#my back aches and i need to drink water just lost like five hours to this bad boy woooo

[thefrogdalorian]

Dincember Day 12: Warmth

Word Count: 5182 Rating: General Summary: After you find yourself caught up in a rainstorm that drenches you to the bone on the forest planet you call home, an unexpectedly kind Mandalorian helps you to get warm again. Content Warnings: None! Author's Note: I honestly do not know what happened today, this spiralled out of control into something more than I expected lol. I just wanted a Din meet-cute and a little cuddling for warmth... over 5k words later here we are. It was like I was POSSESSED and just had to get this one out of me. But I really enjoyed it and I honestly might come back to this in the future, could definitely see this being the start of a longer fic. So if you enjoyed it and would maybe like to see that please let me know!

Link to read on AO3 | My Dincember Masterlist

There was always a distinctive feeling in the air just before a rainstorm hit. It was as though, for a brief moment before the chaos, tranquillity prevailed. As you walked along the vine-covered path, you felt your stomach drop as you noticed the telltale signs. The temperature had dropped; the leaves swayed ominously. You had lived on this planet long enough to be aware of all the warning signs of an impending storm, so the second you saw the grey clouds roll in over the tall tops of the lush trees on the forest planet you called home, you kicked yourself for leaving your cabin in such a hurry, without even your coat for warmth or protection from the rain. 

Before you could react to make a move and seek out shelter, the heavens opened and all hell broke loose. You were suddenly assaulted by freezing cold droplets of water that pelted down with such ferocity that they almost felt like bullets. It was relentless. The water seemed was everywhere, clouding your vision and distorting your senses. It was impossible to see or breathe properly as the brutal beads of water pummelled you unforgivingly. You decided that the best thing to do was run to the side of the path and throw your back against a tree trunk in order to get some shelter from the leaves high above. You stood there for a few moments, catching your breath as you cursed yourself for being so ill-equipped to deal with the planet's climate that you knew painfully well. This was the kind of thing that happened to the tourists who came to the forests of this planet for hiking trips, not a local like you who had been stuck on this backwater skughole for your entire life. 

Eventually, the rain finally ceased; the storm clouds parted. You breathed a deep sigh of relief. But the damage was done. Now, you were painfully aware of how overwhelmingly cold you were. Your teeth chattered as you stood there, drawing your arms around yourself in a pathetic attempt to garner some semblance of warmth and comfort.

The errands you had intended to run when you set out from your cabin were now long forgotten. You just wanted to return home and soak yourself in a scalding hot bath. But things would not be that straightforward. Now that the rain had left, the dark clouds had been replaced by the equally dark night that was beginning to creep in as the sky darkened. You groaned. You had only intended to leave the cabin briefly to pick up some supplies from a settlement a short distance away. Conditions were fine when you set off and you believed there would be no storm today. How wrong you had been.

You sighed and tried to focus your mind. Was there any chance of encountering any civilization nearby so that you could at least improve your odds of getting back safely and not get mauled by the various terrifying beasts that called this remote forest planet home after darkness descended? Then you remembered the small camp of various sized huts that weren’t too far away. The camp lay in the opposite direction to your home, but it was worth the slight detour if you were to make it back safely. 

So you turned your back to the direction of your cabin and began walking towards the camp. You knew your best bet now was the small settlement of huts ahead. Hopefully someone staying there would take pity on you and give you a torch so that you could light your way back to the warmth and sanctuary of your cabin. 

As you got closer to the clearing that the camp was located in, you noticed that all the lights in the cabins seemed to be extinguished. Your heart dropped, there was no one here. It was the rainy season after all, a time of year when there were fewer tourists visiting. You were about to turn and leave, utterly dejected and worrying how in Maker’s name you would make it home. But then you remembered there was one final row of huts in the trees. They were slightly more secluded, lying just behind some trees that separated them from the clearing where the main camp was.

It appeared that they were all vacant too. You had almost lost all hope, but then something glinted in the corner of your eye from the farthest hut. It caused you to stop in your tracks as your frazzled, frozen brain struggled to piece together what it was that you were seeing. The gleaming silhouette in the entryway did not look like it was human. You briefly wondered whether it was a large droid. But as you got closer, you realised that it was no droid at all.

You noticed a man clad in impressive shiny armour leaning against the door frame, his helmet inclined towards you as though he was watching you intently. There was something about knowing that his gaze was probably fixed on you that made you feel slightly lightheaded. It was ridiculous because you were unable to see his eyes behind the T-visor. Yet somehow, you just knew that his eyes were trained on you.

You were intrigued by this figure in the cabin. He was definitely not the kind of visitor that you usually saw come to this planet. You walked closer towards him; it was as though something was drawing you to him, an imperceptible force carrying you towards this curious man. It went against all your instincts. You had to be tough to survive on this planet and wandering towards the cabin of random men was a surefire way to meet a grisly end. Whoever this man was, he was intimidating behind all that armour. Plus, you were in a secluded spot where he could easily do you harm if he so wished. There would be no one around to hear. But if you did not find warmth and a torch, you were as good as dead anyway. 

As you approached the towering figure who loomed in the doorframe of the cabin, you noticed how the warm orange glow presumably coming from a lit fire in the cabin was illuminating his armour. When you were a few steps away, the man pushed himself up off the door, as though he was standing to attention and sensing danger from you. You suddenly felt awfully intrusive. But then the man nodded at you, as if he was inviting you to address him. So you did.

“S-sorry to bother you,” You said timidly, your teeth chattering as you struggled to speak through the cold. You suddenly felt incredibly awkward. “I got caught in the rai-rainstorm and I was wo-wondering whether I c-c-could maybe dry off-ff a little and bo-borrow a torch, if y-you have one, before I head back to my ca-cabin.""

The man stood there for a few seconds, clenching and unclenching his fists as though he was considering your words. Then he spoke, and you were stunned by how gravelly and deep his voice was. “The rain was pretty intense,” He nodded. “You can come inside to get warm, if you’d like.”

All logic told you that this was going to end terribly. That perhaps, entering the cabin of a random stranger – a Mandalorian no less, the formidable, deadly warrior race – was not the smartest thing to do. But desperation breeds carelessness. And there was something so about his voice, a certain warmth to it despite his steely exterior that made you want to follow him anywhere he asked. 

When you stepped across the threshold and entered the cabin, your fears of meeting your doom were instantly allayed. You could tell that this man was going to be no threat because there was a child playing on the rug by the fire of the simple, one room cabin. It was a fascinating creature, quite unlike anything you had ever seen before. You were curious about what a Mandalorian was doing with a little one like that. Was it his son? A pet?

“Take a seat by the fire, I’m sure it will warm you up in no time,” The man offered, gesturing towards the fire that burned in the stone fireplace. “I can get you some dry clothes.”

You did as he said and sat on the rug, close to the fire, next to the child who had stopped playing with its wooden blocks and was looking at you curiously, its little head tilted to the side as if wondering what this sudden intrusion into their cabin was. You smiled at the child, hoping to diffuse the tension of the situation with the little one while you waited for the Mandalorian to return with the change of clothes he had promised you.

“I don’t know if they’re the correct size for you but I hope they fit,” The Mandalorian said as he returned with a set of warm, dry clothes. You had never been more grateful to see such a simple pair of cotton trousers and shirt in your life. “You can, uh, change in the fresher, if you’d like.”

You nodded in gratitude and walked to the fresher. The cabin was one room with a small kitchen and table, a couch facing the fire and a bed in the corner. So the fresher really was the only place you would get any privacy. You found that peeling your soaked clothes off your body and replacing them with the thin cotton garments instantly made a difference and your teeth stopped chattering. 

You walked back into the main room and saw how the Mandalorian was now standing by the fire, holding the little green child in his arms and rocking him softly. You stood there awkwardly, feeling as though you had clearly intruded into an intimate moment. It was also abundantly clear to you now that the child was related to The Mandlaorian. You wondered if he looked the same underneath all that armour, whether he too had green leathery skin like the child.

The Mandalorian brought a gloved finger to his lips and continued to rock the child, commanding you to stay quiet. It was a directive you followed as you stood there, still trembling slightly after the loss of the warm fire. The Mandalorian rocked the child for a few more moments, but you noticed the way his helmet kept lingering in your direction. Several times, he shook his head after looking at you and looked in the opposite direction, as though trying to forget that you were there.

You remained fixed to the spot until he placed the child into a crib. You watched as he brought a gloved hand down to caress his forehead gently. You felt warmth pool deep in your chest at watching this warrior, who so many would probably be terrified by at first glance, make such a tender gesture towards such a tiny, helpless being. Your preconceived notions about him had been entirely wrong.

Then, the Mandalorian gestured towards the fire as if inviting you to sit down once again. You padded back across the cabin gratefully and took a spot on the rug by the fire, reaching your hands out over the fire to warm a part of your body that had not yet warmed up after the terrible rainstorm. 

“Can I get you something to eat?” The Mandalorian asked, you were stunned by his hospitality and the care he was showing towards you. 

His question caused a loud rumble of approval from your stomach. It had been hours since you had eaten, you appreciated the offer. “That’s very kind of you, thank you. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

“Of course,” The Mandalorian nodded as he pushed himself up from the floor and headed towards the kitchen to fix you a plate of food.

You sat, watching the brilliant yellow and orange flames dance in the fireplace. The crackling of the fire, combined with the visuals and the warmth it generated, instantly calmed you and warmed you all over. You suddenly felt exhausted. A quick trip out to run some errands had turned into something entirely different than you had ever anticipated. You were ripped from your musings by the sound of footsteps approaching behind you. You turned to face your host, who loomed over you.

As the Mandalorian handed you the plate, you noticed that he had removed his gloves, revealing his bare hands. His skin was nothing like the child’s at all, it was tan with smatterings of dark hair. It seemed as though he was human, after all. You stared for a few seconds longer than was probably appropriate before you shook your head, bringing out of your trance. You took the plate of fruit and bread appreciatively. 

“Thank you,” You whispered gratefully as you took the plate from his hands. The Mandalorian just nodded before he disappeared into the fresher, clearly giving you some space. You sensed that your presence was stirring emotions in him that you weren't entirely sure were all pleasant.

You took a deep breath before you began to eat the selection of food that he had provided for you. The way his visor seemed drawn towards you, giving you lingering glances… you wondered if he felt the electricity too, or whether it was all in your head. Perhaps you were reading something in the situation that you wanted to be there, rather than the reality. You tried to put those thoughts to the back of your mind as you tucked into the food the Mandalorian had provided. 

After you had finished the food, you intended to thank the Mandalorian for his hospitality, ask for a torch and leave. But when he emerged from the fresher, events unfolded quite differently. As he stalked back across the room towards you, you found that you could not take your eyes off him. Everything about him, from the way he held himself with unmistakable confidence to manner in which he walked across the room, to the way his armour reflected the soft light emanating from the fire until it was almost glowing. It was impossible to tear your eyes away, he was enthralling to look at.

“Thank you for the food…” You said, leaving a gap where you hoped the Mandalorian might interject with his name, but he did not. So you continued: “I really appreciate you allowing me in. I can bring the clothes back tomorrow. I don’t live too far from here. So, if I could borrow a torch, then I’ll be on my way.”

You heard a deep sigh from his vocoder as he clenched his fists, his visor still firmly fixed in your direction. “I cannot allow you to walk back through the jungle when it’s so dark outside,” The Mandalorian said, his voice firm as though he was leaving no room for debate on the matter. “I insist you stay the night, walk back in the morning when it's light. I can sleep on the couch, you are welcome to the cot."

“Oh… you don’t have to do that,” You said, feeling your cheeks warm. Truthfully, you felt mortified that he was caring for you like this, as though you were a pathetic, helpless specimen. You lived here, you should be better than this.

“No I insist,” The Mandalorian said with a firm nod, “Please, you are my guest.”

“Okay…” You exhaled, deciding this man was not someone you particularly wanted to argue with, given the impressive array of weapons that you had noticed were attached to the various parts of his armour. “Thank you.”

The Mandalorian just nodded again. You had discovered that he was a man of few words, which was a shame since you thought he had an incredibly alluring voice. You walked across the cabin to the fresher to wash your face before you slept, using the cold water that you splashed on your face to ground yourself. This entire situation was entirely ridiculous. Something like this did not just happen to someone like you, whose life was so utterly monotonous in every way.

You emerged from the fresher to find the Mandalorian getting himself comfortable on the couch, a blanket slung over his legs up to his waist, as the last embers of the fire burnt out in the fireplace. You wordlessly headed across the room to the cot and nestled yourself in between the blankets. There was no way to tell whether he was asleep, given the curious fact that he appeared to sleep in his helmet. Perhaps it was just because he was around you, a stranger. You didn’t know enough about Mandalorian culture to know whether such a thing was normal for them and it felt rude to ask such a personal question of a man you had just met.

You were getting yourself comfortable in the cot, with its heavy blankets and soft pillows, when the deep voice of the Mandalorian sounded from across the room.

“Goodnight,” The Mandalorian whispered from across the room.

“Goodnight,” You responded, a small smile on your face.

You wondered whether he was currently going through the same sensation as you were, of feeling immediately comfortable in his presence. There was a warmth and comfort to him which went deeper than the very literal warmth that he had provided to you after you were caught up in the rainstorm. Perhaps it was the way he cared for his child or the plate of food he had carefully arranged for you. Regardless, it felt as though there was something strangely familiar about the Mandalorian, like you had known him for your entire life. That was a strange notion, considering you had never even encountered a Mandalorian before. They were a fairytale, something that parents told their children about. You were stunned that they still existed, especially after the rumours of a Great Purge against the Mandalorians that had reached your planet despite its tiny size and location in the Outer Rim. 

You could not deny that both the cabin and the Mandalorian had helped to warm you. The biting, penetrating cold that had caused you to take such a risk on a stranger, a risk that had paid off. The warmth came not just from the fire and the thick blankets; but his calm, steady voice and strangely soothing presence, even clad in the hard, metallic armour. But it appeared that your brush with the rainstorm had left a lasting impact that was deciding now, in the silent, stillness of the cabin – where a child slept mere feet from you – to make itself known.

It appeared that, despite the thick blankets of the cot, you still could not get warm:

Achoo!

You sneezed. Loudly. You closed your eyes and bit your lip in frustration, completely mortified that you were disturbing the peace in such a violent way.

Achoo!

Another sneeze forced its way out of your body. You shut your eyes again, any warmth you felt had now dissipated. You felt terrible and hoped with every fibre of your being that the child would not be awakened by the terrible racket that you were involuntarily causing.

Achoo!

You had tried your best to suppress that one, for fear of waking up the child who was sleeping in the crib a few feet away, but it only seemed to make the sneeze be torn from your body even more violently. You were deeply embarrassed. This man had given up a part of his home to you and you could not stop disturbing him with your sneezes.

Achoo!

After another particularly loud sneeze, you heard the unmistakable sound of the Mandalorian shuffling from the sofa, his armour clanking together.

“Are you alright?” The Mandalorian asked, voice full of concern as he leaned over the foot of your cot.

“Ju….ju…just…” You stammered.

Achoo!

There was another one. “Sorry,” You sniffed, “I can’t stop sneezing!” You whined in frustration as the Mandalorian stood there, his imposing presence towering over your cot, unmoving and observing the pathetic scene before him of his guest being caught up in a terrible sneezing fit.

“Perhaps… um… I mean…” The Mandalorian stuttered, seemingly unsure of himself. You raised your eyebrows at him slightly, stunned that this usually composed warrior was struggling to get the words out in your presence. “A quick way to warm up would be… sharing body heat. I could take this off,” The Mandalorian gestured to his armour, “And get underneath the blankets with you? No pressure, I understand if you say no. I am a stranger, after all,” The Mandalorian added with a nervous laugh. “But it's just usually how I help the little guy warm up if he’s ever cold,” He finished, gesturing towards the child’s crib. 

Inviting a man who you had just met mere hours ago, a Mandalorian at that, a man part of a formidable order of ancient warriors, into your bed would be such a ridiculous notion if you took a second to scrutinise it. But you felt instantly at ease with him, you knew there was no ill-intent behind his words, he was not looking for anything from you. He only wanted to help you warm up after the relentless rain had frozen you to the bone. So, for the second time that day, you went against your instincts and nodded, giving your approval to his proposal.

So, the Mandalorian busied himself, taking his pieces of armour off with a meticulousness that was fascinating to observe. It was as though it was some kind of sacred ritual for him, the way he took each piece off and placed them gently in a pile at the foot of the bed. You didn’t know anything about Mandalorian culture aside from their fearsome reputation as warriors. To be honest, you were surprised that they still existed, so observing him like this was a curious sight to you.

You waited for him to remove the helmet, wondering why he still had not. But then he made his way around the cot and climbed between the blankets, his helmeted head resting on the pillow beside yours. You took a deep breath at the intimacy of the situation.

“Leaving the helmet on?” You said, perhaps more teasingly than you intended considering you hardly knew the guy. You just wanted to check that it wasn’t on your account and let him know that you felt comfortable in his presence.

“This is the Way,” The Mandalorian replied solemnly. 

You were slightly taken aback by his response, it had been instant: leaving no room for debate. You began to spiral and panic that you had offended him. You had not meant the comment with any kind of snark, to offer any judgment about his culture. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it I… just… I’ve never met a Mandalorian before,” You explained, turning to face him. “I didn’t even know that they still existed.”

“It’s okay, many Mandalorians do remove their helmets,” The Mandalorian said reassuringly, his tone of voice causing you to exhale in relief. He wasn’t mad at you. “I belong to a particular group of Mandalorians who follow The Way of The Mandalore. I swore the Creed when I was a boy, a Creed which states that it is forbidden for me to show my face.”

“Oh,” You replied, stunned by his revelation and honesty. You had not been trying to pry or glean any more information from him that he was willing to offer. But this man was being so open and honest with you, it made your stomach flip. “I wasn’t aware there were different types of Mandalorians.”

“Yes, it has been the cause of many conflicts between our people across the centuries,” The Mandalorian explained, “But I hope those days are a thing of the past. We have retaken our homeworld, Mandalore, and things have been relatively stable since then.”

“Do you live on Mandalore?” You asked, curiously.

“No.” The Mandalorian shook his head and rolled over slightly, so you were now face to face with his helmet. “I live on a planet called Nevarro with my son."

"Oh. Your son is adorable by the way," You praised, it was true.

"Thank you," The Mandalorian said, pride evident in his voice. "His name is Grogu. I am very lucky to have him in my life. But enough about me, what’s your story?” The Mandalorian asked, rapidly changing the subject. You sensed there was more to the story of him and Grogu, you hoped that you would one day get to know it.

“Oh… there’s no story really to tell. I was born on this planet, lived here my entire life. Never left.” You shrugged, “I’ll probably die here. It’s always been my dream to travel throughout the stars, though.”

“You’ve never left the planet?” The Mandalorian asked, stunned by your admission.

“Never,” You confirmed. “Hopefully one day, though,” You sighed deeply, hoping against hope that the wish you had made on a shooting star only the previous evening would come true. Perhaps this Mandalorian could help you with that. You lay your head back on the pillow, lying on your back again, suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable in front of him. The Mandalorian did the same.

You and the Mandalorian lay there silently for a few moments, both of you staring at the ceiling, until you let out a loud yawn that you had been unable to suppress, the exhaustion of the day had seemingly finally caught up to you.

“You sound exhausted, it might be time to get some rest,” The Mandalorian offered. 

“Yes,” You agreed, turning your head slightly to face him once again. The Mandalorian did the same and you were once again face to face with his T-visor.

“Would you… uh…” The Mandalorian stammered, the uncertainty that seemed so uncharacteristic considering the confident way he held himself had returned. “Would you like me to, you know… get close? To help warm you up?”

You smiled widely at his nervousness, such a question could have felt so suggestive coming from someone else. But with this Mandalorian, you knew it he really was just asking it out of his desire to help you.

“Sure,” You smiled at him, hoping that the particular spot of his black T-visor that you were staring at was level with his eyes. 

You turned on your side, to face away from him, believing that this was probably the least terrifying position for someone who appeared to be as nervous at the prospect of sharing a bed with you as the Mandalorian was. You tried to slow your thundering heart, beating with the anticipation of feeling his touch with some deep breaths as you waited for him to move closer to you.

For such an impossibly large, broad man; the Mandalorian’s touch was incredibly gentle. It was tentative, unsure, as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You felt instantly warmed by his touch through the thin cotton shirt of his that you were wearing. You felt his chest on your back and sighed contentedly. Being held like this by a man you had just met should have been a nerve wracking experience, but with the Mandalorian, it was nothing of the sort. 

You were just adjusting to his touch, his warmth and scent; when the cold, hardness of his helmet against your head and neck startled you.

“Ahh! It’s cold!” You exclaimed.

“Oh, sorry,” The Mandalorian said apologetically, his head instantly stepping back from the position it had been resting in, against the back of your neck. “I didn’t know… it’s uh… been, a while.”

The nervousness in his gravelly voice was back. It sounded as though the two of you had much in common. It had been a while since you had found yourself in a position like this.

“It’s okay,” You smiled, wishing you could add his name to reassure him but his identity was still a mystery.

“I can… turn the lights off and remove it until morning,” The Mandalorian quickly offered.

“You don’t have to do that…” You said, stunned that he would even offer such a thing.

“I know, but it’s alright,” The Mandalorian insisted. “I always wake up at first light. You won't be able to see anything, even if you tried.” 

“Okay,” You breathed, strangely giddy at the thought of him trusting you like this and knowing that his bare face would be so close to yours.

You stayed facing away as the Mandalorian went to turn off the lights. The last embers of the fire had disappeared and once he hit the control panel, the cabin was plunged into complete darkness. You heard a hissing sound, presumably from his helmet depressurising. He placed it on the table by his side of the cot with a clank, and then you felt the cot dip as he climbed back between the blankets.

“There,” The Mandalorian whispered, exhaling deeply as he made his way back towards you, to gather you in his arms once more.

The sound of his unmodulated voice right in your ear, with no vocoder to distort the rich tones of his deep voice, sent chills across your body which was the opposite of what he had intended. But when he took you in his arms, the raised bumps on your flesh soon disappeared as he drew you in close. 

Now that he was here, holding you so closely, you could take in his scent. There was a definitive muskiness to his scent, it was earthy, faintly metallic; hints of leather combined to reach your nostrils every time you inhaled. It was thrilling to simply lie there next to him, taking in the sensations of this formidable warrior who was providing much needed warmth after your drenching at the hands of the rainstorm.

“Goodnight, Mando,” You sighed, settling on a nickname for Mandalorians you thought you vaguely remembered from somewhere. Regardless, it just felt right. “And thank you, for everything.”

“You’re welcome,” The Mandalorian replied, voice so quiet you could barely hear him.

You were about to shut your eyes in an attempt to sleep, but the deep vibrations of the Mandalorian’s voice caused your eyes to fly open.

“My name is Din, by the way.” The Mandalorian, or Din as you now knew, whispered into your hair. You shivered at the sensation of his warm breath washing over the back of your neck.

“Oh,” You smiled, thrilled that he had entrusted you with such a piece of information. ”Goodnight, Din,”

“Goodnight,” Din rasped into your hair, tightening his grip around your waist.

You shut your eyes, a shy smile across your face. Your drenching at the hands of the rainstorm and the coldness that ensued a distant memory now you were warm and safe in Din’s arms. Perhaps leaving your coat behind in your cabin had been the best decision you’d ever made.

It meant you got to cuddle with a Mandalorian for warmth. 

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 29: Aftercare - The Marauders

Kinktober Day 29: Aftercare - The Marauders x f!reader

Tags: 18+ readers only,  dom/sub, bdsm, mentions of sex, overstimulated, passing out from sex, multiple orgasms, intense, praise kink, fluff, nicknames, no use of y/n

my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link

You were completely overwhelmed, emotionally and physically. They had been at it for hours, teasing and tormenting with this lips, tongues, fingers and cocks.

All three of them had started softly, working you up until you were begging for them to fuck you. And oh did they fuck you good.

At one point, all three of their cocks were inside you, whether it was your pussy, ass or mouth, hands groping your tits, pulling your hair, biting your shoulder, they were all over you. 

They knew exactly what they were doing with your body which meant they could draw out an ungodly amount of orgasms, so many in fact you had lost count after five, your brain turning into mush.

Every time you felt like you were going to pass out they would slow down their movements, sweet-talking their way into getting you to open your eyes before diving right back in again until you were trembling through your next orgasm.

Then it moved to each of the boys orgasming, each deciding today to finish across your chest, leaving you coated in their sticky substances.

This left you lying in the middle of the bed, half-conscious, throat and body aching, soaked in sweat, spit, their cum and your cum smothered over your thighs.

“You still with us pup?” asked a voice that sounded like it was echoing from another room, you were vaguely aware of a hand caressing your head soothingly. You couldn’t muster up the energy to respond, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep, not caring that you were filthy.

“I’ll take that as a no”, the voice continued, chuckling lightly before you began to feel like you were floating as Sirius lifted you into his arms.

“I’ll fill up the bath, whilst you try to bring her around Pads” Remus instructed, moving towards the bathroom as Sirius followed closely behind. As Remus sat on the edge of the bathtub, Sirius held you in the centre of the room, one arm under your knees and the other holding your back up.

There had been a handful of times where you had been fucked so thoroughly you’d passed out and they’d learnt from past mistakes that you needed to be soothed back to waking. So to begin with, he simply swayed his body back and forth, lips against your forehead.

“Sweetheart I need you to wake up for us, come on pup, open your eyes, let me see those pretty eyes” he whispered lowly. James then joined the group having pulled on some boxers and been in the kitchen to get you a glass of cold water. “Here’s James, he’s got you a glass of water so I need you to open your eyes and drink, ok?”

Sirius’ voice became clearer now, the swaying helping to ground you so with a great deal of energy, you blinked and opened your eyes, still feeling foggy but aware enough to know that Sirius was holding you.

“Well done baby, you’re doing so well, here turn your head towards me, that's it, and drink some of this”, James praised, cupping your face to help you turn towards him, lifting the glass to your lips which you gladly accepted, not realising just how thirsty you were.

It took a couple of minutes for you to drink it all but you managed it, dribbling a little at the end, Sirius and James both gave you encouraging praises that had you smiling, leaning your head back onto Sirius’s shoulder and closing your eyes.

“Bath’s all ready” Remus informed you all, settling into one side of the magically widened tub. Sirius inched forward, James helping him to step into the tub with you in his arms, careful not to drop you before sitting down.

The water was in between hot and warm, instantly relaxing your whole body, a sigh left your lips as Sirius leaned with you both against the side. James sat on a stool at the side of the tub, stroking a hand up and down your spine causing you to shiver and smile, becoming more and more aware of your surroundings.

“Tickles Jamie” you giggled, trying to move away but your body wouldn’t respond to yours.

“Sorry baby” from the humour in his voice he wasn’t sorry at all but it was all helping your mind to become clearer, knowing each of the boys was close by.

It was Remus’ turn now to move across the tub, his hands gently cupping around your ankles, tugging on them slowly so you moved positions in Sirius's lap so that you ended up lying with your back against his chest and your legs extended straight, in between Remus’ bent legs. His large hands began massaging the muscles in your thighs your moan was deep, and not realising how tight they had become with all of the fucking you’d been doing.

Taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes again, firstly looking at Remus who smiled softly at you, before you looked down at your body, seeing the cum that had dried and not washed off in the water.

“Ew,” you remarked, hearing the three boys chuckle under their breaths.

“I thought you liked being covered in our cum pup” Sirius teased, kissing your neck before reaching for the washcloth that James had just retrieved from the cupboard. You decided to ignore his teasing, knowing he was right but you always felt icky afterwards, happy when he began washing your chest.

James stroked back your hair from your face so you turned to look at him, smiling lazily as he grinned at you. “You fully back with us, baby?”

“I think so, I’m just tired” you admitted, nuzzling into his palm.

“We’ll get you cleaned up and in bed soon, don’t worry. You did so well for us tonight” your body warmed at the praise, smiling shyly before jolting forward as Sirius brushed against your extremely sensitive cunt.

“Shit, sorry pup, just need to make sure you’re clean that’s all”, you relaxed back into him, letting him try again, biting your lip as he brushed against your engorged clit. He only took a few seconds to clean you and you released the breath you’d been holding. “All done” he announced, kissing the side of your head.

“Do you think you can stand?” Remus asked, hands still massaging your calves.

“I think so” you replied, wiggling your toes to check that your body wasn’t feeling as jelly-like as it once had.

“Come here then sweetheart” James then intervened, offering his hand to help you stand. But it was all three of them who helped you to stand, Remus, holding your hips, Sirius supporting your back whilst James held onto your hands.

With their support, you were able to stand and then step out of the tub. James was quick to help towel dry you, being careful not to rub too hard in between your legs. Remus then began pulling one of his shirts over your head as Sirius and James tidied up around you, waving their wands but you weren’t paying attention.

Instead, you were leaning against Remus as he held you into his body warmth, making you feel safe but even more tired. Remus kissed the top of your head, “let’s get you to bed sweetheart”.

He held your hand tightly as you both moved into the bedroom, the bed sheets having been replaced from the sweaty, cum stained sheets to fresh ones thankfully. Remus held the duvet up for you to climb into, releasing a happy sigh as you settled into the mattress, feeling Remus following soon behind you, pulling you onto his front so you could nuzzle into his chest.

“Wait for us” James muttered, sliding onto your left, kissing your shoulder before slinging his arm over your back whilst Sirius did the same on your right, kissing your temple before collapsing into the pillow.

“I love you” you whispered, sleeping fighting to take over, smiling as they all replied with their love before you fell into a peaceful sleep.

[chaotic-goodsir]

If you listen to any one song on here I highly recommend this one thanks:

Edited to add lyrics because I crave approval for my silly playlist...

*

1. You Flip Me Upside Down 

(Curt pov)

I hope that I, I don't ruin this 

Getting too fucked up to remember it

You flip me upside down

And take me out of my head

You flip me upside down

I'm kinda getting into it

2. Dressed to Kill 

(Curt pov)

I've got to get you out of my mind

And back into my arms

Closer than a close shave

I wanna be shaking in the shockwave

It's on tonight and I've only got one clear shot

A little courage for the road please

(Owen pov)

And I don't need philosophy this time

They're all just words that bounce around

Until our bodies hit the ground

I'm dressed to kill

And if I don't somebody else will

Like the glass that's glued to your hand

Baby I'm gonna be your man

3. Give Me a Try 

(Owen pov)

I know sometimes I lose the plot and I cause a scene

What do you dream of on the West Coast

When my head is aching in GMT?

And I don't care why this apartment's so ice cold

Let London try - it'll never swallow me whole

4. Jump Into The Fog 

(Owen pov)

What a great achievement it was

To find someone that shirks such little self restraint

I'm a non-believer but

I believe in these dirty little wicked games

Snakes and ladders are banned in here, love

The climb's too rough just to slide back down again

I'm only here because I wanna twist the structure of my average day

I've made some bad decisions, I'll admit that freely

It's just that life tastes sweeter when it's wrapped in debauchery

So drop your map, drop your plans

Drop your five-step program

Because there's not an ounce of faith in this leap

5. Flowerball

(Curt pov)

I'll take the punch if you'll sell the kick

It's been a while since we tripped the light fantastic

I wanna hear guitars and symbols sing

I'm tired of deciphering her senile fax machine

Don't you get bored of them giving you nothing?

