#shes about to give alcohol to a recovering alcoholic!

[celestial-kestrel]

It's that time of year again where Mari Lwyd starts to be talked about and shared around and an INCREDIBLY misleading post gets shared a lot. As someone who grew up with Mari Lwyd I wanted to clear some things up.

Also hello, if you are unaware who Mari Lwyd is. This is about the Welsh tradition of the horse skull who visits houses during the Christmas to New Years period in Wales asking for alcohol.

First off and probably the most important one:

Mari Lwyd is not a cryptid!

I can not emphasise this enough. She. Is. Not. A. Cryptid. There is no story or mystery about a ghost or zombie horse roaming the Welsh valleys. She's not even supposed to be a ghost or a zombie. It's just a horse skull on a stick with a guy under a sheet. She's a hobbyhorse and a folk character used to tell Welsh stories and keep songs alive. When people spread the misinformation that she's a cryptid, it's the equivalent of saying Kermit the Frog is a cryptid.

She is actually only one character in a wider cast of characters who go door to door or, in more modern times, pub to pub. The cast of characters can change town to town and village to village but there are some common ones I see time and time again. The Leader, the Merryman, The Jester and The Lady are just some I see regularly. Punch and Judy used to be more popular a few years ago but I haven't seen them in a while as their tradition has mostly fallen out of popularity. In most cases, almost the whole cast will be played by men. Even the characters are considered and referred to as female. Though this again depends and varies by which group is partaking in the Mari Lwyd tradition.

This point also goes onto my second point,

Mari Lwyd does not rap.

I think this comes from a very common misunderstanding of what rap is vs spoken word. Rap is a very specific style of music originating from the African American communities of the USA and has it's own structure and motifs unique to it. It's a lot more complex than people give it credit for as a style of music and just flippantly assign anything similar to it as being rap. If someone is talking fast or reciting poetry, it is not rap. Or anything that is an exchange of words between two people is not a rap battle. Mari Lwyd does not do rap, actually something that gets left out of these posts is the fact Mari Lwyd does not even speak. It's actually the Leader, who does all the speaking and song based banter between the house/pub owner for entry. Mari Lwyd just clicks her mouth, bites people and bobs her head around.

I think Mari Lwyd is a really beautiful and unique part of Welsh culture. She's not actually as wildly celebrated as a lot of the posts make her out to be. Actually, I think most Welsh people themselves learn about Mari Lwyd through the internet as well. Her popularity is increasing thanks to the drive of local groups wanting to keep the traditions alive and a renewed desire to document Welsh traditions before they're gone. Which is why it's such a shame that she's turned into something she's not to earn horror points on the internet. I think this is why it bothers me so much to see the misunderstandings of the culture and the folk tradition. Mari Lwyd's origin is very hot debated as well as how long it's been going on for. But I think it's thanks to a lot of traditions like this that the Welsh language and our stories weren't lost forever. Welsh culture is recovering as is the language. But it's still in a very fragile place. I think it's why it's important to document and correct information when it's spread.

Anyway, if you want to see the tradition in action, here's a lovely video from the Cwmafan RFC going to one of the pubs for charity. It includes the song exchange with the pub owner for entry and the whole pub singing and joining in once Mari Lwyd and the rest are inside.

As well with another video from St Fagan's showcasing the more traditional and door to door form with the larger cast.

[ramp-it-up]

Anatomy of a Kiss

Summary: You and Logan agree on one thing: you both hate each other. So what happens when you kiss him?

Word count: 4.2 K

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. S MUT Not Beta’d. ONE DEADPOOL X WOLVERINE SPOILER AHEAD! Read at your own risk. S MUT! Enemies to lovers; snark to fluff, idiots in love; use of the words stupid, dumb, insipid as insults. Reader's father is either a mobster or a mutant villain, or both; (Reader may or may not be a mutant herself), a couple dark themes and mention of parent death; Reader has Daddy issues; Reader is a thicc girlie; Princess and Old Man as nicknames; there are two slaps; a tipsy kiss; povs switch thorughout the fic. pining; insinuations of masturbation, oral (f receiving), spitting, praise and degredation kink, size kink, creampie, cum play, explicit sex acts, raw p in v (wrap it up) voice kink, this Logan is Dom Logan.

A/N: This was in my soul for a couple of weeks, but I don't feel it's all that great. Here goes. Let me know if you like it by reblogging, liking and commenting please. Thank you. ☺️

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-----

The biggest mistake that Logan Howlett ever made in his life was kissing you back.

Because now he was never going to get you out of his system. 

—--

You were celebrating.

Being being voted best small business owner and philanthropist in the city was a big fucking deal. You decided to let your hair down and let go of your famous self-control and discipline for one night.

And now you were tooted on most of a bottle of Moet and Chandon as you walked back to your high rise apartment from the civic center.

It was a perfect night and you stopped and smiled at the moon, feeling sublime. 

Until you heard his voice.

“Keep moving before I throw you over my shoulder and get you inside myself, Princess.”

You rolled your eyes at your body guard, the only thing your father offered you that you didn’t reject.

Because you weren’t stupid. 

Other than sharing his dna, you were not like your father at all, and you divested yourself of everything that had to do with him.

“What about the penthouse? You kept that.”

Your body felt engulfed as if by flames. You were angry, both at the fact that you’d apparently said all that out loud, and at Logan’s audacity.

“Fuck you, Howlett. The apartment is my mother’s. But she died because of my dad and that’s why he wants to “protect” me.”

You wobbled as you did your air quotes, and you could sense Logan ready to spring to catch you if you fell. You recovered quickly, however, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“But he can't seem to do the one thing that will protect me. Get out of the life. He’s an old man, for heaven’s sake!”

Logan chuckled and shook his head.

“He’s not so old.”

You were in full blown argument mode.

“He’s over 70.”

“Like I said, he’s not so old. And you don’t know so much, little girl. Life is not that simple.”

“I am 32 years old, Mr. Howlett. I am not one of those little girls that fawn all over you. I am a woman.”

You straightened up and you knew that your thick body in the black cocktail dress was banging.

Logan’s eyes reflected your body, although he was staring back into yours. He’d taken it all in earlier.

“You are a teeny, tiny little Princess.”

He was fucking infuriating as he smiled down at you like that. The alcohol made you step to him.

“Someone needs to kiss that insipid smirk off your face, Howlett.”

That stupid eyebrow shot up, and your belly flipped.

Slap. You meant slap, but Logan was quicker than your champagne brain.

“I dare you, Princess.”

—-----

After what happened happened, you hightailed it back to your building, the electricity zapping around the elevator as you stared each other down. As soon as the doors opened, you moved as quickly as your tipsy legs would take through your foyer and living room and down the hallway to your bedroom door.

Logan followed you.

“Princess–”

The door slammed in his face, and he stood there for a good five minutes, restraining himself from knocking it down, before he relented and made his way back to his own room. 

He’d confront you tomorrow (later today), when you were sober.

—-

On the other side of the door, you were thinking of packing your bags and moving to South America. You needed a continent between you and Logan. How in the world had you allowed yourself to give in to a drunken urge that manifested the late night thoughts that you’d had for months? 

You were slipping. Bad.

You absolutely could not face him the next day. You leaned against the door, relieved when you heard him leave, and touched your lips. They still felt as if they were swollen from the kiss. 

You were sobering up now, remembering it. But just a few minutes ago that dare was all you needed to immediately lock your lips onto his. 

You also remembered the way he’d pulled away in shock and stared at your mouth for a beat before he grabbed your hair, pulled you close again, and kissed you so good that your toes curled.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK! Fuck my life!”

You were losing control. And that was not good. Not good at all.

—

Logan couldn’t get you out of his mind. 

And that pissed him off.

He lay in bed, and thought about how, (if he could die) under penalty of death he would never admit just how often he thought about you.

He’d been glad for the room at your place that came with the job; bunking with Wade and Althea was getting real old, real fast. 

But suddenly this arrangement felt too close for comfort.

You didn’t need to know about the fact that the movie playing behind his closed eyelids during his little shower workouts every night was your sexy smile, or the way your ass filled out your jeans. Especially those black ones.

And when he thought about you wearing those jeans with that wrap around shirt that showcased your tits just right. Well, fuck. He’d have gallons of cum for the shower drain.

Nah, you knowing that would only stroke your ego. Somehow, his mind drifted to the other things of yours that needed stroking.

“Oh, Fuck all!”

He sat up and sat on the edge of his bed, reaching for a cigar, reason number 634 why you hated him. 

But if you hated him so much, then why did you kiss him tonight?

—---

Why did you do it? You didn’t even like Logan. In fact you hated him.

Right?

You loathed the way he called you Princess, an obvious reminder that you were a trust fund baby, although you were far from a child, and to spite the fact that you were trying to make your own way.

You hated him from the top of his ridiculous thick hair, to the soles of his huge shit-kicker boot clad feet. You hated how tall and how ripped he was, the way his arm veins threaded atop the muscles there and led the way to his thick, calloused fingers that felt so nice against your skin.

You hated the chest hair that poked out from the top of the tacky tank tops and flannel shirts he always wore underneath the ever present leather jacket, and the way his blue jeans showcased the muscles in his thighs. 

And you absolutely NEVER accidentally gazed at his crotch and ascertained that he was packing.

That would be asinine.

And his stupid face. That was the kicker. Logan’s face would be handsome if he didn’t wear that ridiculous smirk all the time on that mouth that might look nice if he was normal. 

The mouth that felt nice against yours. 

That might feel nice against your…

You groaned around your toothbrush and rolled your eyes at yourself, fully sober now after a quick cold shower. But somehow your body was still warm and buzzing.

What the fuck had you done?

— 

Logan didn’t even like you.

You were bossy, irritating, loud. 

Fuck, you were loud, always chattering away to your customers, always smiling and making them feel at home. 

He absolutely loathed the way you were trying to make your own living, despite the fact that your father was loaded. Running a food truck with the best tacos in town drew hundreds of people every day and giving away a portion of your food to the unhoused every night was what irritated Logan the most. 

More people to watch.

He was sure you did it to surround him with more people to hate. He just knew that you liked pushing his buttons. 

You just reveled in being the anti-Logan.

The more he glared, the more you glowed. 

On fucking purpose.

The kicker was you cranking up the karaoke machine on Thursday nights and belting it out to Journey or REO Speedwagon. It was so annoying. 

Especially the way you closed your eyes and swayed to the music during the bridge. The happy look on your face wasn’t beautiful at all, it was simple, and he didn’t memorize every curve of your face because it was a dumb one.

He couldn’t get away, because he had three months left on the security contract your father signed with him.

It was unfortunate, because you just wouldn’t shut up.

Except when his tongue was in your mouth.

No. 

Even then, you made noises. 

Those delicious little moans that vibrated down his spine and made his dick harder with every second. Moans that made him see visions of your mouth wrapped around his cock. Moans that gave him a waking dream of you giving him head, and…

Fuck, now Logan had a raging hard on and could not sleep for the life of him. 

He really did not like you.

—--

Kissing Logan had you in a tailspin. 

You punched your pillow as you tossed and turned in bed and conjured positive thoughts.

You could forget this.

Pretend it never happened.

Convince yourself that he didn’t taste like heaven and hell and the best fucking thing in a long time.

You could forget.

It was fine.

Everything was just fucking fine. 

All you had to do was completely forget the way he made you feel when he slid his tongue into your mouth. It was easy. 

Except you were wet as fuck. 

“Listen, bitch. You are not doing me any favors right now,” you mumbled to your cunt. 

She didn't care. 

Your pussy just continued to clench on air as if to say, “He’s right down the hall. Let’s just go finish what we started.”

You groaned and tried to smother yourself with your pillow.

It didn’t work.

—-

Logan just kept thinking of the way you stared at him between kisses. Lips parted on a gasp, plump and soft, right before he'd slipped his hand on your neck and kissed you again. Now your taste haunted him.

Logan huffed and put his head in his hands. Flashes of the kiss played like a movie in his head. Finally, he stood up and went to his door, ready to settle this once and for all.

When he opened it, there you were, in just a black camisole and panties, and god, did he want you.

But there was your mouth again.

“I fucking hate you.”

The problem with that was, he could smell you. You might be saying that you hated him, but your body was calling him right now. And Logan’s knees were weak at the power of his lust.

When you looked him in the eye, you licked your lips, your eyes dilated, your nipples tightened into stiff peaks, and your pussy weeping for him, Logan knew it was the end of the line of his self-restraint.

You smelled delicious, like your mandarin orange body wash and your wet-for-him cunt. 

He stepped toward you and you slapped his face, leaving him with a grin on his face.

Then you slapped him again.

“You got it out of your system now? That anger?”

He cocked that damned eyebrow at you and moved even closer. 

“Or is it frustration?”

——

You were in trouble now.

Not because you were scared Logan was going to hurt you.

Just the opposite.

Logan dipped his head to smell at your pulse point, body so close, but never touching you. Your arms went to grab his impossible shoulders and that's when his huge paws grabbed your hips, dragging you further into his room as he backed toward his bed.

He was full on nuzzling your neck now, and your eyes were rolling as the tension between you two was finally ebbing.

The words came tumbling out.

“I’m so fucking angry that you get me so frustrated, you ass..”

You were turning your head toward his, wanting his lips again, on his lap now, crotch sat on his unbuttoned jeans, and refusing to move to ignite the fire.

Logan grunted at you.

“I see that. You’re trying to stare me down even though you are leaking all over me.”

Your body clenched and got wetter at the naming of that fact. You were terrified of what might happen next.

Yet you wanted it so badly.

——

Logan couldn’t wait any more.

He removed one hand from gripping the flesh at your hips that he’d fantasized about for months, to trailing up your cheek to your hair to take off your scarf.

His fingers were in your hair again and your eyelids stuttered as you mouth dropped open for air.

That made him so fucking hard. And it made him want to kiss you again.

He had to know.

“What are you here for, Princess?”

——

His sexy whisper would do you in.

For good.

“I don’t know.”

Logan was staring at you like you were the treasure chest at the end of a quest as you tried to remain as still as possible on his lap. It was so hard.

Logan was so hard beneath you.

“Oh? Let’s run it back to earlier when you weren’t letting that big brain of yours get in the way.”

Frustration surged within you and your mouth got reckless.

“Stop yapping and just do it already.”

——-

“There’s my girl,” Logan growled at you as his dick responded to the challenge and his eyes flashed at your tone.

“Always busting my balls, aren’t you? Need to give that smart mouth something else to do.” 

Before you could reply, Logan’s lips covered yours so perfectly that it was like magnetic puzzle pieces. You fit together and locked. 

Logan’s tongue traced your lower lip and he drew it into his mouth, nibbling, gently at first and then nipping more harshly, causing a gasp and enabling entry. His tongue swiped at yours as he dominated you.

You were not going to win this round.

——

You could only whimper and grab his shoulders tighter as he kissed you. For all that was holy, why did his kisses have to be so damn good?

One of your hands ventured into the thick hair you’d dreamt of feeling between your fingertips and pulled as your desire peaked. Then your palms went to his face as he pulled away and you squirmed as you realized what was about to happen. 

“What are you here for, Princess?”

That question again.

That voice. It rumbled straight to your core and Logan wasn’t letting you off the hook. 

Logan wasn’t letting you up off of him. 

The hardness of his metal button and zipper, but mostly him (oh god he was huge) chaffed your thighs as he sealed his lips over yours again and his hand went from your scalp down your neck and back to your hip again, holding you down to feel him.

You finally moved, smearing your wetness all over your panties and his jeans and Jesus, it felt so good.

——

Logan’s eyes took in all of you in your scanty clothing, following your every movement and when his eyes moved down to your damp panties he swallowed audibly. He clenched his jaw with the strain of holding back.

Logan couldn’t deny that he wanted you. His 200 year old heart felt brand new.

“Mmmmph. Here for this feeling Logan.” 

Your voice was the greatest symphony. His stomach clenched when you looked him in the eye.

“I’m here for you.”

You leaned forward and nuzzled his cheek with your nose, then whispered a demand in his ear.

“Touch me, Logan.”

Without thinking, but instinctively careful of you, Logan’s claws extended, shredding the sides of your panties and rendering them in pieces. 

“Fuck!”

You gasped as he stood up with you in his retracted grip and threw you on the bed, the scraps of your underwear abandoning you.

He couldn’t stand it anymore, he was so weak for you. He was on his knees at the foot of the bed as he ran his rough hands up and down your legs.

——-

“I’m touching you, now what?”

He spoke to you, but he was looking at the juncture of your thighs, at the well-manicured hair there, all casual, as if he weren’t teasing the hell out of you.

You had something for him.

“If you don’t know what to do, then I’ll show you.”

