themselves with no second-guessing and no jealousy knocking on their door regularly.

“May I?” the hero whispered and at first, the villain wasn’t quite sure what they meant. Until they got closer. Until their hand was on the villain’s thigh.

“Do whatever you want.” The hero kissed them quite possessively. They were eager and skilled when it came to intimacy. Although the villain didn’t want to call themselves lonely, they knew that the hero was driven by the same feeling. To want someone is easy but to deserve affection?

There were times when the villain had doubted that they deserved to be loved. And yet, the hero was there. They were present. With their tongue in the villain’s mouth and their hand in the villain’s pants.

It felt indescribably good.

“The hostages,” the hero began when they had to gasp for air.

“Come on, not now…” The hero kissed them again but they continued to whisper against the villain’s skin.

“You can’t just do that. You can’t take people hostage.”

“I…” The hero’s hand was exactly where the villain wanted it but the hero’s movement was less than little. “It was in exchange for a favour.”

“I think you have to speak up a little.” The hero tilted their head, genuinely curious, and slowly began to move their hand more.

“…I wanted to protect you, I — fuck — I worked on the job and in exchange the others leave you alone,” the villain said. Their brain was fried. And their heart was beating happily until their head was red. However, their answer surprised the hero.

“Wait, really?” They stopped and the villain cursed quietly, suffering from the dying ecstasy. The hero looked…happy? God, the villain couldn’t really tell, they were too deep in their personal pleasure limbo.

“Yes,” they admitted. “Protection for you.”

That made the hero smirk.

“We won’t need protection today, my love,” they joked.

“I fucking hate you,” the villain answered, despite mirroring the hero’s grin.

What they weren’t aware of was that the hero’s disapproval regarding the hostage situation was serious. They didn’t let the villain finish even once and that was pure horror. Otherwise, they were quite sweet today.

[badgerbl00d]

one piece boys with a jealous gf

☆ characters: zoro, law, sanji

☆ up next: cuddling with one piece boys ft. shanks, rayleigh, benn and roger

☆ a/n: for the anon request about being jealous of the boys... i deviated a little from the request but this will definitely have a part 2!

zoro 

“Three hundred million, hm?” she said batting her lashes at him, “With muscles like that I guess it’s not really a surprise!”

Zoro absent-mindedly nodded, much more focused on the katana in front of him. 

“What’s this one?”

“That’s a newer model, popularized in the East Blue. Fishermen designed it.”

“It’s lousy.”

She frowned, pouting her lips out, “That’s too bad, it looks nice when you use it.”

He gave a hmph in response, still mainly focused on the array of swords in the store. 

“Why don’t I show you a Wazamono we have in the back?”

Zoro paused for a moment, thinking about the offer.

“Alright,” he shrugged, and like a dumb puppy, started following her to the back.

You should have been shopping with Nami, but the two of you were rather unsatisfied with the stores you had to choose from and ended up going to get some snacks instead. 

And thanks to this unexpectedly short shopping spree, you had been outside the weapons shop watching most of this exchange.

Your cheeks turned a violent shade of red and Nami insisted that he was probably totally oblivious to the flirting. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

She sighed, “I guess not… Why don’t you go after him?”

“That’s embarrassing, and you’re probably right anyway.”

You sat with your shoulders crossed and closed your eyes, letting out a long exhale as you tried to think of something else.

“Oh, look! They’re coming back out.”

You decided you might as well go in now before your idiot of a boyfriend dug himself any deeper. 

You were seething as you made your way toward the shop, the woman very obviously lowering her shirt collar in front of him. 

“Zoro!” you walked into the shop, not even glancing towards the saleswoman. 

“Hi, Y/n,” he muttered, using different grips to try out the swords, recognizing you immediately, even if just by your voice. 

“Anything good?” you asked, slightly irritated when he didn’t even turn to look at you and called you by your name instead of his usual ‘baby’. 

“No,” he replied, still toying with the weapon.

You indulged in a small smirk as you watched the expression on the girl’s face turn into one of irritation. She rolled her eyes. 

“Are you sure you didn’t want to take another look in the back?” she asked, gently putting her hand on Zoro’s- which clearly irritated him, 

“You seemed to like what I had to offer.”

She put on an infuriatingly suggestive tone for the second part of her sentence. 

Zoro held the sword he’d been looking at up, any innuendo flying entirely over his head. 