I only press pause when you press play in my stomach

Like a funeral needs an audience

Like a skeptic needs a church

It's not fun unless it hurts

6. Tormentor

(Curt pov)

A heart as cold as Oslo in the show

Between the sheets she sucker punches me

A temperament only a mother could love

She put the snipers on the rooftops and in the streets

You don't play, play well with others

You're a tormentor

7. Last Night I Dreamt...

(Owen pov)

I'm a good friend and an excellent lover

I can fool myself just like no other person can

I'm turning into a twisted man

I haven't got time for any selfless deeds

What I do for you indirectly for me

I'm a stubborn boy

There's nothing here that you can break or destroy

Last night I dreamt I died alone

Through all my talk of self-defeat

A fearful bomb ticks underneath

8. Sex and Question Marks

(Curt pov)

With low hopes and little charm

We half a cigarette and overthink where it went so wrong

You were my swiss watch

We made our moves on cue

Oh what bliss it was to have something to lose

(Owen pov)

Life was euphoric when we didn't know much

Now I'm a ghost and you've lost your spark

What happened, oh what happened to us?

9. Kamikaze Lovers

(Owen pov)

Fear, fear and coconut water

Is and will always be my favourite blend of drink

So hurry up, happy hour must have it's end

Just as our darkest hours must have it's their time to shrink

Twist your knife deep into me

We're different creatures with similar needs

It was pleasure to have met you

I know my family would approve

But if we can't be kamikaze lovers

Then I can never be, I can never be your friend

Your inseparable friend

And anyway why would I shake your hand

When I can shake your bed?

10. Be Your Shadow

(Curt pov)

Tonight we'll both go MIA

In different towns but I'm similar ways

I've tried my best, best to forget

But I can't, I can't, I can't

Tonight we'll scratch each other's face

If it's in the moment no one complains

I've tried my best to move along

But I can't, I can't, I can't

Those machine-gun eyes fire crystals into me

You're such a violent high

And I'm such a loose cannon, can't you see?

11. Firing Squad (Come on I'm English I'll Even Queue and Wait My Turn)

(Owen pov)

You pulled the ace out of the pack

Describing me as a charmless nowhere man

I wasn't stationed here to take flak

Or to be your sycophantic fan

Your eyebrows raise, were you expecting a white flag?

Is it still giving up if you want the trigger pulled back?

No thanks for the birthday cake

And the upright cigarettes that acted as the flame

Why would I watch the filters burn?

When you could take your aim and I could watch those barrels burst?

Come on, I'm English, I'll even queue and wait my turn

Too little too late

Too big a mistake

You're a firing squad, you're a firing squad

Now blow me away

12. Unexploded Bomb

(Owen POV)

Just grant me one last request

And take me out for a drive

And I'll store my eternal unrest

Between my shirts and ties

I wanna go where the action is

Cause I've seen the places to hide

Stamp that pedal to the floor now, love

We're running out of time

(Curt POV)

Just grant me one last request

And remove the disguise

I'd love in a little black dress if I had those thighs

I wanna go where the action is

Where lightning strikes twice

So throw your makeup out the window, love

We're running out of time

[shurisneakers]

perceive

Summary: In which he reclaims his five senses of perception

Word count: 1k

Warnings: angst, anxiety, ptsd, mentions of death and torture, sensory overloads but also fluff

A/N: behold, i actually wrote it. try prying filter coffee from my cold dead hands but since chai is more popular, i included pakorey to compensate even though it’s tasteless and i hate it

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

1.

He’s not usually one for soft blankets.

Hell, for the longest time he’d find comfort on the cool tiles against his skin. Fevers stealing away nights of peaceful sleep, body aching from the stress of carrying all the sins of the world on his back.

Blankets were too soft, too gentle. It worked hard at his years of pain, felt almost completely strange against his skin. Too kind. He did not deserve the kindness. The harsh cold punished him in ways his mind couldn’t and he thought that maybe, this was his redemption.

2.

Coffee was dark, bitter, many a times lukewarm. It was hard to explain his inclination to this variation of it when there were so many more available in the free world. But things were constantly changing, there was never a rug that stayed long enough under his feet to initiate shock when it was pulled away again. And when for seventy years one of the only constants he has was this garbage, he stuck to it, hoping that it tethered him in a world that seemed like it was spinning out of control around him.

There was never any effort put into the drink. Usually grabbed off the desk from a lower ranking agent, or stale from day or two prior. Years later, coffee any other way was just too sickly sweet. Anything more than the cheap beans and water felt foreign on his tongue. Too luxurious. He doesn’t want to afford luxury, not when he took away the chance to experience it from countless others. 

The only exposure he had to coffee was a quick adrenaline shot before he’s sent out to wreck havoc quietly and maybe, that’s all he should be allowed to have.

3.

Silence was his best friend. If there was silence it meant that for a second, perhaps he could drown out the cries. Silence meant that he wouldn’t add a name to his list of redemption, it meant that his ears wouldn’t strain to hear what new serum they discussed injecting into him to improve efficiency. In the silence, it was just him. 

Did he love the silence or did he love the absence of noise? 

But he learned to pay attention to sounds, even when he’s out of confinement. He never felt like there was a moment where a sound is just what it claims to be. He paid attention for footsteps while leafing through books in the library, angry shouts in a crowd of squeals at a carnival, gunshots near the loud chatter of a construction site. He was always searching for more.  

If he focused on one sound, he risked ignoring the rest. He would never know peace.

4. 

With the number of times his nose had been broken, you’d think that he altogether lost his sense of smell. A several thousand times he wished he had. Old gunpowder, the cement dust from falling buildings, and fuck, he thought the stench of blood was the worst but one time he unwittingly catches the fresh scent of perfume before he kills the wife of a Hydra victim waiting for her husband to return home. It sears into his brain. He can pull it from memory even years down the line and the terror from that night drags him back into a spiral. 

It was an unlikely enemy. He didn’t even know how to explain it. 

5. 

Days with sensory overloads were common. His home for majority of his life was in the darkness; sometimes his body existed while his mind forced itself to think of something other than the cold. He always took time to adjust when he was pulled out of the ice, blinking and adjusting an environment different from the last time he opened his eyes. Years’ worth of distinction. 

His sensory attacks happened a lot more in Bucharest. At least now it’s down to about two or three a month. He remembers the newspaper clad windows and cowering under a blanket, hoping that the familiarity of darkness would stop it. 

There is so much around him all the time- seasons keep changing in front of him, wild hair colours and hundreds of billboards and he thought, God, sight has to be the worst of them all. 

He wore black. Constantly, everywhere. It gave him less to look at. 

He just wished that everything would stop. 

Years later, he’s glad it didn’t. 

6.

Things were different now. 

��Penny for your thoughts?” He doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s you. He’d recognise your voice anywhere. 

Bucky drags his eyes away from the lawn in front of him. There are flower pots you’ve arranged, filled with any kind of plant you find pretty. He finds himself spending hours looking at the bright pink carnations and the sunflowers he picked out. It brings a certain liveliness that he adores. 

“How many pennies do you have?” Lifting up the blanket, he offers you a place under the warmth beside him.

You settle down next to him, taking him up on his offer, nudging yourself under his arm. “I’d say I have enough.”

His body is a warm security against the cool wind that the storm brings.

The smell of rain on fresh grass is intoxicating. He’s long added it to his list of favourite scents, only next to the fresh waffles from the diner downtown.

Your hand extends a cup of filter coffee towards him. A content smile grows on his face. What initially was too sweet, too sharp, now is a lingering sense of comfort. He was damn near addicted to it.

He takes it a little too eagerly. 

“New sweater?” you ask, and he hums in affirmation. “Blue looks good on you.”

“Thank you.” It’s something he’s working on- accepting compliments. It won’t hurt anyone if he just accepted that some people like certain things about him, he was reminded over and over again by his therapist.

A stray droplet lands on his cheek. He closes his eyes. 

He feels your fingertips wipe it away softly. He leans into you.

Your hum of an old Kishore Kumar song reverberates through you, a soft melody to accompany the rain. He simply listens, willingly zeroes in on it.

The world has been rough for years but maybe this cup of coffee, fleece sweatshirt and the plate of pakorey beside you will be soft enough to help for the next few.

[seijorhi]

Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you

Me attempting a multi-part fic?? More likely than you think! I wrote this fic because this blog started with Hawks and Dabi and kinda got a bit of traction with soulmate au’s so to me it made sense to post it for my first anniversary. I hope you guys like it! 💕

Touya Todoroki (Dabi) x female reader, Keigo Takami (Hawks) x female reader

TW canonical character ‘death’, a little angst and maybe a slight hint of dub-con (if you squint your eyes a little)

Part I, II

You’re eleven years old when your parents take you by the hand, sit you down on the couch and tell you that your soulmate is dead.

It doesn’t make sense. There’s a hollow ache inside of your chest like something important is gone but you were with Touya only yesterday. You had the rest of your lives together, you were gonna leave with him, start something better…

You feel empty and you can’t understand it. He can’t be dead, that’s not how it works. You find your soulmate and you get to ride off into the sunset. You get to be happy, everyone knows that.

But it doesn’t sink in until you’re kicking and screaming by his grave and Endeavor won’t so much as meet your eye and your parents are pulling you back because there’s no body.

There’s nothing left of Touya Todoroki.

And there’s nothing left of you without him.

—

They call it the bloom. A simple touch, the first from your soulmate’s hand, and the mark appears on your skin like drops of ink spilled into water. You’ve always thought it beautiful, the delicate black pattern imprinted on your wrist.

You can still remember the heat you’d felt when it happened. Not the burning kind you knew him capable of, but like the warmth of a fire seeping through you. And you remember the way those bright, blue eyes had widened as you’d tripped and fell, taking him with you. His mark was over his heart; Touya always was stupidly smug about that.

You were just kids. Angry and scared and lost, but you had Touya and Touya had you.

(Not that that counted for anything in the end. He still died alone.)

They say it’s rare to find your soulmate before adulthood, but you’d been one of the lucky ones.

Lucky.

The word tastes bitter on your tongue now. It’s not that you disagree exactly – even now, years after his death you’re glad that you had time with him. You would’ve been grateful for a minute, for a mere glance at his face. Two and a half years with your soulmate was a gift, but having him, losing him so young only meant that you had more years of your life to struggle on without him.

And sometimes you catch yourself staring at your mark, lost in thought. Touya was the one with all the plans, you were always just the tag along, happy to go anywhere so long as he was the one leading you. You wonder what he’d think if he could see you now. Not the Hero you’d let yourselves imagine, though you suppose you both knew deep down that was nothing more than a pipe dream for someone like you.

Gazing around your cramped, messy apartment, debating exactly how badly you need this shitty, barely-enough-to-scrape-by job, you can’t imagine he’d be impressed.

God knows your parents are disappointed, but that’s nothing new. The Quirkless daughter of two mid rank heroes – well, the only thing you ever had going for you was being Enji Todoroki’s future daughter in law, and everybody knows how that one ended.

But part of you likes to think that maybe Touya wouldn’t judge you too harshly for it. You’re doing the best you can. You’re surviving, all on your own, that has to count for something, doesn’t it?

There’s a text message awaiting you when you roll over and grab your phone.

Happy Birthday x

Natsuo never forgets. The rest of the Todoroki’s – you ceased to matter to them the day they buried an empty casket for their son. Natsuo’s the only one who bothers to check in on you, make sure that you’re keeping your head above the water. It’s usually just a message here and there, and he calls you on Touya’s birthday. And on the anniversary of his death.

It’s painful for him, but you suppose you’re the only tangible connection he has left of his brother.

You stare at the message for a moment longer, a strange feeling tugging at your heart. Typing out a quick reply, you set your phone down and fall back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh.

Today of all days, you’d honestly rather just roll over and let the hours pass you by, but your boss isn’t that forgiving and as much as you hate to admit it, you need this job.

The hotel’s already abuzz by the time you clock in, your manager’s jaw tight, a frown pinching at his face. As much as you don’t like him, you can’t exactly blame him for the bad mood – in less than three hours, the ballroom will be filled with a media circus and a plethora of pro heroes. Some big promotional event before the hero rankings are announced; you honestly don’t care.

It just means that everybody’s on edge, you’re gonna spend all day stuck in heels, smiling blandly while you serve people who won’t so much as look twice at you.

And then there’s the real reason you’re dreading today. 6’4”, blue eyed, broad shouldered, currently burning holes into you from across the ballroom while you carry around a platter of canapés. The last time you’d seen Enji Todoroki in person was two weeks after the funeral, and he’d ignored you entirely.

That was years ago; you weren’t even in your teens. Half of you had hoped that in his infinite arrogance and the complete lack of care he’d shown since his son’s death he would’ve forgotten about you entirely.

From the way he’s spent the last twenty minutes staring at you while bulldozing past reporters, though, you’re not feeling all that confident.

And for the life of you, you can’t figure out why your presence seems to be disturbing him so much, considering you’re really only there to serve and then fade into the background. It’s not like you’re chasing after him, demanding an autograph much less any kind of acknowledgement – you’re not exactly thrilled to be here either. Things work just fine with the two of you pretending the other doesn’t exist.

Does he think you’ve planned this? Some big ‘fuck you’ to try and mess with what you’re sure will be an announcement of his retainership of the number one position? Even while Touya was still alive, his father didn’t have a place in your life – he was off training his youngest, you barely saw him and you were glad for it.

While he might have hated him, some part of Touya still idolised him, craved his approval, but Enji had never been anything to you but a selfish, unfeeling monster. A bully.

But now he’s staring at you, slack jawed and wide eyed like he’s seen a ghost and it’s harder than you thought it would be to keep that smile plastered across your face knowing he’s watching your every move.

Your cheeks feels hot, and it only gets worse when you realise that Endeavor’s less than subtle behaviour is slowly but surely drawing attention from others in the room. A few curious reporters have shot you odd looks, heads cocked for a moment before dismissing you as just another waitress, hardly headline worthy.

The other heroes are less quick to brush you off. Mirko, current number five, elegantly clasping her glass of champagne in a gloved hand keeps shooting furtive glances between you and Enji, Gang Orca’s beady eyes following you across the floor, a flicker of what you’re fairly sure is concern maring his face.

It’s mortifying. Your smile is stretched and painful, your throat tight and you feel utterly exposed, but there’s nothing you can do. The flame hero doesn’t seem to care about the attention he’s drawing, or that with every passing minute it gets harder and harder for you to maintain that professional, customer service demeanour you need for this job.

And you’re beyond caring if he’s embarrassed to find his firstborn’s soulmate has sunk so low in his absence, you just want him to stop staring so you can finish your shift in peace. But it seems like the flame hero has other plans, because you’re just beginning to seriously weigh up your chances of keeping this job if you just up and walk off right here and now when Enji’s limited patience finally reaches its threshold.

He doesn’t bother offering excuses towards the poor reporter trying to pry an interview out of him, he just abruptly sets his drink down and starts stalking towards you. Rationally, you realise that with all these people here, he can’t make too much of a scene.

It’s just that even the thought of having to talk with him, to look into those blue eyes that are so painfully familiar yet wrong–

You can’t do it.

Not today.

And so you spin on your heel, stomach lurching. The silver tray in your hands stacked high with champagne teeters and falls, crystal glass shattering on the marble floors drawing gasps from the crowd. Endeavor calls out your name but you block him out, desperately weaving your way through the stunned mass of people.

Most of them give you a wide berth, likely due to the oversized hero barrelling after you. He calls your name again, louder this time. It’s not a scream, or a yell – it almost sounds pleading, though you can’t possibly imagine why. Endeavor doesn’t do pleading.

Your cheeks are burning; there’s too many people staring and hot tears begin to prickle at your eyes. A flash of red blurs past your field of vision and you start, a sharp squeak slipping out as a figure lands before you, blocking your exit.

Handsome with bushy eyebrows, dirty blonde hair messily brushed back and golden eyes gleaming; the hero in front of you would be impossible to mistake, even if it weren’t for the sweeping blood red wings sprouting from his back. Hawks, the current number two pro-hero and the only man standing between you and your fumbling escape.

Your body’s slow to catch up with your mind though, and as you try to stop, backpedal and side-step him at once your foot catches on your ankle. It’s instinctive, the way your arms fly up, wildly trying to catch yourself before you fall on your ass.

Just like you suppose it’s instinctive for him to rush forward to do the same.

It happens in a split second, your fingers brushing the skin of his neck just above the collar of his shirt, his hand grasping at your waist to steady you. Beneath his gloved hand a familiar burst of heat warms your skin.

Time slows to a crawl. The ballroom, all the gathered heroes and the press, your co-workers, they all fade into the background as your eyes dart to your fingertips, resting gently on the side of Hawks’ throat. There, a soft, inky black mark begins to unfurl spreading up to his jaw, disappearing below the collar of his turtleneck.

Over the quiet hum of the classical music playing in the background, you hear his breath catch.

He has you dipped, the two of you frozen as if in a dance and for a moment you dare to meet those piercing golden eyes. There’s a clicking sound, a camera shutter you distantly register, but while it makes your heart jump, Hawks pays it no mind.

He stares at you with impossibly wide eyes; open, vulnerable and raw.

And then he blinks, and that glimpse is gone, his grip tightening as he slowly sets you right. He doesn’t let you go, however.

“Hawks,” Enji’s tone is low and gruff, a warning this time.

Tension, thick and crackling with electricity hangs in the air between the three of you, amplified by the crowd of onlookers. All those journalists, chomping at the bit with the realisation of a juicy story playing out right in front of their eyes. Your name’s called out again, not by Endeavor, but by the reporter he’d cut off before – eyeing you now with an eager leer that has you recoiling back into Hawks’ embrace.

It’s enough to jerk the winged hero into action. His mouth finds your ear, his thumb sweeping soothingly along your side as he speaks low enough for only you to hear.

“You wanna leave, baby bird?”

You don’t remember nodding, but you must have, because in the space of a single heartbeat Hawks has you hoisted up in his arms, those powerful wings spreading wide – and you’re flying.

—

“I don’t think I have a job anymore,” you laugh drily, staring down at the city lights twinkling on the horizon.

Beside you, Hawks snorts in agreement, “Hell of a way to make an exit, though.”

He’s not wrong. You can only imagine what the tabloid headlines will say tomorrow ‘Pro Hero sweeps hotel waitress soulmate off her feet’ ‘Hawks mates for life; Endeavor jealous?’ Even if by some miracle your boss wasn’t intent on firing you on the spot, you’re not sure you can even bear to show your face there again.

It’ll be a pain though, trying to find a new job while your face is plastered across every less than reputable news outlet.

Perched atop the rooftop of Hawks’ hotel, halfway across the city, the wind ruffling gently through your hair, everything feels… surreal almost. It’s your birthday, and instead of crashing through the door of your apartment, exhausted and aching before falling face first onto your bed and not moving for the next few hours, you’re here. With the number two pro hero. Who, incidentally, is your second soulmate.

Having more than one soulmate, it’s not unheard of, just… rare.

And your hand’s entwined with his, his gloves long since discarded, his fleece lined jacket draped over your shoulders. Touya’s mark, long since blossomed across your inner wrist lies starkly between the two of you, unignorable.

“It was his son, wasn’t it?” he asks eventually, breaking the fragile silence as he toys with your fingers. When you nervously risk a glance up, Hawks doesn’t look angry or upset or even that jealous. Those golden eyes study your face with an odd kind of curiosity, but there’s no trace of resentment there. “Touya, the one who died. He was your soulmate.”

It’s not a question, but you find yourself nodding anyway. A part of you’s almost surprised he put it together so quickly, but you guess being a pro hero of that calibre requires a little more than just having a strong quirk.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, because what else can you say?

You can’t possibly imagine how he’s feeling right now, what thoughts are running through his head. You’d accepted a long time ago that while you’d love Touya Todoroki until your dying breath, he was gone; that chance of a fairytale happily ever after going with him. Another soulmate wasn’t something you’d ever considered, much less wasted time longing for.

And yet here you are, another mark inked across your skin and it feels wrong somehow, yet also completely right. Imagining being on the other foot; putting yourself in Hawks’ shoes – a pro hero soulmated to some insignificant, quirkless waitress, and not only that, but finding out she has another soulmate, somebody she loved before you, a ghost of a memory you’ll always be competing against… you honestly don’t know how you’d feel.

“Look at me,” he whispers, calloused fingers coaxing at your chin. Heart thrumming like a hummingbird's you comply, letting out another soft squeak as Hawks takes the hand still entwined with his and lifts it to his neck, right above his mark.

He smiles, nuzzling into the touch as your breath stutters. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” Again, you find yourself nodding without even really being conscious of it. It doesn’t seem to matter to Hawks though, whose smile widens at the sight of it. He leans in closer, his breath fanning across your face as molten pools of honey drink you in. You wonder if he can feel the way your pulse is racing under his touch, mixed emotions warring inside of you as he cups your cheek.

“And I’m yours. That’s all I care about, baby bird.”

He’s drawing you into a kiss before you can even comprehend the words, soft lips moving against yours. Gently at first, but that sweetness gives way to a burning urgency as he pulls you closer, holds you tighter.

Hawks kisses you like your lips hold salvation, and it’s frightening and thrilling and it feels like every nerve in your body is electrified when his teeth catch at your bottom lip and he moans your name.

There’s some part of you that realises that you’re moving too fast – soulmates or not he’s practically a stranger – but as you break for air, panting and breathless and Hawks looks at you with those burning, beautiful eyes; you’re helpless to resist.

“Keigo,” he tells you as he lays you down on his bed, crawling up between your thighs with a gleaming, hungry smirk that’s nothing less than predatory, “Call me Keigo.”

[queensoybean0724]

Succession Chapter 12 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Title: Succession Chapter 12

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader

Rating: NC-17 for sex and language (slight hand job, girl on top, creampie)

Summary:  you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary.  While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village.  This is a work of fiction.  Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter 12

You woke up alone in Heisenberg’s bed.  The sudden feeling of the absence of his body was instantaneous and you felt lacking.  His arms weren’t around you.  You didn’t feel the light tickling of his breath on your skin or his flesh against yours.  

The question of Heisenberg’s whereabouts was short lived.  You opened your eyes and saw him crouched at the fireplace, moving the logs around with the stoker.  His pants were the only article of clothing he had on...and that made you pout.  You wanted him naked and you wanted him next to you under the covers, helping you get warm.

The air in the room was chilly and you were grateful that Heisenberg was getting the fire going.  You could hear the wind whipping outside.  It must be positively freezing outside.  Turning towards the clock on the nightstand, you saw it was almost 5am the following day.  You couldn’t believe how the day got away from you...then again, you could.  It was around noon yesterday when Heisenberg brought you back to the factory and almost immediately, the two of you had fallen into bed.  After he told you everything there was to know about the village and his story, you two had fucked off and on all day with a few naps in between.

You lifted your arms above your head, stretching as you let out a tired moan.

“There’s my pussycat,” Heisenberg said, looking over at you stretching in bed, “how did you sleep?”  All you could do was yawn, which made Heisenberg chuckle as he walked over to you. He sat down next to you on the edge of the bed.  “A snowstorm is moving through the village,” he informed you as his hand moved up and down your leg, “it got pretty cold in here, so I got the fire going…”

“Come back to bed,” you whispered sleepily, pulling the sheets back for him, “but do away with the pants first…”

Heisenberg laughed as he stood up, unzipped his pants, and let them fall to the floor.  You took in his naked form as he slid back under the covers.  Arousal instantly started brewing in your belly.  You wanted him so badly.

“Here,” Heisenberg said, reaching over to the nightstand, picking up a coffee mug, “drink some water.  You’ve been asleep for almost six hours…”  You sat up and took the mug from him.  Once the water hit your tongue, you guzzled it quickly, realizing you were absolutely parched.  

“What have you been doing while I was asleep?” you asked between gulps.

“Lying here...sleeping off and on...and watching you sleep,” he replied, lying back against the pillow.  You finished off the water, set the mug on the nightstand, and wiggled back under the covers, resting your head on his chest.  Heisenberg wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, pressing kisses into your hair.

You listened to the fire crackling in the fireplace as well as the distant sounds of the factory.  Your fingers traced up and down his chest and stomach.  The moment felt blissful, comfortable, and peaceful.

“The Duke will be back around tomorrow.  I’ll need more supplies.  You can stay here if you’d like,” Heisenberg informed you.  His other hand touched yours on his chest and he interlaced his fingers with yours.  The moment made your heart swell.

“I’d like to go with you,” you said, “I’d like to look and see if there is something I might want...if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course, doll face,” he said.  You lifted your head from his chest and looked up at him.  He flashed you a dazzling smile and you couldn’t help yourself.  You leaned forward and gave him a kiss.

His lips on yours stirred the arousal inside your body.  You tried to count the number of times you two had fucked so far...there was the first time, the second time after his story, and two other times after that...maybe three, four...  The man had an enormous effect on your body and your libido...you didn’t think you would ever stop wanting him.

As the two of you continued to kiss, your hand slowly untangled from his and slid under the covers.  Heisenberg growled into your mouth when your hand found his hardening cock.

“Mmmmmm Y/N…” he moaned as your fingers wrapped around his length.  The velvet smoothness of his skin was soft to the touch.  His teeth found your bottom lip and lightly nibbled.  You smiled as you jerked his cock slowly.  Heisenberg let his head fall back onto his pillow, his hips thrusting up into your hand.  Your lips kissed along his chest, nuzzling his skin with your nose.

“Karl...I want to be on top this time...I want to ride your cock…” you moaned, looking up at his face.  His eyes were shut, his mouth open as moans and breathy whispers slipped past his lips.

“Fuck, Y/N...yes...you can do whatever you want, baby...oh fuck…” he groaned.

You giggled softly as you slung your leg over his body and sat up over his hips.  Heisenberg’s cock was hard and lying along his stomach.  Taking his cock in your hand, you pressed it between your pussy lips and slowly started to grind back and forth.

“Oh fuck...fucking tease…” he growled, looking down at his length swimming in your wetness.  You bit your lower lip and watched his face as he cursed and moaned, his hands gripping your hips.  The expressions on his face, seeing his lust painted across his features, and watching the way he reacted to your body turned you on.  He looked feral and desperate to be deep inside of you.

You closed your eyes, tilted your head back, and moaned softly at the feel of the head of his cock nudging your clit.  His fingers sunk deeper into your hips, pulling you faster back and forth along his prick.  It felt unbelievable.  He wasn’t inside of you yet and you felt like you could cum from this alone.

Heisenberg’s gaze moved up your gorgeous body and watched as you slowly ground your hips.  His eyes darkened while he watched you toss your head back and moan helplessly.  He pushed his hips upwards, desperate for more friction.  You were a scared and timid woman when he first met you days earlier...and now...here you were, in his bed, writhing on him like a bitch in heat.  In a short span of several hours, he fingered you, tasted you, and pushed every inch of his cock inside of your tight cunt.  And despite all of that, he still craved and ached for you.

“You naughty little pussycat,” Heisenberg moaned, pulling you down harder on him, “you’re dripping fucking wet.  Oh fuck, Y/N...you get me so goddamn hard…”

You looked down at him, smiling, and pressed your hands on his chest.  Deciding to give him a show, you slid back and forth along the underside of his cock and let out a litany of moans and whimpers.  “Oh fuck, Karl…” you moaned, “...I want you inside of me...I want to bounce on your huge fucking cock...oh please, Karl, please…”

Unable to control himself, he reached down for his cock and pushed inside of you.

Your eyes widened as you tossed your head back and yelped.  Heisenberg’s hands found your hips and pulled you down hard on him.  He pressed his feet into the bed and thrusted up hard and fast.  Your fingers dug into his chest as you assisted his thrusts.  Your breasts bounced in front of him and he growled low in his throat.  Keeping one hand on your hips, he wrapped the other arm around you and sat up, his lips pressing to the skin between your breasts.

Your body rolled and wriggled against him as you squeezed his cock with your pussy.  Your fingers tangled in his hair and tugged hard.  A guttural groan slid past his lips as his mouth found one of your nipples.  His tongue twisted and flicked it before his teeth sunk hard into your flesh.

“KARL!!” you screamed, your hips gyrating uncontrollably as if you were possessed.  His skilled mouth continued its assault on your nipple as one hand reached up to the other breast and pinched the nipple.  The overwhelming mixture of pleasure and pain made you delirious and in that moment you would have sold your soul for just one more orgasm.

“You taste so fucking incredible,” Heisenberg moaned as his mouth switched to your other breast, “I could lick every inch of your skin.  Oh fuck, baby, I could drink the sweat sliding down your body…”

Your arms wrapped around his neck and hugged him close.  His arms went around you and for several moments, the two of you simply rocked against each other.  His cock nudged the sweet spot deep inside your cunt and you cried out in ecstasy.

“Cum inside of me, Karl,” you whispered, “please...oh fuck...uh...uh...uh...Karl…”

Heisenberg laid back on the bed, his hands back on your hips.  He fucked you harder and harder as his moans increased in volume.  He was close…

“Cum on my cock, Y/N...cum with me...please, Y/N…”

His thumb went to your clit and rubbed hard and fast.  Your release was so swift and unpredictable that your vision went hazy.  A loud, strangled yelp tore out of your throat as you bounced on his cock, your release ferocious and wild.  Heisenberg watched your body convulse and shudder.  With a loud roar, he dug his head back into the pillow and came deep inside of you.

The intensity of your orgasm took all of the energy out of you and you fell forward.  Heisenberg was there to catch you, cradling your head to his chest.

“God damn, baby...you almost killed me…” Heisenberg laughed, his hands running up and down your back.  You shivered from aftershocks as your hips slowly moved atop him.  Your pussy clenched involuntarily around his cock and each time, his body quaked from sensitivity.

“Karl…” you whispered, nuzzling his neck.  You lifted your hips and freed his dick from your pussy.  Both of you were coated with sweat, no longer cold from the snowstorm that seeped into the factory.

Heisenberg’s fingers traced patterns up and down your flesh and you felt your heart expand.  He was so good at pulling you back to reality after sex.  He was soft and tender.  It was something you didn’t know he was capable of.  It was also something you didn’t know you needed until you experienced it with him.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Fucking starving…” you replied.

[ererokii]

Line without a Hook || E. Jaeger & J. Kirstein

➳ Jean Kirsten x Fem Reader x Eren Jaeger

Word count: 4,517 Warnings: angst, fluff, unrequited love, cursing ➳ note: this is based off the song Line Without a Hook by Ricky Montgomery! I’ve been thinking this for a long time and I’m super excited by how it came out! Also big thanks to @reddriot​ for betaing!

➳ Synopsis: is love really worth it? Let me say, it’s not always worth it.

You can hold my hand if no one’s home.

Do you like it when I’m away?

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

It starts out simple really. A boy and a girl. Childhood friends, to be precise. Those two are inseparable. Nothing can tear the friends apart, besides their parents, of course. Like two peas in a pod. 

Jean says he knows you like the back of his hand. He truly means that. He knows your favorite boy bands from when you were younger, how many terrible phases you’ve gone through, favorite foods, and places. If he wrote a novel about the things you told him, he would be a renowned author. 