You reached up and took off your camisole and Logan’s eyes raked upwards and widened at the sight of what you were holding, which was your breast in one hand, as you pinched and rolled your own nipple. Your other hand trailed down your body as your legs fell open to give yourself access to your clit, which you had the nerve to play with in front of Logan’s face. 

——

Now he was the one who was angry.

Logan snarled, then batted your hand away.

“Careful Princess. Don’t poke the Wolverine.”

His hands tightened on your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed where he was.

———

Logan leaned down, his hot breath ghosting your pussy as he looked up at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. 

You couldn’t let the moment get too tender.

“What if the Wolverine wants to poke–”

Logan’s hand covered your mouth, cutting you off at just the moment he licked a long, hot, wet stripe up the center of you and then pursed his lips around your clit to suck at you ruthlessly.

Your smart ass remark was forgotten as a moan bubbled up into your throat. Logan took his hand away once it was clear that you couldn’t talk anymore, or at least that your capacity for sass had diminished. 

You were leaning up on your elbow and watching him feast on you, convulsing with each swipe of his broad tongue and each pull on your clit.

As mesmerized as you were at his skill, you managed to brush his thick dark hair away from his eyes so that he could see properly. You didn’t want anything getting in the way of the best head you’d ever received.

——-

Logan’s hands were now palming the most delicious meal he’d ever eaten; you were practically sitting on his fingers. For him, you tasted even better than you smelled. He couldn’t believe it.

He looked up at you incredulously, watching your breasts moving with each heave of your lungs trying to capture air, and your mouth open to capture it. He met your eyes and frowned at you as he reached down and stroked his pulsing cock.

“What’s wrong?”

“The fucking Cuties you eat all day long. They got you tasting like a fucking orange. ‘S fucking impossible.”

He yanked you closer and buried his face between your legs. You made those cute little noises with every swipe of his tongue, and he licked and sucked until you convulsed in his hands, screaming.

You were still trying to catch your breath before he was on you, licking and suckling your hard and soft breasts.

“Damn,” you murmured as Logan swiped his thick, bulbous head into your entrance and meeting resistance, “You’re so fucking huge Logan.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that phrase, but coming from you it hit different. His chest puffed with pride.

Logn smiled into your neck, inhaling your scent and growling against your skin.

“Don’t be scared, Princess. I’ll make it feel good for you. I should be more worried than you are. I’m gonna split you open, but you are about to shatter me into a thousand pieces.”

He didn't mean to tell you the absolute truth. But he had.

Logan knew there was no coming back from this for him.

——

You shuddered at the words which were breathed over your skin.

Logan trailed the tip of his tongue up the side of your neck the looked you in the eye. It was too much.

You lowered your gaze and he chuckled, making you sigh when he tugged on your lobe with his teeth and started pushing inside you. It was slow, but sensual and somehow still desperate. 

With each increment of himself that he gave you, you felt destroyed, yet you wanted more. You clutched at his chest as you widened your legs for him, as if that would help.

“No one else has ever made me feel this way. Hurts so good, Logan. More. Please?”

The question was, were you just talking about his penis?

——-

You begging him made Logan want to cry as he slipped further inside of you. When he bottomed out, you both shuddered, you at the sensation of such fullness, and him at the way you were so snugly and warmly wrapped around him.

“Fuck! Princess. Should have known you would be hot and tight. But I wasn’t ready.”

Logan wasn’t ready for you at all.

—-

His pupils were completely blown and the look on Logan’s face made you clench down even tighter as he stroked deeper into you. 

“Y-yess, feels so good.” 

You felt like liquid in his arms. Your hands moved over his shoulders as you hitched your thigh around his hips. He ran his hand up your thigh and around to your leg, holding you in place as he began to pound into you harder.

You whispered a confession into his ear.

“I’ve dreamed about this so many times.” 

Logan lifted his head from watching his cock destroy you, his brow arched in surprise. 

“You’ve dreamt about me?” 

You bit your lip and nodded, all of a sudden feeling shy. 

“At night after a tense night between us, I’d go to my room and imagine that you’d follow me to…shut me up.”

Your lashes fanned your face as you smirked.

“Oh yeah?”

Logan swiveled his hips and you gasped. He was lighting you up from the inside.

“Sounds like a cool dream, Princess,” he said, leaning down to your ear.

“But you’re talking far too much in reality.”

And he began snapping his hips at a frenzied pace, causing your back to arch and your mouth to fall open, leaving you moaning until you screamed with your orgasm.

You couldn’t talk; hell you couldn’t even think when he was going like this.

——

At this point, there was no more finesse; Logan was stroking in and out of you, almost completely leaving you and reentering just to feel that sensation again. The way his fat cockhead breached you was like no other feeling in the world.

Your arched back was displaying your breasts to him at a perfect angle. It inspired something within him.

“Look at you Princess. All gorgeous and fucked out and taking this cock for me. All dumb now. Bet you like not having to think so much. Just take it like the good little slut you are for me, yeah?”

His filthy commentary made the coil in your belly snap, and you came like a freight train, squeezing him so much that he had pull out to keep from coming himself.

He kissed you as you could only whimper in protest. Logan felt a warmth blooming in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time, if at all, as you lay melted in his arms.

He couldn’t wait to be back inside you.

“Can’t tell you how many times I dreamt about having you under me just… like… this….”

And he slid back home.

“Mmm… those lips down there suck my tip so well, how will these lips do?”

Logan’s thick thumb was in your mouth and you swirled your tongue around it to show him what your mouth could do. He groaned and pried your mouth open with his hand.

“Keep it open and do what I say.”

——-

The band was tightening in your belly again. You knew what was coming and nearly came again when Logan spit into your mouth. The orgasms were blending together now.

“Swallow.”

You did, and Logan thrust into you hard an deep while thrumming your clit. That was all it took for you to cum again and this time, you gushed around him, making a mess on his bed.

He looked down in disbelief and laughed with glee, handling you like a fuck doll to do with as he pleased.

That's when you realized that you loved being used by him.

“Bet ya didn’t dream you’d be such a dirty little slut for me, did ya, Princess?”

——

Logan realized that he was your slut, too. He was lost to your sounds, the sight of your beautiful lust drunk face, and the feeling of your cunt squeezing him with multiple orgasms now.

He started tracing urgent circles on your clit again.

“Look at me.”

That’s when you said the most beautiful words to him.

“So fucking good L-Logan. Cum inside me. Please. ‘M on the pill.”

“Music to… my fucking.. ears….”

——

Logan’s fingers moved to your shoulders, holding you captive as he stroked deeper and harder. His harsh breaths in your ear increased, the most erotic sound in the world.

You clamped down on him and he growled, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside you, the warm wave of fluid combing and causing a lovely, filthy mess.

It was so satisfying.

And you couldn’t let it lie.

——

He pulled out and stared at the ceiling in disbelief, before looking over at you to find you playing in his cum and licking your fingers, leaning over to give him a taste on your lips.

“What? You tired, Old Man?”

He shook his head and laughed as his cock came back to life.

Kissing you back had been the biggest mistake of his life.

He was never going to get you out of his system.

And he wasn't sure he wanted to.

-----

You shivered as Logan loomed over you, with that damned eyebrow cocked and that smirk on his face.

“Oh Princess. You have no idea what you’re in for.”

Then Logan grabbed you and kissed you again.

——

Reblog if you enjoyed it! 🥰

[helenanell]

Contempt of Court || Challengers

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Art Donaldson X Fem!Reader 

CW: 18+ MDNI. Alcoholism / substance abuse. Suicidal ideation. Mentions of car crash/ injury, infidelity (technically - Art is still married to Tashi, but they’re separated) Angst. Smut. A little toxic.

Wordcount: 10.8K

Notes: No use of y/n. Set after the events of the film. Reader is a Tashi stan (There’s too much Tashi Duncan erasure happening and I won’t stand for it.) 

Summary: Still recovering from an injury that put your tennis career on pause, your publicist has landed you a deal to be an ambassador for Nike. What she doesn’t tell you, is that so is Art Donaldson: the player who bad-mouthed you in a live, post match interview two years ago. You only find out once it’s too late. 

 (This story was inspired by the dynamic between Billy and Daisy in Daisy Jones and The Six. But…make it tennis.)

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

For eight agonising weeks, your wrist has been encased in a cast, but now that it’s finally off, you feel far from relieved.

 As the doctor had sawn into the plaster, producing a cloud of white dust like he was breaking into a bone instead of revealing a healed one, you had actually felt panicked. 

After the car crash, you had spiralled into a pit dug with your own self-pity and pain. And once you’d reached the bottom, you’d staved off the encroaching darkness with alcohol and too many painkillers. 

You’d taken drugs before at parties and drunk until you wiped your own memory, the consequence being waking up with your skull practically splitting open from pain. But there was something profoundly different about becoming intoxicated in the hopes of rendering yourself numb:

 You hated yourself whilst you were doing it, and once the harmful buzz wore off, you hated yourself a little bit more. 

You had become fast friends with shame in the past few months. 

You have been desperate to play again, screaming, crying and practically tearing off your own skin with the need to get back to work- to not let yourself fall behind or your ranking suffer. 

But, amongst the amalgamation of negatives there had been a sort of relief, too. Relief, because the choice had been taken away from you. 

The accident hadn't been your fault and nor could you force your bone to heal faster, so for a brief period of time, you had convinced yourself nothing was your fault. For once, you couldn’t be blamed for your own fall from grace. 

But now your bone had healed and if you didn’t give recovery your all, it would be your fault. If there was no triumphant comeback, it would be on you. 

Another thing to fail at. 

Another thing to lose. 

All of which only added to your bafflement over your publicist’s insistence on coming over this morning, in order to discuss ‘a major opportunity’ that wasn’t related to a competition. 

You had originally tried to worm out of it, but your coach had found out and given you the third degree. 

You’re already tired at the thought of it and you don’t even know what it is yet. You don’t want to think about anything but tennis. You don’t have the energy for it. 

In all honesty…you’re hanging on by a thread.

‘Drinking too much’ is a far too casual phrase for how you’ve been living: it has connotations of casualness- a glaring lack of stakes. For you, the stakes are unbelievably high.

You know you can’t afford to become alcohol dependent because even being a functioning alcoholic isn’t an option for you. The only way to function as an athlete—to maintain your career trajectory and the attain the US Open title—is to be at one hundred percent. 

Mixing your painkillers with straight vodka isn’t one hundred percent: it’s a cry for fucking help. Except you can’t let anyone hear the cry, you need to stifle it. 

It’s bad enough that pictures of you being rolled away from your totalled car in a gurney had been plastered over the internet for weeks after the accident. The alcoholic, pill popping tennis pro was a story that would never go away. 

It would morph into an ugly sort of infamy: you’d been in the exclusive club of American sweethearts and heartthrobs who had been hounded so much by the ‘devoted’, that it had driven them to substance abuse to drown out the noise and fortify against the flashing lights. 

So, no one could know. No one.

Which is why, as your publicist pulls into your driveway, you’re rushing to hide a half full bottle of vodka inside a hideously expensive—and also just hideous—vase that had been given to you as an engagement gift.

Two years ago, when your fiancé–and fellow tennis player–had been caught in 4k, kissing a barely legal actress from a HBO teen drama, you’d almost smashed the vase. But, something about destroying a gift from Serena Williams felt like spitting out the ambrosia a god had fed you from their very own hand.

So, while your ring had been thrown into a ravine (best not to dwell on that.) the vase had remained. 

The doorbell rings much sooner than you’re prepared for. Who knew a five-foot-two woman in heels could move so quickly? 

You run over to the door, chewing down on two pieces of gum you’d hastily shoved into your mouth to cover up the scent of alcohol. When you pull it open, you’re met with the stern face of your Publicist, Rebecca. She’s tiny but terrifying, her sharp features framed by a pitch black bob.

Sometimes, it does feel a bit like you’re talking to Edna Mode, but you’d never dare say that.

“Rebecca, hi!” You’re aware the greeting is too happy, and try not to grimace.

When you step back to allow her to enter, Rebecca frowns at you as she passes.

“Why are you fake smiling?” she questions. “Your cast is off, you should be actually happy.”

 You drop the toothy grin, wincing with embarrassment as you follow her into the kitchen.

“I am happy about that, obviously.” You clear your throat, overly aware of how disingenuous you still seem. “What I’m not exactly overjoyed about, is whatever this ‘opportunity’ is.” 

You watch as Rebecca grabs bottle of water from the fridge and then pulls out a stool to sit at the kitchen island. You follow suit, dropping down beside her.

“Well, you should be. I practically had to sell my soul to get them to pick you.”

You level her with an unimpressed look. “Wow, Rebecca, way to raise me up from rock bottom.”

She waves you away. “Oh, please! You hate when I coddle you.”

You huff, dropping your chin into hand and propping your elbow on the counter. “Okay, out with it then. What is it?” 

Rebecca’s cheeks split with a blinding grin. “Nike.” She declares gleefully. 

“Nike.” 

Her smile dampens, disappointed you haven’t burst into happy tears. “Yes, Nike. You know…Just Do It.”

“Yes, I do. I’d just prefer not, you know…do it.”

Your publicist looks just about ready to slap you. “You’re kidding. It’s Nike.”

“Oh, is it? You haven’t mentioned that.”

Rebecca’s frown becomes a scowl and you think about ducking when she angrily snatches up her water bottle. But she doesn’t throw it, just waves it around as she begins to rant at you: 

“Do you know how hard it was to get this?! They wanted Naomi Osaka but I convinced them to go for you instead. And christ knows they were hesitant after the US Open meltdown-”

“We agreed not to refer to it as a meltdown.” You cut in. “My therapist says it has negative connotations that, ‘make me feel a harmful degree of shame.’”

Rebecca scoffs. “You went to one session with that therapist and then fired her because you didn’t like that she drew you a diagram.”

“It was condescending: I’m not five, I don’t need visual aids.”

“Okay, just shut up!” Rebecca barks, smoothing down her still immaculate hair and taking a deep breath. “This isn’t actually up for discussion. You’re doing it.”

“I’m not doing it.”

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Two Weeks Later… )

‘Just Do It.’ 

It’s the first thing you see when you walk into the Nike office for the photoshoot. 

The poster from a past campaign with Andy Murray has been blown up to ridiculous proportions and framed, hanging in on the first wall that greets anyone who enters.

“If they make mine that big I won’t be able to look at it. I’ll actually vomit. ” 

When Rebecca–who is the epitome of a chatterbox–remains silent, you turn you head to look down at her. She’s already peering up at you, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Your eyes narrow with suspicion. “What have you done?”

Rebecca lets out a laugh laced with unadulterated fear. “Okay…so, any minute now you’re going to be super fucking pissed at me and you have every right to be, but remember that as you’ve already signed the contract, you don’t have a right to walk out of here.”

You stare her down, knowing it doesn’t take much intimidation for her to crack. 

You don’t end up needing her to blabber, however, because not even five seconds later, the door you’d just come through swings open and a lone figure enters.

 As you turn, you feel your publicist actually take a step away from you.

“Rebecca, I’m going to kill you.” 

You’re not looking at her as you spit out the threat, your eyes are already boring into the man who’s noted your presence and is lingering just beyond the doorway. 

Your history with Art Donaldson is far from extensive. In fact, while the trajectory of your careers have practically run parallel, the two of you have spoken maybe twice. 

But then, almost two years ago, the U.S Open had happened. 

Still dealing with the fall out of your fiance’s cheating scandal, you’d been in potentially the worst mental space of your life. And yet, you had still made it to the final.

 But, during the match…well you’d sort of lost your shit. And then you’d just lost. It had been dramatic and mortifying. 

Then, with the dust not even close to settling, things had gotten even worse. 

Having just clinched the men’s singles trophy for himself, Art Donaldson had sat down for his live post-match interview and one of the first questions he’d been asked, was about your ‘comportment’ during the final. 

You would never forget his answer: 

'Well, obviously it’s a massive disappointment. In so many ways the match between those two women today was legendary. But it always stings when you see someone get in their own way. Anger like that doesn’t belong on the court: it’s infantile and disrespectful to staff and to the fans. It threatens to overshadow what was otherwise a phenomenal game of tennis for both of them.'

When he had then been pressed for his thoughts on what should be done in regards to sanctions, Art had simply said: ‘I think whatever she’s feeling that made her act that way, is probably punishment enough.’

In a few minutes, Art had made you a subject of scorn as well as unwanted sympathy.  He’d made you sound simultaneously contemptible and pitiable. 

He was right, but he hadn’t needed to sound so sanctimonious when he’d said it. And telling the world your own mental anguish was probably torment enough, was just salt in the wound.

In your own defence, you had gone into the final right off the back of the announcement that your ex-fiancé’s new girlfriend was pregnant. And the dates had made it blindingly clear, that conception had happened whilst you were still with him.

 You’d never felt so worthless or dehumanised. And then, after you’d practically killed yourself playing the match of your life, only to lose, Art fucking Donaldson had felt the need to call out your behaviour. 