“That’s true… Yeah, I guess I’ll take another look-”

You slapped the back of his head and grabbed the sword out of his hands, throwing them onto the counter.

“What the hell-”

“We’re going back to the ship. Now.”

You turned abruptly and stormed out of the shop, not bothering to pick up the weapons you’d ‘accidentally’ knocked over on your way out. 

Zoro offered the woman an apologetic look and ran after you. 

Nami was waiting for you both outside, and when he turned to her in hopes of being given some kind of indication of what just happened, she simply said, “You should probably think twice before you flirt with a woman for half an hour in front of your girlfriend.”

Zoro’s cheeks changed colors as he started to realize what everything had probably looked like from an outside perspective.

Oh, fuck.

Zoro decided that being another ฿100,000 in debt to Nami would be worth making it up to you, and after losing his breath trying to explain the situation to you he took you shopping for the rest of the night. 

The next few days you spent docked on the island, Zoro refused to move away from your side. 

And any looks or stares he got from women- young or old, pretty or not- were returned with only the most threatening of glances. 

law

“You can do something right Traffy?” Luffy’s concern for his crewmate made your chest ache, and you desperately hoped that it wasn’t too late for something to be done.

Unexpected cannon fire from a nearby Marine battleship caught you all off-guard and resulted in Nami passing out from a collision with the walls of the ship. 

Law nodded, gently picking her up.

You felt a slightly nauseating feeling forming in your stomach but quickly pushed it away because now was definitely not the time to be feeling jealous. 

You waited with the rest of the Strawhats as he worked on stabilizing her in the doctor’s office. 

Chopper was currently passed out as well from having overexerted himself and falling overboard. 

Usopp had taken care of it and he seemed to be doing okay but there was no way he could have helped anyone in his current state. 

A tense fifteen minutes later Law walked out to inform everyone that it wasn’t as bad of a hit to the head as it had seemed and she’d be waking up in a few hours.

“I’ll still run a few tests once she’s up just to make sure.”

“Y/n-ya,” Law called you over to him, “Want to help with Nami? I could use an extra hand.”

You nodded, happy he asked you. 

You walked with him to the infirmary, and when no one was around he held your hand.

The last thing either of you really wanted was for any one of the Strawhats to know you were together. 

When you entered the room Nami was awake.

“Torao! Thanks for all this,” she gestured towards the bandages and IV. 

“No problem, Nami-ya,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed as he pulled out his stethoscope.

“Write down the info I give you.”

You nodded and started writing down all the different numbers and medical jargon he threw at you. 

He talked with Nami and made no effort to include you in the conversation.

Nami’s chest had been bandaged and you tried your best to not think about the fact that he had been the one to bandage it. 

You fought back the urge to show any irritation on your face.

Law did not want any of them to know about you two. 

You knew Nami was just friendly and probably still kind of out of it, but the sickening feeling of insecurity started to seep into your body and you were becoming increasingly impatient with how damn long this was taking.

He was more talkative than usual, and you were positive that it had to do with the absolutely gorgeous woman in front of him. 

“One forty over seventy.”

He was treating you like a secretary! 

He cracked a terrible joke to Nami and when she actually laughed at it you decided you’d had enough.

You threw the notepad at him and walked out, telling him to take his own damn notes. 

He went to find you a few hours later, and ask if you were okay.

He found you painting your nails in the Sunny’s library. 

“I’m fine, Law.”

“Mmm... Definitely not true,” he said, sitting down next to you. 

“How’s the patient.”

Oh, he thought, That’s what this is about.

“Good. Stable. She should sleep soundly through the night.”

You said nothing.

“I appreciate your help back there!”

He pressed a light kiss to your cheek.

“Mhm.”

After a while of Law trying to get you to talk to him, you relented a little bit and agreed to let him read while you finished your nails.

After an hour you had almost forgiven him entirely, deciding that you were overreacting and it didn’t matter now that Chopper would be able to take care of her. 

You had just settled yourself against his chest when he spoke.

“I have to go check on Nami-ya soon.”

“But Chopper’s able to now.”

Law smiled, “I know. She’s still my patient.”

“I get it,” you said, jealousy having won, “I’d also be eager to play nurse if I had a patient as hot as her.”

“Bingo,” he replied. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and decided not to say anything, simply getting up, batting away his hands when he tried to grab hold of you.