Since kindergarten to now, in the middle of your junior year, you and Jean have been side by side. You told him everything. From random vents and gossiping about the rude girls in your class to how horrible your period cramps were— even though Jean hated hearing about the last, he stuck through it for you.

Only you. 

The pavement that followed the street your house was on is memorable. Jean can recall the amount of times you’ve had races, chalk scribbles covering the grey that would be washed away by the angry neighbors. 

He listens to you as you talk about a kid getting in trouble in your Calculus class, watches how lively your motions are as you speak. Jean can’t help but smile when a laugh slips past your lips and you glance at him. There’s an unknown sparkle in his eyes, one filled with love. 

You haven’t changed one bit, he thinks as he faces back forward, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. His mind begins to wander as you both continue down the pavement, part of your routine when school ends. 

Your houses are right next to each other. You’ve been with him since you were in diapers. He was there when your first tooth came out, congratulating you, and you were there for him when he finally learned to ride his bike with two wheels instead of three. 

The bubbly lovable five-year-old back then is the same as you are now. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Oh all my emotions

Feel like explosions when you are around

A sigh of disappointment leaves Jean’s lips when he listens to Connie talk about something he has learned over the weekend (something completely stupid— he just doesn’t care). Currently, the students are at lunch, the cafeteria full with loud shouts and random noises. 

“Connie, shut up,” Sasha groans, placing her water bottle on the table, wiping her crumbs off. “No one cares that you finally figured out how to stick a spoon to your nose.”

“What do you mean?! You were the one who showed me!”

The brunette gasps and looks over his way, cream cheeks tinted with an adorable shade of pink, pointing a finger at him. The bickering between the two commence as Jean listens, slightly amused. 

As much as he indulges in their argument, he can't help but wonder where you are. 

It’s not like you to skip lunch, especially without at least letting him know. Did you stay behind to talk to a friend? A teacher? Maybe you went to the bathroom.

But it’s at least 15 minutes in. 

“Sasha,” he speaks up, slicking back his hair. The sound of her name catches her attention, making her look at him. “Have you seen Y/N?”

“Y/N?” she asks in a whisper before her lips curl in a grin, already knowing why he asked. “Do you miss her?”

“Just answer my goddamn question!”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Connie asks, looking between his friends before stopping his gaze on Jean. “Why do you need Y/N?”

“Oh, you know! He lik-”

“Shut up!” Jean shouts, catching the attention of nearby students, his face heating up as his cheeks turn a darker pigment. “Just answer me!”

“If you must know,” she taunts him, twirling a strand of hair from her loose ponytail. “I saw her talking to someone in the hallway. Must be important, she’s been there for quite some time. Might want to be her knight in shining armor and saving her, huh?” she cocks her head to the side, staring at one of the windows in the room, watching as the branches of trees sway from the harsh winds. 

The atmosphere outside was cold, breezes rushing down on anyone who was not inside. The sun was hidden by the thick grey blankets filled with rainwater, waiting to shower the world. The temperature recently has been dropping, mid 50’s at least. The weather was a shock, to say the least. 

“I didn’t know Jean likes her!”

“What do you mean?!” Sasha gasps, turning her body to face her small-minded friend. “It’s only obvious! You must be really stupid then!”

“Well, how could you tell?!”

Before Jean has a chance to interrupt Sasha, she begins to rant. He prefers to stay silent, clasping his hands together in his lap as he lowers his head, finding interest in the marbled tiles of the floor his feet rest on. 

The words that slip past Sasha’s lips reach his ear and out the other. 

It’s easy to tell, Connie. Have you noticed the way he looks at her? Can’t you see the love in his eyes? The way he will actually go out of his way to help her with anything? Here you guys are, two close friends, I thought you would have known about his crush. I’m surprised you didn’t catch on every time he ditched plans with us to go hang out with her. He’s whipped, and you’re too stupid to know it. 

His cheeks turn a shade of pink as his eyes squeeze shut, her words replaying in his head like a broken record player. Each sentence is like a knife stabbing away at his brain, causing the slightest ache to form in his frontal region. 

She’s right. Anything she just said five minutes ago, is completely and utterly correct. 

He can still hear her talking about it to Connie, but he can only focus on three sentences that stick to him like glue. 

Have you noticed the way he looks at her? Can’t you see the love in his eyes? The way he will actually go out of his way to help her with anything?

Memories of him helping you in any possible way come to mind. He can’t recall how many times he has entered class two minutes late because you had so much to carry. 

He stares at you like you’re the only thing worth looking at. It reminds him of those cliche animated movies with hearts in the character's eyes. He’s blinded by his love for you, that he never noticed any signs that you don’t feel the same way about him. His heart races miles per hour when you’re around. Sometimes he worries for himself that maybe, his heart might explode within him. 

“Anyway, lunch has about 20 minutes left...where is she?” Connie mutters, scratching the top of his head.

“I don’t know, but,” Sasha grows quiet, listening to the ongoing thunder from the outside. The lights flicker for a second, a couple of yelps emitting from other students, slightly afraid that the power might go off while school is in session. “The storm is almost here.”

“Y/N!” Connie suddenly yells, pointing in the direction of the door, your body jogging closer to the table. “Where have you been?!”

“Sorry!” you laugh, out of breath as you drop your things on the bench, taking a seat beside Jean. “I got caught up in a conversation with someone! I guess I lost track of time for a bit.”

“I messaged you like four times,” Jean mutters, glancing over at you before looking at the table, playing with the plastic straw that he used to drink out of.

“You did?” you ask, pulling your phone out from your pocket, lips puckering when indeed he did so. “I’m sorry, Jean. I didn’t even feel my phone vibrate.”

“Oh, whatever, who cares! Eat! Or I’ll eat your food!” Sasha yells, pointing a finger at you, a smile gracing her features. 

You laugh along with her as you converse with your peers, the conversation you had replaying in the back of your mind. Jean chooses not to intervene, instead would rather listen. 

The roaring thunder plays in the background, everyone paying no mind to it. What he doesn’t know is that the storm is much closer than Jean could have thought. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Listen close, it’s a no

The wind is a pounding on my back

And I found hope in a heart attack

Oh at last, it is past

Now I’ve got it, and you can’t have it

Another evening, another study session, another day of bottling up his feelings until he can no longer hold them inside.

The storm made its way to shore, raining pouring down and even some hail; not what anyone was expecting. 

Jean mindlessly flips through the pages of his English book, not even paying attention to the words as he checks how many pages are in chapter five. 

“This seems pointless,” he adds with a sigh, tossing the book on your bed along with his highlighter he uses to annotate with. “I should just find a summary online or something, I don’t want to read this.”

“And why is that?” you ask, looking up from your book, placing the hardcover against your thighs. “Is it boring to you?”

“No,” he mutters, rolling onto his back. “It’s stupid. This love crap.”

“Well...it is a romance story, the teacher told us when we got the book. But why do you think it’s dumb?”

“He writes letters for her, and in the end, she ends up rejecting him. I don’t think that’s romantic.”

“And? It’s beautiful on his part,” you close your eyes as you stretch your arms over your head, letting out a grunt. “It’s the fact that he wrote to her every day. It’s like he poured his soul into every word. The words he uses are..literally everything. It makes me swoon over him, and he’s not real. Makes me wonder if someone would do that for me.”

Jean’s head perks up at your words, one of his eyebrows raised in curiosity when he notices the bashful look on your face, eyes averted to the comforter on your bed. “Why do you have that dopey look on your face?”

“Huh?!” your eyes are blown open as you look over at him. “What are you talking about?!”

“I’m talking about that, idiot,” he points at your face, watching your eyes cross faintly to stare at his finger. “You’re acting about that guy in the book.”

The patter of the rain is the only noise that fills the void called silence in your room. His warm eyes don’t leave your face at all, waiting for your answer. You’ve been acting weird ever since you were late to lunch this past week. 

He watches your mouth open as if you’ll say something but close it right away, like you were concealing anything you had to hide.

“...well? Y/N? Are you there?”

“Yeah!” you cough into your elbow, running a hand down your face. “I-- you can’t tell anyone.”

“You know I never tell anyone what we talk about.”

You’re silent, a bit too quiet than usual. You fiddle with your fingers before blurting the words that have been eating away at you. 

Jean’s heart stops for a moment, eyes wide in shock when he processes it. His blood runs cold as he’s unable to move, frozen like a statue. The signals in his brain begged him to respond, but he couldn’t. He could hear the faintest sound of bells ringing in his ears; all noise surrounding him was now drowned out by his thoughts. 

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds. 

“You like someone?” he asks in a whisper, barely audible to your ears, but you heard as you nod shyly, biting down on your lip. “Well... who is it?”

“That’s...I can’t say it.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I’m afraid to say it out loud because I don’t want to ruin my friendship with him.”

Friendship? That could be anyone at this point.

I have to figure out who, he thinks as he draws random patterns into the sheets. “Well, tell me about him then. Is he in our grade?” he asks.

“Yeah, he is. He’s in four of my classes.”

Jean was in four of your classes. Math, English, Foreign Language, and Science. 

“That’s it?”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Can I finish before you interrupt? Thank you.”

You pause momentarily before speaking again.

“He’s stubborn. I’ve noticed that his demeanor changes when it depends on who he is with. He seems like a hardass and looks like he doesn’t want to be bothered, but he seems like a total softie when he’s with people he loves. Not to mention he’s hot...and tall. He’s blunt and straight to the point. He doesn’t bullshit at all. He’s really sweet as well, to me. He always goes out of his way to make sure I’m okay and how my day was. He just..he seems to care for me, and I feel the same way about him.”

Jean takes every word you say into consideration. He’s stubborn, it seems that he doesn’t like to be around people he doesn’t know but loves those he does know. He knows he’s hot. Practically every day he looks at himself in the mirror and thinks about how good he looks.

He’s blunt and straight to the point. He doesn’t bullshit at all. He’s really sweet as well, to me. He always goes out of his way to make sure I’m okay and how my day was. He just..he really seems to care for me, and I feel the same way about him.

Jean can feel his doubt and worry turn into happiness and confidence as you keep on ranting, to which he’s not fully paying attention anymore. He knows it's him. It has always been him.

No one else.

Jean likes you.

And you like Jean, that’s all there is to it. 

“Do you want to tell him?”

“Yeah...” you trail off, scratching the nape of your neck. “I want to tell him on Friday after school. Do you think he’ll like me back?”

“I think he would. How could he not? He would be a total idiot to reject you.”

You hum at his reassurance, placing your hand on his, squeezing gently.

“Thanks, Jean.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

Darling when I’m fast asleep

I've seen this person watching me

Saying, “Is it worth it? Is it worth it?”

Tell me, is it worth it?

Friday comes, and Jean can hardly wait for school to end. He’s not paying attention, his eyes constantly staring from the whiteboard in the front to the clock that tauntingly ticks slower than usual. 

He bites down on the pink end of his pencil in anticipation, tapping his foot repeatedly on the floor, the noise resonating through the classroom. 

Maybe I should just keep my eyes off the clock, he thinks, lowering his head back to the worksheet their teacher gave the class.

Econ class was a drag. He could care less about the differences in macro and microeconomics, the same with Communism and Capitalism. It’s just a bunch of words that don’t make sense to his brain. 

This was one of the classes he didn’t have with you, the last class. 

Instead of doing his worksheet (luckily, the teacher said it would be for homework if it wasn’t finished), Jean proceeded to think about ways he could tell you his feelings.

He could be old fashioned, tell you how much he adores you and how happy you make him feel when you’re around. How his heart can be heard from the outside of his body, how his hands got warm and clammy, maybe sweaty when he became too nervous.

Or

He could ask you out on a date. Take you somewhere, one of the places you’ve told him in the past that would make a great date for you. He smiles when he thinks about taking you downtown at night, looking at the soft lights that would brighten the streets; loving the sparkle in your orbs as you look around in awe. 

He hums, pleased with himself when he figures out what he’ll do, scratching the back of his ear. 

He wonders if you’re thinking the same thing.

-

You glance at your table partner, looking at his piece of paper before looking down at yours, displeased how his is able to look better than yours. You pick up your eraser, gently wiping the shadings away from your drawing, careful not to crease your paper.

“It’s not that hard you know, you just don’t know how to shade.”

“I know how to shade, Eren,” you reply with a huff, placing your eraser back down. “It’s just...this is a bit harder than usual.”

“All you have to do is follow the markings,” he presses the edge of his drawing pencil against the reference photo both of you are using, tracing the shape of it. “You could honestly just copy the photo, I doubt this woman would even notice.”

You chuckle at his choice of words, shifting in your seat to get comfortable. “I don’t think she would anyway. She just stares at it and calls it an A. I bet for our expressive project, she wouldn’t notice if we copied each other.”

He shakes his head with a smile, the loose strands of his hair swaying with his head movement. “No, she wouldn’t,” he rolls the sleeves of his hoodie to his elbows, grabbing his pencil again. “Then again, we are working on it with each other.”

“Speaking of that, what should we do?”

“Up to you, Y/N. I don’t mind. I’m just trying to pass this stupid class anyway.”

You relish in the silence between you as you gaze at him from your peripheral. You take notice how his hair frames his face effortlessly to the dip in his nose. It’s perfect how it forms to his cupid’s bow to his lips; not too big nor too small either. Just right. 

You clear your throat, scratching at the nape of your neck. “Why not do...stages of love?”

That catches his interest.

“Stages of love?” he asks, moving in his chair to face you, a hand propping his head up. “Elaborate?”

“Like you know...how we gain a crush on someone. We like how they make us feel, and soon we think about them some more. Maybe make little scenarios in our head. Then we gain the crush and want to be around them. You know what I mean, right?”

He’s silent, hues that represent the blue of rivers, boring into your own. At first, you think he hates your idea, but then the corner of his lips curls into his infamous grin. “Yeah, I like that. Did you have anything else in mind?”

“Maybe...rejection?”

“Rejection?” he repeats, a bit shocked at how romantic your words were, to something filled with sadness. “And why would you want to do rejection?”

“W-Well,” you stutter, unsure how you should put it. “Everyone always talks about the good in love but never the bad. And I think it could be done good, you know?”

He hums, scratching away at his chin before nodding. “Yeah, alright. That sounds oddly specific, but I like it. We can honestly get started soon, that way, we can finish faster and not worry about it.”

His smile throws you for a loop, your face heating up as you pick up your pencil, trying to distract yourself. 

“Say, Y/N?”

“Yes, Eren?” you reply a bit too quickly, cursing yourself out internally for sounding too desperate. 

“Can we talk?” his cheeks are a shade of pink, his eyes averted as he plays with one of the strings of his hood, reminding you how a child would distract themselves. The tips of his shoe nudge against yours, barely kicking gently.

“Aren’t we talking right now?”

“No, I mean after school.”

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

And in my eyes, there is a tiny dancer

Watching over me, he’s singing, 

Jean storms out of his Econ class with a grin, hands gripping onto the straps of his backpack as he looks down one end of the hallway before going down the other direction. The art room was three classes down his. Usually, Jean will wait right there by the door for you since you take ages to finally leave the classroom. 

When Jean finally reaches the room, he sees that the doors are locked, and the lights inside are off.

Huh, that’s weird, you’re always one of the last to leave, nor are you ever this early. 

He stands there for a few more seconds, peering in through the small glass, and sees nothing before taking a step back and quickly continues to walk down the hall. His legs are quicker, going down the two flights of stairs. 

His eyes frantically search for the yellow shirt you wore, unable to find you anywhere. 

“Sasha!” he calls out once he reaches the end of the stairs, running towards the girl and their friend, who was at the lockers, pulling things she needed to take home for the weekend. 

The brunette looks over her shoulder, stopping her conversation with Connie as she shuts her locker. “Yeah, Jean?”

He pants, leaning on his knees before letting out a deep breath and standing straight up. “Have you seen Y/N?”

She ponders for a while before shaking her head, looking over at Connie, who shakes his head, shrugging. “We haven’t seen her since Art class.”

“You didn’t see where she went at all?”

The events before class ending play in her mind before she gasps, snapping her fingers, pointing up at Jean. “Yeah, I know where she went!”

“...are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to guess?!”

She mocks him for a second before pulling her phone out. “I could have seen her leave with Eren. I think they went to the bench in the back. You know the one I’m talking about?”

He’s taken aback for a moment before shaking his head, retaining the information. “Alright, thanks.”

Why would you even be with Eren right now? You never meet with him after-

“Are we still on for this weekend?!” Connie yells when Jean is making his way down the corridor.

“Yeah, we are!” Jean's voice travels through the air, reaching both of his friends, hands clammy as they’re shoved in the front pocket of his pants. 

The walk to the back courtyard was tiresome. His feet seemed to drag behind him, an aching feeling forming in his gut. Thoughts pounded against his skull repeatedly, trying to force him to stop. He wants to stop, but he has to go.

He has to tell you he loves you. 

He can’t help but smile when you describe the boy you like this week. In his mind and most certainly his heart, he was the king of the world sitting on his high horse as he screamed in victory, letting the whole world know that the person he likes, feels the same way about him. 

The fresh air from the outside meets his nostrils as he deeply inhales, allowing it to enter his body before exiting. The sun is the first thing he meets with as he exits the building, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes away from the harsh light. He mutters something under his breath as he looks around for a second. 

“She’s a,

She’s a lady and I’m just a boy”

His honey orbs finally stop on a bench where you and Eren are seated, that’s not too far away, but his body is hidden from your view. He lets out a sigh of relief, leaves crunching underneath his feet as he walks, not taking long strides, rather walking slow to rethink what he’ll say.

“Y/N, I’ve liked you for a long...no,” he mutters, stopping in his tracks as he looks down at the green grass and leaves, kicking away at them. “I’ve loved- no, that sounds a bit aggressive, goddammit,” he groans, tugging at the roots of his hairs. “Why is this so fucking hard?!” he growls underneath his breath, leaning against the brick wall. 

He never was anything else but honest with you. How could he say it?

What if this ruins your relationship?

...what if you liked Eren?

His breath hitches in his throat when realization dawns on him. His lips part, a soft exhale releasing from within him. His fingers curl around nothing, as if he was holding the air’s hand. The tips of his fingers shake, his whole body stiffening as he stares hard at nothing. 

How could he be so stupid?

It all made sense now. How you stayed behind during lunch that one time without saying anything; in the back of his mind that day, he knew that someone had to be a boy, maybe a girl. Even then, you would always let him know. 

Jean should have known from the beginning that you only saw him as a brother. 

His chest aches as his vision goes blurry, biting down on the inside of his lip to the point where he can taste the bitter metallic on his tongue. He squeezes his eyes shut before opening, wishing he hadn’t at that moment. 

He’s singing

“She’s a, she’s a lady and I am just a line without a hook.”

His heart breaks, stomach-dropping when he sees Eren’s hand brings you closer to his body, lips pressed up against yours; your hand placed on his cheek, cradling his face. Even from where he stands, he can sense the urgency in the kiss, how your bodies move together as one, how your fingers grip onto him like he’ll leave any moment. 

His lower lip quivers for a second, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, clearing his throat. Jean cranes his neck upward, looking at the sky, muttering the words, “Why him?” over and over like a mantra, no other words coming to mind. 

When he closes his eyes, all he can see is you. Not Eren, just you. Those moments where you laugh, cry, or stay silent, those are the moments that flash in his head.

Did he do something to you? Was it something he said?

Did you ever like him at all?

“It’s pointless,” he whispers, pushing himself off the brick wall, immediately making a beeline for the doors. He swallows harshly, legs moving faster than ever, wanting to get out of this hell hole called reality. 

Like every day, you’ll walk down the same pavement you’ve been walking on for years.

Only this time, he’s walking alone. 

Oh, and if I could take it all back

I swear that I would pull you from the tide. 

☽✧ ✦ ✧☾

taglist: @sleepysnk @jaegerbomb20​ @reddriot​ @kkiimmberly​ @kingtamakimurder​ @tamasoft​ @byougen​ @spike-this-ass​ @crimsonbows-and-arrows​ @squidonmywall​ @thicmitten​ (message me to be apart of it!)

[jboofan]

Chances 12

YN's about to find out that sometimes a gorgeous man can come up with a plan all his own, and it's a given that it'll mess hers up.

Jungkook x YN

Chapter 12 New York & Busking

Jungkook stood, aching from the fourteen hour flight, stuck between Jimin snoring, and Jin hogging the armrest. Too excited to sleep, he pulled his sunglasses off his head and onto his face, as the superstars were ushered into huge SUVs to get to their hotel.

"Hey they got some sick clubs we should check out! Single and ready to mingle!" Jimin couldn't stop smiling.

Namjoon laughed, "if you're gonna mingle as you perform live and then back to our room for a live with Army, then yeah knock yourself out."

"The only one that stands a chance of getting some is the maknae. That's if he finally gets the confidence to go after her," Hope encouraged.

"She doesn't even reply to my messages. I doubt it highly."

Wanting to do nothing but sleep, his own punishment for not having slept on the plane ride over, Jungkook shook his head and declined the offer.

"I think I'm gonna go get some sleep. I literally do not even know my own name right now."

"Shit man, when did you get so old?" Jimin asked, ready to get out and live up to his flirtatious ways. "I'm ready to go out, have a coffee and at least wink at a few honeys!"

"Hobi, you carry some hobi water on board?" Jin tutted.

"Never leave home without it," he replied nonchalantly, already opening a bottle of water and spraying some at Jimin. "Thot begone!"

After enough of them harassed him, and a short nap, Jungkook bowed to peer pressure and got changed into some light jeans, and a lose v neck t-shirt and joined them a few minutes later in the lobby downstairs.

Na-Ri turned around briefly checking the reception lobby of their hotel as she waited for a spare key to be made for her.

There walking across the carpeted seating, wait was that JK? He had a bucket hat on, but she swore it was him. Thought lost in time as the receptionist interrupted her suspicion Na-ri shrugged, turned around forgetting altogether.

Jin and Namjoon wolf whistled at him, to encourage a smile whilst Jimin slapped his back and congratulated him on finding his balls, and joining them for a boys night out.

The seven of them found themselves in the outdoor seating area on a cobbled street, eating the most delicious seafood ever, and drinking the most refreshing of beer before deciding what to do next.

*

"Thanks for doing this," Chan handed YN a churro as they walked slowly taking in the sights.

"You literally fake cried at the dinner table you turd. Put me right off my steak."

"Not enough to put you off the wine though," he sniggered as she gave him the Bang side-eye.

Chan shuddered, "Fuck don't so that, it gives me the creeps. You really are our mother's child."

"Let's just be thankful we don't look like Dad," they both agreed.

Chan's eyes widened, a massive grin plastered to his face. "Come on let's do it!!"

"Do what?" mid bite, lips flicking odd the cinnamon sugar, she turned the direction of where he was running off too.

"Busk!"

YN looked at him as though he had stepped in something.

"I want to sing!"

Grabbing his sister by the handbag he dragged her through the crowd. Pulling her cap further down her face, they were soon at the front of a crowd of people taking it in turns to sing.

"Here, us!" Chan shouted in his mashed up American-Australian accent.

"Ya! Pabo, what are you doing!" she shout whispered at him as Chan pushed her forward, enduring her hitting his shoulder.

"Guys give my sister a hand! She is a little shy!"

Embarrassed, YN watched everyone look in her direction, encouraging her to take a mike.

"Sis, this is how it's gonna be," he rubbed her back, "think of it as practice. Bang's have no fear cmon!"

"I'm gonna kill you," she gritted her teeth and snatched a mike off him.

**

"I say we go walk around, I need to digest this food," Yoongi offered to much consensus. Jungkook nodded and then it was five against two as they paid their bill, before following the distant sound of music, several streets away. They walked towards the sounds, often stopping and asking for directions in their limited English, until they stopped at the edge of what looked like a mini carnival in the middle of a car free zone, people spilling out onto the street from the local restaurants, a live band playing popular music.

Jungkook watched as a woman was long blonde brownish hair weaved her way through the crowd, until but she disappeared. He couldn't see her face, but she wore an oversized jumper and scarf and he for a moment wondered, isn't she cold?

Why did he recognise those legs? The way she cleared her throat, how those fingers that held onto her cap looked?

The woman now hit the guy on the shoulder, and Jungkook strangely felt as though he knew what that might feel like.

Her voice and the way she spoke almost shyly together suddenly became amplified to his ears, as his legs helplessly moved towards her. 

"G'wan bro!" Taehyung egged him on, encouraging him to try and flirt. Ignoring the shouting, he found himself looking for her, she was no where to be seen. He hadn't seen her, but the way she walked and carried herself just had him feeling some kind of way. He heard the crowd cheering "Cmon, you can do it!" and he pushed his way into the crowd further.

He pushed past people, and there she was standing with a mike in her hand. She had a smile, a carefree and vulnerable smile and Jungkook suddenly felt so blessed to have seen it.

Soon the others moved towards where he was, what was this smooth light voice. When she spoke in Korean, calling someone a pabo he couldn't hold his bunny smile in anymore.

It couldn't be.. Jungkook spun around desperately. She was here. She is here??

He called out her name, but the acoustic guitars, the singers and the music was just too loud, and drowned him out.

**

YN smiled as she moved through the crowd and found herself dancing a little as she held the Mike loosely, the words dripped out like honey, so easily and free flowing. Skin bubbled with goosebumps, there was something special in the cold New York air tonight, it seemed super charged, magical even.

The music was calling to her, and YN found herself swaying to the beat, arms in the air as she twirled them sexily, dancing the scene as the crowds moved back, to give them some space.

YN looked over at her brother belting out the chorus with so much passion, how did she miss this? She stopped, holding the microphone to her chest and watching him, in his element as he added a little ad-lib, a little bounce and bop as he commanded the crowd.

YN pointed her toes, rolled her hips, and spun around, her hair following her. Her partner clicked his heels and mirrored her moves before they both fell into giggles and laughs.

People were stuck to their phones, recording and applauding loudly.

Jungkook found himself mesmerised, unable to make out her face, her big hair was shielding her face like a curtain and he couldn't see who it was. Maybe deep down he knew who it was, but his eyes couldn't quite believe it. For the first time in a long time, he stood and watched as this unknown women danced on behalf of the female human race, taunting her male partner almost. Bewitching him.

"Butter" rang out across the speakers in the court yard as people started to join in singing.

She was singing. Dancing. then the two of them were dancing trying to outdo each other. But her dancing?. So dirty, so sexy, and without shame.

Only when she finished swinging her hips, and threw her head back in victory, her smile was replaced with that of shyness.

Jungkook's mouth dropped as he saw her, standing there in all her glory. She hadn't seen him, and he trembled, scared to move, scared to be rejected by her.

By now, the other guys had joined him and he moved closer to her.

"Isn't that Y-YN??" someone shouted shocked, later it was Jimin who admitted the high shocked voice was his.

"Did she really sing that? Like that?" Hobi was patting Jin's shoulder continuously unsure what was going on, again.

YN finished the song, feeling the air suddenly freeze in the middle of her chest, she gasped for air and stood still. She could feel something.

He's here. Nah, I have had too much wine this evening.

**

YN went to adjust her cap, realising it wasn't on her head any longer. Hair tucked neatly behind her hair she bowed to the audience and handed the microphone back to the owner.

Jungkook wrestled some eager new fans, pushed through in time to touch her elbow, and as she turned around slowly, YN's eyes opened in shock, as she couldn't believe it was him. Here of all places.

"YNnah" he croaked.

"Jungkook?" she managed before he could say anything, a hand swooped in, reached out to her, "YNnie let's go!" it cheerfully exclaimed and she was pulled off into the crowd where she disappeared.

"YN!!" Jungkook shouted, but as the crowds dispersed, she was no longer there.

**

No! No! YN!" he found himself shouting, "Come back!" 

He waved her cap in his hand, but she was no where to be seen. By now some other song was blaring out of speakers as he looked around, a headache forming.

Jungkook blindly ran through the crowd, stepping on people's toes and spouting off his apologies in broken English as he scoured the perimeter of the square, fighting against the heaving bodies dancing on one another.

"Fuck!" He swore, running a hand desperately over his face, now sticky from sweat. He caught a glimpse of her, and his breath caught.

"Ya, Jungkook-ah where you going!" shouted Namjoon.

"I did not come all this fucking way to have you disappear on me!" He mumbled to himself rhetorically as he pushed through the crowds more desperately, until there she was. Standing speaking to someone, tall, and from his outfit bloody handsome.

"BANG YN" he shouted, his voice tinged with frustration, jogging up to her.

YN simply stared, her heart in her mouth, eyes darting to his tattooed hand as she realised.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, as the tall stranger appeared by her side smiling.

"Who's this?" he asked in English as Jungkook watched on, he listened to her speaking natively to him, hand still clutched to her scarf, as though it was the only thing keeping her head on her shoulders.

"A work colleague," she told him, which winded Jungkook as soon as she said it. 

"Really? That's what we are now?" Jungkook said, "that's all I am now? From that to a work colleague?"

A masked up Chan looked at him, then back to YN, slightly confused. Why was this dude looking at his sister like he had run a marathon and she was a glass of water?

He moved forward a little, unsure if this dude was some love sick puppy or a fan.

YN grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back a little, and this seemed to neutralise Chan straight away. She shook her head, and touched his arm, "I don't want to discuss it," she explained, and he nodded back, gave her a hard stare as they telepathically shared that sibling connection.

Chan moved away to give them a little space, just as the other six found him.

YN looked at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I saw you. And then I wanted to see you."

"Uh, okay.."

"I don't like the way things happened. And I can't stop thinking about the way you kissed me. Why can't I stop thinking about you," he blurted out. He held out her hat to her.

"My cap, where did you find it?" she gasped picking it up off the palm of his hand. 

"It fell to the ground when you were dancing. I had no idea you could dance like that," he gave her a small surprised smile. "Or sing. Is that the big project?"

He refused to let her take it herself, but when she grabbed his wrist with remarkable force he opened his palm and she took it from him.

"Who is that?" Jungkook demanded.

"I have to go. Good luck with the AMAs," she spoke to him as though she was talking about the weather, and he scoffed.

"I haven't seen you in a week and I feel it's like, I ain't see you in almost a year. You're always busy, I hoped to catch a break and grab you a minute at work, have a coffee, maybe catch-up?"

"Jeon Ssi," the cold front rolled in, and he felt like he'd taken a beating. "I am on holiday, please can I be given the same courtesy I would give you. I'm not here for work," she pointed around her.

"You know my schedule, we are here a few more days," he grabbed her hand and held it there as their eyes met. "If you don't agree to meet me, then I'll just keep coming to you till you agree."

"That will not be necessary. Ihave to go, he's waiting for me."

"Let him wait," Jungkook drawled, YN could see his eyes watering in equal measures of frustration, anger and sorrow, her cold personality ignored it immediately.

"I'm not that anymore," she forced herself to say. She chose her words carefully, accidently saying fake or girlfriend would only result in Chan bugging her for information, a sport he could win gold in. "We're not even friends," she cleared her throat. "We just work for the same company."

**

The ride back to the hotel was pin drop silent. Taehyung, closest to Jungkook cleared his throat several times before he finally figured out what to say.

"Are you alright?"

"Course I am?" Jimin replied in super speed.

"Ya, pabo, does it look like we care about you right now," Suga rolled up a magazine and whacked the younger one on the back.