‘Anger like that doesn’t belong on the court.’ 

Anger ‘like that’ wasn’t something you’d brought to the competition in your overhead luggage, it was a parasite that had been poisoning your blood.

You’d thought that sort of self-cannibalising rage was in your past, bust as Art starts walking over to you, it rears its ugly head once more.

And he has the gall to smile at you. It’s an amicable, almost anticipatory smile. 

You barely even register when Rebecca ducks away, muttering something about finding the photographer. 

Art calls out your name as he stops before you, the corners of his eyes creasing as his smile intensifies. “It’s good to see you.”

“The feeling is not mutual.” You intone harshly.

Art’s smile doesn’t drop, it just becomes tighter, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “Ah- so you are still upset about what I said at the Open.” 

You glare at him, forcing yourself to stop gritting your teeth lest they shatter. “What could possibly make you think that I wouldn't be?”

Art laughs softly, running a hand through his short blonde hair. “Well, because your coach and your publicist both assured me that you weren’t.”

Those fucking traitors. 

It looks like you’ll be going into tomorrow with only your nutritionist and your physio left on your team.

“They lied.” You reply sharply. 

Art tilts his head, his gaze becoming brazen in the way it assesses your face. “Clearly.”

“Well, obviously this isn’t happening.” You gesture between the two of you. “I’m not doing a photoshoot, let alone an entire campaign, with you.”

“I don’t see why it can’t go ahead.” Art declares casually, his lips tugging upward as he observes your indignation. 

You take a step back, not trusting yourself not to lunge for him.

“Well, it’s a good thing I have little regard for your opinion then, isn’t it?”

Art's brows draw together, some irritation beginning to pollute his easy going demeanour. “You do care.”

“Excuse me?”

“You do care about my opinion, because f you didn’t, you wouldn’t still be this pissed over something I said years ago. 

“Pissed?” You almost choke on the word. “You made me sound pathetic. Weak. You insulted my entire career!”

“I seem to recall saying that your match was ‘legendary.’ Phenomenal, is another word I used.”

If there wasn’t so much anger writhing in your gut, you might have rubbed it in his face that for something he’s outwardly dismissing, he seems to remember what he said about you very well.

You step up to him, closing the distance in two strides.

“‘Whatever she’s feeling that made her act that way, is probably punishment enough.’ You said that about me in front of peers and fans in a live interview that was watched by thousands!”

“You’re telling me you don’t think you were out of line?” Art challenges, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning in. 

You know he’s not wrong: it hadn’t been your finest hour. In fact, the morning after, with your behaviour laid bare in the cold light and already being picked over by commentators and tabloids, you had been able to acknowledge it may very well have been one of the worst hours you would ever have. 

But you’d rather die than acknowledge that to Art.

“Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you!” You hit back disparagingly.

Art’s fingers dig into his arms. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re a hypocrite, Art. I watched your match against Patrick Zweig at the…what was it- Phil’s Tire Town Challenger? Someone recorded it from the stands. Tell me, what emotion were you bringing to the court when you yelled ‘fuck you’ at him across the net?” 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“I’m not proposing a thesis, Art. This isn’t up for debate. I’m just telling you what I saw. And it seems to me, that you have some fucking anger issues of your own, so quit chewing me out over mine.”

“Chewing you out–” He splutters, his cheeks flushing with outrage. “Wow, you really do have a victim complex, huh?” 

“Fuck you!” You seethe.

Your exclamation doesn’t dissuade Art, instead he gathers momentum: 

“You’re acting like I should fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness over an entirely reasonable answer I gave to a question about your piss-poor behaviour. But I didn’t make you launch your racket across the court or cuss out the line judge. You’re not a tragic woman, or some wronged heroine, you’re a grown woman throwing a tantrum because I wasn’t very nice about her in an interview, two goddamn years ago!” 

“Well, I’m a bitch and you’re a hypocrite, looks like neither of us should be tennis’ poster child.” You snap, pushing past him and heading for the door. 

There was absolutely no chance you were doing this photoshoot. Nike could give Naomi Osaka another call. 

Just as you’ve got past him, Art is following you, snagging your wrist with his hand. “Hey! I didn’t call you a bitch.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone. Badmouthing people in public forums is your move.” 

You yank yourself out of his hold and with his eyes burning into the back of your head, you leave Art Donaldson alone in the lobby. 

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Three Weeks Later… )

In the intervening weeks since your confrontation with Art, you have discovered just how airtight employment contracts can be. 

Nike should really give their lawyers a raise, because you have been assured that there is more chance of you sprouting wings, than being able to get out of the ad campaign. 

You’d been forced back to the studio a week later with your tail between your legs, but while you’d felt genuinely apologetic over the inconvenience caused to Nike’s team, your fury at Art had only compounded. 

Thankfully, the feeling had been mutual and the two of you had passed the entire shoot in utter silence. Neither of you had offered up so much as a hello or goodbye to the other, and while it had clearly been painfully awkward for everyone around you, it had worked out quite well. 

Unfortunately, you and Art had been called back for a day of what they were calling ‘action shots.’

Which is why you’re currently at a country club, dressed in all of Nike’s new gear, being forced to actually play tennis against Art. 

If it was anyone else, you would already have drawn attention to the fact that your wrist is in excruciating pain, but you refuse to falter in front of him. 

Besides, as much as you’re loathe to admit it, playing against Art is exhilarating. 

The team have just called for a break and somehow, despite the innumerable people that have been buzzing around you for the entire day, you and Art suddenly find yourselves alone at the side of the court. 

You’ve done well at remaining civil with each other, but that’s only because you only said ‘hello’ and ‘ready’ before you’d started playing.

Unfortunately for you, Art seems to be in the mood to antagonise.

“I don’t get why this is making you so miserable.” Art says, dropping down onto the bench beside you with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

You hold up the can in your hand, fingers biting into the condensation slick metal. 

“I specifically asked for Tangerine La Croix and they’ve given me Pure.” You mock. You couldn't care less about what you’re drinking.

“Funny.” Art deadpans. 

“And here was me thinking you’d jump at the chance to call me a diva.” You answer, donning a smirk of your own.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

Some genuine anger colours Art’s tone and it only feeds the fires of your own.

“What?” 

Art grabs the can from your hand and maintains eye contact as he steals as a sip.

“You refuse to let go of a few critical, but very valid sentences I said about you in that interview and you’ve used them to construct a narrative about my dislike for you. I don’t dislike you.”

“Oh, you don’t? That’s good, because this amicable exchange is really making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.” 

Art groans, slumping back on the bench. He manspreads so wide that his knee knocks into yours. 

“Can you not just enjoy yourself? It’s a beautiful day and we’re being paid to do what we’re great at.”

You wrinkle your nose and try to snatch back the can, but Art tightens his grip and the metal crumples as you both tighten your hold. 

“Yeah, well, not everyone gets off on having their face on a billboard.” You sneer, almost falling back when Art suddenly lets go of the can.

It’s practically empty and completely deformed, so you slam it down onto the empty space beside you.

“How do you know that I do?”

“What?”

“How do you know that I get off on it?” He repeats glibly.

“Because, you’ve clearly wanted to retire for years and now that you have, you can monopolise on the popularity that your wife built up for you and live off clothing lines and ads for the rest of your life.”

“Being great at tennis built up my popularity.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you actually believe that, Art? So many phenomenal players go widely unknown for their entire careers. You are only The Art Donaldson instead of just plain old Art, because Tashi Duncan made you a brand. She’s responsible for your legacy.”

“She didn’t make me.”

“Maybe not, but she did mould you into what you are. You would have been just another generic Stanford whiteboy if she hadn’t decided to give you fucking form.”

“You talk about her like she’s God.” 

“Are you telling me that’s not what it feels like when her attention is solely on you?” You challenge, but you don’t wait for an answer. “You know, I actually played her quite a lot when we were teenagers– we always ended up being us against each other in finals– and even then…it was like trying to play against an elemental force. Every time, without fail, there was a tiny part of me that just wanted to fall to my fucking knees in front of her. But I never did, instead it made my game better. She made my game better. Tashi put all she had into you after her injury, the least you could do is acknowledge what she’s done for you.

“You don’t have to tell me what I owe my wife.”

You scoff, rising to your feet. “I’m telling you what you owe your coach.” 

You don’t actually know where you’re going as you walk away, only that you need it to be far from him.

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Two Months Later… )

At the launch event for Nike’s new line, you’re standing in front of the massive poster that’s at the forefront of the campaign and swallowing down bile. 

It’s a great picture, you’ll give them that: Your feet are practically lifting off the ground as you throw up the ball for a serve, your expression is contorted with a ruinous passion that portends some sort of violence. And across the net, there’s Art: he’s dropped into a crouch, ready to pounce once you send the ball his way. In the face of your fury, his anticipation comes fitted out with his signature smirk. 

It’s not just a great photo, it’s phenomenal.

 You want to tear it off the wall. 

You’re on the verge of asking anyone if they have a pen so you can scribble over Art’s face, when the man himself appears beside you. In your peripheral vision you catch a glimpse of his sleek, all black suit, but you don’t turn to look at him. 

“I’m not sure you’d get away with defacing it in front of so many people.” 

Trying to suppress your eye roll would be a fruitless endeavour, so you turn to face Art, forcing him to bear witness to your indignation. 

“You should know by now that I have little regard for decorum. You certainly like commenting on my lack of it.”

“I thought you’d still be hung up on that.” 

“Yeah, well, some of us have follow through.” You give him a venomous smile. “How is retirement treating you?”

“Ah, I should have known.”

“Known what?”

“You see retirement is quitting. So, you’ll force yourself to continue well past the point you should, your game will get shittier and shittier, so by the time you’re forced to quit, people will be pitying you instead of remembering how phenomenal you were.”

There’s a compliment in there, but you’re not feeling generous of spirit enough to pluck it out of the insult. 

“I know when to stop, Art. It’s just not now.” You answer coldly.

“Okay, when? Like- give me your timeline. You must have thought about it.”

“Not yet.”

This answer seems to really frustrate him and he just stares at you, a muscle in his jaw feathering as he grips his champagne flute. 

“Do you think I didn’t notice how much your wrist was killing you when we played each other? Are you really going to wreck your body out of stubbornness?”

“You know, Art, what you did wasn’t bowing out at the perfect time, it was cowardice. You skipped right to the curtain call when you still had a last act left to perform. You never got that US Open trophy, did you?” 

Art sighs, his gaze moving back to the photo of the two of you. "Yeah well, something tells me you won't either. Have a good night."

Then he's backing away, his stare lingering on you even as he lets the crowd reabsorb him. 

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( One Month Later… )

Had Tashi Duncan not been one of the people in your life that you most respected and admired, you wouldn’t even have considered attending the fundraising gala for her and Art’s foundation.  

But you were, quite frankly, obsessed with her, so of course you had come.

 Sitting in an uncomfortably tight dress at a table of people you don’t know and with a fair amount of alcohol circulating through your system, is quite possibly the most painstaking thing you’ve ever gone through.

Apart from the car crash. That had been pretty bad. 

But you’re adamant you won’t think about the car crash tonight, or the fact that, somehow, your wrist seems to be getting worse; devolving to a state more dire than when the cast had first come off. 

The meal—which you hadn’t been able to stomach—had come and gone and now the auction is beginning. Tashi is up on the stage, dazzling in the way that only she can and Art is standing at the bottom of the set of stairs that lead up to the platform.

Unfortunately, your table is very close to the front and you’re positioned right in his eyeline. 

Art keeps stealing glances at you with an emotion you can’t place. You had tried to switch seats with the man across from you, but the asshole turned out to be a real stickler for assigned seating. 

If only to distract yourself, you whip out your phone, resting it in your lap beneath the table.

The moment you open up Instagram, your heart drops into your stomach. 

You thought you had expunged any remnants of your ex from your life, but it seems you’ve missed a mutual friend on Instagram, one who has just reposted his engagement announcement with his girlfriend and mother of his now one year old daughter. 

That bastard has broken your heart and wrecked your head, but while your life just keeps getting worse, the universe has seen fit to bless him with everything he’s ever wanted. 

The auction is already in full swing when you rise clumsily from your seat and weave through the tables, heading for the closest exit. 

It’s only as you push open the door and begin to sway, that you realise you’re actually quite tipsy. You might have drunk a little too much before you’d left the house. 

It’s freezing outside, but you can’t face going back for your coat, so, unsteady on your feet, you flee into the extensive gardens that surround the estate that’s acting as the gala’s venue. 

You walk well past the point where the lawn lighting disappears and clamber over a fence that has ‘restricted area’ prominently posted in front of it.

You don’t know where you’re going, but as you stagger down the hill, your sadness is alleviated very slightly by the sight of a massive pond that you’re sure is beckoning to you. 

You kick off your heels and drop down onto the bank, quick to put your feet into the water. Once you’re settled, you retrieve your hip flask from your clutch and begin to guzzle vodka in earnest.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

You turn and you find an incensed Art striding towards you. You’re more than a little delighted by the sight of mud splattered over the polished surface of his shoes. 

“I was having some time to myself.”

“You needed to walk all the way down here to get it?”

You laugh caustically, gesturing at him. “Well…no. Obviously I should have walked even further away.”

Art huffs, entirely unimpressed. He takes a few steps further down the bank and holds out a hand beckoning you over.

“Come on, you need to come back inside.”

“Why is that?”

“Because, you offered tennis lessons with yourself as an auction item and you’re up soon. You need to be on stage.”

Ah. You’d forgotten about that. 

“Why do I need to be seen? It’s not like they’re buying me.”

“You still can’t stay in there. Get out.”

“I’m not in it, Art. I’m just dangling my feet in the water.”

“Well, you can’t ‘dangle’ your feet in there, it’s a pond not a swimming pool.” 

“I can’t?” You feign a bafflement as you look at your feet, submerged in the murky water. “I sort of already am?”

Art moves even closer but falters, his bright eyes becoming an invading force: his gaze takes hold of your edges and peels them back.

He can see inside.

“What’s wrong?” He probes, the harsher edges of his previous words now nowhere to be found.

“At the moment, it’s you.” 

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not actually, but I’m getting there.” 

Art’s eyes flick to the metal object glinting in your hand. “Is that a hip flask?” 

“What a keen eye you have.” You mutter sardonically.

“Okay, I'm serious now, get out.”

“Oh, he’s being serious!” You mock, rising to your feet.

 But you don’t move away from the pond. Instead, you turn and start walking backwards into the water you wobble when your bare feet sink into the mud, icy liquid seeping into the thin fabric of your silk dress.

Art lunges forward, closing the distance until he’s standing at the edge of the water. His hand darts out and he grabs your forearm. 

“You’re too close to drunk to be near a body of water, let alone in one. You’ll drown yourself.” 

Art plucks the hip flask from your fingers with his free hand and tosses it into the grass behind him, all without taking his eyes off you. 

Then he seems to actually register where his hand is. He’s still gazing into your eyes as his thumb brushes over the scar above your wrist. 

“Compound fracture.” You say on a bitter breath. “The bone went right through. Fucking drunk driver. Funny that, isn’t it? He crashed into me, fucked my career probably permanently and then I became a drunk to cope.”

Some of the hardness in Art’s expression melts away, but it pools into the bags beneath his eyes and the shadows beneath his cheekbones, making him look almost distraught. Once you realise it’s sadness--no, pity--for you, you wrench your wrist out of his grasp and wade further back into the pond. 

You gasp, shocked as the frigid water wraps around your legs in an eager embrace. It’s like it’s clinging on, wanting to keep you forever. 

You find the thought of it quite peaceful.

You think on Art’s words from months ago: he’s right, about you being too stubborn to know when to stop. You won’t retire until you’re physically falling apart.

 But what if you just sink down into the water right now? You’d disappear and the memories would be of a great player gone too soon.

God, you didn’t realise you had such a large ego that you’d consider letting yourself drown just to save face.

Art is beyond unimpressed now. He’s furious. 

“Get out.” You just smile at him, stepping further back. The water reaches your navel and you let your fingertips skim over the water. “I’m not kidding, get the fuck out. Now.”

“Will you just back off!” You erupt. “We’ve done the campaign, we’re not friends, there’s no reason for us to be involved.” 

“None of that gives me a reason to leave you alone out here.”

“Why not?!” You protest desperately. “It’s not the ocean, I can’t be swept out to sea!”

“Get out of the water.”

“No.” 

“Get out.” 

“Get fucked.” You hit back, letting yourself sink back into the water. 

As you move to float on your back, another frantic laugh bubbles up as you're enveloped by its icy grip. Your dress becomes heavier, a five thousand dollar weight around your body, urging you to sink lower.