You stormed out, slamming the door shut and ignoring how he called out for you to come back. 

You rolled your eyes as you heard Law laughing to himself. 

Law trusted you with his life. 

He had no secrets with you and you knew everything someone could possibly know about the doctor, reclusive and quiet as he may be.

But, just now, Law decided that there would be one thing you could never know:

How much he absolutely adored seeing you jealous.  

sanji

“Would you like another drink, beautiful?”

You rolled your eyes and hastily closed your book, gathering the few things you’d brought with you to the kitchen. 

“And my gorgeous Y/n-” he paused when he turned to see you headed toward the door, “Y/n where are you going?”

You closed the door behind you, ignoring him. 

It was easy to be jealous when Sanji was your crush. He’d never failed to shamelessly compliment other beautiful women, and you were not a stranger to that terrible feeling of jealousy spreading throughout your body. 

When Luffy announced that Boa Hancock would be staying with you all for a week or so you made a mental note to spend as much time in the library as possible.

You knew what you’d signed up for when you kissed Sanji for the first time, that it was in his nature to be a lover. 

Of course, he was desperately in love with you. If you asked him for something he’d have it done before you could finish your request, and he catered to you like he was your personal butler. 

Even though you weren’t official, it was clear that there were deeper feelings brewing between the kissing and touching. 

He’d never done anything worse than complimenting a woman, and you were beyond positive that he hadn’t kissed anyone after the two of you kissed, but he was so irritatingly articulate. 

You’d feel jealousy cloud your thinking when he’d talk to a woman, using turns of phrase that Shakespeare himself couldn’t have come up with. Of course, he was never more romantic or genuine than when he was with you, but you wanted that attention entirely to yourself. 

Boa Hancock’s arrival and subsequent welcoming had played out exactly as you had expected.

Heat flooded your cheeks and face when you watched a small trickle of blood pouring from his nose, and he ran to greet her. 

You left before you could watch anything else happen and still hadn't so much as introduced yourself to her. 

Logically, you understood that it wasn’t her fault but her insufferable vanity didn’t help. 

And though she never even pretended to entertain Sanji, she clearly didn’t mind the treatment. 

Every meal revolved around her, her favorite foods, and pastries that were pink and heart-shaped. Cocktails and drinks and snacks for Boa. Everything for her. 

You weren’t even sure he had noticed you were ignoring him. 

As much as you hated to admit it, you’d decided to try some tactics of your own. Your skirts got shorter and your heels higher. 

Today you’d opted for a pair of leggings he’d mentioned liking and a sports bra that was low cut. 

It had worked, until she walked into the room. 

You couldn’t exactly blame him, despite your evident dislike for her she was undeniably gorgeous and you caught yourself staring at her more than once. Luckily, you always noticed before she did. 

As you made your way toward the library you saw Sanji through the kitchen window, not failing to notice that he was preparing a mountain of heart-shaped pastries.

What a clown, you thought. 

A sudden clanking of metal jolted you out of your own thoughts. You turned to see Zoro mid-workout, dropping weights onto the lawn, ruining the grass.

He was sweaty and the sun was helping highlight the pounds upon pounds of intricately toned and sculpted muscle that covered him. 

You stared for longer than you meant to. 

“Oi!” Zoro called out to you. 

“Hey, Zoro,” you walked over to him. 

“You okay?”

You nodded, looking up at him with a confused expression. 

“You look like shit,” he explained.

“Thanks, man.”

You asked Zoro what he was up to and he started explaining the different workouts he was doing. 

While he explained you noticed that Sanji could see the two of you from the kitchen window where he was now washing dishes. 

A cruel idea popped into your head and a devilish smile made its way onto your face. 

Sanji wasn’t your boyfriend, and based on the way he’d been acting around every different woman he saw you figured he didn’t want to be. 

If he just wanted to occasionally make out with you and throw his attention and touch at every other woman on the seas then that was fine by you. 

But two could play at that game. 

You made eye contact through the kitchen window, and smiled at him. 

Good. He was watching you.

“Hey, Zoro,” you started, “Need a sparring partner?”