"Then he should specify which of the SEVEN of us here he was referring to," Jimin realised what he had said, apologising immediately.

"Ah man, sorry JK. I wasn't thinking—"

"When do you," Namjoon muttered loudly.

"But seriously, JK say something man. You haven't said anything since we left that place."

Jungkook scoffed to himself, he couldn't understand why he was feeling territorial, what if this guy hurt her like Kai had in the past? Who would look after her? Help her?

"I'm here on holiday?" He repeated, his jaw stiffened, and his shoulders broadened, unable to believe what she had said to him. "So when was I going to find out? When I got the wedding invitation?" He scoffed, "Oh wait, I forgot, you're so fucking cold you didn't even think to extend the common courtesy to me that you were going to traipse around int he same fucking city as me with some other guy.." his voice rose with every sentence.

"I know we weren't even together long," he continued his angry monologue, "but at least fucking pretend like you're hurt!" he kicked the air with his foot angrily.

"Ok, well that explains why man couldn't open his mouth the second we found him," Jin looked at him.

"You just need to cool off, concentrate on what we are here for. And talk to her when we get back," Hope interjected diplomatically.

"It's clear that she obviously means a lot to you JK. And it must have been a shock tonight."

Jungkook pursed his lips, "No. I refuse to let her mean anything to me," he paused, exhaling loudly "Well, I guess that's that then."

The others looked back at him. "It is?"

Jungkook shook his head, and exhaled loudly. Pushing his bucket hat back on his head, as he nodded.

"I guess so," he looked back out the window into the darkness, chewing his lips in distraction.

[babbushka]

Mrs Z! Thank you for doing a Flip special!

What about throwing Flip a big surprise party with lots of people and he’s not happy about it. You make it up to him by letting him have his way with you before you cut the cake. Maybe he’s too into and gets carried away with being loud and noisy or gets caught somehow and that’s his birthday party, is his guests cheering his bedroom antics or roasting him.

2.6k; humor & NSFW (blowjobs/face fucking, hair pulling, come swallowing)

“I don’t remember you forgetting anything here.” Flip frowns, as he pulls the Chevy into his usual parking spot at the CSPD.

It’s his birthday, and he hadn’t taken the day off of work to avoid drawing any suspicion, so he’s a little irritated that when he gets all the fuckin’ way back home to you, finishes having the delicious dinner you cook for him, and he’s just about to ask if you want to engage in a little birthday love-makin’, that you groan and announce that it’s urgent he take you back to the station.

He already gets sour enough on his birthday as it is, but he had hoped that he could enjoy a quiet -- or maybe not so quiet -- evening in bed with his wife, just the two of you tucked up against one another to distract him from the passing of time.

“It was my Pyrex, I left it in the breakroom, it should be in the sink unless someone moved it.” You’re too determined to get the damn thing back, and Flip loves you, so Flip drove you in his truck that he parks, eyeing his work.

“And you want me to go in and get it?” He complains, deep voice too gravely for it to be a true whine, “Can’t I wait in the car?”

“You’re going to abandon your most beloved wife in her hour of need?” Your eyes are wide and clear and he hates how he gets lost in them, how he meant it when he said he’d do anything for you. He hates how you know it.

“That’s not fair.” Jabbing a finger in your direction, you only lean forward enough to cup his cheeks in your hands, sweetly pressing chaste kisses to his lips, your lashes brushing against his cheek as you draw him in with the smell of your perfume.

“Please?” Your voice is breathy in the way that makes Flip go weak in the knees, and even though he knows he’s being manipulated, he’s not mad about it.

“Fuck, alright fine.” He gives in, making you brighten up immediately as he turns the car off so the engine doesn’t idle, being sure to keep the windows cracked even though Colorado in May is a balmy sixty-five degrees. “You just, I don’t know, sit here and keep being pretty.”

“Yes sir.” You wink, and Flip isn’t so sure he likes the twinkle that he sees in your eye.

Walking through the CSPD lobby, he notices it’s quiet.

Too quiet.

No one is calling in emergencies, no one is typing away at their desks, no one is chatting by the water fountain. Something must be very very wrong, and Flip halfway wonders if there was some kind of national announcement, if Ford was making a speech somewhere.

His suspicion only grows, when he turns the corner to the break room, and opens the door frowning to himself and muttering, “Why are all the fuckin’ lights turned off?”

When he flicks the light switch, he’s so startled that he takes a step backwards, as seemingly the entire station jumps up to shout in his face a big loud, “Surprise!!”

“What the fuck -- ”

“Happy birthday Zimmerman!” All his friends and co-workers are there, the guys from the narcotics division, the folks down at homicide, all the higher ups, secretaries, rookies and seasoned pros alike.

Everyone gathered in this room that is way too small for them, organized by someone to give him a goddamn heart attack. A hand gently rubs at his back, and Flip whirls around to see you there.

“Is this your way of saying you want a divorce?” He jokes dryly, making the entire room chuckle, because really only Flip would have this sort of reaction.

“For the record this was not my idea.” You say, not wanting him to think the blood is on your hands, “Ron insisted. I tried to tell him.”

Ron steps forward then and hands Flip a card, one that he’s not going to open now because he’s sure he’d die from the embarrassment of floundering with the envelope in front of all these people, but he does bring Ron in for a hug.

“It’s signed by all of us here.” Ron gestures with one of those big handsome smiles of his, the kind that shows off all his teeth, and Flip doesn’t have the heart to be angry about all this attention to his face.

“Thank you.” He says instead, feeling so fucking out of his depth, completely out of his element, palms sweating as he reaches for you with a quiet pleading, “Ketsl?”

“I’m right here.” You whisper as you take his hand, grounding him in the present.

Everyone is looking at him, and it reminds him of when he had to give presentations in school. He doesn’t know what to say, the tips of his ears going crimson red.

“You guys didn’t have to do all this.” Flip pulls you tight against his side, his arm stretching across your shoulders. Maybe if he just holds you close enough, he can use you as a human shield for conversation, he thinks.

“We had no idea it was your birthday! No one ever can figure it out -- but don’t worry, we’ve put it in your file so we know for next year!” One of the older secretaries, Ms. Rosie, cheerfully pipes up, making dread creep up Flip’s spine.

He looks down at you, and you give him a sheepish smile. He wants to complain like the grouch that he was, but then his attention shifts to the big table of food and drinks that is spread out on the table against the wall of the break room.

“...Is that chocolate cake?” He tries not to sound too hopeful, and the break room laughs again, because even the strongest most stoic man truly can be lured in by cake.

“I made it for you special. We’ll do candles after everyone’s had a bite to eat!” You announce to the room, patting Flip’s back as the crowd begins to murmur excitedly amongst themselves, a queue forming for the hot fresh pizza. You lean up to whisper in Flip’s ear, “If you can play nice, I’ll give you one of your presents before we get to cut the cake.”

Raising his eyebrows at you, he blinks a little. The surprises just kept comin’, didn’t they?

“Can’t I get it now?” Flip tries, but you only chuckle and shake your head.

“Go say hello to everyone, and then meet me in the back of the file room.” Patting his back once again, you slip away, an incentive for him to get this over with as soon as possible.

Flip doesn’t think he’s ever shaken so many goddamn hands, or kissed so many cheeks in his life. On the one hand, it felt nice somewhere deep down inside, to know that so many of his co-workers decided to take part of this party. He felt valued and appreciated, even if he would have rathered this never happen in the first place, would have rathered to be in bed with you right now...which brings him to the other hand; he’s achingly hard in his fucking jeans, thinking about what’s waiting for him in the file room.

He doesn’t have to wait much longer though, because soon the last person has been spoken to and thanked, and he’s excusing himself to go to the “bathroom,” heading in the complete opposite direction of the bathroom.

“Ketsl, honey?” Flip prompts softly, looking around for you in the low light of the room, “You back here?”

“Took you long enough.” Your voice sounds from around the corner, and like a glass of cool water on a hot day, there you are, arms reaching out for him.

“Would’ve been sooner if you hadn’t invited so many fuckin’ people.” Flip lets himself be wrapped up in your embrace, his palms smoothing around your sides to caress your back, one of them dropping down to give your ass a firm squeeze.

“Ron did, not me. Like I said, he insisted.” You remind him, kissing your husband deeply, licking into his mouth, voice soft and breathy, “Let me make it up to you?”

The hair on the back of Flip’s neck stands up when you sink down to your knees, not breaking eye contact. He holds his breath, his cock twitching at the implications of that motion, pulse already starting to pound a little harder.

You rest your cheek against his strong thigh, popping open the button on his jeans, sliding the zipper down tantalizingly slow, making a real show of it. Flip hums, pets at your hair, smooths his palm against your cheek as he watches your eyelids grow heavy. You nuzzle against the palm there, suckling on his fingers just a little bit, teasingly, playfully.

“Oh fuck yes.” He quirks a little smile at you.

When you finally pull his dick out, you’re licking your lips, wetting them, drooling over yourself. He’s just as affected, pre-come already leaking out of the tip of his cock, and he groans when you swipe it up with your tongue. Time is of the essence here, and as much as you would like to drag this out, you can’t, so you cut right to the chase.

“Shit -- your moth’s so hot.” He grunts as your mouth opens wide wide wide for him, tongue flattening as you suck the head of his cock between your lips, careful of your teeth.

One of your hands braces yourself on his thigh, while the other holds the base of his cock, keeps him steady. Flip has a tendency to buck and choke you when he’s too wound up just like he is now, so the grip holds him in place as you swallow him down inch by inch.

Fuck, your husband’s dick is big! It’s not just long but thick too, the girth of it always something that has your jaw aching. You open your mouth wider to take him, relaxing your throat so that he can slip deeper and deeper, breathing through your nose. Never once looking away from him, you can see how antsy, how impatient Flip is getting, and if you could smile, you would.

But you can’t, because your mouth is filled to the absolute brim, so you tap the side of his thigh to signal that he can start moving.

“Yes!” He says maybe a little too loudly, “That’s it, oh fuck that’s it.”

And oh, does he fucking move. The second you’ve given him permission, he’s gripping your hair and thrusting hard. Moans and grunts pour out of his chest as he holds your head in both of his hands, keeps you snug against his groin. Your nose is nestled in his dark thatch of hair, and you can’t deny the way the musky smell gets you flustered, gets you wet. He’s not going to have time to fuck you properly here, but that’s okay -- this was only the preview of the evening to come.

“God you feel so fuckin’ good, my good girl, fuck -- ” Breathing hard and fast, Flip fucks your face hard, keeping you steady so that you don’t accidentally take him down at a wrong angle and splutter and cough.

Relaxing for him, you let yourself be used, the salty sweaty taste of his cock running over your tongue, plunging down your throat soothing and familiar in a fucked up way that only over a decade of marriage can bring.

“Fuck!” He snarls when your tongue wriggles against the veins that throb along his shaft, sucking down hard everything that you can, one of your hands moving to cup and roll his balls, “Oh baby that’s it, just like that, keep doin’ that, oh god your tight fuckin’ throat feels good.”

Tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes when it becomes so much that your jaw aches, and you squirm, wanting to be touched, wanting to be fucked even though you know you can’t have it yet. Right now is about him, about the pleasure he gets from the way you suck him down, and then you’re swallowing hard, and the friction has him cursing loud loud loud, coming down your throat.

“Damn, ketsl!” he pushes his cock all the way down your throat one last time, before pulling away to watch his come shoot all over your tongue, your lips, your chin. Painting your face with it, he grunts, pulling your hair to angle your face up some more, a better view. You stick your tongue out for him, and another pulse of come bursts out of his cock from the sight, his filthy fucking whore of a wife, love of his life, on your knees like his own personal pornstar.

You fucking look like one anyway, and you sure as shit sound like one with the way you’re moaning and breathing hard, nipples so hard that he can see the way your blouse peaks out from over them.

Wiping away the come on your face and licking it off your fingers, swallowing every drop of evidence that you can, you and Flip grin at one another, his orgasm having him in a much more pleasant mood.

“We should get back out there, huh.” He gives you a hand and hoists you off your knees, pulls you close and kisses the taste of his come off your lips.

“People are gonna wonder where you went.” You smile, giving him your lovey-dovey eyes, glad that he’s enjoyed at least one part of this surprise. “You can’t disappear at your own party. How do I look?”

“Too beautiful for your own good.” Pinching your nose and giving you face a little shake, the two of you leave the records room behind.

“Well well well, if it ain’t the lovebirds!” Sergeant Trapp announces the second that you and Flip walk back into the main lobby of the station where everyone has spread out with their food and drinks.

“You two really can’t go two seconds without goin’ at it like rabbits, can you?” Ron laughs, teasing in a way that has Flip’s scowl coming back after all your hard work.

“Mrs. Z I gotta admit I’m impressed you’re still standin’, that sounded like quite the time.” Jimmy winks at you, and you slap a hand to your face. You hadn’t even thought about the noise that you must’ve made -- all the shelves moving, the grunts and groans, the cursing.

“Watch your mouth Jim, or I’ll be forced to do something about it.” Flip warns, but there’s something warm in the threat, playful. You’re fuckin’ glad for that, the last thing you needed on Flip’s birthday was him getting fired for beating the shit out of his friend.

“Oh yeah like what? I’m surprised you’ve got the energy for threats, old man.” Jimmy only eggs him on, all eyes on the two of them.

“That’s it -- ” Flip lunges immediately, making you rush forward and grab him by the scruff of his neck, preventing a wrestling match, even if a friendly one.

“Boys please, have some cake and maybe you’ll calm down.” You roll your eyes.

“You know,” Flip says later, when you lead him through to the breakroom where someone’s lit a fuckton of candles in an attempt to guess how old he is, and you’re curled up on the couch next to him as he licks the frosting off of his fork, “I’m starting to think there never was any Pyrex.”

And it’s all that you can do to just kiss him and shut him up, letting him get away with being an idiot because he’s your birthday boy.

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

Tagging some Flip friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars

[dearestgojo]

Twice As Pregnant

Summary: You go out to get over your break up with your boyfriend and have an unexpected fun with two strangers night after drowning your sorrows in alcohol. Are you ready to deal with the consequences of that one night?

A/n: I watched a trailer for a movie that has a similar plot to this and my head was rotting from reading to many Mattsun and Makki fics. *no proofreading was done* As of right now i plan on making this a 2 or 3 part fic but I'm not coming sure yet.. I'm a little nervous about posting this but hopefully y'all enjoy it.

Makki x Fem reader x Mattsun

Warnings: 18+. Loss of virginity. Toxic past relationship. Mentions of body image issues. Unplanned pregnancy. Deep throating. Unsafe sex. Oral F/m receiving. Drinking of Alcohol.

Part 1. Part 2. Series Masterlist. Wc: 4.7k.

You sit at the edge of your bed, staring at the empty wall in front of you. Confusion and thoughts of uncertainty flood your mind. Five pregnancy tests sit on the edge of the night stand, all positive.

You don’t want to believe it. You refuse to believe it. There’s no actual way you could be pregnant after breaking up with your boyfriend of four years, your high school sweetheart, your first and only boyfriend since senior year of high school, who had never even laid a hand on you.

Except that you are. Because you did the two things you never thought you would ever end up doing exactly two months ago, and now you were stuck with the consequences by yourself because you didn’t even know where to start looking for the father, or know who it even was, of your future child.

~

The alcohol stings the back of your throat as you empty your glass. You’ve lost count of how many you’ve emptied in the last hour, but they have been enough to have you feeling warm and fuzzy inside. I should probably drink some water to sober up you think to yourself as you look around the bar. There’s music playing but it isn’t terribly loud since people also come to this particular bar to eat and drink with friends. It’s apparently also a very popular place to celebrate bachelorette parties because of the instagrammable wall design at the front. A big mural with large blue flowers and “dang you look good” neon sign that hangs on it. You’ve since at least three bachelorette party groups walked in and out since you got here. And to say that it hadn’t annoyed you a little would be a lie.

You sigh as you watch yet another group of women walk into the bar and signal for the bartender to serve you another glass of whatever you were drinking. You look towards the group of women who had just walked in, thinking that they should’ve been, could’ve been, you if only you now ex-boyfriend hadn’t cheated on you with his ‘study partner’. You turn back around to see that your drink is now in front of you, and you quickly gulp it down, ignoring the stinging.

When you put the glass back down you feel tears threatening to fall. You don’t want to admit that you understand why he would throw four years away just like that, because you do. It’s the only thing you’ve argued about the last five months, the only thing you argued about for the three months he’d supposedly study with the girl he sat next to in his science class. It was the fact that even after four years together you refused to have sex with him, arguing that you wanted to wait till marriage and for the right person. Him getting upset and trying to guilt you into having sex by asking you “So you mean to tell me I’m not the right person for you? That there’s someone better than me out there? Even after four years you don’t think I’m your other half?” The memory makes your heart ache and your eyes swell.

The stool next to you being pulled back pulls you from your thoughts and two incredibly tall men sit next to you. You hear one of them, one with dark curls and large hands adorned by rings, tell the other, a strawberry blond with a smirk on his lips, that this is the last time he covers his tab and that he needs to find a new job soon. You quickly wipe away a few tears that managed to fall and ask the bartender for a glass of water and for a menu in hopes of getting sober. They come back a few minutes later with your glass of water and men, and they let you know that someone will be right with you to sit you at a table because they don’t allow eating in at the bar area, you simply nod in understanding.

You look over the menu while you wait and decide to get a burger and a coke. Having decided what you’re going to eat you reach to put the menu back on the bar counter, but since you’re still feeling a little hazy and embarrassed by almost crying in public, you’re a little shaky which causes you to knock over your water on to the lap of the man sitting next to you. It seems to all happen in slow motion as you watch in horror and embarrassment, the menu hitting the glass, the glass falling over, the water spilling onto his lap, and him jumping back.

You quickly jump up from your seat with a handful of paper towels and “I’m sorry’s” falling from your lips. You stand awkwardly handing him papers towels to dry himself off. His friend, still sitting, double overs himself laughing his head off, you feel your face get redder as his laughter fills the room. Everyone is definitely looking at you.

“I-I’m so sorry. I-I’ll pay for drying cleaning if I-I need to” you say as you reach for more towels. You turn back to find him staring at you, and if possible you get redder. You watch as he eyes you up and down before his eyes fall on the menu next to you.

“That won’t be necessary, you can just buy dinner and a couple of drinks.” His voice has you feeling warmer than the alcohol that you drank, and all you can do is nod.

~

You’re not sure how you ended up back at your apartment, sandwiched between the two attractive men, it doesn’t even register that you're back home until the door clicks behind all three of you. All you know is that you feel hot all over, that there’s lips kissing and sucking on your neck, hands exploring your body over your clothes, and that there’s a throbbing between your legs.

You try to recollect what happened at the bar. You remember being seated and ordering. The dark haired one, what were they’re names anyway they had said them at some point, refusing to let you be the only one without an alcoholic beverage. Crying about your ex. And now you were back home, how did they even get your address. Maybe you told them, your eyebrows furrow when one of them kisses you on your lips. Aah you remember now, they asked if there was anyone they could call to get you. And you answered that all your friends were either busy or out of town which is why you were drinking alone, and you simply handed them your keys that had your drivers license attached, head to fuzzy to care that they were strangers.

You feel a particularly hard bite at your neck, that pulls your attention back to the two men, and you groan at the slight pain it causes you. You feel the strawberry blond breath into your neck before he huffs out, “Where’s your bedroom, sweetheart?” You clench your thighs at the way he says the pet name, and simply nod towards the direction of your once shared bedroom, to be distracted by the man in front of you massaging your thighs right under the hem of your dress.

You pulled from his hold, turned around, and pulled towards your bedroom, footsteps following behind you. Nervous feelings start fluttering in the pit of your stomach, you’ve never done this, and deep down you know you should let them know, but the alcohol, hurt, and throbbing between your legs cloud your mind. Once you get past the threshold of your bedroom door you know there’s no going back.

Inside your once shared bedroom, fairy lights lit the room, and the men saw that there’s a full sized bed with a green and yellow comforter set, and a white wooden bed frame that had your floor carved into it. There was a vanity in a corner, a bookcase filled with books, some covering the area around the bookcase, and plants on top, a corner shelf close to the window was also filled with plants and figures you had collected over the years. The men looked around the room, it could’ve been considered a cozy place if it weren't for the ripped picture that covered the floor, and the boxes filled with men’s clothes, some shredded. You suddenly wish you had thrown all that out like you said you would last week, instead of trying to hold on to something that would never be fixed again.

The two men choose to ignore the mess and turn back to you. Next thing you know is that the strawberry blond is kissing you roughly while his hand slips into your dress to fondle your breasts. You hear and feel him moan against your lips before he pulls back and looks at his friend, “I told you she wasn’t wearing a bra, Issei. A bet is a bet and you owe me $20.” You feel your cheeks heat up, you knew people would have probably noticed when you put on the dress this evening before heading out, but hearing it being said out loud had you wanting to hide from the world.

But you don’t have time to dwell on it, because before you can fully process the thought of hiding, the front of your dress is being pulled down and there’s suddenly a mouth and tongue on one of your nipples, and a hand pinching the other one. You feel the man behind you, Issei, growl as he plays with your nipple, and he attaches himself back to your neck which earns him a whine from you. “Hiro she makes the cutest sounds.” He says as he pulls your head back, “you’ll be a good girl dl for us and keep making those beautiful sounds, right sweetheart?” All you can do is nod before his lips come crashing into yours.

You’re not sure how long you stay like that, but you're out of breath when he pulls back. Hiro pulls back at the same time and you feel the cold air hit your wet nipple sending a shiver down your spine. Both men smirk at your reaction. Your breathing is heavy and they can see the way your thighs are clenching around nothing, and they can’t wait to get a taste of you. Issei nudges you towards the bed from behind you, and Hiro starts pulling you with him until he’s sitting on the edge of it with you on his lap and his lips attached to your neck while his hands massage your sides, small moans escaping you as he leaves marks.

Behind you Issei is taking off his shirt and undoing his belt. He scans your night stands, he knows what he spotted when you all first walked in, and sure enough, sitting on the top on the stand across the bed was the small vibrator that caught his eye. He makes sure of you’re distracted by Hiro before making his way around you and back the small toy in his hand. The blond glazes up once Issei is behind you and smirks into your neck when Issei holds up the toy.

Hiro finds your soft and feels a sense of pride at the shaky moan you let out. He starts to bunch up your dress around your waist while his lips make their way up to yours, a distraction from what Issei is about to do.

You hear the buzzing before you feel it pressed against your clit. A strangled moan gets swallowed by Hiro. Kisses are being pressed against the back of your neck by the man behind you, as you try to keep your moans and whines quiet. “Fuck that was hot as hell, don’t keep those cute sound to yourself, angel,” Issei whispers in your ear as he bites down and press the toy harshly against you sensitive bud. A loud moan leaves your lips. Your mind starts to cloud as you feel your orgasm approaching. You’re pushed closer to the edge when Hiro starts to slide two fingers up and down your slit, and teases your hole by slightly pushing his fingers in along with your underwear. You quickly turn into a whimpering withering mess between them. “P-Please…” you whine as you feel like you’re right there and just need a little more.

“Please what, sweetheart?” Issei says behind you, pressing the toy harder against your bud.

“P-please m-ma-make me c-cum,” you whine, making the man underneath you moan before he pulls your panties to the side and directly touching you now. Issei now presses the vibrator on your bare clit and ruts against your back trying to build some friction. You can feel some of the outline of his dick pressed against your back as he does so and you shudder at the feeling. The knot in your stomach starts to tighten and you start to grind against their hands. Issei notices and moves the toy in his hand by Hiro’s teasing fingers, pushing it in slightly, sending you over the edge. They help you through your orgasm, whispering sweet nothings to you. You slump against Hiro once your orgasm ends, your breathing uneven. He kisses the top of your head as he hooks his arms underneath your thighs, and lays you down on the bed. He presses a couple of kisses across your face before stepping away from you.

Issei takes his place by kneeling down at the edge of the bed, his head in-between your thighs and legs tossed over his shoulders. You feel soft kisses being scattered around your inner thighs, “You did so good for us, angel.” Issei presses a kiss on your clit before speaking again, “God, I can’t wait to taste you.” You feel your underwear being pulled off, and then a long lick from the bottom up your slit to the top, a loud moan escapes your lips at the foreign feeling. Looking down you see that the bottom half of your dress covers Issei’s head, you can see the dress moving from his ministrations. The bed dips by your head as Hiro comes back into your line of vision, you had almost forgotten he was there. He now sits by your head in only his boxers, and you can see his cock straining against the thin material. Issei starts sucking on your clit when he notices your attention is no longer on him causing to buck up and groan.

“Be a good little girl for us.” Hiro says as he pushes your hips back down. He brings two of his fingers to your mouth, “Open up and suck, sweetheart.” You do as your told and take his fingers in all the way until your lips touch his knuckles. They’re long and have you gagging a little around them as they hit the back of your throat. You hollow out your cheeks, remembering the videos you’d watch to get yourself off when your boyfriend wasn’t around, because even if he did consider you a prude for not having sex with him, you still had sexual needs to take care of. Hiro just about cums at the sight of you sucking on his fingers, “Fuuucck pretty girl, I can’t wait till my dick is inside the pretty mouth of yours.” You simply look up at at him at bat your eyelashes, causing him to lick his lips at how innocent you look despite what your doing.

Beneath your dress Issei shoves his tongue into you, and you groan around Hiro’s fingers. “She taste so fucking good, you should taste her, Hiro,” Issei says, mouth still pressed against your core.

“I think I will.” Hiro responds by pulling his fingers from your mouth, his legs coming to rest on either side of your head. The sensation from having both men has you bucking up into them, not that they mind. You look above you and see Hiro’s cock straining against his boxers. You find yourself squeezing an arm into your body and running your hand up and down his length, you feel him groan against you. Curiosity drives you to lift your head up and lick him through his underwear. You hear a strangled moan coming from in between your legs. The sounds he makes have you sucking his balls through the thin material, and watching how his thighs tense up. Two can play this game, Hiro thinks before attaching himself back on you clit and sucking harshly. Your head falls back onto the bed as the feeling is too much for you to handle. With Issei’s tongue going in and out of you and Hiro not having any mercy on your sensitive bud, you barely register that you're cumming for the second time. Your legs locking their heads in place as your back arches off the bed. Your breasts pressed against the bottom of Hiro’s abdomen. You hear nothing but a ringing sound in your years and see nothing but white, but the sounds you're letting out has Hiro and Issei getting harder than they thought they could get.

They gently massage and kiss your body, trying to help you through your orgasm and to help you relax again. You’re breathing eventually evens out. “Are you okay, princess? Can you still go?” You look down at your stomach to see Issei looking up at you with hopefully but lust filled eyes.

“Mmmmh.” Is all you can manage.

“That’s good to hear.” Hiro says from behind you, as he massages your sides. You hadn’t realized that you were leaning against his torso until he spoke. His hands leave your sides to pull your dress fully off your body, you now sit in between them completely naked. Insecurities start to fill your head, wish you had started that diet your ex wanted you to because at this very moment you were very much aware of the fat on your stomach, of how your thighs touched, and of how big your calves looked. Maybe the way you looked was what really made him cheat. You desperately try to cover yourself with your arms as all the negative thoughts fill your head. But Hiro and Issei have other plans. They want to see every part of you, and so when Hiro notices what you're doing, a soft ‘tsk’ comes from his lips and he signals for Issei to grab your arms, “It’s too late to want to hide from us, sweetheart.” He hooks to fingers underneath your chin and pulls your head back towards him and kisses you. Issei spreads kisses upwards along your belly, boobs, and neck, that by the time Hiro pulls away from kissing you, he’s reached your lips and replaces Hiro’s with his own.

Hiro moves away from you as Issei starts to finger you and spread the slick between your thighs. Issei makes scissoring motions with his fingers, and has you moaning into his mouth. He pulls back and finishes undressing, Hiro comes back into your line, his head right above yours, “You’ll be a good girl take both of us right? One in each hole?” You can’t progress what he’s saying, the alcohol still clouding your mind a bit, so you simply nod. Something thick and long starts to rub against your pussy, you look away from Hiro and look down to see Issei now completely naked rubbing himself against you. You feel your mouth go dry as you see, and feel, his size. Fear runs through you, will that thing even go in. You feel the effects of the alcohol quickly wear off, and you’re about to tell them you’ve never done this before and that you think Hiro would be a better option for your first time, but your knees are pushes up to your chest and your pushed to the opposite side of the bed where Hiro stands naked, “Don’t worry princess I think we prepped you enough to take him.” Ths sudden shock of being put into that position has you opening your mouth and Hiro takes the opportunity to push his length into your mouth. You feel panic coarse through your body as you feel Issei start to push in at the same time.

Tears start to form at the corners of your eyes from being stretched so much for the first time. “Fuck she’s so tight…you’re doing great, angel.” You look up from where Hiro’s slowly pushing into the back of your throat, you're gagging a bit around him, and see Issei looking at your face. When Issei sees you look at him, he slips up and accidentally pushes the rest of what you can take into you. You yelped around Hiro as the pain was too much. “Fuck, I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Issei reaches down between you trying to bring you some pleasure to counteract the pain, but when he looks down and sees blood around where he bottomed out, panic fills his body, “Fuck, Hiro she’s bleeding,” he looks up at his friend who’s now looking at him with worried filled eyes, “you don’t think she’s…” both him look down at you and see your tear stained face. They’re quick to try and move themselves away from you, but you wrap your legs around Issei’s waist and Hiro’s thighs keeping them in place. You hear Issei’s heavy breathing before he speaks again, “Shit, sweetheart I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep going. As much as I want to, I feel like we’ve taken advantage.”

“Yeah, wish you would’ve told us sooner, c-could’ve done things different.” Hiro breathes out from above you. You feel them try to move away from you, but you feel as if it’s already too late to take things back, to turn time backwards and redo the whole night. It’s too late to regret making the decision not to speak up earlier when you knew where things were going, when you were painfully thinking of your inexperience. So you do the only thing that you think will work as a signal to both me that you want to keep going.

You swallow around Hiro and push his hips down further, till your nose is touching his pubes, and grind yourself against Issei. Both men moan and whine above you, “Y-your sure you want to keep going, angel.” You hum, sending a shiver to run through Hiro’s body, “O-okay, will be as gentle as we can.” You feel a kiss being pressed in between your collarbones.

Both men start to move, the pain of taking as much of Issei’s length fades and soon enough you’re moaning in pleasure around Hiro. You stretch one of your legs out and rest, press it against Issei’s butt and push him further into you, urging him to move faster and harder to which he complies. Hiro has you gagging and drooling around him, because even though he’s not as thick or long, he’s still longer than the average side dick you’ve seen in porn videos. You soon feel a knot forming at the pit of your stomach and you let go of one of Hiro’s thighs and bring your hand down to rub tight circles on your clit. Issei sits up to rest on his knees and the sight of you touching yourself while being completely stuffed with him has both of them moaning. Issei grabs your legs and puts them on his shoulders as he continues to go in and out of you and keeps his eyes focused on where your fingers are touching. Hiro brings a hand down to play with one of your boobs and nipple, and a particularly hard pull of it has you coming over the edge for the third time. Issei’s far gone in the way you clench around him that he forgets his not wearing a condom and spills into you. The both of you shake and quiver for a couple of minutes, as Hiro keeps chasing his own orgasm.