You turn your head to the side so that you can see the surface of the water:

This far out of the city, the stars are no longer choked by smog and so are able to tear through the darkness. The water perfectly mirrors the sky, so much so that it’s like you’re swimming in the cosmos. If you open your mouth, you could take some of it into yourself. 

You had struggled to get out of bed this morning, but now, in the quiet night, you have the chance to swallow a thousand stars–

Impudent splashing disrupts your peace. 

Your head shoots up, water running in eager rivulets off your hair as you watch wide eyed, as Art drops into the water. His jacket and shoes have been discarded on the edge of the bank. 

“What are you doing?”  

Art doesn’t answer, instead he drives through the water towards you, his strides producing ripples that disturb the reflected constellations. Shooting stars. 

You’re not very far out, so just as Art closes in on you, you plant your feet on the muddy bottom of the pond and stand up.

The fabric of your dress is dark and slick against your body like an oil spill. The breeze blows a tentative breath against you, causing your skin to pebble and your nipples to harden.

Art reaches for you but your hand flies out and you swat him away.

You push yourself further out, giggling at his expression as the water comes up to your chin. 

Then Art’s diving after you, the white material of his shirt submerged in the water. 

“Art, this is a pond, not a swimming pool.” You tease, amusement blooming.

In fact, you’re relishing the sight of his arms pushing through the water so much, that you forget to make another escape attempt. 

Before you know it, Art is right up in front of you, his breath coasting over your face as he wraps an arm around your middle beneath the water. 

You drive your feet into the mud, your smile growing as he looks exasperatedly up at sky. His fingers press into your side.

“This is so beyond funny.” He grouses, trying and failing to tug you closer.

Seeing as you’re not actually drunk, you’re not sure what comes over you, but you’re seized by a giddy, childlike urge. 

You decide to give into it.

Art’s eyes widen slightly as you rush forward, pressing your chest right up against his. Then, you place one hand on each of his shoulders and push.

There’s a brief moment, where your face rises above Art and he gazes up at you, droplets of water rolling off your face and onto him. He’s looking at you in the same way you had been gazing up at the stars. Perhaps you’ve become one of them. Wouldn’t that be something?

Art realises too late what you’re going to do. 

“Don’t you dare–”

You push all of your weight onto his shoulders and dunk him into the pond. His head goes under, short blonde locks floating up in the water.

You immediately let him go and when he comes up, spluttering for air, the hand not on your waist winds around the back of your neck, threading into the hair at the nape of your neck. He pulls you flush against him again.

When he speaks, it is a whisper you feel against your cheek. “You’re such an asshole.” 

Your hands fall onto his waist beneath the water. “I know.” 

You shriek as Art tips you back, his hand still cradling the back of your neck as he dunks your head into the water in retaliation. It feels like a baptism. 

When you come back up, he's chuckling as you gasp for air. 

“I had to do that.” Art defends.

 He notices you scrambling to push soaked strands of hair out of your eyes and proceeds to help you, his hand brushing over your cheeks and forehead before returning your sight to you. 

“I feel like you didn’t have to.” You splutter, fighting back a laugh of your own. 

You’re suddenly glad for his grip on you- you’re far too flustered to stand firmly on your own two feet. 

Art’s cheek’s dimple as he smiles, shaking his head at you. Your breath hitches. 

When he’s unencumbered by negative emotion…Art shines. 

He leans in again, his lips grazing the shell of your ear: 

“Don’t start something you’re not prepared to finish, sweetheart.” Your breathing becomes even more laboured as he draws away, his nose briefly dragging against your cheek. “Now…get out of the goddamn pond.” 

And then he’s pulling away, leaving you gaping after him as he moves back towards the bank.

 His touch is an absence you really wish didn’t feel so profound 

“Spoilsport.” You grumble. But you’re already moving after him. 

The alcohol you did have in you has disappeared; shocked out of your system by the frigid water and the feel of Art’s hands.

 You wade back towards the bank, your hip flask is nestled in the grass and glinting seductively in the moonlight. 

With Art’s back to you, you let yourself stare as he drags himself out of the water. His shirt is stuck to his body and entirely see through, settling into the ridges of his muscled chest. The moon’s light shines through the fabric hanging from his sleeves, making it look like the membrane of wings.

As Art kneels on the grass, you blink rapidly as if he’s a vision you can dispel from your sight. 

You can acknowledge he’s attractive- you’re not blind– but you can’t abide the yearning arising within you. You don’t have room for that in your life, for anyone, but especially not for him. 

You finally reach the edge of the bank and then Art is kneeling at the edge, holding a hand out for you to take.

You consider him for a moment and process the newfound ease on his face. He seems almost serene. 

You fight off a shiver that you blame on the cold and ignore his outstretched hand, pulling yourself out of the water unaided. 

“Really?” Art bites out irritatedly, watching as you wander over to your hip flask and sit down right beside it. You take it into your hand and unscrew the cap. 

When you bring it to your lips you look right into his eyes. “Really.” 

You throw your head back, the path the vodka burns down your throat is a welcome discomfort. You had felt far too peace just now, floating in a sea of stars with Art. 

But those weren’t stars, just a reflection of them. It was a trick. Nothing that could ever be real. 

When you drop the now empty flask into your lap, there are tears in your eyes. 

When was the last time you’d felt even close to the happiness you’d found in that water? 

It wasn’t real.

A traitorous tear is already rolling down your cheek as you drop your eyes to your hands. 

“Hey.” Art says softly. He kneels down beside you, one hand on your soaked back as the other plucks the flask out your lap. “What’s wrong?”

You make a noise that’s half sob, half laugh. “I already answered that question.” 

“Yeah, except I know you’re full of shit.” When you look up at him, Art’s frown becomes something gentler. “I know I’m not your problem.” 

You scoff, shoving his chest. He sways backwards, but drops down onto his knees, planting himself on the ground beside you. His hand is still on your back.

“Yes, you are actually.” You answer nastily. “You really are.”

“Just tell me.” Art whispers, ducking his head into your field of vision so you’re forced to look at him. His free hand settles on your cheek. “Tell me what’s wrong because this…is sort of scary.”

You lift your hands and clasp his cheeks, digging your fingers in. You’re overcome by a violent impulse to tear into his skin. 

It would be far easier to draw blood than confront how you’re beginning to feel about him. 

“Aww.” You croon. “Did I scare the poor little baby?” 

“Stop it.” He scolds. His hands move to grasp your wrists but he doesn't pull you away, not even as you press your nails further in.

But you won’t stop- can’t stop. Your feelings have become spiteful and unruly, running away from you at a pace which you can’t hope to match.

You can’t take the strain. And because Art is the contributor to that is closest to you, it’s him you’re going to lash out at.

“No, really, I didn’t think you’d be such a pussy.” You forge on, spewing venom. “I scared you by getting in a pond? Grow the fuck up, Art.”

But Art doesn’t rise to it. His jaw doesn’t clench and his grip on you doesn’t tighten. 

“This isn’t okay.” He says, tentative but assured. “You’re not okay.” 

“No, I'm not!” You snap wrenching your wrists free. “But it’s got absolutely nothing to do with you.”

You try to rise to your feet, but Art doesn’t let you. He moves so he’s kneeling either side of you, his legs pressing into your thighs as his hands fall onto your shoulders. You can feel in the way his fingers press into you that he’s fighting the urge to shake sense into you. 

You look up at him, slightly startled by his forcefulness. His back is facing the moon now and his drenched body is limned in silver. 

Before you can berate yourself for even thinking about it, you’re winding your hand around his tie and dragging him down, smashing your lips against his. 

You shouldn't be doing this, a large part of you doesn’t want to, but it feels like the only way to purge yourself of him. And what kills a bacteria faster than blazing heat?

Art lets out a warning groan, but your teeth nipping his bottom lip is all it takes to have him leaning in. Even your kiss feels like a fight, battling each other for control, pressing with bruising force.

Art crowds over you, guiding your back against the grass.

You let yourself fall. 

As your back presses into the earth, one of his hands settles on the side of your neck as he drags the other up your leg. When he peels up the sodden material of your dress, his hand exploring your thigh, the cold air bites tauntingly against your rapidly heating skin. 

Your hard nipples brush against his soaked t-shirt and the feeling is so tantalising, that you find your back arching, pressing yourself into him and chasing the sensation.

When you let out a moan into his mouth, Art draws back as if some unseen hand has pulled on him.

He’s still agonisingly close, his lips a hair's breadth away as he gazes down at you through heavy eyelids, water droplets running down his face from his hair. His breathing is ragged.

 Art’s eyes close and with his sight lost to him, his lips drift closer to you again and his teeth nip at your chin. After placing a ghost of kiss over where he’s bitten, he takes a deep breath.

Then his eyes open, and his expression is blank. It makes you feel sick.

You’re burning up with want, but you can already see the realisation of your transgression settling into the very bones of Art. He’s about to spurn you, disdain no doubt working its way to the surface. So you have to get there first. 

“Poor, sensitive Art, scared by a kiss.” You goad. The words are forced out and they feel malformed on your tongue. “Don’t worry your little head over it, it doesn’t mean anything.” 

Art drops his eyes from you, shaking his hand as he pushes himself off up. 

“Nice try, but I know what you’re doing.”  

He mumbles it and doesn't give you a chance to acknowledge it befores he’s on his feet and walking away. 

Tears prick insistently at the back of your eyes but you force them back, pressing the heels of your thumbs into them until it hurts. 

You sit up, feeling leaves and blades of grass sticking to your exposed skin.

You feel the air shift behind you, and are startled when you peer over your shoulder and find Art standing at your back. He has his shoes back on and is gripping his dry jacket far too tightly. 

You find your voice, but it’s weak: “What am I doing Art?” 

He doesn’t meet your eye, instead he opens up the jacket in his hands and settles it over your shoulders. You sit there, stunned as he tugs it around your body. Then he leans down and over your shoulders, his breath on the side of your face as he deftly buttons the jacket up. 

Art encloses you in the dry garment that carries the scent of him. 

“You’re doing the same thing as me.” He says quietly. It sounds almost painful for him to talk. “Running away. I guess we’re both cowards.”

And then he’s gone, marching back up the bank without another word.

You’re left sitting there, wrapped in his jacket and staring out at the pond. 

Not the night sky. 

Just a pond. 

  ━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

( Three Months Later… )

After your cast had first come off, Wimbledon had felt like an intimidating but still far off thing; a dark shape on the horizon, but one you had to squint to see. But then it moved closer, barreling towards you like a bat out of hell. 

You’ve made great progress in your recovery, you really have…but all your extensive physiotherapy hasn’t been able to heal the nerve-damage you’d turned out to have- at least not in a timespan that’s workable for a professional athlete. 

You’re done. Tennis career over.

And your worst fear has come true: it hadn’t been your choice. Injury has forced you out and the public discourse is rife with commiseration and useless, positive platitudes. 

Art has been proved right. Everything would be so much better had you known when to quit. You had preferred ridicule to this. 

But until you’d come to Wimbledon, it hadn’t really sunk in yet: you hadn’t had the moment of finality. 

What closure has ended up feeling like, is the final nail in your coffin.

As you had watched the first matches of Wimbledon from the stands, Rebecca glancing at you constantly–presumably to check you weren’t about to burst into tears–you had felt as though you were being buried: each serve and volley another hand tossing dirt on top of the coffin, sealing you beneath the ground for good. 

At least one part of your day has been successful. You have completed the challenge you’d set for yourself that morning, which was to not drink any alcohol until the evening.

 It has been excruciating.

Evidence of your victory lays in your trembling hands as you fit your keycard into the door of your hotel room. You’re desperate for what you know sits waiting for you on the other side. 

But then, just as the lock mechanism chirps to let you know you’ve been granted entry, someone calls your name.

Your keycard is left in the door as your fingers fall away from the handle and you turn to face Art. He’s stopped himself a safe distance from you and is gazing at you with what looks like…relief? 

Of course you knew he was at Wimbledon–you’d narrowly avoided crossing paths with him a number of times already today–but to hear his voice and having his probing stare directed solely on you, is as debilitating as you remember. 

You haven’t seen each other, or even spoken, since the night by–or rather in–the pond. 

The only place the two of you are still together in any capacity, is on the Nike billboards that are still occupying space throughout the world.

And as if Art’s thoughts align with your own, he says: 

“You pull an impressive disappearing act.” He steps closer.

“That suggests you went looking for me.” You counter, pleased with how detached you sound. “We both know you didn’t.” 

“No. I didn’t.” Art replies frankly. 

“So I didn’t disappear, did I? You just couldn’t see me.”

Art moves towards you some more, stopping an arms length away. 

“It felt the same.” He utters lowly. “You were gone.”

You shrug halfheartedly. “So were you.” 

Then you press your back into the door, fingers seeking out the handle, shaking now for a reason other than alcohol withdrawal. 

You really don’t know if you’re running away or urging him on, but when you push open the door and duck inside, you do know that you’re not angry when he follows. 

You put your back to the hallway door, expecting Art to move past you and head into the suite, but he doesn’t. At least not right away. Instead, he stops right in front of you, looking down at you as the door swings shut. 

You would barely have to lift your hand and you’d be touching him.

You hate that he looks so good. He’s in simple navy dress pants, a white shirt sitting snugly on his chest, the top few buttons undone. 

The two of you stand like that for a minute or so, and just as you realise that your breaths have practically synchronised, Art is moving away from you and wandering inside. 

It’s only then, as he ventures deeper, that you remember what you’ve been so eager to get back into the room for. You curse yourself, letting your head fall back against the wall behind you.

Even if he hadn’t already seen them, it would be too late for you to hide the line of alcohol minis that you’d gathered from the bar cart. 

You’d set them out earlier, the process almost meditative. It had been a promise to yourself: get through the day without drinking and you can have all of these once you’re alone.

But now they’re standing out in the open, displayed on the nearby desk like pieces knocked off a board in a game that you’ve been playing against yourself. 

You watch helplessly as Art walks right over to them, his hands in his pockets. Your face flushes with shame.

Art cranes his neck back to look at you. You’re still pressed against the wall, afraid that if you take one step closer, you won’t be able to stop yourself from taking ten more. And you don’t want to be close to him when his face shifts into pity or revilement. 

“You planning on drinking all of these?” Art asks, turning back to the bottles as if he knows his gaze is steadily undoing you and wants to grant a reprieve.

Eased slightly by the remarkable placidity of his tone, you’re able to answer calmly. But you still don’t move. 

“That was the plan.” 

Art lets out a non-committal hum. “Why?” 

You laugh awkwardly, wringing your hands together. “I don’t know, why does anyone drink?” 

“I don’t care about anyone, I'm asking about you.” His voice is firm, but the foundation of it is something less solid. His words shake on the way out. 

You’re overcome with the urge to be honest. It’s actually a lot easier when he’s not looking at you. 

“I drink because at some point in my life, every tiny thing became really difficult- like, embarrassingly difficult, to the point where I feel like a child again. And it turns out that ineptitude is easier to bear when you feel like you’ve imposed it on yourself. I drink because it makes me feel helpless…but, helpless by choice.”

The confession hangs suspended in the air, a horrifying, complicated marvel- like a beautiful butterfly now dead and pinned by its wings to a board. 

Art speaks into the silence, his back still turned to you. “Do you want to forget? Is that part of it?” 

“Forget what?” You’re struggling for breath now, his presence drawing all of the oxygen from the room.

He half-turns his head, blue eyes settling over you once more. “All of it.”

“There’s not enough alcohol in the world for that.” You say morosely.

You have learnt that getting drunk doesn’t rid you of all the thoughts that torment you in sobriety, it just pushes them further to the back. Even if you drink so much you can barely walk, the thoughts remain, banging on the barrier and demanding to be let back in. 

Art doesn’t respond to that. He turns back to the little bottles and you watch as he reaches out a hand and knocks over the one closest to him. He pushes it forward, sending them all toppling one after the other like dominos. His eyes are set on them as they roll around on the table, a couple falling onto the plush carpet. And your eyes are set on him. 

Then, he finally turns to properly face you, knocking the fallen bottles with his feet as he leans back against the table and crosses his arms against his chest. 

He’s waiting, you realise. Waiting for you to speak. Waiting for you to make the first move. Wanting you to come to him. 

You push off the wall and start walking towards him. “Why did you follow me in here, Art?”

He sighs, the corner of his lip pulling up with a melancholy smile. “Because you make me feel helpless.” 

That almost stops you in your tracks, but you recover quickly, barely a footstep faltering as you advance on him. Your heartbeat is a warning drum in your ears.

Once you reach him, Art widens his legs, allowing you to step between them.

As you settle your hands on his thighs, his duck beneath your dress and come to rest on the bare flesh of the back of your legs. He draws you closer, making you fingers dig into his trousers to steady yourself. 

You sigh, your eyes fluttering shut as he leans forward, brushing his lips against your exposed sternum. 