[lowgothree]

004. ༺BUT WITH EASE༻∘

a/n: OH MY GOD i feel so awkward abt this chapter lmaooo...probably gonna delete later. probably offensive.

summary: after getting unexpectedly left by your roommate, you find yourself in need of a replacement.

contents: reader is (still) down bad. paige pining after an ex situationship. kinda angsty. smut (oh lord).

previous. next. masterlist.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

paige was being weird. and maybe you didn’t know her well enough to decipher that with certainty but you just knew. she didn’t knock on your door to beg for some of your snacks or inform you she was going to shower or to ask if you wanted to watch a movie with her anymore. she didn’t tell you goodmorning or goodnight…she didn’t tell you much of anything, really. in other words, paige was being fucking weird. 

it probably definitely shouldn’t bother you. after all, she’s your roommate and she has that thing with olivia. but it’s fucking killing you. slowly, from the inside out. 

TO: SEAN

i think my roommate hates me idk

FROM: SEAN

The sexy roommate that you want so bad? 

TO: SEAN

SHUT UP

her name is paige

FROM: SEAN

I know

The basketball player

Why does Paige hate us?

TO: SEAN

idfk

she’s just being weird

FROM: SEAN

Maybe you’re being weird…

Always staring at her and shit

She’s probably terrified for her life😬

TO: SEAN

u r a really bad person

FROM: SEAN

Remind me why you can’t just flirt with her again?

TO: SEAN

cause she’s dating someone

kind of

they’re weird

FROM: SEAN

So they’re weird

She’s weird

But you still want her?

TO: SEAN

real bad

FROM: SEAN

Oh lord

How serious is she with the girl she’s dating(?)?

you start to type a message back and then you see her. 

in a sports bra and shorts.

damn. 

you try not to stare at her perfectly lean stomach or her toned legs or her back or –– you’re staring. the moment you realize it you’re looking down at your blanket, pulling at the loose strings.

should you say something? would it be awkward to say something…? it’s awkward saying nothing though. before you had enough time to change your mind you cleared your throat and whispered. “hey…”

if the house wasn’t so silent she might not have even heard you.

“hi.” she muttered in response, back and shoulders tensing, doing nothing to soothe your nerves.

weird. weird. weird.

“um, i’m watching a movie…” you clear your throat, trying not to be obviously nervous. “do you wanna watch?”

paige turns around, sighing and shoulders relaxing. “why not?” she shuffles over next to you, plopping down on the couch. she smells fucking good. she sits close enough so that your arms and legs are touching, she doesn’t move for distance and neither do you.

you look over at her, noticing the way her eyes are glued to the screen. “are…are you okay?”

“i’m fine.”

“you sure? cause you’ve been acting off the past week…”

“it’s nothing…” she dismisses again. this time, you don’t push for more information, deciding that no matter how unbelievable they may be, you’d take her words at face value.

you nod and the two of you watch the movie in silence for about twenty more minutes before paige asks a question that makes you heart stop beating for a moment.

“how many girls have you been with?”

you immediately look over at her only to find her eyes trained directly on you. your eyes flutter a few times, as if trying to blink away the question. “...what?”

“sorry…that’s probably inappropriate to ask but i guess i’m just curious.” she looks ashamed and turns back over to watch the movie as her face turns red. 

“five.” you mumble after a few seconds.

she looks at you again, silently. you feel like all the breath is getting sucked out of your lungs a little more every second she doesn’t say anything. 

“olivia ended things with me. for real this time.” paige whispers like it’s a secret only meant for you to hear. you aren’t exactly sure why she’s telling you this…and you definitely aren’t sure why that makes you feel a bit giddy.

“oh…i’m ––– ” ecstatic. “sorry. that must suck. i know you said you didn’t love her but i’m sure you care about her deeply regardless.”

“i did.” past tense. eye contact. that slow, sultry voice. you feel like you’re drowning in her.

you remain silent, not sure of why her words bring you so much pause. 

“you wanna know why she ended things with me?” she moved fucking closer. her hand brushing up against your thigh and that causes the rational part of your brain –– the part that would tell you things like ‘no it’s too soon’, ‘she just ended things with olivia’, and ‘this isn’t how you wanted this to happen’ –– to shut off completely, only leaving you shuttering and nodding.