When he notices that his friend is done, he pulls out of your mouth and out from underneath Issei and towards himself. He flips you over and pushes your head down into the mattress, and pushes himself into you causing some of Issei’s cum to run down your thighs. He curls his body down into your smaller frame and brings his hand down to play with your clit. You're still sensitive from your recent orgasm so it doesn’t take long for the knot to form again. The feelings of Hiro pounding into you, his fingers rubbing roughly, and his whines next to your ear, all have you clenching tightly around him, and he forgets to pull out.

Both of your bodies fall on to the bed completely exhausted but blissful. Issei having regained his composure gets up from the bed to look for the bathroom. He showers quickly, using the soaps you have to wash away the sweat and smell of sex. When he comes back to your bedroom, he sees the blood strain and regrets the surfaces once more. He quickly looks away to see that you and Hiro are almost asleep. He nudges his best friend signaling for him to get up and shower. Hiro forces himself away from you wanting nothing more than to keep cuddling you and telling you how much of a good girl you were. “When you’re done fill the tub with warm water, enough for a bath.” Hiro simply nods and picks up his clothes on the way out.

While Hiro showers Issei does his best to remove the comforter from the bed without moving cause you too much or see any of the blood, as he insists it the least he can do. When Hiro returns, Issei carries you to your bathroom and leaves Hiro to help you with anything you need while he returns to your room to finish cleaning and get you some clothes. You feel slightly self conscious, but try to push the thoughts to the back of your head. By the time you’re all fully dressed and standing in your living room awkwardly, the clock reads 3:45 a.m.

It’s in that moment that both men wish this had been a normal one night stand, so that they would be able to leave long after you’ve fallen asleep but the guilt of leaving after taking something that most women want to save for someone specific was eating away at them. They’re almost relieved to hear you say, “It’s really late, I think I should go to bed, and I guess y'all are wanting to get home.” You open the door for them refusing to make eye contact as embarrassment paints your face bright red. Issei and Hiro simply nod on their way out. You watch as their backs disappear down the hall and into the elevator. You wonder if you’ll ever catch a glimpse of them ever again, and you hope you don’t.

~

You sit on the comfortable clinic chair, waiting to get called in, your best friend sits beside you, squeezing your hand. She isn’t sure how you ended up at a pregnancy clinic waiting to get results showing confirmation on whether what the home pregnancy tests showed were true, and she didn’t press further when you showed them to her the situation obviously making you uncomfortable.

The nurse calls on you and hands you a white envelope with the clinics logo printed on it. You take it slowly and say your thanks. You wait till you’re back in the comfort of your apartment, the furniture all rearranged every room as you tried to erase traces of that night. Your mind wanders to the decision you’ve already made in the past week leading up to this appointment and result. If it’s negative you’ll continue life as normal as you can. If it’s positive…you’ll keep the baby and be a single mother no matter how much its scares you, because the only information you had about a potential father for your baby was a first name and a night you still thought about when you felt particularly lonely.

You reach for the envelope, your friend squeezing your forearm. Really slowly opening it and unfolding the results, you both read them over.

Pregnant.

[mermaidxatxheart]

Better Together Chapter 2

Pairing: Poe x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of lackluster sex, paranoia, Poe being adorable. Probably swearing.

A/N: my works are not to be reposted on this site or any other site without my knowledge and permission. Reblogs are, of course, welcome. If you'd like to be added to my tag lists, please send me an ask and let me know which tag list you'd like to be added to.

Series Master List

Chapter One

Chapter Two

You slowly blink your eyes open in the darkness of the room. Bryce’s big arm is snaked tightly around you, self satisfied snores reverberate softly in your ear. Your entire lower half aches as you stretch and try to sit up. Bryce holds you tighter, pressing his chest into your bare back. His hand snakes up between your breasts as he clings to you.

Carefully, slowly, you roll him over, easing his hand off your skin. You place it back on his chest and slide off the bed, gathering up your clothes. You quickly get dressed and head for the hangar to meet Poe.

You’re feeling off this morning. You wish the commissary is open for some caf, you wish you had been able to sleep in; you wish Bryce had… well. Nothing you can do about that now.

Your go-bag previously stored in the ship, you head there now, trying not to wince with every step.

“Hey, partner.” Poe greets, smiling wide. His smile falters when he sees your empty hands. “You didn’t bring me a caf?”

You groan, walking towards the on-ramp. “I didn’t even bring me a caf. Don’t start.” You mutter.

“Well, lucky for you, I have a friend in the commissary staff.” He says, grabbing you by the back of your shirt and stopping you in the entryway.

“If you have something to say, just say it.” You complain, closing your eyes. He’s way too happy this morning, being awake before the birds are.

“Boy, you’re a grump this morning.” He teases, covering your eyes with one of his big warm soft hands.

“Poe.” You whine.

“Hold out your hand, gorgeous.” He says ever so softly in your ear, his breath on the outer shell making you shiver, making you wish last night had been more satisfying.

Shakily, you hold out your hand, palm up. He leans in close around you, broad chest pressing into your arm and, Maker, he’s so warm. He sets something circular and heavy in your palm and waits.

“Open those pretty eyes.” He prompts. You do and there’s a big cup of coffee balancing perfectly in your hand.

You smile slightly to yourself, grateful to your friend, and you try to shake yourself out of this slump. “Thanks, Dameron.” You step further into the ship, changing your grasp on the cup. “How’s your head?” You ask.

“Just fine. I didn’t end up drinking last night.” He studies you as you head for your bunk. “Okay, what’s the matter with you?” He asks, following after you.

“Nothing. Just tired.” You dig your bag out and rifle through for your favorite sweatshirt. Space is cold and you naturally have a lower body temperature.

“Didn’t you see your loverboy last night? Shouldn’t you be in a better mood?” He teases and you feel your shoulders tense against your will.

“I’m fine, Poe.” You toss over your shoulder, pulling the thick fabric on.

“Oh, did Mr. Prick not live up to the hype?” He continues as you head for the cockpit.

You want to tell him to let it go, that it’s none of his business if you didn’t… but there’s no way to say anything without giving everything away.

“That’s exactly it.” He surmises easily and you do your best to hide your quickly flushing face. “Yikes. If only there was someone who warned you that he wouldn’t be worth your time.” Poe ponders and you roll your eyes.

“If you’re done poking fun at my anticlimactic sex life, maybe we could get going? It’s gonna be a long week together.” You prompt, sliding automatically into the co-pilot’s seat and leaving the pilot’s seat open for Poe.

“I have so many questions.” He sighs.

“If you value keeping your tongue in your mouth, you won’t ask them.” You warn and he groans. “We need to do flight checks.” You half rise out of your seat before he catches your arm.

“Nya already did them.” He says and you roll your eyes.

“Right. Like I’m trusting my life to her.” You scoff and head out of the little room to check on everything yourself.

Nya is probably the worst person on this Resistance base. Maybe even in all the galaxies. She’s rude, condescending, petty, moralless, and you have a sneaking suspicion she’s not really here for the cause. She hates you, and you hate her. No way in all seven hells are you trusting your life in her hands.

You shimmy down the engine hatch, checking all the gauges, valves, pumps, and anything else that she might have tampered with. You’re excruciatingly thorough. Just as you’re about to finish, Poe’s exasperated sigh reaches you.

“Done yet?” He calls and you roll your eyes, taking just a little longer to properly annoy him. “Y/N, do you trust me?” He asks and you sigh.

“Probably against my better judgment.” You admit.

“I was with Nya when she did them. My name is on the list.” He says and you head back over to the opening and extend your hand.

“You promise you didn’t let her ample… personality… distract you?” You ask as he easily hauls you back up to him.

“Promise.” He holds out his index finger and you press yours to it.

“Okay. I feel better.” You nod and he chuckles, draping a muscular arm around your shoulders.

“Good, now let’s get going. Oh, and if you need to… take care of business,” he pauses to wiggle his eyebrows at you, “I won’t judge.”

You smack him in the chest, hard. “Fuck off, Dameron.” You slide back into your seat and start the engaging sequences. He laughs quietly, rubbing his chest where you hit him.

***

“Landing gear.” You say you assume pointlessly. Poe Dameron doesn’t need you to remind him to extend the landing gear, and yet here you are.

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at you, he hasn’t even blinked for the last five minutes.

“Poe. Landing gear.” You repeat, a little louder. Still nothing. You grumble and start to lift out of your seat to reach across him and flip it. Naturally, that’s when he starts to move.

“I’ve got it.” He huffs, lifting your arm out of his face and toggling the switch.

“Clearly.” You roll your eyes. “Lost you there for a second.” You hint and he glances at you, his skilled hands flying over the console now without thought.

“Sorry. Daydreaming, I guess.” He rolls his head, easing some tension out of his neck.

“About being anywhere else?” You tease.

“Absolutely. I can’t stand being here with you. Don’t know how you stand being around yourself.” He huffs, glancing out the window, trying to ease the ship down without knocking into too many branches.

“Unlike you, Dameron. I don’t have a choice.” You reply.

The unanswered question of his daydream is dropped as he lowers the ramp and stands up. “Come on, partner.” He says, grabbing his bag and draping it across his chest.

You follow, grabbing your holopad, and double-checking for the third time that you have everything you need. Following Poe, you slip easily into work mode. He closes the ramp after you and waits while you pull up your coordinates on the planet.

It’s densely covered in trees as tall as the clouds, so big around the base that fifteen men could stand holding arms outstretched and probably not be all the way around. Thick foliage covers the ground, threatening to trip you even if you’re careful of where you step. Bright flowers are scattered in the green light cast down from above. Massive branches are over your head, big and sturdy enough for both you and Poe to lie down on. Gnarled, twisting roots rise up from the ground, sprawling across the floor. Roots from one tree can end up ten or fifteen feet away, and they seem to follow you, creaking and creeping up behind you.

The air is muggy, damp with condensation from the water being evaporated under the tree canopy. After just a couple minutes, you feel like you’re drinking the air rather than breathing it.

Focusing, you pull up the map construction on your holopad and hold it up, scanning the area surrounding your ship. You glance at Poe, already seeing little droplets of sweat gathering at the edges of his dark curls. He’s looking around, head on a swivel, hands gripping his rifle, as you work.

“Alright. Pick a direction.” You nod, letting him know you’re ready to begin.

“Left.” He says, stepping in front of you to cross your path.

“Hey, I know it doesn’t need saying again, but we know nothing about this place. Try not to touch too much, and for Maker’s sake, don’t lick anything.” You roll your eyes and that charmingly cheeky grin is back.

“I make no promises, gorgeous. You know I love to lick things.” He smirks and you just wanna smack him again. You could have done without the innuendo.

You follow him to the left, which is actually east, scanning and recording. Every so often, you stop to pick a flower for a sample. It goes into a sealable bag to examine back at the base. If you’re going to live here, you need to know as much about the local plant life, what’s poisonous, what’s okay to eat or smell.

You wipe your hand across your forehead, already feeling your shirt sticking uncomfortably to your shoulders. Poe doesn’t complain, so you don’t, either.

A creaking behind you makes you halt and half turn. It’s been about an hour since you left the safety of your ship, and so far, only giant bugs to report.

“What is it?” He asks, turning to look at you.

“I just thought I heard something.” You shake your head, brushing off your own paranoia. “Probably just one of the branches settling.”

“They’re massive, aren’t they?” He peers up at them. “Try not to get crushed by one.” He jokes, but it’s half-hearted. The good mood from takeoff is quickly wearing off.

He turns back around to keep moving forward, but you catch him just in time. “Poe!” You wrap your hand around the front of his shoulder, pulling him back against your chest before he can walk right into a butterfly the size of an eagle.

“Thanks.” He lets out a breath, squeezing your fingers reassuringly.

“Ever hear the story of how Makimbo walked into the flight path of a moth and it got stuck in his ear for three days until the medics could get it out?” You start and Poe stops again, slowly turning to face you, beautiful brown eyes wide in disbelief.

“You’re shitting me.” He says finally and you laugh, feeling better now that you’ve shaken off some of the silence.

“Nope. Walked right out the door from the dorms as a moth was flying to the light and flew right into his ear canal. Swears to this day he can still hear flapping in there.”

“Unbelievable. Only Mak could do something like that.” He shakes his head, turning back around.

“Can we take a break? I think we should have some water.” You say, your legs throbbing. They were already sore from your time with Bryce, but hiking through this impossible forest is killing you.

“Yeah, of course.” He says, coming back up to join you. “Feeling okay?” He asks, watching your eyes as you ease down onto one of those gnarled roots. It’s almost at chair height.

“Yeah. I probably should have just gone out with you to the bar.” You sigh, unscrewing your canteen.

“Probably would have had a better time.” He agrees, and you’re nodding before you can even think to stop yourself.

“At least my legs wouldn’t hurt this much.” You admit and he groans.

“Please tell me he’s not a ‘lay back and let you do all the work’ type.” He rubs his face with a handkerchief.

“There’s nothing wrong with a girl being on top.” You huff.

“No, yeah, of course. One of my favorite positions.” He holds out his hand to stop you. “But not for the whole time. And especially not if she doesn’t finish.” He says vehemently. “Always knew he was a selfish prick.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Something isn’t right. “Poe?” You start quietly. Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Sorry, I know you don’t like when I complain about him.” He waves and you’re trying so hard not to panic. You feel eyes on you, dangerous and intentional.

“Poe.” You say with a little more urgency. He finally looks at you, confused. “There’s something behind me. I can feel it.” You say, barely moving your mouth.

His eyes scan diligently over your shoulders. They search every inch of the exposed woods behind you until he shakes his head. “There’s nothing, sweetheart. Just leaves.” He says, sounding very sure. “Come sit by me.” He says, scooting over and patting the spot next to him.

You quickly cross to him and he wraps his arm around you, despite the uncomfortable heat. “I feel stupid, but I swear I felt something watching me.” You sigh, leaning against him.

“Maybe an animal.” He says, not dismissing your feelings at all. You’re grateful that he doesn’t tell you it’s nothing, but offers a possible solution. “If the bugs here are giant, can you imagine the predators?” He shudders, but you tilt your head.

“Actually, if the bugs are so big, there shouldn’t be any predators.” You frown, your anxious stomach settling a little bit. “Because size is equivalent to speed, the bigger they are, the slower they are. So, if the bugs can’t outrun the predator, they die off.” You press your lips together, feeling like you’re rambling.

He turns to look at you, appreciation in his eyes. “You’re pretty smart, you know that?” He says and you grin.

“I do. It’s about time that someone else sees it.” You reply and he laughs.

“Alright, noodle legs. You ready to keep going? We should try to find somewhere to camp soon. The days on this planet aren’t exceptionally long.” He says, and you nod, putting your water away.

“You’re right, let’s get going.” You stand up, picking up your holopad once more. Poe shoulders his rifle, head turning every which way as he leads you through the trees.

“Tell you what.” He starts after an immeasurable amount of silence.

“What’s that?” You croak, your voice sticking in your throat after not being used for a while.

“If we do settle this planet, we’re gonna need some serious air conditioning. My curls are not holding up in this heat.” He says, purposely messing up his dripping locks.

You laugh, flinching away from the flying moisture. “Agreed. But if there are no predators, as we’ve theorized, it could be pretty perfect.”

He turns to glance back at you, his forehead wrinkling in concern. “How are you feeling?” He asks again.

“I’m fine, why?”

He takes you by the arms, his big hands burning into your skin as he guides you to sit down. “You’re really flushed.” He comments, holding his bare wrist to your forehead. “And very warm.”

“It’s a million degrees out here. Of course, I’m warm, Poe.” You look up at him, appreciating his concern.

“Am I flushed?” He frowns.

“Who can tell? You’re perfectly tan all year round. How do you do that, by the way?”

He cups your face gently and tilts it up to him to see better. “I do this thing called going outside.” He says, gently pulling your lower eyelids down.

“See anything?” You ask, only half teasing.

“Nope, no soul in there.” He replies, letting go of you all together and suddenly you miss his hands on your face. They were warm and comforting and you felt safe.

This forest is messing with your head.

Another creak behind you has you up and moving around Poe. He catches your arm, making you slow down.

“Sweetheart, we should eat. It’s been all day. I didn’t realize how much time was passing.” He says.

You shift from foot to foot nervously, looking behind him. Your eyes scan the foliage, looking for any sign of movement. You don’t want to stop, too wound up to eat, but you know he’s right.

“I’ll keep you safe.” He promises. You acquiesce and let him guide you down to the ground and back against the base of a tree.

“I don’t know why I’m being such a weirdo.” You sigh, digging into your pack for your rations.

“Maybe you’re sensing something I’m not.” He shrugs, sitting across from you. From down here the ferns and other ground plants tower over you, creating its own little world. “Maybe it’s the idea of being somewhere new, unfamiliar. Maybe it’s the thought of being the only two people on an entire planet, so certain noises you would hear from other people, you shouldn’t be hearing. There are a million reasons. But don’t brush them off. You have a good gut instinct, Y/N. Use it. It might save us later.” He reaches over and squeezes your knee soothingly.

“Thanks.” You say, feeling a little better. You eat slowly, looking around, but mostly watching Poe. His dark hair is disheveled, curling into his heavy-lidded eyes. You’re grateful to Leia for pairing you with him. She could have picked anyone, and she picked the one person you get along with best. It’s easy to get along with Poe Dameron. Easy as breathing. Even when he’s being difficult, pushing people away after everything he’s seen, he has never once tried to push you away.

“You’re staring at me.” He comments and you drop your gaze instantly.

“Sorry.” You mutter, rubbing your forehead. “Just thinking.”

“About what I look like naked? Don’t feel bad, everyone on base has wondered.” He grins and you laugh.

“Sure. We’ll go with that.” You nod, pushing the rest of your food back into your bag. Your stomach is too tense to really eat anything.

He knocks his knee against yours. “Tell me.” He prompts.

“Just thinking about how we’re friends.” You shrug and he waits patiently for you to continue. “You… you don’t always… make things easy for other people. You argue with Mak, or Hana, or Setti. You sometimes seem to enjoy pushing them away because you do it so often.” You stumble over your words, not wanting to really screw things up. “But you’ve never done that to me.” You avoid his gaze for as long as you can stand it before finally looking up at him.

He’s smiling. “You’re funny.” He says eventually. “I did try doing that to you. At the very beginning. And sometimes it’s easier to have people be mad at me; to take all of it in and feel that instead of… other less pleasant things. And yeah, they get pissed at me, call me a jerk, or whatever name they like. They storm off and hate me for a while. And it feels good.” He nods, clearing his throat and looking around, away from you. “But not you. Never you. I’d pick a fight with you and you would stand your ground, fight me back until I was the one storming off. Then you’d show up at my dorm, or in the woods, or wherever I happened to be hiding, give me a cup of hot chocolate. You absolutely floored me that first time, telling me I could fight you all day long and you’d be there every time, not letting me lose myself.” He inhales sharply, disguising a sniffle. “I think you knew before I did. You just see through me, constantly.”

You're quiet for a long time, thinking over his words. He never says it out loud, never admits that he could use help. Never gives his nightmare a name. But you feel it, weighing on his soul; and yours. “Poe.” You start and he looks up at you expectantly. “I only said those things because you had my favorite book in your bag and I wanted it back.” You say quietly and he laughs loudly, grabbing your arm and pulling you into his lap, hugging you tight.

“Can’t push you away, no matter how hard I tried. You’re too stubborn.” He sighs, rocking you from side to side as you let your forehead rest in the crook of his neck. “Sometimes, I wonder if the bullshit I say will do it. Like the sex talk, or the time I told you I masturbate five times a day just to see what you’d say.” He chuckles, his breath skittering down the back of your neck. “You didn’t miss a beat, just said ‘I believe you. You look like the type’ and moved on.” He grins.

“I just thought you were a really open person.” You admit, pushing back from his chest, seeing his eyes shine with laughter. “We should keep going, you weirdo. There are some cliffs up ahead, I think. We can probably find a cave to sleep in for the night.”

“Agreed.” He pushes you to your feet, and you pull him up right after you. His hand lingers in yours for a long second before he takes it back to adjust his rifle position.

Chapter Three

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[ilikemesometaetaes]

Set Me Free (M)

Min Yoongi Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes​

•••> Summary: You are just an ordinary woman with a strange aura about you that Yoongi can’t seem to resist- even past the compulsion of his mentor. The question is: why?

•••> Pairing(s): Yoongi/Reader

•••> Requested by @itsgottabeyoo-ngs​ : “Hi daddy, One shot request with vampire Yoongi x brat reader. Bonus points for adding in choking or spitting idk make it filthy k thanks love you byeeeee xoxoxoxox”

•••> Word Count: 10.95k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Tags: smut | vampire!au | Yoongi!AU | Vampire’s Mate | Vampire!Yoongi | Human!Reader | Gifted!Reader

•••> Warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, murder, attempted murder, slight choking/strangulation, dirty talk, biting, blood drinking, spitting, violence, horror, vampire/human relationship, cursing, mental attachment, thirsty Yoongi, Yoongi thinks he’s scary, but he’s totally not

Copyright © 2020 ilikemesometaetaes. All Rights Reserved.

Thank you for the request, babe! This one is a bit to unpack, as you can see. I hope you enjoy :)

~#~

Yoongi never claimed to have his thirst under complete control.

He stands before his brothers once every week for the feed, snarling as he consumes his share of blood, while the others bear witness so as to provide him ceremonial protection- a vampire is very vulnerable while he consumes blood. The polydipsia made one lose all form of reason and sense of mind, driven to the brink of animalistic insanity when it was in the process of mildly quenching the eternal hunger.

Polydipsia, used to describe his level of thirst, was the word made just for him in his own little world.

It wasn’t normal thirst, like a human, but the savage-like impulse to drink and drown until he could swim in a river of blood and take deep lungfuls of the crimson fluid. The impossible desire to consume and be completely consumed by blood until he became it himself always loomed over his mind in his early days as a Deadblood- a vampire youngling- causing him to search for a word that could completely describe his affliction.

Then the Greeks begun transforming their language, perfecting the word that he could use to chronicle his need. He had mulled over the thought throughout the few centuries that the word came into existence, truly connecting with it on a level that was deprived of him when his soul was taken from his body.

But the word was not only used to describe normal thirst; it described the abnormal desire to drink as a symptom of disease- and a disease is what Min Yoongi had.

From the days he explored the lands of Goryeo as a young teenage boy, he knew that disease racked every inch of the world. Street beggars, riddled with sicknesses and incurable illnesses, asked him for coin, food, clothing, and any necessities that could potentially carry them through the night into another sunrise. But the one thing that they begged for the most was water.

Liquid life. Yoongi thinks back on the ironic turn of events and how, even as a privileged boy of nobles, he understood just how desperate a person got when they were deprived of the one, singular fluid that supported life as he knew it.

As Yoongi approached adulthood, he was promoted and bestowed larger honors in the name of the Min clan, allowing him to provide more for the beggars and lower-class individuals that he came across on the streets every day- not that his father would find out.

Until he did.

Yoongi recalls the moment he knew that his father figured out that his son was spoiling the family riches on the lower class. They weren’t sitting down for dinner and having a conversation nor taking a stroll along the river like the two of them normally would- it was quite surprising, really. Yoongi had to applaud his father for the creativity of the circumstance.

He knew that his father figured out his whereabouts when he found himself bleeding out in the middle of the woods with three arrows, adorned with the Min clan crest carved into the wood, sticking out of his chest. He was sent to look for his supposedly lost little sister under the direction that she was probably at a watering hole- which Yoongi had never heard about- about forty-five minutes from the edge of Goryeo’s walls.

Many people ventured outside of the city to fend for food and necessities, or to find civilization elsewhere, so it wasn’t surprising to him that his curious baby sister wanted to see for herself what life was like outside of the city’s limits.

As Yoongi lay dying on the soil of the earth, staring up at the greenery of the trees above while they lightly swayed in the breeze, he realized that everyone, regardless of social-class or physical health, was fighting the same, universal disease: death. No one could escape it and no one was safe. At least, that’s the epiphany he had in an effort to comfort himself while he felt his heart painfully struggle to beat with an arrowhead lodged into it. Copious amounts of blood spurt out with each pulse of his damaged organ.

And then the universe decided to set him free from death with a cure worse than the disease itself.

Yoongi doesn’t remember who his creator was. He doesn’t remember how long he spent on the forest floor with the arrows still in his chest. He doesn’t remember waking up.

His memory of his new life started from the moment his consciousness returned, in the exact second that he found a set of vocal cords clutched in the palm of his hand, dripping with crimson, after apparently ripping them out of a young boy who was actively collapsing in front of him. The boy, who Yoongi immediately recognized from the streets of Goryeo, was choking on his own gore as he clutched at his now nonexistent throat, staring up at his killer with a jumbled expression that silently begged for help yet withdrew from terror.

It took Yoongi five years of trekking everywhere and no where while attempting to control his thirst before he found new meaning. He mostly had a hold on the scorch in his throat by staying away from the city and surrounding villages before he met another and figured out what he became.

The woman- no, girl?- appeared young yet spoke as if she had seen countless winters, the wisdom of a million middays glowing behind her carmine eyes. She was the first person he had met who did not end up dead within the first two minutes of scenting them on the wind.

“You are a vampire. You survive purely on the life essence of others. You are still a young Deadblood. Judging by your age, you should become a Redblood soon.” She sat with her back to him, overlooking the valley below the then-unnamed Odaesan mountain that they sat perched upon. “Do you know who created you?”

“Created me?” He asked. “What do you mean? My parents?”

She turned, her vibrant red eyes continuing to shock him. Did his own orbs look like this?

“I mean, who turned you?” She seemed to look at him incredulously, shocked by his lack of knowledge. “Who gave you their venom- their shi?”

“I…” Yoongi tried very hard to remember anything before the burning sensation that scraped like rocks against the insides of his bones and flesh, but all he could see and feel was fire and agony- and then blood. He couldn’t help but think with a grain of salt, disbelieving of the method in which he was born into his new life. “I don’t know. I just remember from my first kill.”

“Strange.” The other vampire muttered, returning her gaze to the valley. “Strange, indeed.”

Yoongi was always the silent type, only interacting when he needed to as a habit formed to avoid the questioning glare of his father when he returned home late on certain occasions.

But he couldn’t help the burning desire of curiosity within him, a welcome distraction from the need to feed within him. He had so many questions.

“You may ask your questions, Min Yoongi.” The woman sighed, not even bothering to spare him a glance whilst she spoke. The man was shocked to find that she knew his name without him telling her.

“How do you know my name?” The new revelation took precedent in his mind, hoping that she was not an enemy of his clan.

“A valid question.” She mused. “Anticipated, but valid. I suppose I’ll answer your question to the best of my ability.”

Yoongi shifted his position in preparation, a new habit that he formed in his new life. He learned from the first time he moved to stretch that his body did not need to be stretched as it usually did. He never ached, never cramped, never tired, and never lost energy. Despite the lack of his emotions in their usual form, he knew that it should have been unsettling to find such a new change within him, so he did the sensible thing of pretending that he needed to.

He pretended he needed to breathe- after two hours at the bottom of a lake he stumbled upon in his aimless journey, he was amazed to find that he required no oxygen to continue existing- and that he didn’t need to sleep nor use the bathroom. He would practice taking breaths, trying to inhale and exhale evenly without becoming allured to the pungent yet undeniably attractive scent of animal blood so that he could finally smell the forest again. He pretended to go to sleep and wake up with the urge to relieve himself of the noneixstent pressure in his bladder despite not having any of the instincts he once had.

The woman spoke, answering his first question.

“I can hear your thoughts. They’re not necessarily specific, but I can hear when you are wistful- like you are now- or when you are curious or sad or angry. I can hear the causes of these emotions.” She paused. “It comes with the gift of my second life. A form of protection, if you will.”

“Why would I need protection when I am invincible? I’ve seen the things I can do and what my body can endure.” He briefly recalled repeatedly jumping from a cliff, automatically landing on his feet no matter how hard he tried not to. Before, he had a will to survive with a choice of dying, but now? There was no comprehensible choice. “There is nothing that can hurt me.”

Yoongi couldn’t help cocking his head to the side like a confused dog when the woman let out a breathless laugh.

“Because, young one,” She looked at him with her eyes again, a look of mock endearment filling them. “You are not invincible.”

For a moment, Yoongi did not believe her. He believed that the liquid running through his veins was pure ichor, an essence of the gods, but when he returned her look of sincere truth, he understood that dying was still very much possible.

Thanking the gods, Yoongi looked to the ground and began toying with his fingers at his revelation. He could stop murdering people, willing to die in order to do so.

The woman shook her head. “No, Min Yoongi. You do not have to die to stop killing humans. In fact, it is the reason I have not killed you yet. You are unaware of the possibilities.”

His head perked up at the comment, suddenly eager to learn.

“How? How can I live without killing?” All he could see was the young boy that he had murdered in cold blood; the boy’s warm brown eyes staring up at him as he watched the life drain from them burned into his memory- he didn’t even know the boy’s name. The boy could not have been older than his own sister.

“I never told you that you could continue to live without killing. Of course, you have to kill. But you do not have to kill people.” The woman nodded her head down the mount. “Do you smell that? Do you smell the life that lives throughout this mountain?”

Yoongi attempted to focus on his senses but could only feel the thirst once again tormenting his throat. As soon as the woman shifted his attention back to the aroma of life, he salivated. Of course, he smelled the animal’s scents, but he could also detect traces of human life upwind that completely took away his desire for anything but humans.

“Push the thirst aside to open your senses. Embrace them. Embrace your power and your abilities. Focus on those.”

Again, he tried to push the scorch in his throat to the side, only to find that it was an impossible feat seeing as he had not fed in several months. He wanted human blood so badly.

“Poor child. I did not realize how weak you were.” She let a grimace morph her features, the first true expression of genuine emotion that Yoongi had seen on her. “Come sit in front of me. I will help you.”

For a moment, Yoongi hesitated. Was she going to kill him? He was not sure, but after a few more thoughts to himself, he realized that he had nothing to lose. Following her direction obediently, he moved to sit with his legs crossed in front of the woman.

“Now, close your eyes and listen to my voice.” She raised her hands to his head, placing her fingertips on his temples, and began whispering while he let his eyes flutter closed.

He felt as if he was mentally hit by a charging bear.

The woman’s words echoed in his mind, seating themselves amongst every corner and crevice that they could touch before Yoongi could understand what was happening. Shocked by the feeling of being intruded upon, he tried to push back against the mind-numbing force of her words, uncomfortable and feeling violated by the sensation. Instead of stopping them, her voice just broke down his amateur attempt at a mental barrier and pushed its way further into his brain. He was helpless to her superior mental awareness and gift.

“You will not focus on the thirst. You will focus on your abilities. Focus on the blood of animals and the blood of those already dead.”

And Min Yoongi had no option but to obey for he was forced into a dieted life.

But as he stands, thousands of years later, in the middle of your kitchen whilst watching you silently with the inferno of the blazing sun in his esophagus, he couldn’t help the need that overcame him. He could not obey his mentor; miraculously and horrifyingly, the gift of his mentor did not work with you.

He was impelled by his mentor’s gift, effectively removing most of the bloodlust he had for humans. In his lifetime, after the unavoidable command was bestowed upon him, he had only killed a handful of humans when he was consumed by the thirst after living in self-induced exile for so long. But standing before you, he may have needed to add a finger to that handful depending on what you did next.