You’re still flushed and sweating from the uncharacteristically blazing English sun and you shudder as Art’s tongue darts out lapping at the moisture there. 

You rock forward, placing your chin on the top of his head, inadvertently pressing his mouth further into your skin. His lapping tongue turns into kisses, kisses that travel down onto the swell of your breasts and into the valley between them.

Even when he reaches the fabric of your dress, he doesnt let it stop him: Art’s lips close around your clothed nipple, wetting the thin fabric with his saliva. You let out a breathy moan into his hair as he moves onto the next one. 

As Art works his mouth against you, you push your hands higher, letting your fingers brush the bulge in his pants before they’re settling on his belt buckle. 

He says your name, each movement of his lips searing into your flesh. 

“Do I make you feel helpless?” He asks, his hands moving up to curl in the sides of your underwear. 

“No, Art. You don’t.”

As you undo his fly, he begins to pull your underwear down.

“Why?” He closes his mouth around your breast and bites down just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

You remove one of your hands from his crotch and use it to grab the back of his neck, you pull him away from your chest, forcing him to look up at you as your other hand disappears into his trousers, palming his hardness.

Even as you step out of your underwear and kick it away, you’re starting to stroke him. His mouth falls open, sucking in a breath as gazes up at you as if you hung the moon.

“How could I feel helpless?” You goad, leaning in and resting your mouth beside his ear to whisper. “When I have so much power over you?” 

Art’s initial answer is to buck up into your hand, chasing the friction you’re moving too slowly to give him, but when you laugh at his desperation, he’s surging up, wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you.

In a flash, you’ve taken up his position: ass resting on the edge of the desk. 

Before you can catch your breath, Art has his hands on your knees and is spreading your legs, exposing your bareness to him.

But apparently he still hasn’t got you where he wants, because his fingers then wrap around the back of your legs and he lifts you, placing you further back onto the wooden surface. More bottles roll off the edge and drop into the carpet. 

Then, finally, Art’s eyes meet yours. His smirk makes a return. 

“So…” He begins, his hands gathering up your dress and leaving it to bunch up at your waist. “I have absolutely no effect on you? None at all?”

“No-” You can’t even finish your thought let alone the word before his fingers are running through the wetness between your legs. Your instinct is to shut them, but his hips are in the way, so you only succeed in holding him firmly in place. 

You are left to stare as he lifts his hand up, evidence of your arousal glistening on his fingers. Then, slowly enough that he can watch the realisation of what he’s doing dawn on your face, Art takes his fingers into his own mouth.

His eyes meet yours and do not shift away for even a second as he licks your wetness from his skin. 

The tightness in your belly becomes almost too extreme to bear, and a throbbing begins between your legs. 

“I want you to ask.” Art says, his fingers–now wet with his own saliva–drawing circles on your inner thigh. “I want you to ask me to fuck you.” 

“I thought you were here because I make you feel helpless?” You try to sound taunting, but your voice is ragged with want. “Now you want to be in control?”

Art leans down and you expect an abrupt, bruising joining of your lips, but instead he kisses you slowly, tenderness in every gentle movement. His mouth is is still aligned with yours as he answers: 

“It’s not about control, sweetheart. I just want to hear that you want me as much as I want you.” 

You begin to kiss along his jaw, your sentence formed with words cushioned between the press of your lips:

“I want you to fuck me, Art.” 

Art's fingers curl around your jaw, bringing your lips back to his as he frees himself from his pants with his other hand. Your kiss is languid but rapidly growing with force, passion driving pleasure ever closer to point of pain.

“Condom?” Art questions into your open mouth. 

With his fingers digging into your chin, you can't shake your head so you’re forced to gather enough of your wits to speak again:

“Birth control.” 

“Okay.” Art pecks your lips before lifting a hand and spitting onto it. Then he’s fisting himself in his hand and pressing inside of you. 

Your legs immediately wrap around his waist, hooking together to pull him in even further. 

Art lets out a shuddered breath, his head dropping to your shoulder as he settles himself inside of you.

He kisses and licks across your collarbone, only stopping when he comes across the thin strap of your dress. With a little growl, he takes it between his teeth, tugging it back and then letting it ping back into your skin. 

You laugh, still adjusting to the feel of him inside of you as you move to pull down the top of your dress. But Art has other ideas. He stops you with a slow thrust, rolling his hips just enough to have your hands wrapping around his neck instead. 

“Let me do it.” He’s giving a command and yet it sounds like a grovel. 

Then, in unison, his fingers find the straps of your dress and he’s pulling them away, tugging the bodice down and exposing your breasts to him completely. His hands fall onto them immediately, palming the supple flesh and lifting them up higher so that he can kiss them even as he begins to rock into you. 

Just as your heartbeat begins to find some sort of rhythm again, Art pulls out of you almost completely before driving back in. Your breath is knocked out of you and as he begins to thrust with controlled rapidity.

Your hands fall to his still covered ass and dissatisfied with the lack of contact, you push your fingers past the waistband and dig your nails into his naked flesh. 

Art moans into your neck, clamping down with his teeth as he picks up his pace yet again. 

“Art-” You call out, lost in the press of him inside you. 

The table begins to shake so much that it’s slamming against the wall, the noise perfectly aligning with the sound of your hips slapping together.

“Tell me this doesn’t make you feel out of control.” Art pleads, his movements growing frenzied. 

By this point you can hardly think straight, so you give in, his statement going unanswered as your head is thrown back in pleasure. Art chuckles, licking up the column of your neck. 

“I think I got my answer.” 

“Shut up.” 

When Art laughs at you again, you remove your hands from his ass and grip his face instead, drawing his lips back up to yours. He opens wide, panting into your mouth before your tongues start to move together.

You stay like that, mouths joined and breaths shared as his thrusts become messier,  his hands on your back beginning to tremble.

But you’re not close yet and he knows it. He reaches between you and presses his thumb into your sensitive bud, applying enough pressure that, combined with him driving into you, has you quickly coming undone.  

You break the kiss, crying out as your body is wracked with convulsions. 

Art smiles, his eyes drooping closed as he chases his own release. And it doesn’t take long. You’re still coming back to yourself when his hips stutter and his fingers dig into you. He lets go, spilling inside you. 

You both go still. You press your face into his chest–his shirt now dappled with spots of sweat–as he places a kiss on the top of your head. 

You’re both breathing heavily, reeling in the wake of your joining when your phone–tucked into your purse that you had dropped by the door–begins to ring

Still inside you, Art shifts, pressing closer as his lips begin to kiss a path down your cheek. “Don’t answer it.” 

You lean back just enough to meet his eye and smile. “I’m not going to answer it.” 

Art matches your grin as he leans down and gives your lips a peck. “Good. Because I’m nowhere near done with you.”

[maximotts]

I know the trope tends to be older woman covering the younger one in lipstick stains but I wanna do that to milf Wanda 🥺 Like I think it would make her all giggly and maybe make her feel like she’s doing one of the things she’s missed out on 👉👈

I got this a few days ago and I've simply never recovered so here's how I imagine this little interaction would go. Disclaimer that I took two mini naps writing this drabble and it's got 0 editing; it's just cute.

"What has gotten into you?"

Wanda giggled, barely getting the question out before you were on her again, covering her cheeks in quick, scattered kisses. She could feel your lipstick leaving smudges on her skin, warm and waxy red smudges she was much more used to leaving on you than receiving.

She'd pushed at your shoulders too lightly for it to really move you, the action futile considering how you'd caged her under you on the sofa just moments after you'd stumbled through Wanda's front door. "You're right here in kissing range so..."

The reasoning was silly, but Wanda couldn't expect much else after a night you'd spent out drinking with your friends. You'd invited her along, but Wanda had the twins this weekend so she declined, spending her night trying to forget how badly she hoped you'd come over whenever you were ready to leave.

Unfortunately you'd caught her on the couch waiting up for you, red robe wrapped around her freshly showered form— so much for coming off as nonchalant about the possibility of seeing you, more so having you end your night with her, in a house she'd like you to consider your home too.

Wanda smelled the alcohol on your breath even as your lips trailed down to her neck; whatever you'd drunk all night must've been sweet, a faint fruity scent accompanying the liquor- cute. "Were you a good girl tonight?"

The question caught you off guard, her firm hand catching your jaw and forcing your confused gaze back to her face. Wanda stared you down as seriously as an over-tired and now flushed in the face woman could at two in the morning waiting for you to give her the answer she waited for.

She'd know if you lied. She always knew.

"I didn't do anything with anyone else, if that's what you're asking." Wanda moved to caress your cheek and you were quick to nuzzle into her hand, her warm palm grounding your hazy focus. Arms weakening, you settled your weight between her legs and the rough denim scratching along your inner thighs sent a shiver up her spine so suddenly, her breath caught in her throat for a minute. "Look at you... you're so pretty, mommy."

"Shhh, honey, the boys are sleeping." Sweet as the rambly compliment was, your volume control wasn't proving to be great while drunk.

The gentle reminder left you pouting, nosing at the base of her throat apologetically. "I'll be quiet! Let me kiss you more? Preferably all over? Just for a little bit, then bedtime."

"Alright okay! So eager..." Wanda couldn't help but laugh as your attention turned to her sternum, fumbling hands already struggling with the knot of her robe, appreciating not only your adoration, but your blunt honesty.

Both were quite new to her relationship wise and she was quickly finding it to be very... fun; something she'd missed out on most times in her marriage. "But you're showering first thing in the morning; you smell like that bar."

[peachysunrize]

MAMMAMIA ⥃ modern!Aemond + Aegon Targaryen

Summary: Baela finds out about your crush on her cousins, who just happen to be the new rising stars in the music industry. And with the promise of meeting them, she forces you to go with her to one of their concerts. (Listen to MAMMAMIA by Maneskin)

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, threesome, creampie, oral (F & M receiving), fingering, degradation, Band au, alcohol consume, Aegon gets high, cocaine use, unprotected sex. Basically porn no plot! English isn’t my first language <3 divider by @/cafekitsune

Word count: 3.08k

A/n: do I even need to say anything or you know how unhinged this new photoshoot has made me?? LETS GET FUCKED— sorry if it's bad. I'm sick and it's 2am...

“You can’t be serious!” Baela gasps, chuckling in disbelief, “you can’t be fucking serious, girl!”

“Don’t act as if I’m the crazy one! You-you are the one snooping around my phone!” Screaming, you chase Baela to give your phone back while she goes through all of the posts you have made on Tumblr, all those unhinged comments you made earlier under the posts of the new photoshoot of your favorite band.

“What the fuck— you have a crush on my cousins! You sneaky slut, eww, you want them to do what—?” She gasps, looking from your phone to your face before laughing, flustering you even more. 

You have no idea which post she is exactly looking at, but you know she’d not back down from teasing you until she has you begging with tears for her to stop.

“Give my phone back, bitch—”

“Nu-uh! You want my cousins to dick you down, girlie, you are one sick crazy woman!” She keeps laughing at you, stepping back when you leap for your phone.

“Stop scrolling! Haven’t your parents taught you about personal space— give it back!” You screech at her, trying to loop your arm around her to snatch your phone, but all your efforts are in vain when she dodges you and steps behind you.

“Those are the worst fuckboys I have ever met! And you want to meet them? Are you fucking with me?” She is finding too much enjoyment in tormenting you, chuckling and laughing when she sees how crazy you have gone over the new pictures of her cousins.

“Baela, you are not supposed to see those! If I wanted to tell you, I would! Now, be a decent fucking human and give my.phone.back!”

“Want me to tell you a lil secret, babe?” She leans towards you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder when she hands you back your phone, “They have a concert here, in the town tonight.”

“What?!” You ask, eyes wide and nervous as you look at how she wiggles her eyebrows at you.

“Lucky you! I have one more VIP ticket, guess you’ll be coming with me,” she explains so casually that for a second you’re left gaping at her, jaw on the floor with surprise.

“You can’t be serious, Bae. This is absurd—”

“Girlie, I’m literally telling you that I have a spare VIP ticket and I want you to come with me and meet them! And you call this absurd? You’re one lucky bitch for having me in your life! Now get upstairs we need to choose your outfit!”

“Bae, I can’t accept this! It must have cost a fortune!” You gasp when she pulls on your hand, not letting you recover from the shock she just gave you.

“Lucky and dumb. I talked to Jace, asked him to get me three tickets so me and Rhaena could go and if she wanted she could bring someone! But she didn’t, and now, that ticket is yours! You’re seriously so fucking dumb if you think I paid for anything.”

You open your mouth to say something, but close it abruptly when she looks back and glares at you as she pulls you behind her to your room.

“Alright, alright! Are you sure you want me—”

“Shut the fuck up and pull out every sexy outfit you have! The more cleavage, the better. Aegon would lose his fucking mind if he gets a peek of your boobs.”

You giggle and listen to her, giddy and excited about tonight.

———

You tangle your fingers with Baela, confidence oozing from your every step, and you can already feel so many sets of eyes on your trio as you walk toward the VIP section. Baela forced you to wear a very tight and short leather skirt — she said Aemond loved latex or leather skirts when it came to women — and you obliged, pairing it with a tight crop top that shaped your breasts just perfectly, and for the last touch, she suggested a fishnet that covered your thighs just perfectly.

You are indeed one lucky bitch to have Baela in your life, trying to make you look like a candy in her cousins’ eyes so that you could get your dream come true.

The twins lead you towards the front of the stage, grabbing the beers that are being served among the crowd while you wait for the band to come on stage.

You rock on your high heel boots, biting your crimson-colored lips as you wait for them to come. Anticipation eating you alive while the time ticks away and you sip on your beverage.

Finally, the lights go down and you see Jace and Daeron going towards their instruments. The crowd goes wild as they shout and scream their names, followed for cheers for Luke who joins them and waves at the audience. The two people who you’ve been waiting for the most are only missing from the stage.

As soon as Daeron starts playing his drums, everyone starts screaming and cheering when they see Aegon and Aemond joining the band on the stage, Aegon already making his way towards the center of it as he starts singing, Aemond close behind him with his fingers already doing his magic on his electric guitar. 

 [ Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, mamma mia-ma, ma-mamma mia-ah

I feel the heat up, uh, I feel the beat of drums

Call the police, I'll do it, they've stolen all my fun 

I'm breaking free, but I'm stuck in a police car ]

From the second you spot them, your eyes are glued to them as you dance with Baela and Rhaena, screaming and having the time of your life. You can’t believe how lucky you are to be standing a few meters away from the men you fantasize about for hours per day.

You and Baela finish your drinks, shouting the lyrics with every breath that you have left in your lungs while dancing and keeping your eyes on the stage. 

You catch Aemond’s eye, feeling your blood pumping faster as he winks at you, moving from chord to chord so effortlessly, his long fingers pressing into the strings with ease and you find yourself wanting nothing more than to feel them on your body, exploring each up and down.

[ Oh, mamma mia-ma, ma-mamma mia-ah

They treat me like if I did something criminal

All eyes on me, I feel like I'm a superstar

I'm not a freak, I just thought it was carniva ]

Aegon keeps singing, his chest in full view as he unbuttons his shirt, moving around the stage gracefully while he sings each note correctly. You look away from Aemond’s fingers only to catch Aegon walking towards where you are standing, a lazy smirk on his face as he keeps singing and kneeling in front of you.

[ Oh, ma-mamma mia, spit your love on me

I'm on my knees, and I can't wait to drink your rain

I'll keep it secret if you let me get a taste

Tell me your limit, and we'll cross the line again

Oh, mamma-mamma mia, ahahah! ]

He reaches forward, cupping your cheek with his free hand while he stares into your eyes as he sings:

[ Oh, ma-mamma mia, spit your love on me

I'm on my knees, and I can't wait to drink your rain

I'll keep it secret if you let me get a taste

Tell me your limit, and we'll cross the line again

Oh, mamma-mamma mia, ahahah! ]

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, staring into your eyes with a newfound feeling. Your lips part in surprise, ears ringing as you try to realize what the fuck is happening now, and you can feel how he resists the urge to push his thumb into your eager mouth.

Like his younger brother, he shoots you a wink, leaving you breathless and needy as he stands up and moves toward the other side of the stage. 

You can already feel yourself soaking through your panties, following them both as they start singing the chorus together, but you can’t seem to be paying attention to what words they’re saying. All you can do is look at them; Aemond is in a sheer shirt with a long coat and latex pants while Aegon is bare-chested with long white pants. 

They look too good to be real.

After a few seconds, Baela nudges you and brings you out of your thoughts, and you join them again, dancing and singing with the band through the night.

The concert ends sooner than you would’ve liked, but Baela and Rhaena grab your hands to pull you out of the crowd toward the backstage, giggling all the way to the door. The bodyguard does an identity check before letting you three join the band in their rooms.

“Hey, girls!” Jace announces, pulling Baela into a hug before grinning at you, extending his hand to introduce himself.