“cause she thinks i’m attracted to you.”

oh.

paige slowly trails her hand down to rest on your knee and you’ve never felt so stiff. “she isn’t wrong.”

there she goes with that warm, tempting and inviting voice again. before you even have time to react, she kisses you. you go from surprised to melting within seconds. it’s so natural pathetic how quickly you open your lips so her tongue can sweep in and steal what small fraction of sanity you had left. you couldn’t help it –– you actually moaned into her mouth as one of her hands slid down your body, gripping your waist just enough to pull you to her. both your hands come up and grab onto her shoulders so that you don’t sag to the ground from the pure intensity of it all. this is not the kiss you wanted…but you’ve pined after her for long enough that you forget to care. that’s a problem for future you. 

she pushed you down, separating her lips from yours so that she could position herself above you. you stretched your thighs to make room for her. you blink and clear you throat. “wait…wait –– ”

she immediately pulls away and stares at you. 

“this isn’t a good idea…you just got out of a relationship.”

“it wasn’t technically a relationship.”

paige mutters defensively and you have to physically restrain your eyes from rolling. “you know what i mean.”

“i want you.” she whispers, leaning back into you, hovering her lips over yours and it’s pure temptation. “i’ve wanted you ever since i moved in here…now i don’t have to feel guilty about it…”

“i know you want me too. i’ve seen how you stare at me…just let me have you.” she practically whimpers and you shudder. “it won’t change anything…”

you can’t help but think of all the reasons why saying yes would be a bad idea…you think of every bad reason and then some and ignore them all. “okay…” 

she smirked, wasting no time to rid you of your shirt, sucking in a deep breath when she sees you’re not wearing a bra. for a moment…she just stared. it made you feel awkward enough that you reached up to cover your face, she immediately pulled your hands away from your face, giving you a stern look.

“don’t do that.” she huffs. “lemme see you.”

when you nod, she cups your tits and kisses you again. when you tug at your pants, tossing them somewhere to the floor, she pulls back to stare at you again. 

“you’re so beautiful…” she whispers softly, she trails her hand down to your underwear, groaning at how soft and warm and wet you were. she reaches her hand inside and you gasp at the feeling of her fingers brushing against you. your whole body tenses.

she starts off so slow, so gentle. “harder. please.”

paige snickers at your politeness. “well, since you said please.” she teases and you roll your eyes.

“shut up––” your words are cut off by a moan when she applies more pressure to your clit. 

she laughs again and smirks triumphantly. “you were saying?”

“you’re awful…” you moan. “i...hate you.”

“yeah? your body’s telling me something different, baby.” baby. you moan again. “look at how wet you are, how your legs are shaking…the way you’re moaning for me. you do all this for someone you hate?”

you don’t respond. you can’t. cause she’s speeding up, increasing the pressure. it’s not enough too much. “don’t stop.” and you’re so embarrassed at how quickly she’s gonna get there but you can’t do anything except keep moaning as orgasm washes over you.

she rides it out for you, slowly pulling her hand out of your pants as you try and catch your breath. afterwards you reach for her shorts and shimmy her out of them. this time, she freezes. 

“you okay?” you pant, chest heaving from the afterglow. “is it too much?”

“no, no it’s not that it’s just –– i, uh…olivia didn’t really like to give, i guess?”

you look at her in disbelief. “wait…like, never?”

paige shakes her head and you bite you lip. “well that’s a fucking shame…you gonna let me rectify that?”

she swallows thickly and nods. you guide her to lay back, once her back is against the couch she lets you take off her underwear and she slowly spreads her legs. she’s so wet. it shocks you for a second. 

“don’t start.” she rolls her eyes when you smirk up at her after you get a good look at the evidence of her arousal. “do i need to remind you how –– ”

you lick a long stripe from her entrance and she immediately stops talking. “oh, so that’s how i shut you up…” you tease but she’s too distracted to respond.

you continue your movement, only stopping to suck her clit which causes her to shift away from your mouth on reflex but you’re persistent, keeping your mouth on her despite all your movements. 

she’s moaning, a mixture of your name and pleas and the sounds she makes are addicting. you don’t stop until she’s trembling, physically pulling you away. you lick your lips and she shuts her eyes, trying to catch her breath.

“come here…” paige whispers and you obey immediately, she kisses you –– sloppy and tired and then she wraps her arms around your frame.

she’s so warm and intoxicating, and you try not to let yourself think of the consequences this would have. Especially not when she falls asleep clinging onto you. you allow your eyes to shut with a silent, daunting acknowledgement…this would change everything.