Yoongi first clocked you on his radar the moment you walked into the small coffee shop he was occupying for the later part of the morning.

Building a friendship with you was quite easy.

You were bright and warm and everything wonderful upon meeting him. Your smile was just shy of naive, yet he couldn’t help the alien tugs on his heart when watching you giggle.

“How old are you, Yoongi?” You asked while circling the straw in your caramel macchiato.

“Old enough.” He chuckled, looking down with what you perceived as shyness.

“Oh?” You laughed with him. “And how old is enough for you?”

“I could ask you the same question. How old do you think I am?” He met your eyes, once again shocking you with their beautifully vibrant shade of brown.

“Well…” You trailed off, studying his facial features closely- the hint of a permanent smile line, fresh haircut, and no wrinkles alluded that he couldn’t be over thirty. “I’m gonna say… twenty-five?”

The man across from you smiled. “Very close. I’m twenty-seven.”

So he wasn’t that much older than you. You could totally do him.

Yoongi noticed the flash of lust that ghosted through your pupils for a split second, recognizing the dilation of them as you glanced at him. He watched you stick your chest out a bit more, begin fiddling with your hair more often, and part your lips while you let the thoughts of sexual satisfaction run across your mind.

“Twenty-seven, huh? That’s not bad at all.” You smiled, letting your tongue lightly swipe along your bottom lip unconsciously.

Yoongi zeroed in on the action with a piercing gaze, watching as the muscle seemed to move in slow motion tauntingly, daring him to dig his fangs into it savagely before tearing it from your mouth to feel the blood pouring from your lips onto his face. 

His body reacted sensibly, blood rushing like fake adrenaline to awaken his better instincts- rushing everywhere- and making his jeans become uncomfortably tight as they restrained his filling manhood. 

Blood drinking was as exciting as it was satisfying for a vampire. An extremely personal and holy moment, consuming lifeblood was the most raw and sexual moment to experience. A vampire could not experience real sexual desire without it.

He dug his fingers into the faux leather of his side of the booth until they broke through the material to restrain himself from attempting to attack you in the middle of the day.

Quickly, gaining his sense of mind once again, he tore more holes into the leather to round out the punctures so that it could appear as if the holes were from wear and tear.

The scent of your blood transpierced by the hormones and adrenaline beginning to flow through your veins made it just that much more implausibly alluring. Yoongi admitted that you were a beautiful and kind woman from the conversation throughout the morning. He also knew that you had a deviant side due to the surprisingly quick appearance of your lust-filled gaze.

Yet he couldn’t help the urge to murder you on the spot.

He knew that he couldn’t touch you. The supernatural safety of the sun that shone on your body prevented him from laying a finger on your skin without his own lighting aflame. He learned the protection of sun rays on humans the hard way.

His fifth human victim, a monk who travelled the heights of Mount Odaesan- Yoongi’s sanctuary and home- for a religious trial, travelled early in the morning as the sun was rising. Yoongi smelt the sweat dripping from the man’s skin instantly. In the small cove he called home, he tried to resist the urge to kill the man for he hadn’t smelt human blood in several years.

His mentor’s words were ever present. ‘Focus on the blood of animals and the blood of those already dead.’

Despite having those words affecting his instincts, Yoongi had managed to convince himself that the monk was a dead man standing once he smelled remnants of a virus tainting his scent, effectively bypassing the impulsion of the woman’s mind control.

Yoongi found himself rushing at the man without a second thought, fangs bared and fingers curled in preparation to tear the man’s limbs from his body. However, before he could get within two feet of the vulnerable monk, he was thrown back by an invisible and boiling hot force that left him screaming in agony and flying through the air.

The monk quickly ran back down the mountain in terror, yet Yoongi could pay no mind as he lay on the forest floor, ready to die once again as his skin singed and fell from his flesh like swamp sludge.

As his throat tore itself raw from his wails of misery, his body writhed in and out on itself in complete and utter anguish. The smell of burnt flesh overwhelmed his nostrils, pungent and nauseating in every possible way. How he was able to focus on something other than the pain was beyond him.

Despite the burning, Yoongi could feel his aflame skin beginning to heal itself. Clawing through the dirt, he felt the blood stored in his stomach rushing through his veins to the broken and severed ones, rebuilding them and recreating the network of arteries necessary to begin restoring his expanse of skin.

Before long, the pain subsided and Yoongi was no longer screaming. The entire ordeal lasted approximately twenty minutes- long enough that Yoongi no longer heard the footsteps of the monk and long enough for him to process the events that had just happened. 

He was thankful that he became a Redblood with the ability to use consumed blood throughout his body, unsure of what would have happened to him if he had been a Deadblood at the time. Deadbloods burned through consumed blood quicker than a spark from a flint could ignite kindling into a flame.

He definitely needed to ask the woman, Zizi, about it. And he definitely needed to track that monk until sundown so that he could get rid of any loose ends.

Yoongi grimaced slightly, remembering the occurrence like it was yesterday, as he sat across from you.

You were still looking down at your cup in blissful unawareness of his inner turmoil and life that he’s lived thus far. You definitely were not dense enough to not notice his gaze on your skin, but you were definitely ignorant of the fact that he was thinking about what would happen if he could just get you to move a few feet to the right to gain cover from the direct line of the sun. He just needed to get you into the shadows.

“Y/N,” He called your name. You instantly looked up in response. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.” You teased him back with his own words. He let a small smile thin his lips before he looked down to hide it. When you followed his gaze and noticed that he didn’t have a drink, you jumped to the opportunity.

“Can I buy you a drink, Min Yoongi?” You asked him.

“Oh, I’m not particularly craving coffee at the moment.” He paused and held his breath, as if trying to find the words to say. “I just like to sit here sometimes and enjoy watching the street.”

“Well,” Ask him! Ask him out! Yes! Do it! Your head screamed at you to be confident. You knew he was the shy type; you would be waiting all day for him to make a move and you just didn’t have the time nor patience for that. “Let me get you a drink at my bar?”

The man looked mildly impressed for a moment. “You own a bar?”

“A small one.” You swiftly added. “It’s not a big popular one or anything but I didn’t want a place too big. I like the smaller things.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but smile. You were a kind and beautiful woman living a simple life. He dreaded the moment that he was going to have to kill you.

“I take it you’re pretty well off then?” He asks. “And please don’t take this as me digging around. I’m just curious.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yeah, actually.” You laughed and sat back in your chair, looking out the window onto the street as people and cars passed by. “I’ve always been pretty lucky for some reason. The gods always seem to be in my favor and give me what I want.”

Yoongi smirked for a moment. If she wants me, she can have me. Then, I’ll have her.

When Yoongi found himself in the prime position to attack you in your kitchen, several weeks later, he knew. He finally had you where he wanted you.

A handful of dates that he found quite pleasant were all it took. 

You turned out to be just what he thought- a strangely attractive and alluring woman, the scent of your blood aside. You exhumed an odd magnetism about you that Yoongi had never felt from a human. He regretted the decision of waiting so long to kill you seeing as he was considering letting you live. But he knew that he couldn’t do that.

With your back turned to him, busying yourself with dinner, he could easily snap your neck so that you wouldn’t scream and struggle- and you would be dead almost instantly. A quick and nearly painless death was what you deserved. He didn’t want you to suffer at all.

However, just as he crouched in preparation to lunge at you, you spoke.

“Are you ready for dinner, babe?” You asked him.

He smiled devilishly, venom filling his mouth as he salivated. “Yes, I am. I’m starving.”

You chuckled. “Okay.”

“Go and sit down at the table.”

It was the most simple of commands. Telling Yoongi to sit down wasn’t an order. You weren’t demanding him to do it. You never demanded anything of him. It was a mere suggestion in your eyes.

Yet Yoongi felt his body moving to the dinner table without a second thought, unable to resist obeying your words.

What in the everliving fuck.

He sat quickly, impotent to move from his spot while he waited for you to bring the food from the counter. His thirst obliterated his throat, causing it to seize up and restrict any air that he could previously breathe, but he sat in wonder as you seemed to hold power over him that he had never felt before.

You turned with both of your dinner plates in hand and he quickly smothered the panic on his face, wondering what in the world had just happened.

“I’m not at all a chef, but you better eat everything.” Yoongi tested your words, seeing if the inclination to finish your food was present, only to find a slight mental nudge- as he expected. You didn’t tell him to do anything; you merely made an ‘or else’ statement.

No longer desperate to kill you for the time being, Yoongi sat still and waited for your next words. Once you sat the plate in front of him, you uttered a joke.

“Dig in.”

And dig in Yoongi did. He picked up his fork and scooped into the pasta you made without any willingness to deny you.

The pasta wasn’t fantastic in any sort of the word- It was plain, although it could be due to the fact that it wasn’t at all what he truly craved and needed. It was like eating a piece of stale bread while he was offered a perfectly cooked and outright juicy steak on a silver platter. The food that he ate wouldn’t be consumed by his body and used for nutrients; the shi in his stomach would burn it to nothingness within the next few hours.

Uncontrollably, Yoongi shoved mouthful after mouthful into his mouth- he couldn’t stop. Once he finished chewing one bite, his hand was immediately bringing him another, and then another. Despite lacking the need to breathe, Yoongi felt himself suffocating with each bite as the realization that he could do nothing except eat his food settled in his mind.

“I see you were hungry.” You laughed, unaware of his predicament. Yoongi’s eyes shot up to yours and silently hoped you would give him another command so that he could stop the foolishness.

You, however, just sat there feeling sort of proud of yourself- not only for making an edible meal, but for making one Yoongi seemed to enjoy. Even though it was slightly shocking to see him out of his usually cool character, acting like a man suffering from hunger, you couldn’t help but find it undeniably cute.

Eating slowly while watching him, you let your feelings for him come to the surface.

Yoongi was utterly beautiful. His black hair that fell over his face while he was cleaning up the last bits of his plate was just long enough to cover his eyes, yet as he looked at you without reservation, you felt he had a clear line of sight straight into your soul.

His skin was nearly flawless save for the light and narrow scar that cut into his right eye. Others found the scar intimidating and ugly, but you found it rather attractive. Yoongi, with his uncanny physical allure, was undeniably the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Your body was alight with joy and content. In the few weeks that you got to know him, liking him was incredibly easy and having him in your home, in a domestic setting, lit your heart on fire with the possibility of falling in love with him.

He was incredibly easy to love, you discovered. Everything about him begged you to fall for him. As if the universe created him just for you, Min Yoongi was the epitome of perfection- in your eyes, anyway.

Briefly, you had shown a photo of him to your mother. She became unsettled instantly by his appearance.

“He’s so pale. And a little scary-looking.” She squinted at the photo you took of him when he wasn’t looking. You never brought him up again to your mother, disliking the fact that she didn’t like your potential boyfriend and found him scary.

The picture just happened to be your favorite- being because he didn’t like pictures and it was the only one you had of him.

He kindly asked you to not take photos of him. When you prompted him as to why during one of your more intimate moments at your bar, he only answered playfully as he held you close to him, lips begging for you to kiss them.

“Because I don’t want to leave evidence.” He whispered, breath tickling your nose. His body was warm and sturdy, muscles rippling under your touch as you clung to his shoulders.

“Evidence from what?” You asked breathily. The heat in your panties had increased tenfold over the last few minutes as his eyes grew hungrier with want. Yoongi’s fingers dug into your waist painfully, pulling you so close that you barely had room to expand your lungs to breathe, yet you couldn’t help the edgy feeling of how rough he could be with you.

“From when I eat you up.”

Thinking back on the memory, you shivered involuntarily, hoping that tonight might be the night you actually get to have him. He’d made you wait for a little over a month and you had no idea why. You definitely felt him straining through his pants a few times. But no kisses or anything further than the pressing of your bodies was accomplished.

Yoongi finished his plate and sat upright briskly, pulling you from your wishful thinking with a jump.

“Y/N,” He nearly growled, shocking you. “What else do you want me to do?”

The fork you were holding clattered to your plate instantly. Wow. He’s sizzling hot.

“I-“ You stuttered a bit. “I- uh.”

“Spit it out.” He hissed. You jumped again, trying to find the words to say with the heat growing in your panties.

Quickly, you answered him. “I want you to take me to my bedroom.”

“Thank god.” He groaned, getting up slowly with a smirk on his face. “Is that just a request? Because I can walk out now if you don’t actually want this.”

“Take me to my bedroom, Yoongi.” You stood slowly, carefully, as if you were afraid to trigger him.

Yoongi pushed in his chair and moved towards you at a speed that was almost inhuman. You yelped in astonishment as Yoongi attempted to control himself- he couldn’t bring you to your bedroom at his natural speed or else he would have a very motion-sick human to worry about. Instead, he trembled with the effort to resist your command at full force, knowing that the only way it was possible was due to the fact that he was still, in fact, taking you to your bedroom.

Picking you up was easier than breathing. You weighed absolutely nothing in his arms because of his advanced strength, so when he felt you trying to assist him in carrying you by holding your body stiffly, he huffed out a laugh whilst he walked.

“Relax, woman. You are as light as a feather.”

You blushed under his words, leaning into his chest to hide your cheeks.

“Stop that.” He growled, entering your bedroom. You looked up at him and he couldn’t tear his eyes from the blood that rushed to your cheeks. “I can’t resist if you do that.”

“Then don’t.” You whispered. Your heart pounded in your chest, begging him to hear it. “Don’t resist.”

His fangs came forth immediately, for he could not resist your command while he flew to your bed to throw you down. Despite your unknowing of what you were telling him to do, he fostered no opposition to what he was about to do.

The roughness of his throw startled you for a moment as you looked up at his vastly approaching figure, only to grow terrified when you caught sight of his face.

The veins protruding out of his temples and cheeks pumped blood straight into the whites of his eyes, turning them completely bloodshot, as they framed the now-crimson irises. Long incisors protruded from his mouth as he opened it with a hiss, revealing the way his human teeth shifted apart to allow his inhuman ones to break through the gums. Instantly, you parted your lips to scream.

Yoongi was upon you instantly, hand covering your mouth and silencing your cry while he snarled menacingly, yet he couldn’t help but feel remorse for killing you.

“I’m sorry.” He whimpered through his animalistic demeanor. “I can’t stop.”

You were screaming below his hand and, instantaneously, he had an idea.

He was leaning forward slowly, able to slow himself in the process of not resisting you. “Y/N,” He strained, changing the frequency of his talent, and waited for you to silence yourself in order to listen to him. He took his hand off of your mouth slowly after he heard your heart calm itself past your weeping. “Tell me to stop.”

“Stop!” You sobbed whilst clawing at his chest and kicking at his legs. “Don’t kill me!”

Not a second passed before Yoongi flew off of you, throwing his back to your wall with a loud thud while he cursed lowly.

You scrambled to the headboard of your bed, pressing your back against it in an attempt to gain some distance between the two of you. Your eyes were wide, chest heaving with your breath short, as you looked at the man in front of you.

“I-“ Yoongi stuttered for the first time in decades. “I’m sorry.”

“Your eyes!” Your burst out. You were unable to contain your fear and shock, so you displaced it into your curiosity. “Y-your- Your face! Your teeth!”

Yoongi stood against the wall, breathing just as hard as you, with his eyes cast to the floor in the process of trying to control his facial features. He could no longer kill you. The thought revolted him- every time he considered drinking your blood, the idea was banished from his mind with a sense of nausea following. Good god. She is unaware of her ability yet I am completely at her mercy.

“I apologize. I couldn’t help myself.” He breathed. What Yoongi forgot to take into account was the fact that he began implementing the gift of his second life on you the moment he stepped foot through your threshold, so your mind was completely scrambled by this point.

It was nighttime now; he could not leave your house no matter how hard he tried. He knew of the fallacy that vampires needed to be invited in and he found himself giggling from time to time at how close humans got to the actual lore of his kind.

He could enter your house, uninvited, during the day. He could lurk every corner of your abode without a bother, yet when night fell and the sun finally set, he would be stuck inside until morning. He knew he would be staying the night in your house the moment he agreed to have dinner with you. If he attempted to enter through your door during the night, however, he would have no luck- the night’s protection would convince his brain to walk away from your home without any further reconsideration until he was a good distance from it.

He was in the first position now.

He wished that he could leave you and disappear from your life without a trace so that you could live a peaceful and happy life without him, but he was afraid that it was impossible now with sundown a mere two hours prior. Your powers were no match for the natural protection of the earth. The both of you had a long night ahead of yourselves.

So he used his ability. Yoongi gave you control- rational thought, rather. His gift allowed him to grant organization of the mind and precise focus to others, but he could also take it away.

Upon entering your home, he began the process of slowly but surely ebbing away your barriers and logical thought- he couldn’t do it too fast or else you would panic like you were now. With a presently impossible-to-kill human whose heart was beating out of her chest and a command to not kill you forcing him into submission, he was obligated to prevent you from having a heart attack that was caused by him.

With laser-like focus, he channeled his gift straight into your open mind. Yoongi rebuilt the walls he had previously broken down over the past few hours, restocked your jumbled thoughts into their proper spaces, and flowed his energy through each corridor of judicious conception so that you could continue to develop your focus into that of supernatural proportion. He hoped that you, with a new mind, would tell him to get away from you and to kill himself. Dying by the hands of such a robust ability wouldn’t be too bad of a way to go.

You, however, never had such a decisive mind. Your mind was never clearer and you had never felt such clarity in your thoughts before. It allowed you to feel the magnetism that he radiated.

You knew he was a vampire. You don’t remember how you knew or how you recognized it, but you knew that he was not the first of his kind you had come across. Maybe it was the obvious fangs that gave it away.

“Yoongi,” You whispered. “You’re a vampire.”

His eyes, now back to their normal gorgeously coffee-bean shade, flicked up to yours in surprise.

“You know what I am?” He spluttered, flabbergasted. “You don’t think I’m a demon? Or the devil?”

“I’m not stupid. I know a vampire when I see one.” Your tone did not waver nor shake despite being a potential victim to a vampire. Was it the adrenaline?

“Then you know that I am a danger to you.” He said lowly, shock still evident on his face, while he began gravitating towards your bedroom door to leave.

“No. Stay.” You found yourself pining for his presence while he froze up in his spot. You eyed the action analytically. “If you were a danger to me, I wouldn’t be alive right now. You had plenty opportunity to kill me.”

“That’s the thing,” His hands pressed to the wall and scratched into it with the effort to move further from you. “I don’t have much of a choice anymore.”

“And why is that?” You relaxed your body and slowly slid your way across the bed towards him.

“Because I can’t.” Yoongi actually gasped for air as you stood from your bed to slowly approach him. “Y/N. Don’t come near me.”

“Why don’t you have a choice?” You ignored his warning, fully aware of the risk you were taking yet uncaring of the consequences. You were too focused on the fact that you actually wanted him.

Yoongi could not move from his spot, a side effect of your command to stay, but he refused to meet your eyes. The irresistible scent of your blood clashing with the order to not kill you fucked with his mind in ways he never experienced, creating an excruciatingly splitting headache between his temples. He wanted to drink from you so bad yet he could not move a single muscle.

“You can tell me to do anything. You can tell me to stay away from you. You can tell me to leave you alone. Hell, you can tell me to kill myself and I’d do it.” He ground out, attempting to press his back further into the wall as he felt your body heat against his skin. You came too close. He could smell your hormones lacing through your blood, triggering a wash of his shi over his dry tongue and a yearning to tear you apart overriding his senses.

He wanted to sink his fangs into your flesh so badly that he was beginning to scare himself. Allowing his venom to seep into your system would undoubtedly send you into ecstasy; you would only feel a pinch of pain as his saliva instantly burned through your nerves and set them alight. He could kill you while you were in pleasure; you wouldn’t feel anything but bliss as he drained the life from you.

“And why do you, a powerful creature such as yourself, allow me to have this power over you?” You asked. Was he in love with you? You definitely could love the man with how much you felt drawn to him but, for crying out loud, it had only been a few weeks.

“I don’t allow it. You are a gifted human. You possess this power over me.” Although Yoongi enjoyed having a calm conversation with you, he couldn’t help but feel bad that he used his gift on you. It was almost an unfair playing card- a “get-out-of-jail” card.

Because you should be running, terrified and screaming, even with his ability active in your mind. Maybe he had used it too much? Yoongi recalled the one time he went overboard with his gift, driving a man to suicide as he focused too much on the meaning of life and the regretful things he had done. Immediately concerned, Yoongi reached out a mental tether- a rare talent amongst his kind- to gauge your stability.

What he found, instead, was a dark and curling line attaching to his, pulling it in as quickly as Yoongi offered it. Before he could reel back away from it, it was fully intertwined and pulling his line to attach to you, only to rear back and completely obliterate his senses when it entered his head.

No. No no no. It’s impossible.

Yoongi was moving forward and caging you against the bed at full speed before he could stop himself, nestling his body between your eagerly opening legs as a hiss escaped his lips. Immediately, he realized that he broke through your command unwavered. The thirst came back at full force when you moaned from the friction on your heat.

“You’re-“ He tested the sensation of true, sexual arousal with a slow grind of himself into you, gasping with a jerk of his dick when his action squeezed his member between his body and yours. “You’re my-“

You moaned again, sitting up slightly to try and capture his lips with your own, unable to control the desire that surmounted in your heart. When he resumed his look of shock, backing away from your advance so that he could look at where your bodies touched, you spoke through the heady emotion. “I’m your what?”

“It can’t be.” He whispered. After a single beat, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours with a crushing pressure that split your lip instantly.

The pain seared across your bottom lip and distracted you for a moment, emitting a groan deep in your throat that he matched when the taste of your blood exploded onto his tastebuds. Instead of swallowing it like he wanted to, he brought a hand to your chin and opened your lips to spit your blood, along with his venom, back into your mouth so that it would take your pain away.

For a moment, you held the mix of liquids on your tongue, unsure of what to do as no one had ever spit in your mouth before. You looked up to him with confusion extremely evident in your arched brows.

“Swallow it.” He growled.

The taste of iron and an almost sugary sweet tang of saliva was too strong for you to keep sitting on your tongue, so you did as he told you to before he kissed you again to repeat the same action. Slowly, you got into the rhythm of swallowing what he gave you.

Before long, he simply gave you his tongue, allowing you to suck the saliva from his mouth greedily. You didn’t understand why, but the taste was addicting and adding to the pulsing feeling that radiated between your legs. Were you getting lightheaded? No. This sensation was much more blissful and exciting.

He pulled away after sucking on your wounded lip once more, spitting the mixture into your awaiting mouth for a final time before sitting up to look down at your body.

His venom was already taking effect. He could smell it on your skin as it flowed through your veins and filled your system just like a virus would. It would be simple to turn you at this point. You would be his for eternity, bonded to him in ways only the Fated One of a vampire would. Yoongi shook the thought from his head as he wasn’t even sure that you were, indeed, his.

“What am I to you?” You asked genuinely, swollen lip slightly obstructing your speech.

“Don’t worry about that right now, Y/N. Right now, I am going to fuck you, okay?” He met your gaze with his dark eyes filled with confidence, knowing that you would be unable to deny him if his belief was true.

“Yes. Yes, please Yoongi.” You breathed, begging him almost drunkenly. “Please. I’m yours.”

His mind was nudged forward by a different force this time, warranting unknown instincts to play into action.

He felt his center of gravity shift. His skin grew tight and uncomfortable around his body from the emotion that wished to burst through the surface. He breathed with you. Perfectly aligned were your rhythms; his heart soared alongside your own galloping one, desperate to match you in every aspect. The sensations in his body were difficult to ignore as he felt the ancient and sacred pull of a bond lacing itself through his limbs.

Instead of pondering over the reality of it any further, he slid his hand from your chin to your shirt and pinched the fabric between his fingers. You nodded in reassurance.

Your clothes tore form your body like paper. Wrapping his fingers around your arm to keep your body in place, Yoongi ripped your thin blouse from you easily. Your breasts, made plump by the bra you wore, caught his attention the moment they were revealed. Perfect.

Instead of looking like a moron seeing exquisite breasts for the first time, he moved his hand to your dress pants so that he could rid your body of them. In under ten seconds, Yoongi had you almost bare below him. Perfect.

Not even realizing it until you brought your thumb to his lips to swipe his shi from the corner of his mouth, Yoongi shook his head at the fact that the sight of you wriggling and bare-skinned beneath him made him literally drool, but his instincts went haywire when he watched you place your thumb in your mouth to suck his venom off yourself with a low moan of appreciation at the taste.

Yoongi’s hands couldn’t move faster as he tore the clothes from his body, stripping himself bare to reveal himself to you. He wanted to give you everything. To open his mind and spread everything out for you to see- he hoped you could handle it.

You, on the other hand, were laying below him with the desperate need to have him inside you.

You wanted him everywhere. You wanted him to sink himself into you- it seemed to be the only fathomable option. You wanted him to hold you and kiss you and surround you with everything him.

As you stared up at him with a needy look in your eyes, you couldn’t help but want him in every facet possible.

You saw yourself making love to him, holding him, kissing him- loving him. The new sensation brought on you by the psychic connection- that was all you could call it when you felt the mental attachment- brung passionate emotions through your body in an onslaught that you could barely handle. It was too much to deal with without him inside you to be with you through it yet you didn’t know if you could handle what would follow.

Yoongi could smell you through your panties; a delicious scent of the most raw tease he had ever allowed himself to indulge in. Unable to help himself, he moved down your body quickly, throwing your legs open- rather roughly- to give himself room to press his nose straight into your heat. Your aroma filled his nose as he expanded his lungs, triggering his natural instincts to push out his fangs and load his vision with blood to enhance it despite his eyes being closed. Fuck, he wanted to consume you.

You keened at the contact, closing your thighs around his head to trap him there. You felt his groan vibrate on you, driving you closer to the brink of insanity.

Without any further time wasted, he grabbed onto your panties and ripped them from you to expose your pulsating pussy to his mouth without moving his nose away from your intoxicating scent. Not a beat passed before he dug his tongue into you to scoop up your DNA-laced juices. Fuck.

Yoongi lost himself in you immediately. You whined out a small cry, unable to keep yourself from grabbing onto his hair and yanking when all you felt were his lips and tongue laving over your opening relentlessly. There was no skill nor technique in his movements; he was simply devouring you without a mind to pay attention to your bundle, yet you couldn’t stop the sensitivity from boggling your mind and driving you to an instant orgasm.

His hands squeezed your thighs around his head and, for a brief moment, he opened his eyes to look at you. The color of his eyes staring back at you was unexpected- a solid, snow white color filled his orbs and contrasted starkly with the red hue of his engorged veins and bloodshot scleras.

“Yoongi,” You whimpered from another swipe of his tongue and suck from his lips. “Y-Your eyes.”

He pulled away from you instantly at the comment, eyes widening and wet mouth hanging agape, while you let out a groan of relief- or sadness- at the lack of attention to your incredibly sensitive core.

“What color are they?” He asked.

“White.” You struggled to speak, voice cracking under the post-orgasm glow.

He took a moment to look down at your heaving body and messy pussy, jerking forward slightly at the sight of your delicious juice smeared all over your thighs. Once he had a handle on his thirst again, Yoongi met your eyes as the white faded from his irises. “Then you are her.”

“I’m who?” You reached for him, needing to hold him anywhere you could get your hands on. Yoongi caught this action immediately, the same desire to grasp you evident in his hand rushing to meet yours. It was natural to intertwine your fingers while he leaned over you to press his lips to yours in a short, uncharacteristically loving kiss.

“You are my Fated One- my mate. You hold my soul in the palm of your hand, as I do yours.” He murmured, feathering his lips over yours as he spoke.

Under normal circumstances, you don’t think you’d be able to comprehend his words with your current position with him. You were exposed to him and he was exposed to you, making you feel vulnerable and turned on beyond belief. Yoongi was reaching behind you to unclasp your bra while you took in what he had said. His thumb was brushing over your bare nipple before your bra even hit the floor.

“So-” You had to clear your throat again. “So you’re mine? Like, completely?”

He chuckled warmly at your question and you couldn’t stop yourself from reciprocating the smile.

“Yes, Y/N, I am yours.” He brought his hand down to grip your thigh and move it to the side. “I belong to you.”

Yoongi placed his dick against your folds and you watched him so do. You felt his tip capture onto your clit several times as he lathered it with your arousal languidly, preparing himself so that he could slide into you easier. “However,”

“However?” You looked up at him with a questioning look accentuated by your eyebrows.

“You are also mine.” Yoongi stopped his movement so that the head of his cock finally caught onto your opening, kickstarting your heart into a pace that you were afraid would kill you. “Do you understand that?”

He didn’t wait for you to answer.

Torturously, he began to push inside you. You widened your legs to accompany his approaching hips. As you warbled out a cry when he decided to drop his control and fill you completely in the next second, Yoongi began speaking again.

“Do you understand that everything about you,” He reared back and pushed inside you again, forcing your legs open to take him while he did so. “-is mine?”

You couldn’t respond. Your emotions were running rampant with your mind overflowing from too much stimuli while he fucked you. He spoke again without your reply and you could only pull him closer to you and take the feeling of his cock caressing your insides.

“Your lips,” Thrust. “your eyes,” Thrust. “your hair, your hands, your skin;” He punctuated each part of your body with a ram of his dick into you. “Everything, Y/N.”

Yoongi took a moment to look down at your joining bodies, smirking softly at the sight of how easily he slid inside. “-Especially this greedy little cunt of yours.”

You watched his smirk drop while he bit his lip and ground himself into you, lips parting again with a low moan whilst keeping his gaze transfixed on the sinful sight. You watched him in awe as his cock plunged so deep that it felt like it was in your throat.

He snapped his eyes to yours quickly, repeating his prior question. “Do you understand?”

Expecting to be interrupted by a thrust, you sucked your bottom lip in your mouth and braced yourself, only to be grabbed by the neck while he leaned down to bring you face-to-face. You could no longer breathe as he pulled his lips back to reveal his fangs. “I asked you if you understood, Y/N.”

With your airway restricted, you could only nod with your lip still stuck between your teeth. Did you taste blood? Promptly, you remembered that Yoongi busted your lip, yet you were confused as to why you hadn’t felt the pain of it since he first kissed you.

“And are you okay with that?” Yoongi began to nose his way down your neck once he turned your head to the side and slowed the rhythm of his hips. Right before you could answer, he released your neck to look at your face, allowing a large rush of air to enter your lungs just as you were attempting to give him an answer.

“Yes!” You released your lip to scream out at the welcome sensation of oxygen and the feel of his dick pushing it right back out of you. “I’m yours! Everything is yours!”

“Good, my love. Good.” He whispered, smiling down at you. His smile was wiped clean off his face in a heartbeat, his thrusts into you completely ceased, as he zeroed in on your lips. You licked them subconsciously, immediately tasting blood and internally cringing at the flavor of iron coating your tongue.

Yoongi attached his lips around your bottom one quickly and you felt him suck it into his mouth. Your walls squeezed tightly around his at the sensation of his tongue swiping over the spli in your engorged lip again and again. You knew that your lip would be swollen yet you couldn’t find yourself to care because it, surprisingly, didn’t hurt at all. The small bits of Yoongi’s saliva that slipped into your mouth were enough to keep you on edge, tasting like raw sugar at that point.