“It’s a pleasure—“

“Oh, for fuck sake, save your gratitude for the people who matter. This guy doesn’t care,” Baela says, pulling you behind her towards the room with Rhaena and Jace following closely. 

As soon as you step inside, your eyes find the men you wanted to see; Aemond and Aegon are sitting on the couch, each of them having their drinks of choice in hand while a few girls flock around them, rubbing their hands all over them.

“Boys, I brought a fan!” 

“Hey!” You pinch her Baela’s waist.

“Oh, look who’s here!” Aegon says, standing up from the couch without glancing at the pouting women who were all over him, instead his eyes drink your sight up, “saw you out there, doll. You were quite enjoying yourself.”

“Oh, I was! I loved it!” You exclaim excitedly, realizing how desperate you might have sounded, you try to apologize but Aegon’s laugh stops you as he reaches to cup your cheek, another lazy smirk on his pink lips.

“We’re so happy you enjoyed yourself and the show, right, Aemond?” 

The younger one turns his head, a sinister smile on his mouth already when he seizes your outfit, licking his thin lips.

“Of course, when Baela told us she’d bring a friend we didn’t expect her to bring such beauty.” He says, standing up as well before making his way towards his older brother.

You nearly melt under their honey-coated words, a large yet shy smile breaking on your face as you gaze up at them through your lashes, wanting nothing more than to do hear more, but with everyone around it isn’t possible.

“Come! Let us have a drink!” Daeron claps, jumping to give everyone a glass of the whiskey Aemond is having while Aegon leads you and Aemond towards the couch they were already sitting on after he shooed out the other girls.

They make sure you are sitting between them, keeping you closer than before with Aemond’s finger caressing your bare shoulders while Aegon grips your thigh gently.

If anyone notices anything, they don’t say it, letting the three of you have your moment before they decide to change the topic.

“What if we go to the nearest club? I’m sure we can have fun there!” Luke suggests, looking hopefully.

“I rather go to the tour bus and have fun there, you should go though,” Aemond shrugs, already planning his next move on you, knowing how Aegon would catch up on his hints immediately.

Baela and Rhaena agree to go with Luke, taking Jace and Daeron with them before Baela smirks at you and gives you a cheeky wink, leaving you and your favorite boys alone.

“So, doll, do you want to have a photograph? We keep some in the bus,” Aegon tells you, rubbing circles with his thumb on your inner thigh, chuckling when you look up at him with blown pupils.

“I would love to,” you reply, trying to keep your voice down, not really wanting to sound desperate.

But when they take you to the bus, everything takes a turn and you find your lips locked in a passionate kiss with Aemond, his tongue moving along your bottom lip as he invades your mouth.

Aegon’s hands roam the length of your body while he sucks marks on your neck and shoulders, marking you as his and brother’s while they make you ready for whatever is about to come.

Aegon sits on the couch, fumbling with his belt as he watches you and his brother sucking the air out of each other’s mouths. He sighs with relief when his hard cock is freed from the confines of his pants, stroking himself into full hardness before pushing the fabric down to his ankles.

Aemond lets go of your lips, smirking when he finds you wide-eyed with pretty bruised lips. He turns you around before pulling down the zipper of your pretty leather skirt, pushing you on your knees in front of Aegon before he kneels behind you and pulls down your skirt, exposing your lace panties to his hungry gaze.

Aegon keeps stroking his thick cock with one hand, the other one caressing your face while he fists a bit of your hair, pulling you closer until your face is near his throbbing member.

Aemond, behind you, grabs the side of your fishnets, ripping them apart just so he can push your panties aside, groaning at the sight of your sweet and soaked pussy just for them. He has to keep himself away from diving in and feasting on your nectar like a starved dog ready to please his master.

You reach forward and grab a hold of Aegon’s dick, slapping it on your tongue a few times before taking the head in your mouth, tasting the salty flavor of his pre-cum. You kitten lick the angry tip, giggling when he curses and throws his head back.

Moaning around Aegon’s cock, you push your hips back as soon as Aemond licks a stripe from your center up to your clit, taking the bundle of nerves in his mouth. Aegon takes his chance and shoves your face down, forcing you to take more of him.

The brothers take what they want from you; one bobbing your head with his fingers in your hair, the other one buries his face between your thighs and shakes his head side to side, rubbing his curved nose in the right places that has you seeing stars.

Aemond’s fingers join his mouth soon, two digits at once that have you choking around Aegon’s thick cock in your mouth, fucking you at a fast pace.

Unfortunately or fortunately, you can’t form a coherent thought. You just lay there when Aemond pulls his fingers out of you to brush his coat off, pushing his pants down enough to grab a hold of his cock and bring it out of his boxers.

Your eyes water as Aegon keeps his assault on your mouth, the head of his dick hitting the back of your throat as his groans and moans fill the bus, and you can honestly feel him getting closer and closer, but he stops and pulls out of your mouth quickly.

“Turn around, doll, let Aemy see your pretty face as he fucks you stupid,” Aegon says as he stands up and walks to the desk in the corner before Aemond manhandles you on your back, most of your body supported by his strong arms keeping your hips aligned with his weeping cock.

You bite your lips, hands reaching to hold on to Aemond’s forearms as he pushes his fat cock inside you slowly, groaning at the resistance he faces but not pulling out either. With one swift thrust, he sheathes himself inside you completely, groaning at how warm and wet you are for him.

Aegon comes back with a pack of Snow, grinning at the sight of you getting fucked by his younger brother while his cock is still hard and twitchy against his stomach. He crouches down next to you, opening the pack before he lines up two rows of the powder on your breasts, deeping his head down to sniff one, groaning in delight as he licks at your breast after that.

“Keep going, lil bro. We shouldn’t disappoint our biggest fan,” Aegon chuckles, leaning down to sniff the second line as well before he tips his head back, relishing in the moans and yelps of pleasure you let out as Aemond keeps fucking you in a fast pace that has you seeing stars.

“Are you going to join or not?” Aemond asks his older brother breathlessly, his good eye glued to where your bodies are joined.

“Oh, yes, I’m gonna fill her pretty mouth with my cum now,” you moan at the thought of him fucking his load down your throat, “yeah, what a slut we have here, eager to take more than one cock inside her. Pretty doll, ready to serve your favorite celebrities?” Aegon hovers above your chest and you open your lips for him, hands coming for support to his thick thighs before he pushes himself in as well.

Aemond fucks you harder, his thumb going down to rub on your pearl in a fast pace, bringing you closer to your peak. 

Aegon tries to match his brother’s rhythm, thrusting his dick into your mouth intensely, groaning and shaking on top of you as he fucks your throat.

The brothers moan and have their way with you in sync, and with one final moan and a deep rough thrust from Aemond, you come undone, clenching so hard around Aemond that he comes with you as well, emptying his thick load inside your cunt.

Aegon takes a bit longer, so you reach and fumble with his balls, squeezing them in your hands while you give him the best puppy look you can muster, begging him to give you whatever he has.

And he does, coming inside you as he shudders, pressing his hips to your nose until there is no room left for you to breathe, so you lay there and take it, spurting some of his salty cum out of your mouth. 

They both pull away from you, Aegon lies down on the floor while Aemond sits back on his heels, smiling at your filled pussy, watching his cum dribbling out of you slowly, leaking on the floor.

“You’re not going anywhere, doll,” Aegon says, “you’re ours from now. Not a chance we’d let a pretty thing like you flee away from us.”

[shawnxstyles]

baby honey

OCTOBER 29, 2023

summary: besides being a friendly bartender at night, harry likes to get a little extra cash by doing porn during the day; and he’s successful. but who knew it was so common for two people who work at the same bar to both be secret porn stars?

request: @victoria-styles: “How about like Harry is a porn star who requests a video with Y/N.”

song: baby honey- harry <3

words: 11k

warnings: SMUT (f-receiving [masturbation], m-receiving [masturbation], mentions of porn, dirty talk) and language.

note: sorry for being off the world for so long… i’ll probably end up doing it again soon. but i had a day to write and i wanted to throw this out there. again, i apologize if it’s rushed or sloppy. it’s just the time i had :/ PART TWO

secret pornstar!harry x secret pornstar!y/n

—

“What’d you like, beautiful?” Harry smiles brightly, flashing his white bunny teeth at the lady on the other side of the bar. Her auburn highlights were curled romantically while she sported a tight black dress that was too small for her breasts. She was definitely a young college student while Harry was in his late 20s. Noticing his appearance, she bites her burgundy-painted lips. Her elbows lean on the slick counter, leaning forward to subtly show Harry more of her cleavage.

He didn’t indulge, but continued with his flirty attitude in order to get more tips. Charm was his speciality; it came naturally to him with no effort. After bartending for two years, everything became easy. Plus, it was fun to flirt all night long. He never got tired of the desire that flashed in women’s eyes as they looked him up and down. It made him feel confident and cocky, and he tried his hardest not to be arrogant when talking about it with his co-workers.

Being a bartender was like playing a role for some people, but for Harry, it was just who he was. And he got paid for it. In a nice paycheck and hefty tips.

“Mm, I don’t know. What do you suggest?” Her voice was high and hissy, trying to appear sensual. She slides a card toward him with two fingers. Harry doesn’t blink an eye or hesitate at this behavior; he’s seen this movie too many times to be naive.

With a smirk on his face, Harry works his magic behind the counter. His white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, giving the lady a perfect view of his forearm muscles and veins. The woman watches his every move, focusing on the way his tattooed hands grip every bottle with efficient skill yet delicacy.

In less than two minutes, a peach colored drink was placed in front of the woman. Her eyes visibly sparkle as if she’s never seen alcohol before she sips the liquid.

“Oh my God! This is delicious,” She practically moans out, causing Harry to smirk. He loves when people compliment his craft. “What is this?”

“Sex on the beach,” Harry winks and flashes his famous grin before snatching her card and waltzing away.

His parting was almost cool, almost movie-like until he ran into somebody holding a large tub of ice. The tub smacked him in his abdomen, knocking the wind out of him. He groans deeply, trying to catch his breath while clutching his stomach for a moment.

“Fuck! Are you okay?” Your eyes wander over Harry’s face and body, attempting to recover. Hearing his voice made a flush spread across your whole skin, but you blame it on the warmth around the bar. Your white and yellow-painted fingers clutch around the handles tightly.

“Yeah, m’fine. Just knocked the wind out of me s’all,” He smiles reassuringly, throwing his rag over his shoulder. His eyes scan over your figure, just like he tries to avoid doing every night.

You had your hair pinned up in a messy bun that was simple, yet so alluring. A classic white button up and a black vest adorned your body perfectly. You wore the same standard uniform as everyone else, yet you made it look so seductive to Harry; he assumed you got loads of tips by the end of the night. Even if you were in a garbage bag, you would blow people away in the bar–men and women. He was jealous of everyone who got to be a part of your flirtatious side, but not everyone saw the genuine side of you like he had.

Another flush cascaded your skin as his eyes drifted over you and the smallest smirk appeared on his lips. The sounds of music and people buzzing drunkenly weren’t nearly as loud as the heart that was thumping in your chest. You clenched the handles even harder before looking anywhere but him, too intimidated by his charming presence.

“I’ll just, um,” You suggested awkwardly with a half smile. Standing this close to Harry without talking made you think of things. Things that you dreamt about, or things that inspired your hand to drift between your legs. The ice in the tub was probably melting from the warmth radiating off of you.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Harry shakes his head and shifts in an attempt to move past you.

You adjust the tub as he slides next to you, bodies rubbing together. His hand gently rests on your shoulder as he wiggles by you. Butterflies soar throughout your tummy at the brief contact before his touch is gone way too soon. You watch as his smile grows, walking backwards before turning around and charming another customer.

You exhale and return to focusing on your job, the bubbly feeling never leaving you.

From the corner of his eye, Harry sees you walk around the corner until you’re completely out of his sight. The black slacks you wore made him tight in his trousers a countless amount of times, basically every night. Even though he tried to avoid staring, his gaze and curiosity was drawn to you, so he hopelessly stared at your body as you strutted away. When his greedy cock twitches, he bites his tongue.

Well, at least he knows what he’s thinking about later.

God, it was so wrong. To think about you while he was getting himself off. He couldn’t help himself. After working with you for a year, his attraction to you never ceased. He thought if maybe he just got off on the idea of you one time he would be freed from the attraction he felt for his co-worker. But that only created a routine.

Harry would hook-up occasionally, and yeah, it would be nice, but nothing satisfied him completely because they weren’t you. He consistently found himself masturbating with thoughts of you on your knees. Or you on his lap, straddling or riding him. He would imagine the way you’d whine, whimper, moan, and scream for him, and these thoughts made him come hard every time.

But that nagging, unsatisfied feeling haunted him. He wanted you so bad it almost hurt. So, he resorted to other, less practical options.

He had thought about joining the porn industry awhile ago when he was in college. He thought it would be great money, and it turns out it’s even better than what he makes as a bartender.

And he thought being a bartender would make him cocky and arrogant.

Harry started over half a year ago–a few months after you got the job. In order to distract himself from thinking of you or sleeping with other women, he recorded videos during the day. Surprisingly, he got more popular than he thought he would, gaining a few thousand subscribers in just three months. Now, seven months since the beginning, Harry would do videos, live streams, and personal requests for people who paid extra.

But he never showed his face. Ever.

At night, he would work his busy shift at the bar, flirting with customers just like he did on live streams. This way, he couldn’t allow himself to engage in the idea of having a crush on a co-worker. It was just unprofessional. But even if he tried doing all of this, it was impossible for him to deny the small crush he had on you. So, that’s all he labeled it as; a small crush. Nothing more.

He wouldn’t say you were his only reason for getting into the industry. He had thought about it for quite some time, so you were just his… motivator.

When the bustling night finally comes to an end, nothing but a few footsteps echo throughout the bar as Harry wipes the counter and tables clean. As he’s just finishing up his last table, he hears your angelic voice on the other side of the bar.

“Need some help?” You offer, with a slight head tilt and a show-stopping smile as you lean on the glossy, black counter. That was the smile that got you tips, and if it didn’t, Harry would sure be willing to give you some himself. “Please let me help.”

“Just finishing up. Go on home. Don’t worry ‘bout closing up,” He tosses the rag over his shoulder as he walks towards the back room where all the locker rooms are located. You sigh into the silent air as you follow him.

“Harry, you can’t keep doing this for me every night. I can close up by myself. I’m a big girl…”

Ever since you’ve started, Harry’s been intrigued by you. Out of curiosity on your first night, Harry stayed back and helped you close up. He was surprised they made you close so soon, especially on the first night. But you should’ve had previous training.

It was purely curiosity, just to see if you did it right and whatnot. But then he did it the next night, and the next. And eventually, he anticipated and looked forward to cleaning up the bar, knowing that it was just the two of you. It didn’t really help Harry with his little crush on you, but he didn’t care when he heard your laugh and saw your smile. You were refreshing to him after a long, busy night that crept into early morning.

“I know, I know. Don’t want you to be lonely s’all.” Popping open his locker, he shuffles through all of his belongings. You appreciated that Harry would stay an extra hour every single night just because he didn’t want you to feel lonely. It made your heart all warm and your stomach feel gushy every time you were alone together. For some reason right now, his words made your tummy tingle.

“And I appreciate that a lot! But I feel bad for making you stay here longer than you have to. I know Carrie doesn’t even know you work that late,” You cross your arms while talking about your manager. Harry rolls his eyes as he continues to mess around in his locker.

“You’re not makin’ me do anything. I’m doin’ it all on my own,” He rebuttals as you move closer to him as if he’ll hear you clearer.

“But Harry–” Harry cuts off your voice because it sounds too whiny, pathetic, and way too erotic for him to make any rational decisions with you standing this close to him. He slams his hand on the metal locker, making your eyes widen and freeze.

“But nothing. Stop your whinin’, Y/N. I thought you were a big girl,” Harry grumbles before unbuttoning his vest and shrugging it off. Even if he’s just removing his vest, his hands are a bit shaky, nerves flowing through him because you’re staying right in front of him, unmoving, while he’s undressing himself.

“What are you doing?” You ask anxiously as your eyes flash over at his movements.

“Taking m’vest off?”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Well, now, you look fucking stupid.

You both bicker back and forth until Harry caves and you shine that bullet-proof smile at him. He swears he feels his knees buckle and heart jump in his chest, but swallows the feelings down.

“Fine, get the mop.”

Together, you wipe all the surfaces clean, mop the floors, restock any liquors that were empty, and lock the doors. When your job is done, you and Harry walk into the back room to grab your stuff.

“Thanks for staying,” You felt as though it was getting awkward, the silence of your footsteps and the creakness of the locker door.

“‘Course,” Harry replies gruffly and shuts his door. As he leads you out the backdoor, you both start heading in different directions without knowing. Harry usually parks in the same stall every day if he can. However, you don’t and just park anywhere you can.