He began moving inside you again, starting a slow and steady pace. You whimpered into his mouth as he began taking his fill of your blood and you mirrored his thirst with the need to taste his mouth again. Your lips pressed closer to his in order to, hopefully, get a bit more of his spit.

You felt your orgasm building laggardly. It was creeping in at a speed that you were able to prepare yourself for your ascent towards ecstasy. You tightened your legs around his waist and dug your heels into the globes of his ass, pulling him in.

It wasn’t until you were bordering on your climax that Yoongi pulled away from your lip with your pop and sat up to focus on fucking you, his peace of mind obviously waning.

You saw it in his face; you saw the way he couldn’t control his veins from darkening his face; you saw the way his eyes burned white and the way he was attempting to hold himself back from attacking you.

So you did him a favor.

“Yoongi.” You mumbled past your swollen lip. “Bite me.”

Min Yoongi had no option but to obey your command.

He surged forward, pressing himself against your clit deliciously and bottoming out as he lunged for your neck with his fangs fully protruded and a warbled hiss scratching its way out of his throat. With barely enough time to prepare, you bared your neck to him once more and clutched onto his arms for dear life, hoping it wouldn’t hurt too bad.

What you weren’t expecting was for it to feel unreservedly good.

The sensation took you by surprise, warranting a loud moan to escape from your lips before you could stop it. Why did his fangs feel so good in your flesh? It should definitely be hurting. But all you could do was moan and whine like a madwoman as you felt his lips close over the puncture wounds and begin to drink your blood straight from your flesh. His tongue continuously swiped over the teeth marks in your neck, keeping them clear from your body’s natural ability to scar itself and begin blocking the escaping blood. Every lick he delivered sent a pulse straight to your clit and an automatic instinct to tighten yourself around him.

Your pussy quivered around him uncontrollably. You were so close to cumming that you could practically taste the release on your tongue. In the few moments that Yoongi took his sips from your body, his slow propulsions forward into you had become more rough and insistent- as if he was trying to split you in two. Even as you felt your life essence leave your body, you were being filled time and time again by his cock at a deep and passionate rhythm.

At the first sign of getting lightheaded from blood loss, you came- hard.

Your juices squirted around him every time he reared himself back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head while you craned your neck back into your very-bloody pillow. With no where to go, unable to still him with his supernatural strength, you were only able scream out his name.

His speed increased through your orgasm and your sweet exclamations of pure bliss drove Yoongi into a lunatic, freeing himself of control and using his uncanny speed to fuck into you. Your extremely drenched pussy, still convulsing around him was battered and raw, yet he could not find it in himself to care as he desperately surged into you over and over again so that he could fill you with the cum of several centuries. Picturing the image of your cunt spewing his release from it had him closing his jaws and pulling on your wounds harder to get more blood from you.

He knew that he couldn’t drain you. Hearing the pulse of your heart weaken slightly was enough to make him detach his teeth and lick over your wound so that his shi could assist it in healing- it would be completely sealed and unblemished in the next few hours. Instead of worrying too much about your neck, he reared back to look down at you again while he grabbed onto your hips with fervor.

You saw the drops of blood running down from Yoongi’s mouth and chin drip onto your breasts and stomach, creating an erotic and utterly unwholesome image of carnage and horror on your body, but you were unable to help yourself in feeling unsettlingly drawn to the wicked image. With a new flash of desire exploding through your body and reawakening your lust, you reached up and grabbed his neck, pulling him back down to trap him in your embrace.

The oversensitivity of your last orgasm was enough to send you hurtling to the edge of another orgasm- You just needed his fangs in you one more time. Silently begging for it, you kept your grip on his nape and softly nudged him back in the direction of your neck.

Yoongi was close. You could tell. But even past his stupor, he spoke.

“Y/N. I can’t. I took too much.” He almost whined with need, struggling to form words past his fangs.

“Just-“ Your body jolted wildly as he desperately tried to cum. “Just do it!”

Yoongi was able to deny your command, which he figured was due to not being a specific one, yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave it unanswered as his body built in preparation to release.

“I fucking can’t!” He was close to roaring at this point, gums aching to meet your flesh as he pressed his fangs into you and filled you with his essence. He wanted to so badly.

“Drink from me, dammit!” Your eyes were welling with tears of frustration, needing that small push from him to make you orgasm again- his dick hammering your cervix was too much to handle without that small bit of pain to ground you. And without hesitation nor the choice to deny you, he did.

Your orgasms were perfectly in sync as he placed his fangs back into your wounds, delicious blood spilling across his tongue once again. Liquid life. It was the perfect few words for how you tasted.

Your pussy ached with the force of how tight you squeezed around him and Yoongi groaned lowly against your neck as he pressed himself so tightly to you that you knew his hands would be leaving bruises on your hips and ass.

“Yoongi.” You sobbed as his cum filled you, pulsing spurt after warm spurt of the hot liquid onto your abused cervix. The thought of him taking your blood while he gave you his cum was too sinful for you to bear, an outburst of emotion causing you to chant his name over and over again. Never before in your life had you felt so complete and free.

You could feel your blood levels draining as you slowly came down from your climax, knowing that you would not be awake for much longer if he kept drinking.

“That’s enough.” You whispered tiredly, head becoming truly lightheaded. Yoongi, unable to rescind his teeth from your neck, kept drinking from you as the thirst and aggression of the first mating actuated his movements. “Yoongi.”

He tried to pull away- he really did- but the feeling of your blood coating his tastebuds was like finding a quarry in the middle of the Sahara Desert. He lacked the true thirst for humans for thousands of years- and now he was suffering the polydipsia for blood all over again.

“Yoongi, stop.” You commanded, testing your supposed ‘power.’

Yoongi ceased to drink from you yet his fangs were still embedded in your skin, vibrating with pleasure and need. As he stopped, he couldn’t help but whine and then growl savagely with want. The vibration of of his throaty sound in your flesh did things to your body. Unable to resist the temptation, your body clenched involuntarily around his softening cock.

Yoongi groaned again, retracting his fangs and face from your neck, and sat up once more to look at your body. With a slow hand, he stuck out his index and middle finger to smear the droplets of blood on your stomach in small circles aimlessly, picturing you as a canvas made just for him to ruin. “You’re quite the minx, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?” You giggled deliriously, needing sleep as soon as possible.

“I mean,” Yoongi reached down to smear a droplet of blood across your hip before digging his thumb and fingers into the bone and the flesh of your ass harshly. “Your cunt is playing games with me right now.”

“How so?” You tilted your head to the side in mock confusion.

The vampire pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed almost disdainfully. You gasped as you felt his dick jerk within you, filling to stiffness once more and awakening a new cloud of lust despite the exhaustion you felt. “Well, if you want to play clueless, you can play clueless. We have eternity to teach you how to not play games with me, my mate.”

For eternity? You kind of liked the sound of that.

~#~

If you’d like to read more of my work, feel free to check out my Series Masterlist! If you’d like to read my first fic, check out the DHYB Masterlist!

[stargazer-sims]

- twenty-five -

Takahiro helps Fox sit up in bed, and then goes to get him some water from the dispenser out in the hallway. He may have been receiving fluids to rehydrate his body, but there’s nothing as satisfying as drinking a cup of cold water when the inside of his mouth feels like the desert at high noon. He tries not to swallow it too fast, even though he knows he’s capable of downing the entire thing without pausing for breath.

Fox is tired, but other than the persistent ache of his dislocated ankle, he’s feeling remarkably better than he’d felt only a few hours ago. He wouldn’t say he’s at a hundred percent, of course, but the fog in his brain has lifted, his limbs no longer feel heavy and disobedient, and his vision isn’t blurry any more. It’s a significant improvement. He’s satisfied enough to call it a win.

He owes his good fortune in no small part to the slender man sitting next to his bed, watching with an expression of approval as he finishes his glass of water. If Takahiro hadn’t been in the right place at the right time, a damaged foot would certainly have been the least of Fox’s worries. Either that, or he might not have survived to worry about anything at all.

The idea makes him shiver involuntarily. Dying alone in a foreign country is something he definitely does not want to contemplate.

Takahiro is giving him a concerned look. “Fox? You okay? You’re cold or something?”

Fox pulls his wandering thoughts back. “No, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“The forest,” Fox says. “It was so cold out there.”

“It’s always cold on Yukimatsu, even in summer. Mountain patrol works all year. But it’s good, because we can snowboard all year.”

“I can’t imagine snowboarding or skiing in July.”

“If you’re here next summer, we can go.”

Fox shakes his head. “Even if I’m here next summer, I think I’m going to stay away from the mountain from now on. Today was enough for me.”

“Because you’re scared. When you don’t be scared any more, we can go. I was scared about the mountain before, but I went there again.”

“I’m glad you were there today.”

“I go there a lot with my dog, Hyorinmaru.”

“I think I remember him. He looks like a wolf. Like something from a fantasy story.”

“The only fantasy story Hyorinmaru knows is the one where he got a treat and eat it on the sofa.”

“That sounds like Ruby.”

“You got a dog too?”

“Not exactly,” Fox says.

“What do you mean?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?” Takahiro wants to know.

"Is there a service here like animal control? Like, people who protect animals and find lost pets?"

"Yes, we have that," Taka says. "Why?"

"Can you help me find the phone number? I need someone to look for my pet."

"Your pet is here with you?"

"Yeah," Fox says. "Don't laugh when I tell you what she is, okay?"

"Why you think I'll laugh?"

"Because Ruby is a fox."

Taka seems to think about this for a couple of seconds. It's obvious he's making a mighty effort not to smile, and Fox has to give him credit for keeping a straight face.

After a pause, he says. "That's... big irony. You know, like you told me on the mountain. When something isn't funny, but you want to laugh anyway."

Fox wants to laugh, too. "Yeah, it is 'big irony' as you put it. The funniest thing is that I usually get annoyed when people make comments about it or when they laugh or whatever, but with you, I don't really mind.”

"It’s because you like me," Takahiro says. He offers Fox a mischievous grin, but then almost immediately looks embarrassed. "Sorry."

“No, don’t say you’re sorry. I do like you, and it’s not just because you rescued me, either. You’re a good person, and I think we might actually last as friends, even after you see the worst.”

“Today isn’t the worst?”

“You haven’t seen me stick a needle in my stomach yet.”

Takahiro shrugs slightly. “I already see my mother stick needles in people. It’s not the worst. You do it every day?”

“Two times every day. I have to do it before I eat breakfast and again at dinner time,” Fox clarifies. “Why does your mother stick needles in people? Is she in health care?”

“A nurse,” Takahiro says. “She doesn’t work now, since two years. She’s sixty-two.”

“She retired?”

“That’s when people stop working when they get older?”

“Yeah.”

Takahiro nods. “She retired.”

“My parents aren’t even fifty.”

“You got any brothers and sisters?”

“I have a sister,” Fox says. “We’re twins.”

“You look the same? With orange hair? And…” He touches his cheek with the tip of his index finger. “Um… sparkles on your face?”

Fox laughs out loud. “It’s freckles, and they’re everywhere, not just on my face. And yes, Clancy has ginger hair and a million freckles, just like me.”

“Everywhere, everywhere?”

“Yeah, literally everywhere,” Fox confirms, still laughing. “But you’ll have to take my word for it, because I’m not going to show you.”

By this point, Takahiro is laughing as well. “No, it’s okay. I don’t need to see. We’re not that kind of friends yet.”

“Yet?”

But, it’s obvious Takahiro is ready to move on from the awkward topic of Fox’s body-encompassing freckles and any potential opportunities to see them. He says, “I’m sorry. You were telling about your pet. I didn’t meant to distract you.”

Truth to tell, Fox is still distracted. We’re not that kind of friends yet, Takahiro had said. Did he think they’d be that sort of friends some day? Did he want to be? The two of them have only just met. Neither of them should be thinking about anything like that. But still…

Fox knows love at first sight isn’t a thing, but now he’s convinced attraction at first sight is. Takahiro is beautiful in the unassuming, easy way that flowers are beautiful; existing in all their delicate, exotic glory without ever realizing just how intricate and visually appealing they are. More than that, there’s something about Takahiro that draws Fox to him, a calm, quiet energy that makes him feel comfortable and safe. He believes he could talk to Takahiro about anything without worrying about being judged and, to his surprise, he doesn’t find it hard to envision a future in which they’re the sort of friends Takahiro had seemed to suggest.

The revelation is startling to him, because he’s never had these feelings about another man before. He’s never even been attracted to a guy, at least not like this. As an artist, he’s objectively able to see noteworthy physical qualities in everyone, and there are people he finds more aesthetically pleasant than others, but this is the first time he’s found himself so captivated by a man that he’s almost incapable of looking away.

I could paint the most intimate portrait of him, Fox thinks.

Then, he gives himself a mental shake. With a rush of guilt and embarrassment, he remembers Ruby, and pushes his meandering attention back in the direction of their conversation.

“Ruby was walking with me,” Fox explains. “She’s usually good about staying with me, but I guess something must’ve been more interesting to her. I need to find her, because she doesn’t know how to survive in the forest by herself.”

“But she’s a fox. It’s a wild animal.”

“I’ve had her since she was a few weeks old. She lives indoors and sleeps in my bed. She has no clue what it’s like to be a wild animal.”

“You sleep with a fox in your bed?”

"Having a fox in your bed is nice on cold winter nights."

Inexplicably, Takahiro's face turns pink, and all of a sudden he looks absolutely flustered. "Uh... we ask Google to find the number for animal services, okay?"

"Okay," Fox says. "Thanks. Hopefully they'll speak English."

"Probably," he says, already sliding his phone out of the pocket of his hoodie. "Lot of English people come here. We got English in important services. You know, for them. Tourists." He doesn't look at Fox, focusing intently on his phone's screen instead.

Fox watches him. "Takahiro?"

"Hmm...?" he says, still not taking his eyes off his phone.

"Listen, I didn't mean to be awkward. I—” He has to pause, to figure out what he really wants to say. "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable just now. I don't want to do that to you."

"You didn't," Takahiro says.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He lifts his gaze at last. "It's only... my friend Seiji said... He said Canadians know how to get people warm in winter, and he said you would want to thank me, and, uhh..."

"Oh, really? Does your friend Seiji have a lot of experience with Canadians?"

"He did a lot of things with western women he just met. Probably Canadians."

"I see," Fox says, torn between feeling absolutely terrible for Takahiro's discomfort and wanting to burst out laughing at the utter ridiculousness of the situation. "Would you feel better if I said I don't want to come up with creative ways to keep you warm in winter? I can thank you without scaring you or being inappropriate."

"I'm not scared. I just think about stuff I shouldn't think about, and it's weird."

"Weird in what way?"

"Just weird," Takahiro says. "Like, stuff for later. I don't know how to explain it very good."

Fox thinks he understands, despite Takahiro's inability to elaborate. If he were to guess, he'd say Takahiro's lack of English vocabulary is less of a problem than his unwillingness to admit to anything that's going on in his head. Fox gets this, because it's the same dilemma he has.

"If it's any consolation," he says. "I'm having some weird thoughts myself. 'Stuff for later' kind of thoughts."

"Maybe some day we talk about it," Takahiro says. "Not tonight."

"Not tonight," Fox agrees. "I don't think anyone's ready tonight."

"No. We got more important stuff to talk about anyway. I got the number for animal services. You want me to text you?"

"Sure," Fox says, and tells Takahiro his phone number. "That's great, thanks. I can call in the morning."

"Maybe me and my friends can help too. I know the forest really good there."

"Would you do that? I don't want to get your friends involved. I'm sure animal services can—”

"I want to," Takahiro says. "I ask my friends, but even if they don't help, I can look."

"I really appreciate that."

"No problem."

Fox smiles. "I love how you say that."

"Is it my best English?"

"All your English is your best English," Fox says. "Honestly, you have no idea how happy I am that you can talk to me. I'm not doing all that great in language school, and I was starting to get frustrated and lonely because I've been having trouble communicating with nearly everyone."

"Now you don't be lonely. You can communicate with me," Takahiro says. "When you meet my friends, you can talk English with Yuri and Victor. Oh, and you can meet my mother. She talks English a little bit."

"I like speaking English with you."

Before he can stop himself or think better of it, Fox catches himself reaching for Takahiro's hand. Takahiro looks a little surprised at first, and he tenses his fingers, but he doesn't pull away. He stares at their linked hands, and after a protracted moment, Fox feels the tension in Takahiro's fingers slowly ease.

“I didn’t do this with a man before,” he says quietly.

"Me either,” Fox confesses. “You okay?"

Takahiro nods. "Yes. You?"

"Yeah."

Several more seconds go by, and then Takahiro tells him, "People close with me call me Taka. My family and my friends."

"Do you... do you want me to call you that?"

"Yes, please."

There's so much Fox could say in response to this, but nothing in his mind seems fitting. He feels as if anything that comes out of his mouth now will ruin the tenuous connection they're building between them. Even though all of this is new territory for him and he has no idea what might happen next, he doesn't want to do anything to damage the astonishing, nascent relationship they've created.

All he can manage is, "Thank you, Taka. I'm honoured."

[sunshineseguin]

take me back to the night we met || mat barzal

pairing: mathew barzal x fem!reader

summary: months after the end of your relationship, mathew still struggles to come to terms with losing you. he sees you everywhere and in everything he does. what sticks with him the most is the night you met.

warnings: break-up angst, alcohol consumption, mentions of anxiety & a near panic attack, swearing, mentions of sex (nothing graphic), possible grammatical errors, flashbacks are in italics!!

word count: 6,371

author’s note: i wrote this fic inspired by the song ‘the night we met’ by lord huron so i definitely recommend listening while reading! i wrote this fic as a standalone and don’t plan on writing a second part. feedback is always appreciated, i read everything even if you put it in the tags.

check out my players list & prompt list if you’d like!

Mathew knew it wasn’t a good idea to go out, especially on a Sunday night with an early practice in the morning. The season was about to start and he knew he had every reason to be just as amped up about it as his teammates. He should be cheering with them and drinking beers carelessly like he wouldn’t regret it in the morning. Yet, he couldn’t. The regret that he was already carrying on his shoulders was enough to last him a lifetime. Instead, he was gulping down whiskey on the rocks like it was water and he was stranded in the Sahara Desert, wallowing in his own self pity as he had been for months.

He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and glanced up at Anthony who gave it a squeeze. The blonde smiled, but it was one of sympathy, his bright blue eyes swimming with concern for his best friend. Mathew almost scoffs.

“How ya doin’, man?” Anthony asks and glances towards Anders who’s watching them both closely.

The raven haired male simply shrugged half heartedly in response. He knew his captain was worried about him, the whole team was for that matter. He hadn’t been right for a while and nearly closed himself off completely. He didn’t join in on the playful chirps at morning skate or reply to Anthony’s invites of golf with the boys. He didn’t go to the team cookouts. He barely mustered a reply when Trotz was ripping into him for being so unfocused. The guys were starting to realize they only ever saw him on the ice or drowning himself in the hard stuff at the bar. He was a walking shell of the man he had been a year ago.

“What happened, Barzy?” Anthony sighed, moving to stand in front of his friend so that he could meet his eyes. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Mathew saw a notification pop up on his phone that his Uber was approaching, giving himself the perfect opportunity to get out of his best friend’s inevitable interrogation. He knew the team was only going to let this go on for so much longer before sitting him down and making him talk about his feelings. He was already dreading all of the things Anders had to say but hadn’t yet. He tossed back the last of the amber liquid in his glass, not even feeling it burn its way down his throat with the amount he’d already consumed that night. He stood from his stool, a bit unsteady on his feet as he pats Anthony on the shoulder leaves him with few words before heading out.

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t help me.”

The bar was definitely over what capacity should allow that night. The bar was swarmed as people shouted their drink orders at the poor bartenders who were scurrying around like mice. Patrons were spilling out onto the dance floor, packed in like sardines to the point that you could hardly move. You pushed yourself through the crowd, muttering worthless apologies to people who weren’t even listening as you desperately searched for your friends. You’d lost them over twenty minutes ago and had lost all hope in finding them.

You were starting to feel claustrophobic amidst the sweaty bodies pressed against you, chest growing tight the longer you spent in the crowd. It felt like the walls were beginning to close in on you as your head grew fuzzy. The Long Island Iced Teas you’d been consuming since you got there three hours ago certainly didn’t help. You forced your way through the crowd and to the exit of the bar, shoving people who wouldn’t move as you tried to get air into your lungs.

You stumbled out of the doors to the bar, ignoring the odd looks people heading inside sent you. Your knees felt weak as you braced yourself against the wall. Hand shaking, you pressed it to your chest to feel that your heart was rapidly pounding away. You closed your eyes and did all you could to focus on your breathing and get yourself to calm down. You hadn’t had a panic attack in some time, sophomore year of college the last you could recall, having learned what triggered them and how to keep the panic from overcoming you.

Mathew was standing farther down, away from the never ending flow of people coming and going from the bar’s entrance. He had his arms crossed over his chest as he stared out at the street with a scowl. He and Anthony were supposed to be leaving together, walking back to their shared apartment building a few blocks away. The blonde male had been busy when Mat stepped out, chatting away with some pretty redhead who’d caught his eye early in the night. He was about ready to make the walk by himself if his friend didn’t show himself in the next five minutes.

He saw you out of the corner of his eye, alone and trembling without so much as a jacket. He looked around to see if anyone you might know was near, but no one was paying you any mind. He was overcome with a sense of worry as he stared at you, not knowing if some sleazebag slipped something in your drink or if you had some kind of medical condition. He found himself moving closer to you and asking, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just-” you stated breathlessly, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, “I just need a second.”

You stood there for another moment until you had yourself composed, finally standing up straight when it didn’t feel like your knees would give out anymore. You weren’t expecting to open your eyes and find the person attached to the voice that just spoke to you still standing there. His hazel eyes were filled with worry as they flickered over your frame. You were too busy gawking to notice his genuine concern.

“Did something happen in there? Do you need me to call someone?” the handsome stranger asked, his gaze finally settling on yours.

“N-No,” you stuttered sheepishly, clearing your throat and blinking quickly as if that would make the nervousness go away. “It’s lame, actually, I lost my friends and… The crowd was a bit much.”

Mathew’s shoulders visibly relaxed when he knew something traumatic hadn’t happened and a laugh passed through his lips. He offered you a smile and replied, “Yeah, that is kind of lame.”

You scoffed playfully and rolled your eyes, feeling your face heat up slightly. He laughed again and shook his head a bit, saying, “I kid, I kid. This place does get pretty rowdy on the weekends.”

“Not to be completely cheesy but, I take it you come here often?” you asked with a smile, wrapping your arms around your middle as the cool New York air started to seep into your skin. The adrenaline from your near panic attack had kept you from realizing how cold it was out and you’d left your jacket inside at your table. Hopefully one of your friends would grab it despite the drunken escapades they were partaking in.

“Pretty often, yeah,” Mathew grinned at the question. He was sure you hadn’t intended to use it as a pickup line, yet he found himself hoping there was genuine interest laced behind your words.

He shrugged off his black bomber jacket when he noticed you shivering and held it out to you. As you opened your mouth to protest, the look on his face told you that he wasn’t taking no for an answer. So you took the item from his hands and slipped in on with a gracious ‘thank you’ once you were swallowed in its warmth.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Mat,” he replied while shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

It was silent for a moment between you, neither knowing exactly what to say. Mathew didn’t know if you were intending to head back inside and enjoy your night. While he was more than ready to go home ten minutes ago, he was now enamored by you, and wanted to do anything to stay in your presence. Usually, he was quick witted and able to charm a girl with a few simple words. In front of you he was drawing a blank, afraid of saying the wrong thing and scaring you off.

Seeing you shyly toy with the ends of his sleeve, a nervous smile curling on your lips as you looked at his feet had a surge of confidence flowing through him. He offered, “Would you want to grab a coffee? I know a place that makes the best homemade crepes.”

The memory hit Mathew like a freight train as he stepped out of the doors of the bar. He was left staring at the wall, at the very spot he spoke to you for the first time. He couldn’t feel the dull ache in his chest, having numbed himself with whiskey that was far too expensive. He turned to walk down to the street to wait for his Uber, but stopped short as he caught a glimpse of a woman walking by.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared after her. It was as if time slowed down, everything moving in slow motion but her. Everything was as he remembered from that night. The way her hair was styled, the dress that stopped halfway down her thighs, the heels that echoed in his head with each step she took. What shook him to his core the most was the jacket sported on her shoulders. From the night he first gave it to her, she would always steal it, claiming it looked better with most of her outfits than his own. He never argued, because he agreed, and he would never turn down a chance to see her in his clothes. It was you — unmistakably you.

Mathew’s feet started moving on their own accord behind you. It was like you were running away, until he realized it was him who was moving in slow motion with the people around him. The streets were bustling with people of all likes, experiencing the enticing New York nightlife. He was weaving through the crowd, calling out your name, desperate, broken and begging you to put back together the pieces of his broken heart.

You kept walking and Mathew was trying his hardest to catch up, but was like with each step he took his feet were growing heavier and heavier. He let out a strangled, frustrated cry as he yelled out your name once more. Suddenly, he was knocked to the side, stumbling over his own feet and nearly falling into the street. He turned to look at the man who just rammed into him carelessly.

“Watch where you’re going, you prick!” he shouted after the man who paid him no mind, receiving a few dirty looks from others.

It was then that he realized everyone was moving in real time again. His breath hitched in his throat as he spun to search for you in the crowd. You were gone. Deep down, he knew you had never been there in the first place. His mind was playing another dirty little trick on him, as it did so often the last few months. His guilty subconscious tormented him with images of you, making him watch you slip away time and time again. The hollow feeling deep within him only grew with every hallucination.

He turned his attention to the building he’d found himself in front of, and if the visions of you weren’t already torture enough, the universe had just thrown something else into the mix. Yet, he found himself making his way up to the door, the bell chiming above his head as he entered the quant diner. He takes a glance around, seeing an old couple at a table on one side of the building and a man by himself at the bartop, a laptop open and headphones in as he had a quiet conversation on what Mathew assumed was a Zoom or FaceTime call. He drops his head and walks to the familiar corner booth then slides into the seat and cancels his Uber.

A moment later, the waitress approaches the table. Mathew meets her eyes and embarrassment floods through him as he takes note of her sympathetic smile. He’s seen the smile a thousand times now from anyone who had an inkling of what he’d been going through.

“Coffee?” she asked softly, knowing the answer before he could even muster a nod.

You slide into the booth, sighing in content as the warmth from the building seeps into your bones. Mathew slides in across from you and the two of you share a shy smile as you meet eyes. Never before had he been so nervous to take a girl out. Maybe it was because you weren’t like the others. You hadn’t thrown yourself at him the first chance you got. You didn’t seem to know who he was or his status in the social hierarchy of the people in Long Island. It was refreshing and terrifying all at the same time.

You both look up as the waitress walks over with a bright smile on her face and asks what you’d like to drink. “Coffee,” the two of you say at the same time. Mathew’s face visibly turns a light shade of pink, and in turn you feel a rush of heat traveling up your own neck. The waitress smiles knowingly.

“Cream, please,” you add.

As the waitress turns to Mathew he says, “Black is fine.”

It’s silent for a moment as you both wait for the waitress to return with your drinks. Your eyes are floating around the diner, taking in some of the unique decor and 80’s flare with a modern twist. Mathew watches you closely and decides he quite likes the way your eyes shine under the glow of the baby blue neon lights. He takes it upon himself to start pointing out some of the historical decor in the building. It’s your turn to admire him and how his eyes light up when he talks about something he finds exceptionally appealing. His lips are curled into a smile as he spouts off facts to you about each item he points out.

He pauses his rant about people not appreciating The Beatles enough when he sees you grinning at him. He smiles sheepishly and diverts his gaze to the steam rising out of the coffee mug just placed in front of him, asking, “What?”

“Nothin’,” you replied with a small shrug, smile never leaving your face. You stirred a splash of cream into your own coffee and quizzed, “I take it as you come here often too?”

Mathew felt his ears grow hot but he still managed to muster up a confident smirk and lifted his eyes to meet yours, “I said best homemade crepes didn’t I?”

“That you did.”

“I usually end up here after a night at the bar and I need to sober up. People say coffee doesn’t work but it sure feels like it,” he explained, “Plus, they serve breakfast twenty four hours.”

The way your eyes lit up when Mathew said that had butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He listened as you went on a rant about how breakfast was underrated and you’d kill for pancakes for dinner over a steak most nights. From there, the conversation between the two of you flowed effortlessly. You learned how the other liked their eggs cooked and what your drink of choice was. Your favorite colors and favorite scent of body wash. Being with Mathew made you feel as if you’d been sleeping all of these years and were just waking up. Never had you felt so drawn to someone in the way that you were to him, and him the same. Any other night, if he had met a girl in the fashion that he’d met you, he would have had you in and out of his apartment long ago. He wouldn’t be on his third coffee refill with a plate of perfectly cooked strawberry crepes in front of him.

Mathew learned that you hadn’t been in New York long. You’d moved about two months ago and had a fashion design internship with some fancy company he’d never heard of. You were looking to build your own empire in the business. With the way you exuded yourself now that you were comfortable with him and talked with so much passion about your dreams, he didn’t think you’d have any trouble. The drive you had to build a future for yourself wasn’t something he was used to hearing from the women he surrounded himself with.

The famous athlete, something you learned about him in between bites of food, was used to women throwing themselves at him and his teammates. Some of them were just looking to brag that they slept with an Islander, others had more devious intentions. They were after the money Mathew tried his hardest not to spend recklessly - the gifts he could potentially buy. Some wanted his last name, to be in with the WAGs and flaunt their relationship all over social media; to rub it in the face of others that she got what they so desperately wanted. It was part of the reason that he never exclusively dated, too afraid that there were ulterior motives behind sultry whispers and sly smirks.

The diner that had previously been significantly busy when the two of you got there had now cleared out completely. You and Mathew hadn’t realized how long you’d actually been there until you took note of the empty tables. Your waitress was standing in the corner against the wall, looking like she was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram while she waited for you to leave. You and the Centerman had been so lost in each other that you hadn’t realized hours had passed and it was nearly two in the morning.

“I guess we should get out of here, huh?” you asked, hoping the gorgeous man in front of you picked up on the suggestive tone of your voice.

It didn’t seem like he did though with the way his shoulders slumped and he mumbled, “Yeah, I guess we should.”

As Mathew fished his wallet out, he felt you gaze burning into him. You weren’t ready for the night to end and you were hoping he was thinking the same. He looked up and locked eyes with you, holding the stare as you raised a singular eyebrow and a coy smile curled on your lips. Realization crossed the chiselled features of his face and he gave you a smirk before throwing down a good amount of cash on the table. He slid out of the booth and held his hand out to you, giving you a small bow as if you were royalty.

“M’lady?”

Mathew chokes on the very breath in his lungs, his eyes burning as he stared down at the cold, untouched mug of coffee in front of him. It’s no longer black, now a light chestnut color but the splash of cream he’d subconsciously added to it. He had picked that up from you because ‘only psychopaths drink black coffee, babe’. He switched back of course. This was the first time he let himself slip up and fall back into a habit that used to be so comfortable with you.