“Oh. Well, goodnight, H,” You smiled softly as you drifted away to your car. It looked a little different to Harry, but maybe that’s just because it was almost pitch-black outside. Or did you get a new car and he just never noticed? Harry watches you carefully to make sure you get to your vehicle safely, and when you do, he makes his way to his own car.

You didn’t call him H a lot. The first time you did it was by accident when you spilt something on his slacks during your first week in training. He just laughed and cleaned himself up, and then said that nobody had ever called him that besides his mom. For some odd reason, a little spark ignited in you, so you started calling him H, but not all the time since it seemed special. Most of the time when you two were alone. You didn’t want other people saying H when it kind of became your guys’ thing. Besides his mom of course.

Harry loved when you called him H. His mom called him that when he was a little boy, but it’s been at least a decade since she’s said just the pure letter.

As Harry starts his engine and backs out, he inhales deeply with the thought of you in his mind. As always.

–

“Y/N, I need my car back,” Penny says on the other side of the phone, slight annoyance lacing her tone.

“I know, okay? I’m just trying to save up, and I almost have enough!”

“Fine,” Penny sighs. You can hear the exhausted pinch of her nose, “but I need it back by next Friday for that trip no matter what. Even if you have to take the damn bus. And if you don’t, I’m telling Mom and Dad.”

“Thank you so much!” Your voice is cut off by the sound of the call ending, and you sigh heavily into the morning air. She’s very mature for a thirty year old.

Last week, your car had broken down on the side of the road. It was an old, shitty car, but it got you from your parents’ house and through most of college. Your parents helped pay for a good chunk of your tuition, so you didn’t dare to ask them to loan you some money for a new car. You didn’t want them to know you needed help because they’ve already done so much for you two and you know they’re looking to retire at some point. So, you asked your older sister, Penny, to borrow hers for a few days while you came up with a better solution. She was fine with it at first, but you can tell it’s probably time to give it back.

However, even though you said you would have the money by next Friday and it’s Sunday, you wouldn’t. There is no way in hell you were going to come up with an extra two thousand dollars in twelve days.

–

You decided to open up to Harry as you were closing the bar on Tuesday night. He listened with care and nodded along to every complaint you whined. Even though it brutally killed him to listen to it. Gosh, he was so dirty minded.

“I can’t even get a second job because I wouldn’t get paid in time. And I really don’t want Penny playing snitch and telling my parents about my car,” You gasp, “What if they stop paying for my tuition because they think I’m irresponsible? Ugh, what should I do, Harry?”

“Relax f’me,” Harry reassured, and bit his cheek at his choice of words. Why is he the most sexual person ever? “I could always take you to work. And loan you some cash.”

“Absolutely not. We don’t work the same days and I don’t want you driving me when you could be busy—”

“Y/N, s’not an issue. The university s’not that far from ‘ere.”

“But—”

“No,” Harry ended the banter quickly with a strict tone. His voice made you swallow and submit without a second thought. Your stomach unconsciously burned and your heart beated rapidly as you blinked in place. “Go get y’things.”

“Fine, but I don’t want your money.”

So, you got your things. Harry walked you out to your car and then you went your separate ways. Even though he said it’s not a big deal, you didn’t drop it. Instead, you did excessive research on part-time jobs that pay really well. However, your options were slim to none.

Giving up, you fell dramatically onto your mattress in defeat. Suddenly, your phone pings and you check it, wondering who would be texting you at one A.M.

H: Send me your schedule when you get the chance. The new one hasn't been printed yet.

H: You’re probably asleep, sorry

Y/N: i’m not asleep

Y/N: *Image Attachment*

H: Cool thanks

Y/N: no thank YOU for helping me out you’re too kind H

H: Anything for you love

Is what Harry wanted to say, but he was too much of a chicken. That’s what Harry wanted to say in a perfect world, but nothing is on his side. He thought he had erased the message and exited the app. Instead, the message sent, and autocorrect changed the entire meaning.

H: Anything for your love

This is why punctuation and revision is important!

Your heart skipped a beat. Longer than a beat. You felt the organ get caught in your throat and subtly choke you as you read the four words. Why would he say that? You wait a few moments to see if he’s going to type something else, maybe realize he made a mistake, but he never does. So, you sit rereading the four words like a mantra in your head.

You turn your phone off after you realize how ridiculous you’re being. You place the device on your nightstand and try to go to sleep. But you can’t. You can’t stop thinking of Harry. His kindness, his voice, his body, his words… They’re infecting you and giving you insomnia.

So, instead of staring at the ceiling until you fall asleep, you snatch your laptop from below your nightstand. You pull up your private browser (not that it matters) and search your favorite website. Well, your favorite porn website.

If you watched enough videos, or maybe even fingered yourself, you would fall asleep.

You were a regular on the website. More than a regular. You were a… worker. A star, or whatever. Is that what the employees were called? At the beginning of college you started recording little videos of yourself just groping or rubbing hoping to earn a little cash. But when you got a little more confident, you would rub your clit and finger yourself until you came.

Crazy, right?

It’s quite insane how it all happened. It’s a good side hustle, but it’s still not enough to help you buy a car by your deadline. You get paid less than you do as a bartender, which kind of sucks. You thought about quitting, but it’s probably the funnest job you’ve ever had. How many jobs do you get orgasms from?

None.

Maybe you need to step up your game. Maybe you need to start using various toys that your viewers recommend in order to spice things up. Will that get you views? You didn’t know because you didn’t know a lot about the porn industry.

Scrolling past your profile to avoid obsessing over your insecurities, you look at who's live. That’s one thing you’ll never do; go on live. No matter how much the handful of viewers you get want you to, you don’t trust yourself. You never show your face in any of your videos and if you did by accident, you always blur it out. But on livestream, you can’t just go back and fix it. Your face will be on the internet forever, and your biggest fear is that it will haunt you for the rest of your life.

What if you can’t get a real job because your face is on some porn website? Or you can’t get married? Or you can’t look your friends in the eyes because they’ve seen yours on a livestream?

You couldn’t live with that.

When nothing seems at all entertaining, a video of a man with tattoos spawns on your screen. Your first thought was that it looks like Harry, but you know it wasn’t. The man didn’t have the cross tattoo on his left hand and was lacking in other spots.

You bet Harry was fit. The way he carried those tubs of ice or lifted something heavy off the shelves… You knew he had to have some type of hefty muscle under his rolled button-up. Speaking of, when he curls the white sleeves, you can’t help but ogle him every time you see him. You strain to look away because his forearms just look so delicious with his smooth, tattooed skin.

Nonetheless, you still clicked on the video. It was a solo guy simply just jerking himself off with loads of foreplay and dirty talk. Usually, this kind of scene makes you cringe. But as your mind spirals, you imagine it’s Harry; his voice, his tattoos, his body, his hands…

Every explicit word and sound that falls from the man’s mouth causes you to whimper as you translate it as Harry. Your hand easily shuffles itself between your widening legs, rubbing gently over the cotton of your panties.

The guy begins stroking his cock, slowly but surely as his tip leaks. You shut your eyes, not bothering with the video. All you wanted were the sounds—the grunting, moaning, and direct words spouting from this man’s throat that pushed you further. They sounded gruff, and you couldn’t erase how perfectly it aligned with your imagination of Harry.

A broken moan escapes you when you shift your underwear to the side and slot in a finger. You barely teased yourself, and thrusted in and out with purpose.

The man in the video was American, and some may say it’s hard to imagine a British accent. But when you were horny and had a ridiculous crush on your 28 year old co-worker who was 6 years older than you, your brain was relentless.

The audio spouted out his grumbled moan as your opposing thumb rolled over your clit. You couldn’t stop thinking of Harry’s hands on you, his fingers inside of you instead of your own. You imagine he’s good too. You can practically feel the way he sinks all the way into you and curls deliciously until his rings are teasing your folds. His smirk would hang over your face as you broke down, trembling as you came around his digits.

That wasn’t real, but your mind couldn’t comprehend that right now. As the guy loudly groaned one final time, he came with spurts of his orgasm landing on his chiseled torso.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came around two fingers that weren’t Harry’s. The remaining thought left you unsatisfied overall, but it would have to surfice for tonight. As you drained yourself of your orgasm, you trudged to your shared bathroom and quickly cleaned yourself up before anyone could see.

Your dormmates were always in and out. They both were in full-time relationships and jobs that caused them to be busy twenty-four-seven. Sometimes, you were glad because then you could have the whole dorm to yourself. That’s usually when you recorded your videos for your website, and then would edit them some other time.

Now exhausted, you flopped onto your bed and shut your laptop closed. You twisted off your bedside lamp as your eyes grew heavier by the minute. It wasn’t long before your mind dragged you into slumber, the thought of Harry still lingering.

—

When you woke up the next morning, you were glad you didn’t have work that night. Although you’ve selfishly gotten off to Harry before, you never did have to face him the next day. It’s almost like you planned it that way. You groggily rolled out of bed as you normally do and began your short morning routine.

You left the doom and walked to class, too tired to get a coffee, but too tired to go to class. Your head pounded, needing the addicting caffeine, so you forced yourself to walk down to the small coffee shop near your school.

Snatching the miniature paper cup, you skulked your way to class with half your brain on. During the lecture, you felt yourself slipping away into dreamland; one where you had a great paying job, a nice, working car, and a very, very comfy bed. You imagined yourself sleeping peacefully and then waking up to the sound of chirping birds on your windowsill and a handsome man by your side. For a sliver of a moment, due to your shenanigans last night, your brain envisioned Harry as the man beside you. But even the exhausted and delirious morning version of you knew you were being foolish to even think about Harry in the same bed as you. Boy, was that a fantasy.

It was too domestic and way too out of reach for you both. You merely closed with the guy and ranted about your own life. Pouring out your problems was definitely not attractive, and neither was a college girl that was six years younger than him without a working car. But he offered to drive you to work. What does that mean? Nothing. That’s just what friendly co-workers do, right? When you realized you were insanely delusional, you rushed to scribble the notes in your notebook before your daydreams got the best of you.

“That’s all for today,” were your favorite set of words at the moment. The second you heard your professor’s routine dismissal, you were shoving your supplies in your bag with more energy than you had all day. You were the first to exit class, but was that really surprising?

When you got back to the dorm, you dropped your bag and fell flat on your bed. Silence filled your room just as last night (or this morning if you wanted to get technical). But it was brighter and a bit stuffer due to the heat of the sun beaming through your window that you forgot to block with your blinds. Groaning, you do just that right as you get a message from your phone. Flopping back on your bed, you flip the device over with surprise.

H: Do you work today

You were shocked to see that Harry texted you because one, it was mid-day and two, he rarely ever texts. When his name pops up on your screen’s wallpaper, your heart jumps in your chest before reading the message ten more times in order to comprehend it. But this text specifically had you confused. You sent him your schedule last night, so he knows exactly when you work. Why would he need to be asking you when he has the information?

Instead of being a bitch, you just reply simply.

Y/N: i don’t. why what’s up

He responds quickly.

H: Carrie called and asked if anyone could come in to cover Allison’s shift tonight

Y/N: closing?

H: Yeah

Y/N: are you working?

Why would you ask that? You were probably going to pick up the shift anyway, so why didn’t you just say yes?

Maybe because your delusional ass wants to keep this dry, solely work-related conversation going!

H: Yes

Y/N: kk then i can cover

H: Need a ride?

Why did Harry ask that? He knows that you still have your sister’s car for the rest of the week, yet he still asked. Is there a little sliver inside of him that hopes you’ll say yes just so he can spend time with you? Yes. The real question was, is it weird that he wanted you to say yes?

Y/N: it’s okay i still have penny’s car until friday

Harry didn’t respond after that. He was hit with what he assumed was disappointment, but he had no reason to be disappointed.

You were the type of person to ask a million questions until you found out the reason behind something. Harry found that out early on. So, just in case you ask him why he reached out to you, his excuse would be that you needed the money because of Tuesday’s rant. Maybe it would sound a little harsh, but it was better than Harry admitting that he just wanted to work with you again. Or that he wanted to be with you alone.

God, he sounds like such a creep.

When the night came, Harry was impatiently waiting for you to come in. He had already been there an hour and every few minutes his head would look backward to see if you were walking in through the back door. When he realized how weird and obsessive he was being, he refocused on his work; smiling, charming, and getting tips. Some nights were harder than others to act all sexy and sweet because he didn’t always feel that way. But when he worked with you, everything seemed a bit easier. But it was also because he had the dirtiest mind in the world and couldn’t stop thinking about what was underneath your button-up. Okay, so maybe working with you wasn’t the easiest…

“Look at her.”

“Who?”

“That one. The one with the pinned up hair,” A burly man points. “I would not mind gettin’ some of that.”

“Oh yeah. Look at her tits. They are practically poppin’ out of that top–”

Harry’s never turned around so quickly in his life. When he turned, he saw exactly what the two bastards were looking at; you. You were wearing a little more makeup than usual and your top was missing the first button. Harry felt his blood boil, but not with rage. No, it was bubbling up with some intense need to push you into the back room and lock the door. He would pluck off every single button with his mouth if you asked him to. But he also hated that everyone could see. Every person in this bar, including the two perverts behind him, got to ogle your beauty. Harry felt like he couldn’t admire you the way that strangers get to, and he was right. He couldn’t. It was wrong. You were friends. You were co-workers. That had to be against some rule, right?

Once he got his head somewhat straight, he spun back around to face the two men again. Harry was not charming and he was not smiling this time. Before Harry even had the chance to speak, the man was already talking over him.

“Yo, you think you could hook me up with that one? The busty one?” Harry was going to beat the shit out of this guy. But he’s going to try his best to remain professional first.

“You’re not allowed to hit on employees. And you’re not allowed to talk about them in an inappropriate manner,” Harry clenched his jaw and peered over at you, “If you say another goddamn word about her I will kick your ass to the curb, yeah?”

One of the men wasn't even paying attention anymore, but the one who started it all merely snickered at Harry. He shook his head in annoyance before spinning around on his stool and hopping off. He could hear little grumbles coming from his bearded mouth, but he didn’t actually say anything else. Harry felt like it was a little victory in his book, but he still felt that drop of jealousy inside of him.

Control.

He took a deep breath and concentrated on anything else. He attempted to stay as far away from you as possible because he thinks tonight may be the night he loses control. You had your hair pinned up again, like usual, but the ends were sticking out. Harry thought about pulling on them until your hair came undone completely. Like he noticed earlier, you had on more makeup, but it wasn’t a lot compared to some of the women that waltzed into the bar. Your lipstick was a bold red while your eyes had that gold glitter eyeshadow stuff that made them sparkle. To say the least, you were attractive. You were a captivating magnet of beauty that people were drawn to. When you walked in a room, people stopped to look at you for minutes at a time because they were fascinated by you. Well, that’s at least how Harry felt. Every time.

At midnight, when the bar finally died down a bit because it’s Wednesday, Harry still tried to avoid you. You seemed extra smiley and extra bouncy for some reason too. It was physically hard to not walk over to you. When Harry wanted something, he usually got it, but his self-control was proving that fact to be false.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you all night!” Just when he thought you might leave his mind for the first time tonight–you weren’t–he summoned you next to him. You were as smiley and bouncy as you seemed earlier and he wondered how you weren’t exhausted.

“Hey,” he replied with some guilt in his tone. He coughs, trying not to peer down at your breasts. “How are you so…”

“Awake? I had four espresso shots before work.”

“Okay, well, that explains a lot,” Harry felt the need to say something about your look. He wanted to compliment you, but would that be weird? No, right? You probably got a hundred compliments and loads of tips because of your beauty alone. He has never thought twice about complimenting somebody before. He swallowed. “I, uh, like your makeup.”

You blinked, suddenly feeling the weight of your mascara on your eyelashes and the lipstick on your lips. Your heart was already beating quickly because of the caffeine, but Harry’s compliment made it much worse. The organ was thumping speedily inside of you like it was trying to win a race. Your ears were getting warm along with the nape of your neck as a tingle of something shot through your body. Like? Lust? Need?

“T-Thank you,” You bit your tongue immediately for stuttering. Harry ignited a flame of energy into you that no amount of caffeine could recreate. He was staring at you now, his gaze so intense you might melt from his invisible laser beams. When his irises moved, you swear they shot down to your cleavage for a millisecond before staring at your painted lips. You tried not to look at any of his tattoos that were visible because you knew that would end it all for you; all of your self-control that you have somehow mustered up this far would disintegrate into the lust-filled air. Did he feel this too? The intense attraction connected by a thick rope that pulled you closer and closer together?

“I’m going to go do…anything else.” As your body moved away from him in an urge to remain self-controlled, your eyes were the last thing to yank away. But your luck got the best of you, as always. As you walked backwards, your heel stepped on a half-melted ice cube that managed to make you slip on your ass. But not before Harry was right in front of you, catching you before you ass hit the ground.