He swallows thickly and stuffs a generous amount of cash into the black checkbook, far more than what the coffee was worth. He pushes himself out of the booth and avoids the waitress’ eyes as she comes over to collect the payment. He can’t even muster a smile as he mumbles out a ‘thank you’ and exits the diner. Lori, the woman who always gave you the best service there, is left to sadly stare after him. She knows better than to ask what happened to the sweet girl who always used to accompany him.

Mathew walks a couple blocks down to his apartment building, trying not to remember how you’d clung to his arm. How your giggles echoed down the empty streets and your perfume swirled around him. When he closed his eyes he thought he could almost smell it, wondering if traces of you were lingering on the jacket hanging heavy on his shoulders. He still remembers how it felt to have your hands wrapped around his bicep and your hip bumping his as you walked pressed to his side. He enters his building and the feeling is gone as quickly as it came.

He walks into his dark apartment and thinks that it feels colder and colder every night that he comes home alone. He can’t help but take note of your missing pile of shoes by the door that he always used to chirp you for. He hangs his keys on the hook and his eyes linger on the empty spot beside it. He walks past the couch on the way to the bedroom and tries not to think about how bare it looks without the hoodies you used to steal from him littered about.

He strips into his boxers after brushing his teeth and climbs under the chilly sheets. He’s turned on his side, staring at the vacant spot beside him. He can see you there, messy hair splayed out around you and your face smiling back at him. He reaches out and grabs the pillow that used to be deemed yours, pulling it into his chest tightly. Your scent is long gone from the pillowcase, yet he still buries his nose into it and squeezes his eyes shut as if that will bring you back.

As he begins to drift off to sleep, his mind once again tortures him with visions of you. How you stumbled into his apartment the night you met as a mess of teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. You undressed each other on the way to the bedroom, clothes scattered across the floor. Your skin was hot against his as he laid you on his bed for the first time and worshiped every inch of your skin. He remembers your breathy moans in his ear as he filled you up and rocked into you, slow and deep. Your limbs were tangled as you came down from your highs, your head on his sticky chest as he ran his hand over the tangled hair on your head.

He remembers whispering, “I’ve never met anyone quite like you,” and you replying, “You’re something special, Mathew Barzal.” The two of you fell asleep like that, with Mathew thinking he could spend forever with you wrapped in his arms.

Mathew awoke the next morning with a pounding headache and a weight sitting heavy in his chest. He’s still clutching his pillow as he turns over and looks for you instinctively. When he’s once again faced with the empty space beside him, his heart drops. He flips onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. It’s the same everyday that he wakes up, replaying the day everything changed like a broken record in his head.

Your whirlwind romance with Mathew happened unexpectedly. While the two of you did click instantly, you certainly weren’t expecting it to be so serious so fast. He was a famous hockey player who was on the road most of the year. You thought, at most, you would be someone he called when he was home in New York because you were convenient. Instead, you got the fancy dinner dates and spontaneous trips to Philly when he played the Flyers. You got a bouquet of flowers at your door when he was off on a roadie. You got to meet Anthony and enjoy quiet nights in just drinking beers and mocking shitty reality TV. You had moved into his apartment almost completely after only four months without either of you really realizing — yet neither of you stopped it.

The relationship you had with Mathew was unique. It was something people dreamed of and hoped to find. You were Twin Flames; two halves of one soul that united. You fell for each other so hard and so fast it made you dizzy. Before you knew it, a year had passed. You’d completed your internship and your boyfriend was a rising star. You had built a strong foundation in New York and it was potentially where you could put down your roots and live out the rest of your life, yet you had bigger dreams and plans for yourself. Something you hadn’t been completely honest with Mathew about.

You were scared. Scared of the unknown complications and challenges you could face. The two of you had moved so fast you were having trouble differentiating between fantasy and reality — if this is really what you wanted. What if you settled down in New York and Mathew was traded to a different team across the country? What if he decided he didn’t want you anymore in a few weeks time, leaving you high and dry? What if you didn’t really love him and you were just convincing yourself that you did? These questions had been plaguing you for weeks, especially when he was away, and it was becoming too much. So you did the cowardly thing and you ran from it.

It was nearing the Stanley Cup playoffs and the Islanders were well on their way to securing a spot, so most of Mathew’s focus had been on hockey. It never bothered you because it was his career. It’s what he did for a living and what he loved, so how could you fault him for that? The roadies seemed to fall closer together and last a little longer. Mathew now knows that’s why he didn’t notice your things slowly disappearing from the apartment then, and he still beats himself up for not realizing that you were slipping away.

He’d been on one of those seemingly long roadies and his flight came in early that morning from Tampa Bay. While they came out victorious, the games had been rough and Mathew was sore. He couldn’t wait to decompress and cuddle up with you for the few days he had off until the next home game. As the Uber pulled up outside the building, he felt exhaustion overcoming him and wanted to sleep the rest of the day away.

He walked through the door, lugging his duffel bag and suitcase, a sigh leaving his lips at the fact that he was finally home again. The ease he felt was quickly replaced with panic and confusion when his eyes landed on the suitcases in the foyer. His blood ran cold in his veins as he dropped his bags and called out your name with a panicked tone. The apartment remains silent so he quickly makes his way to the bedroom, pushing the door open to find you sitting on the edge of the bed and staring out the window. His own rapid heartbeat is pounding in his ears as he pulls at his tie and moves towards you.

He drops to his knees on the floor in front of you, his eyes full of concern as he meets your tear filled ones. The pads of his fingers are rough and warm as he takes your hand in his own and whispers, “Why are your bags by the door, baby? What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” your voice breaks as you reply, bottom lip wobbling before a sob wracks your body.

Mathew quickly pulls you into his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head as you cry into his game day suit. Dread fills his body, having never seen you so upset. His heart is in his throat and he feels as if he’s going to be physically ill. He holds you like that, kissing the side of your head and whispering words of affirmation until you can compose yourself. You pull back from him and wipe your wet cheeks but he keeps one hand on the side of your head and the other on your waist.

Then you drop the bomb on him.

You explain that your internship was never a permanent plan to stay in New York. You have a flight in four hours that leaves for Paris. A one way ticket taking you to the fashion capital of the world to start your career. You found a job opportunity so perfect that you’d be stupid to pass up. Mathew wants to be happy for you. He wants to jump for joy and celebrate with you, but you hid this from him. You did exactly what he was afraid of and shared with you within hours of your first meeting. He’s filled with disbelief and anger instead.

“This was your plan the whole time? You hid this from me the last year we’ve been together?” he exasperates, moving to his feet as he starts to pace the room and tug at his hair.

“Everything was so good with us I didn’t want to ruin it. I was going to tell you, Mat, I swear.”

“When?!” he shouts, feeling guilty for a moment when he sees you flinch, but the anger overpowers it. “Because it looks like to me you were just going to leave without so much as a goodbye!”

You shake your head, and squeeze your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes as the tears start to well again. You argue, “I knew when your flight was coming in. I wouldn’t just leave you like that.”

“But you are. You are leaving me like that. You clearly have your mind made up about this and didn’t bother telling me,” he rebuttals, “You let me believe for a year that you were in this. I’ve given you one hundred percent, despite the hardships. What did you give me, huh? Fifty at best?”

You’re quiet, not wanting to admit that you hadn’t been all in on the relationship like him, even though you acted like it. Really, you’d had one foot out the door the whole time. Mathew’s voice shakes as he stares at you from across the room and says, “I love you. I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

A choked sob wracks through your body at his words and you cover your face with your hands. You knew he was in love with you, even the blind could see how head over heels Mathew Barzal was for you. He starts desperately rambling about how the two of you can make it work. Yes, long distance is hard, but he believes it’s worth it — believes you can love him like he loves you if you’ll take the risk. Why else would you have spent a year with him if some part of you didn’t think so? You put up with his relentless hockey schedule when you had every reason to walk away and live your life like the other twenty somethings you surround yourself with.

You disagree though. Long distance would only complicate things further. The different timezones would be unforgiving to your conflicting work schedules. Mathew often didn’t get long enough breaks to be able to fly out and see you and it be worth it. Plus, an international flight once a month, maybe more? It sounded like a good idea but eventually his wallet would suffer. You certainly couldn’t do it with the salary you were starting at, nor would you risk losing your job by unimportant travel to see a man. It was a negative and closed off way of looking at it on your part, but for both of your sake, it was best that way.

“It’s impossible…”

“It’s not impossible, you just don’t want to try!” Mathew yells, unable to care that his neighbors have more than likely heard every word of your argument.

“Mat, I have had the best year of my life here in New York. I’ve made memories that I could never in a million years forget. You are a part of that. I love you, God, do I fucking love you, but admit it. This was never meant to be long term. Not with the paths our lives are taking. We were never meant to last forever,” you stand from the bed and stare at him across the room, pleading with him to look at it from your perspective. You wanted to leave this in a good place, friends possibly, if he could accept what this was at face value. Two people who loved each other very much, but weren’t meant to be. The cliche ‘right people, wrong time’.

Mathew couldn’t though, he wouldn’t. He was blinded by a rage that he had never felt before. You had wasted his time — a year that he could’ve spent entertaining pretty girls who threw themselves at him for a quick fuck. Partying with his teammates and friends and reveling in his success that was only growing with every game he played. He finds himself wishing he had left you alone that night outside of the bar and just gone home. He lets the fury coursing through his veins take over, and with his fists shaking at his sides, he grits out in a low voice, “Get out.”

His words don’t shock you. You don’t know what other outcome you hoped would come from this. It doesn’t stop the stabbing pain that shoots through the center of your chest though. He won’t even look at you, hard gaze concentrated at your feet with his jaw set tight. You fight the urge to go to him. Wrap your arms around him and take it all back. Promise him you’ll stay even though you’d be sacrificing everything. It wasn’t fair to you, so you force your feet to carry you out of the bedroom and out of his front door for the last time. The sobs come once you’re in the elevator, then again in your friend’s (who was nice enough to give you a ride to the airport) car while they held you.

A few seconds after Mathew hears the front door shut, he’s tugging at his dark hair and letting out an agonizing shout. His breathing is ragged as he paces the room and debates running after you, but what would he say? The argument seemed final. You were set in your plan to take off to France and he couldn’t change your mind — he couldn’t make you stay. So he sat down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. He squeezes his eyes shut and allows himself to feel the heartbreak, a guttural sob passing his lips.

Mathew closes his eyes and sucks a deep breath into his lungs as the memory fades. His heart is heavy in his chest as he reaches over and retrieves his phone from the bedside table. There’s a text from Anthony sent in the early hours of the morning, asking if he’d made it home safely. He doesn’t reply, instead opening the Instagram app and pulling up your profile.

His breath catches in his throat as he looks at your most recent picture. You changed your hair, a slightly different cut and a different color, but you’re just as breathtaking as he always thought you were. You’re sitting at a cafe with a cup of some fancy brew in front of you and the caption is in French, something about dreams coming true. Though, he’s not focused on some silly caption when he can’t take his eyes off of you. You look happy, wearing a smile he used to see when Anthony or one of your friends would sneak a picture of the two of you. Regret floods his body, the memory of the day you left still fresh in his mind. He thinks about liking the post just to tell you that he still loves you and he hasn’t forgotten about you. He exits out of the app before he allows himself to succumb to that urge.

He forces himself out of bed and into the shower before he’s late for practice. He mulls over in his head whether he should text you or not. He knows you more than likely won’t reply with how things ended all those months ago — now that you’ve moved on and you’re happy without him. He wishes he could too, yet he carries so much guilt for the things he said and allowing himself to have his heartbroken in the first place. He misses you like hell and the never ending visions of you plaguing his mind only makes it intensify.

Mathew heads to the rink in silence. He doesn’t speak to his teammates in the locker room and goes through the motions of practice in a daze. He’s not there completely and everyone can see it in his eyes. Anders is planning to pull him aside, Trotz insisting they have a talk and threatening to bench number thirteen until he gets his shit together. Mathew can tell. No one has tried to speak to him and Anthony keeps throwing him a side glance every few minutes. He prepares himself in the brief post-practice shower.

“Barzy, mind hanging back for a sec?” his captain asks as the other guys begin to filter out of the room.

He huffs out a sound of agreement while fishing his phone out of his duffel bag. His mom usually texts him a few times a week so he needs to let her know that he’ll give her a call later. He nearly drops the device as his eyes hone in on one message. Anders is talking but his heart is pounding so loudly in his ears he can’t hear him. He clicks on your name and feels every nerve in his body ignite at what the text message says.

I miss you. I’m coming home.

tagging the gc bc I love them @bricksatlandyswindow​ @butgilinsky​ @barzysthighs​ @babytkachuks​ @dmonchld​ @anxietyandtacos​ @sortagaysortahigh​ 

[helnjk]

Don’t Be A Stranger

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: breakups are tough, but they’re necessary. 

Warnings: angst. brief mentions of intoxication.

A/N: i’m so sorry this is how i cope okay. i might have cried writing this

flashbacks are in italics

–

It was silent. 

Having grown up being friends with and loving Fred Weasley, who was always so loud, so full of life and love, the silence unnerved her. It seemed as if every little thing, every small sound spooked her. Strangers’ conversations on the street that flowed in through the open windows, the ticking of the clock on the wall, the excited squeals of the children in the park nearby. 

She needed something to distract her, so she stood shakily and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. The monotony of the task soothed her in a way, gave her something else to think about. 

Still, in the silence, her thoughts rang through, loud and clear. 

She was tired of it. Of sitting across from each other at the table, having dinner in silence as if they were alone. Of sleeping next to each other, limbs stiff and not touching, bodies working hard to keep the space between them. Of being unable to hold a conversation like they used to, instead relying on stilted exchanges to get through the day. 

They were both too scared to admit to themselves and to each other that it wasn’t working anymore. Spending their days skirting around each other, pretending that everything was alright. 

It wasn’t. And, Y/N realized as she dunked her tea bag into the boiling water, it hadn’t been alright in a long time. 

With a soft sigh, her eyes glanced at the clock on the wall. She had about half an hour until the floo in the living room roared to life and spat out Fred. The deep breaths she took, trying to steady herself, weren’t much of a help to her as she realized what she needed to do. 

Y/N loved Fred Weasley, of course she loved him, how could she not? But sometimes love wasn’t enough to keep a relationship alive. 

This was one of those times. 

They had grown up together, learned to love together, lived their lives together. Y/N couldn’t think of any memory she had that didn’t involve Fred in some way. He was always there, steady and strong, an anchor that braved the vicious tides and came out of the storm intact. But as time passed by, his presence had started to feel more like a weight on her chest, and the more they grew apart, the heavier the pressure seemed to be. 

“Oh Freddie,” she mumbled under her breath, despite being all alone in the big flat, “What’s happened to us?” 

As she paced the living room, urging herself not to look at the time every five seconds, she remembered all the good that they shared together.

The warm nights spent by the fireplace at the Gryffindor common room. How she would curl up into Fred’s chest, content with staying there forever, wrapped in all things good, soft, and lovely. He would press kisses on the top of her head, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, dreaming of what their future would be like together. 

“Mm, that feels good,” she groaned, her head leaning back against the arm of the couch as Fred massaged at her feet absentmindedly. 

Her boyfriend, who was in a conversation with his twin and Lee Jordan, turned his head at her statement, “Careful now, L/N, don’t want you sleeping on me. You told me you were going to get some coursework done. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” 

He merely raised an eyebrow. 

“The Fred Weasley I know would never tell me to do my schoolwork over falling asleep.” 

The loud laugh that came out of him made Y/N’s heart flutter. In retaliation, he stopped massaging her and instead went to press his fingers into her side. The conversation about Wheezes left his mind completely as she struggled to leave his grip, her laugh echoing through the somewhat empty common room. 

George and Lee rolled their eyes at the couple, but said nothing. 

She remembered summers at the Burrow, the golden rays of the sun beating down on them as they soared through the air. The smell of freshly baked treats, waiting for them as they playfully teased each other on the way inside. 

“Oh Y/N dear, welcome back!” gushed Molly, holding her arms out for a hug. 

Y/N smiled wide, happily accepting the hug from the Weasley matriarch. She could easily spot the freshly baked apple pie, cooling on the window sill, her eyes scanning the familiar and welcoming space that was Fred’s home. 

“Alright mum, quit hogging my girlfriend,” Fred teased and rolled his eyes playfully. 

He was met with a light slap on the arm and a tut from his mother, “Please Fred, you spend months and months at school with this lovely girl. Give everyone else a chance with her!” 

“Yeah, Fred, who said I’m here to hang out with you? I’m definitely here to spend some time with Molly.” 

At that, Mrs. Weasley let out a laugh and hooked her arm with Y/N’s. The pair of them making a beeline towards the kitchen where they would spend hours chatting, having some tea, and ultimately preparing dinner. 

She remembered drunken nights full of laughter and giddiness. Of nearly falling over and feeling strong arms wrapping around her. The floating feeling that came with one too many drinks and stumbling through hallways, trying to keep quiet while getting to bed. 

A giggle rang through the otherwise silent hallway as Y/N tried to make it back up the many flights of stairs at the Burrow. 

“Woah there, sweetheart,” a voice sounded from somewhere beside her before she felt arms snake around her waist. The person’s grip was warm and strong, and Y/N’s cheeks began to ache with how big her grin was. 

“Freddie!” she whisper-yelled, turning in his arms to face him, “I’m trying to get back to Ginny’s room!”

“I can see that, love,” he chuckled. 

The younger ones of the Weasley family had had just a little too much firewhiskey that night, celebrating the fact that all of them were officially Hogwarts graduates. Well, most of them, as the twins hadn’t technically graduated. 

“You’re so pretty Freddie,” she gasped, cupping his face into her hands, “Have I ever told you that? You’re so, so pretty.” 

Fred had a hard time not waking up the whole household with his laughs, “I haven’t heard that before, no. But thank you.” 

She swayed slightly on her feet, succumbing to the way the liquor pulsed through her veins. 

“Alright, let’s get you to sleep. Your head’s going to be pounding in the morning, and I’ll put some hangover potion by your bed.”

“You take such good care of me baby,” she mumbled, pressing a soft kiss on his neck as they slightly stumbled their way to the room. 

Y/N couldn’t even bear to think about what she would do if–when–he moved on. Her throat closed up at the thought of having to hear that he was seeing someone else. Taking in a shuddering breath, she closed her eyes and tried to remind herself that it wasn’t working out, they weren’t working out, and that was okay. 

Too lost in her thoughts, she nearly jumped at the sound of Fred flooing in. Her eyes darted to the clock and it read a quarter past five, right on time. 

“Hey,” he said softly, brushing off some of the soot that came with his mode of transportation. 

“Hey Freddie,” she smiled sadly at him.

The use of his nickname gave him pause, and as their eyes met, a sadness washed over the two of them. This was it. 

“I think we need to have a talk,” she said, swallowing dryly. 

“Right.” He nodded. 

For the first time in what seemed like ages, Y/N and Fred sat side by side on the couch, legs brushing against each other, hands clutched tightly together. They sat in silence for what seemed like hours, clinging onto what they knew was going to be their last few moments together. 

Seven years together was coming to an end. 

By the time Y/N garnered enough courage to look Fred in the eyes, she had tears pooling in her own. She could see the softness in his eyes that was reserved only for when he looked at her, but she could also see the hitches in his breath as he tried to reign in his emotions. 

“Freddie,” she whispered, her palm going up to gently cup his face. The gesture caused him to choke out a sob, a lone tear falling from his wet eyes. He placed his hand on top of hers, shutting his eyes for a brief moment before meeting hers. “Freddie you know we haven’t been okay for a long time.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Yeah I know, sweetheart.” 

Her heart lurched at the pet name, not having heard it for what seemed like an eternity. 

“I’m sorry that it has to end like this,” he whispered, “That I didn’t work harder or do something to fix it.” 

“It’s no one’s fault, Fred, and you know it. It’s just… time.” 

Her words were confident and sure, despite the fact that she could feel her heart crumbling as she spoke them. 

“I love you.” 

His words were whispered, as if he was sharing a secret with her. In that moment, he seemed so small, and Y/N almost took back everything she had said and thought about that afternoon. With a slight shake of her head, she tried to gain some of her composure. 

“I love you too.” 

“Hey,” he smiled sadly at her, squeezing her hand for the last time before letting go, “Don’t be a stranger, alright?” 

–

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Succession Chapter 13 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Title: Succession Chapter 13

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, the Duke

Rating: NC-17 for sex and language (shower sex, P in V, unprotected sex *wrap it up, kids*, creampie)

Summary:  you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary.  While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village.  This is a work of fiction.  Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter 13

The hot water cascaded down your body.  Steam fogged up the windowed walls of the shower stall.  Your eyes were closed and you melted back against Heisenberg’s body as he washed your hair and massaged your scalp.  His fingers felt amazing, kneading and relieving the tension.

He turned you around to face him, cupped your face in his hands, and tilted your head back.  As the water rinsed the suds from your hair, his lips closed over yours, kissing you deeply.  You kept your head under the rush of water as your arms wrapped around his waist, holding his naked body close to yours.  Heisenberg moaned into your mouth and you wanted to devour him.  After hours of fucking, you thought you would have gotten at least a bit of your pent-up arousal out of your system, but you craved him more and more.

Heisenberg kissed down your jaw and neck.  You shivered against him at the feel of his tongue starting at your chest and slowly licking up your neck and back to your mouth.  “Mmmmm fuck...I want to lick every drop of water from your body, Y/N,” Heisenberg murmured against your lips before kissing you.

You needed him again...you were always going to need this man.

“Fuck me, Karl…” you whispered, turning around in his arms, leaning forward, and placing your hands on the windowed wall.

Heisenberg growled as his hands pulled you by your hips.  You felt him against your ass, his slow thrusts sliding his cock between your thighs.  “How the fuck are you doing this to me?” he whispered against your ear, his left hand moving up the front of your body, softly grasping your neck, “I’ve fucked you over and over again...and I can’t get enough.  I want you even more now that I’ve fucked you…”

“I still want you, too,” you said, one hand sliding down the window, making a handprint in the steam, “please, Karl...I’m aching…”  With a gruff curse, he reached down between your legs, angled his cock, and pushed inside of you.

The both of you moaned loudly, the noises echoing in the shower stall.  Heisenberg’s fingers tightened on your neck as his hips moved against you.  The wet slap of skin against skin joined the echoes.  

Heisenberg’s lips kissed and licked along your ear as he grunted and growled.  Goosebumps rose on your skin as the feel of his cock caressed back and forth along your G-spot.  The soothing pleasure of the hot water relaxed you as he pushed deeper inside of you.  He stretched you open and the feeling was exquisite.  You never wanted to be without his hands on you and his body pressed to yours.

His left hand stayed at your neck, holding you against him as his right hand moved around to your clit, trapping it under his index and middle fingers.

“Karl…” you moaned loudly, pushing back into his increasing thrusts.  Heisenberg fucked you like a madman, so desperate to cum inside of you and to feel you cum around his cock.

“Oh my god...Y/N...cum...I want you to cum…” he ordered, holding you tight between his body and his hand.  You wriggled and moved helplessly, chasing the orgasm that he wanted to give to you.  

You rested your head against his shoulder and cried out as you toppled over the edge.  Your orgasm was intense and fierce, quickly giving way to overpowering as your clit became hypersensitive.  Heisenberg’s teeth sunk into the soft, wet skin of your shoulder as he emptied himself inside of you.  The muffled moans seemed to slip into your skin and nestle deep into your soul.  His arms wrapped tight around you, holding you close, unable to let you go.

“You���re so beautiful when you cum…” Heisenberg murmured.

Once the two of you caught your breath, you continued your shower.  He shampooed his hair as you took a washcloth and soap and washed his body.  You took your time, washing every inch of his body, ogling his taut limbs and strong frame.  He chuckled as he caught you gazing at him and squeezing his flesh.

“Struck by a vision?” he asked, an amused smile on his face.

“I’m just admiring the view,” you quipped, reaching around to lightly pinch his ass.  He laughed heartily as he washed the suds from his hair.

Then it was his turn to wash you.  His hands worked the soap into a lather as he cleaned your body, taking his time to grope you and massage your achy muscles.  Having sex consistently for hours was bound to make anyone sore.  He moved behind you and reached around to wash your breasts, thoroughly massaging them and pinching your nipples.  Arousal pulsed in your cunt, but you had to focus.  The Duke would be outside the factory shortly and you thought it rude to keep him waiting.

Heisenberg shut off the shower and opened the stall door, grabbing two towels.  He stepped out of the shower and dried himself off as you took the other towel.  Wrapping it around his waist, he went to the kitchen area, letting you dry yourself off.  You watched him as he made coffee on the stove and cooked a small breakfast.

It was unusual watching this domesticated moment between you and Heisenberg.  In such a short amount of time, the two of you had fallen into this routine...this habit.  You found that you were getting more and more comfortable around him.  He did not arouse feelings of fear, dread, and unease anymore.  It was hard to imagine that just a few days ago, you were fearful of him despite the evident attraction you two felt for one another.  But after the truth came out...and of course the fucking...you felt drawn to him, emotionally as well as physically.

You towel dried your hair and wrapped it around your body as you sifted through your clothing for something warm to wear.

“I still need to wash my dirty clothes,” you reminded Heisenberg, “before long, I won’t have any clean clothes left.”

Heisenberg chuckled as he cooked bacon and fried eggs on the stove.  “If I had my way, pussycat, you would walk around naked all the time…”

You rolled your eyes as he turned his head to you and gave you a naughty wink.  “Dirty old man…” you quipped, a smile toying with your lips.  He laughed and turned back to the food.  You took in his strong back and the towel covering his nakedness from the waist down.  A sudden image of going up behind him and ripping his towel off played in your mind, but once again you had to remind yourself that the Duke was going to be there soon.

You rifled through one of the extra suitcases Heisenberg brought you from the crash and found an oversized long sleeved shirt.  The fabric felt warm and cozy.  You put on your bra and panties before pulling the shirt over your head.  Your favorite pair of jeans completed the look.

Heisenberg placed your plate on the table and you sat and ate quietly as he got dressed.  As tempting as it was to want to turn and watch him take off his towel, you knew that it would only add to your arousal.  Now wasn’t the time.

“Are you going to eat?” you asked as he walked up to the table dressed in his pants and buttoned up shirt.

“No, I only drink coffee in the morning,” he said, reaching for the three items he always wore hanging around his neck.  

“What are those things?” you asked, pointing your fork at them.  Heisenberg took them one by one and showed them to you.

“This is a compass,” he answered, placing it over his head, “this one is a scale of sorts that helps measure metals and steel…”  The last one he held in his hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth over it.  “And this one is a dogtag from the German army.  It belonged to my uncle.  When I was a child, my uncle went AWOL during World War I and escaped here to be with my family.  He died of consumption...what we know now as tuberculosis...four years later.  One day as I was wandering around the village, I came across his old house...hadn’t been lived in since my family died.  I found this as I was rummaging through his things.  I decided to keep it…”

You hung on to his every word.  His eyes looked so sad, mourning the family he had been taken from.  Your heart ached for him.  You cursed Mother Miranda for taking him from his flesh and blood.  Heisenberg acted tough and at times had an air of self-centeredness and a large ego, but he was fragile deep inside.  You wondered if he had ever told anyone else this story.

“You done?” he asked once he snapped out of his reverie.  You took the last strip of bacon and ate it quickly before going to get your socks and sneakers.  Heisenberg put the dogtag around his neck, put his hat on his head, and reached for his trenchcoat.  You tied your shoes as he slid his sunglasses on his face.

You followed him down the hall and down a flight of stairs to the sliding double doors.  He pushed one open and the two of you walked outside.

It was cold and cloudy, but the storm had passed.  Fresh snow coated the ground.  The sporadic pieces of metal, old factory parts, and an old beat-up car jutted up from the earth with a small amount of snow covering them.  You looked down the pathway and saw the Duke sitting in the back of his cart in the exact same place where you had first met him.

The Duke smiled as you and Heisenberg approached his carriage, him puffing on his cigar.  “It is good to see you again, Y/N,” he greeted.

“It’s good to see you as well, Duke,” you said.  Heisenberg immediately started rifling through the supplies the Duke had lying around his cart.  He wasn’t one for small talk.

You looked around the carriage for the horse.  “I love your horse, Duke.  What’s its name?”

“Her name is Raven,” the Duke answered, “I think she’s taken quite a liking to you since she saw you last.  Call it my expert intuition, but her demeanor changed for the better after she spent some time with you…”

You chuckled softly as you started to walk towards the front, but stopped.  “Karl,” you said, turning to him, “I’m going to pet the horse, not run off.  Just want you to know so you don’t have a heart attack…”

Heisenberg mumbled as he sifted through the wares.  “Yeah, yeah, keep it up, dollface…” he muttered, not acting in the least bit troubled by your witty repartee.  You laughed and walked to Raven, slowly placing your hand on her hip.

“Hey, Raven,” you whispered soothingly, “it’s Y/N.  I missed you…”

The horse turned her head in your direction and let out a huff through her nostrils.  You ran your hand along her body and up her neck.  Raven slowly placed her nose on your shoulder and nuzzled your face, to which you giggled.  You spent a good amount of time giving her lots of rubs and pets.  You didn’t think of yourself as a horse whisperer, but it was as if you could feel Raven’s admiration of you and it made your heart swell.

“I’ll see you again, I hope,” you said, giving her another pet before walking back to Heisenberg and the Duke.

Your gaze fell on a small array of crystals that hung from necklaces and bracelets.  The crystals were different sizes, shapes, and colors.  Some were jagged and rough while others were smooth to the touch.  A small bracelet sat off to the side with a reddish crystal the size of a grape.  You picked it up and admired it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the Duke said, turning his attention towards you.

“It is,” you marveled, “what kind of crystal is it?”

“Well...that looks to be a carnelian,” he answered, “carnelians bring joy and friendship...and family togetherness.  It is a stone of happiness, it represents bringing things and people together…”

You smiled as you studied the bracelet.  Friendship.  Family.  You knew exactly who you wanted to have this.

“How much?” you asked.  Heisenberg had been loading his purchases into his sack and stopped to look at you.  “I don’t have much and all I have is in American currency, but I can run back to get my wallet…”

“It’s on the house, my sweet,” the Duke said, smiling down at you.

“Oh no, please, let me give you something…” you spoke, but the Duke held his hand up as if the matter was closed.

“Please, Y/N, your money's no good here…” he said.  You gave him a smile and thanked him, putting the bracelet in your pocket.

“I’ll need more cigars in a couple weeks,” Heisenberg spoke up, slinging the sack over his shoulder.

“Of course!  And I’ll inquire about those tools, cogs, and copper wire that you need.  I saw some items a few towns over...I should have them in a few weeks,” the Duke said.

“Good.  Thank you,” Heisenberg said, turning and walking back to the factory.

“It was good seeing you again, Duke,” you said, waving goodbye as you jogged to Heisenberg.

“And you as well, darling,” he returned, moving his hand as if he were tipping an imaginary cap to you.  You caught up with Heisenberg and looped your arm under his, placing your hand on his bicep.  He looked down at your hand on him, then up at your face.  You had your gaze forward on a mist of clouds hovering above the mountains, not seeing the soft smile that played on Heisenberg’s mouth as he continued walking up the pathway towards the factory.

The Duke smiled as he watched the endearing moment.