He tugs you up a little too harshly, slamming you into his chest. Your hands immediately flatten themselves against it while he holds your elbows tightly. He quickly peers down at your chipped nails; white and yellow. His gaze on them made you tremble with sudden insecurity. You’ve never been this close to him before, and all your insides were warning you of their near death. Your vagina was melting away at this point, your wetness soaking your underwear until they were completely wet. You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your throat while his heart throbbed against your palms.

Maybe he did feel it too.

Hesitantly, you looked up at him, but he was already looking at you.

“What are you doing to me?” he asks quietly, his grip loosening just the slightest.

“I could ask the same thing,” You responded breathlessly, hands slowly sliding down his chest.

“I have no control around you.”

“What do you mean?” You knew what he meant because you felt it too, but you wanted him to say it first. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it before the words could come out. Once you are on steady feet, he releases his hold on you completely just as the bar doorbell rings. An older man walks in, Harry immediately fetching the guy’s order. He gets a beer while messaging on his phone consistently. Harry avoided you for the rest of the hour. Two more people came in and he busied himself with their orders and paid attention to only them. You wondered if he was going to stay and close with you tonight or if the encounter was awkward enough to make him go home early.

You take a deep breath before trudging away into the back room to start your close, careful to not slip on any ice because you knew Harry wouldn’t be there this time to catch you.

–

Once the doors were finally locked, you were able to start mopping in front of the bar. The chairs were all flipped and the tables and booths were all sanitized. You peered through the windows as a few people walked by, the mophead gliding easily along the floor. When you were finished, you tried not to think about where Harry was. You’re not sure if he had left for the night because you’ve been in the front and he’s been in the back. As you drag the mop into the back room with its bucket, you witness Harry unbuttoning his vest. Your traitorous heart thumped and your lady parts still ached, even if you were upset he’d been avoiding you without a valid reason. What did he not have control over? Himself? You wanted him to explain everything to you.

“I don’t like this, Harry.”

“What?” he croaked, voice seemingly dry from talking the previous hour.

“You avoiding me,” You took a deep breath, “What do you not have control over?” You saw his jaw visibly tense at the question, but that only made you more curious.

“I can’t do this tonight,” Once his vest was off, he was trying to push past you in the small room, but you shuffled to the side to block him. He was not walking away easily this time.

“No, you’re not avoiding me again. Harry, be an adult, would you?”

“You’re the one that’s blockin’ the doorway like a child so I can’t leave.”

“Well, if you just explained yourself maybe I would usher you to the exit myself,” You crossed your arms stubbornly over your chest. Harry hated that his eyes were attracted to your pushed-up breasts, practically calling out to him. This was his breaking point. This is exactly what he knew would happen. He knew you would ask him a million questions until you found your in-depth answer. He let one admission slip and suddenly he was being bombarded with questions that even he didn’t have the answers to. He was afraid he’d say the wrong thing, and then everything between you would be ruined.

Maybe he would just quit and become a full-time pornstar.

“Why do you stay an extra hour every night to help me close? Because I know you’re not getting paid for it.”

“Maybe I just like helpin’ out.”

“You only do it with me, don’t you? And now you’re avoiding me–”

“Fuck, ‘cause I’m drawn to you, Y/N! I can’t help it. I want to spend more time with you than a single shift. I’m selfish. Have you seen yourself? You walk around like you own this damn place and it has everyone fallin’ onto their knees for ya. You should’ve heard what these guys were sayin’ ‘bout you,” he laughs in the depressing, forced kind of way, “and tonight when you came in with your glitter and your makeup and your tits pouring out of your shirt, you made me think and feel things I can’t say out loud. It feels wrong. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you.”

With a frozen body, you were speechless. The silence that surrounded you both was so deafening that you could barely hear your drumming heart beating in your ears. Your mouth was slacked open, your lips formed in a forever “o” shape. Harry’s words were rushed and tense as if he couldn’t quite get them out right, but he couldn’t have explained it better. While you were starstruck by his admission, he brushes past your still body and exits the back room. You don’t even turn around in time because when you do, you don’t hear the click of his footsteps in the lobby but the plush closing of the back door.

–

The next morning was awful. You could barely sleep due to Harry’s words echoing in your head like a wincing ache, so you were dragging yourself out of bed once your alarm rang at 6 am. Your morning routine felt more mundane than usual as your eyes threatened to shut every few seconds.

As you finally trudged to campus, the curious cat in you kept wandering back to thoughts of Harry. You wondered what he was doing right now in the middle of the day. Did he have another job? Was he hanging out with friends? Family? At one point during your friendship, you had assumed he had a girlfriend because how could he not? A handsome bartender with enough charm to swoon both men and women in a filled ballroom surely would be taken. But after his confession last night, you knew Harry was consumed in a different concept. Maybe Harry didn’t like to date. Maybe he just liked being with women (and maybe men) in an intimate way casually without settling. You weren’t like that. You liked commitment and routine and being steady. That’s why it was unbelievably stressful for your car to break down randomly; it interrupted your plans. So maybe that’s why you couldn’t respond to Harry after his acknowledging words last night–you haven’t had time to process the underlying meaning of his words. You also knew deep down that if Harry only wanted you for sex, you would get hurt in the end. You weren’t one for casual sex because you knew you would get attached. That’s why you have remained such self-control around Harry.

Did he feel that way too?

When you got to the doors of your lecture room, your thoughts became misty in your mind. You push open the door to an empty classroom. You blink away the fatigue in your eyes, thinking your deliriousness has you seeing things–or lack thereof. But when you rub them harshly, the room remains peopleless and you wonder just what you missed. You yank your phone from your pants pocket and tap open your email app. And of course, the most recent and unread email is from your professor last night. He mentions that class would be canceled tomorrow due to a family emergency that happened that evening. At that time, you were too busy drowning in your own overthinking to even check your phone the whole night. As a grumble mixed with a sigh leaves your lips, you plod back to your tiny dorm and hope that your roommates aren’t there. You needed to let off some steam. And you knew just how.

–

Out of all the days in the week, Thursday has always been Harry’s day off. He never works on Thursday or hangs out with his friends because they have work, so it’s just a nothing day for him. Some weeks he uses this day to film new content, but after last night’s incident, he can’t think straight. He hasn’t stopped thinking of you and your lack of words from his admission. And it’s killing him. He wishes you would have said something, anything, rather than just standing still with your mouth wide enough to slip his cock through. His mind keeps coming up with randomized scenarios of what-ifs and it’s enough to make him go mad.

And then there’s the dirty, animalistic part of him that cannot forget how good you looked with your barely buttoned shirt and your wild lipstick. He wanted to kiss you until you were both covered in the red paint. He wanted to tear your uniform so roughly that the buttons would break off completely and you’d never be able to wear that excuse for a shirt again. He wanted to corner you in the back room and show you how much he wanted you and how much he hated avoiding you. But he needed to. For his sake and yours.

Instead of filming one of his requested videos, he just scrolls through the website. Harry doesn’t feel guilty about it because he keeps telling himself that today is his day off and he deserves to take a break. But even with those reminders his brain is running a million miles an hour, chasing you and the what-ifs that lingered on your tongue last night. Even when he tried his very best, he couldn’t stop thinking about you in his subconscious. So as he deepened his search throughout the site, he didn’t even comprehend that he was looking for someone that resembled you.

He seeked various videos until he found an account that drew him in, similarly to how you do on a daily basis. With curiosity, he clicks on the profile before him, reading and watching bits and pieces before indulging. The username was babyh0ney and that alone caught his eye. The girl didn’t say much about herself on her profile, but based on the cover of the videos, she looked young. He couldn’t see her face, which he respected, but still decided to click on a video.

Indulging in her top video, Harry watches with an open mind. But he learns it is extremely difficult when he keeps relating things back to you. He swears at one point you mentioned to him that your bed was a light shade of pink, but he could be imagining it. The sight of the woman’s bare chest has Harry’s gaze locked because he swears that’s what yours would look like if he ever saw them. The peek of hair that rests on her shoulders seems to be the same as yours, too. As the woman drags her hand down her body and towards her panties, Harry starts to feel dizzy with arousal. No one has been able to turn him on as much as you since you’ve been working with him, so the fact that his woman is able to do just that surprises him. He takes the opportunity without questioning and immediately starts palming himself over his loose shorts.

The woman continues to tease herself by rubbing her delicate fingers over her red panties–of course they’re red, Harry thinks. Only the most seductive color. Temptingly, she nudges the tip of her finger into the lace, teasing the audience with her edging. But that draws Harry’s eyes more than he thought. Removing his hand from his throbbing cock, he pauses the video when the woman’s hands are in full view. He zooms in and recognizes the color of the woman’s nails; white and yellow. But not just any woman now, no.

It was you. Harry was sure of it.

As if Harry thought he was dizzy before, he was fully nauseous with shock and arousal now. His eyes can barely believe the sight before him, consuming the video as if it will flash away any second. He rips off his shorts quickly and has his bare cock in his hand in mere seconds. Milliseconds even. His tip was viciously leaking, the slit pulsing and pink. After what felt like ages you finally, slowly and cautiously, remove your underwear. You spread your legs wide enough so Harry (and the audience) can see your fluttering cunt, naked and needy.

God, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life. Is it possible to die from a neverending erection?

“Fuck,” You moaned through Harry’s laptop as your painted fingers rubbed generous circles over your throbbing clit. The one word and Harry’s hand was gliding speedily over his cock, wasting no time in the world. Usually, Harry likes to take his time and even tease himself a bit, but with the sight of your gorgeous body straight in front of his greedy eyes, he couldn’t tear away. He couldn’t halt the dangerously quick movement of his hand going up and down on his shaft, chasing a high he’s wanted to for so long. Just as you slip a finger into your cunt, Harry spurts out his selfish orgasm, ropes of white splattering over his tattooed stomach. He barely comprehended calling out your name as he came, and even though it was heedless, he doesn’t regret it. That was one of the most relieving finishes he’s ever had, yet it still felt incomplete somehow, like there was something missing.

He knew deep down inside that he would never truly be sedated until you were physically with him, but he knew that wouldn’t happen. At least any time soon. So for now, this was the best he was going to get.

But that didn’t stop him from going through your account. Harry watched two more videos–without touching himself surprisingly–before he got the courage to message you. His cock was plump and insatiable, wetness dribbling at his tip. He shakily clicked on your profile’s messaging box before asking for a request. He doesn’t second-guess himself because he knows he would never send it if he did that. So with lust as his guide, he hits send.

DaylightDaddy [verified]: Hi I just saw some of your videos and I was impressed.

Impressed? That’s what he calls the incessant throb of his dick? Why did he start off like that?

Harry knows that he has more of a page than some small influencers on this site, including you. He hopes that you’ll be more inclined to respond because he’s verified. But he then realized that you might not even be online to see it. He knows that you don’t work today, but it is the middle of the day and you’re probably doing something much more important than–

babyh0ney: really? thank you so much. i’m a fan of your work myself…

Harry felt his heart beating wildly in his chest. You were a fan of him? You watched his videos? Did you know it was him like he knew it was you?

DaylightDaddy [verified]: Really?

babyh0ney: yes

babyh0ney: i wish i could attract the people like you do

DaylightDaddy [verified]: I’d be happy to help

What was he suggesting? Harry didn’t even know what he was typing. His fingers were moving faster than his logic.

babyh0ney: how do i become more attractive?

Harry nearly laughs at that. You were one of the more alluring people he’s ever seen or met, including all the celebrities he’s watched in movies. You were different. The best kind of different.

With the protection of his own screen and the chance you don’t know who you’re actually talking to, Harry responds with confidence.

DaylightDaddy [verified]: Honey, you’re one of the most attractive women on here

Your heart skips an unexpected beat from the words on the screen. You weren’t naive. It was obvious this man was flirting with you, but why? To ask for a request for free? To do a collaboration? There is no way this man, a verified star with devilish talent and tattoos galore, would want to do a video with you. In a strange way, you were extremely attracted to him. You weren’t lying when you said you had been a fan of him. In the back of your mind and deep in your soul he resembled Harry in the slightest, mainly from the placement of his tattoos. Some tattoos looked just like Harry’s, but you refused to stare long enough to fantasize.

Unsure of how to reply, you deflect.

babyh0ney: thank you…but have you seen the women on here?

DaylightDaddy [verified]: Yes, that’s how I know I’m right

A heated rush flows through your skin and bundles in your cheeks. You never realized how touch-starved, horny, and lonely you were until some random guy on the internet made you blush. What has the world become?

babyh0ney: but you haven’t even seen my face

Without even trying, you confirmed Harry’s assumption. There was no way you knew it was him you were messaging. Should he spill the beans and admit that he’s seen your face? Or should he play it cool? Well, one is going to make him sound like a stalker, so he might want to go with the ladder.

DaylightDaddy [verified]: I don’t need to. I just know

babyh0ney: why are you really texting me? it doesn’t seem like you want a request…

It was so like you; to ask a serious question when Harry was trying to flirt. You always have to know every little detail. Harry had a love-hate relationship with the fact.

Suddenly, like a lightbulb over his head, Harry had an idea. Something that would benefit both of you, and something that might make Harry feel a little less selfish.

DaylightDaddy [verified]: I do

DaylightDaddy [verified]: But you said you wanted to appear more attractive and I can help

DaylightDaddy [verified]: So what is your favorite thing to do?

You blink at the screen before you. No one’s ever asked what you liked before. It’s always what they want, and if it was something that you refused to do then they just left the conversation. Simple as that. But this person was different. Maybe it was because he was in the industry himself and he knows what it’s like to receive random requests. Whatever his reason for it, you were slightly more confident.

babyh0ney: well i like to use my toys in my requests so the videos aren’t as long

DaylightDaddy [verified]: Favorite toy?

babyh0ney: my bullet because it makes me come fast

babyh0ney: but i haven’t used it in a video yet

Harry could barely type. The swelling of his cock was overwhelming. He couldn’t stop imagining you on your light pink bed sheets, all spread out and wide, with a small, vibrating bullet lodged into your sopping cunt. He roughly palms down on his bulge to ease the immense ache.

Before Harry even had the chance to respond, you sent another message.

babyh0ney: i sent you a video if you want

babyh0ney: and you could give me some advice?

Harry’s inkling of a plan seemed to be setting into motion, and he didn’t even have to roll the ball much. He’s glad that you’re the one suggesting the video more than he is because it proves that you want it. Maybe not as much as he does, but the desire is there. He feels that familiar tug of attraction between you both, and he wonders if that feeling is traveling through the technology.

DaylightDaddy [verified]: Perfect. Just do exactly what you do.

DaylightDaddy [verified]: Let me send you the money first

babyh0ney: but you’re helping me

DaylightDaddy [verified]: Honey, you know I got the money

DaylightDaddy [verified]: I asked for a request

babyh0ney: but this is different

You’re still not going to take his money? Are you just universally stubborn?

DaylightDaddy [verified]: Why are you so stubborn?

Harry doesn’t realize it until after he sent it that that message may sound a bit personal. How is he to know how stubborn you are if he didn’t actually know you as a person?

babyh0ney: you don’t even know me

babyh0ney: so i guess i can take your money lol

Harry sends the money with ease and no regret. He has been waiting the past week to be able to send you that money so you can finally get your fucking car fixed. But like he mentioned, you’re just too damn stubborn to accept the money from anyone. But when it’s a stranger that you’ll never talk to again on a porn website, it’s fine…

Harry knows that you won’t receive his money until after you send the video, so he waits impatiently. After a minute, he forces himself to leave the chat. He scrolls down your page, mesmerized by your beauty on the covers. But he’s also a little ashamed. He’s ashamed that he is doing this in order to talk to you because he’s afraid of what you will and won’t say in real life. He’s ashamed that he’s been avoiding you because he feels so strongly about you that it makes his insides nearly explode, but in the greatest way possible. It’s insane for him to admit that to himself, but it’s true.

He likes you.

–

Did you take a risk? Yes. Are you fucking insane for it? Yes with a side of fucking yes.

It’s been a half an hour since you texted DaylightDaddy. But you’re just so fucking nervous for some reason. At first, you tried to use the bullet like you would as if you were recording, but you could not concentrate for the life of you. Your fingers were trembling, your stomach was too tight, and your mind was a wandering catastrophe.

Because of your incessant craziness, you strolled through the man’s account. You should have been focusing on sending him his requested video that he paid for, even though he was supposed to be helping you. You could have at least given him a discount, but you didn’t feel like arguing for once. In that way, he reminded you of Harry.

Harry.

Even throughout the whole interaction with this random stranger, you were still finding subtle ways to relate them back to Harry. Some of the things the guy said seemed like such a Harry thing to say and you hated your mind for always resorting back to him like it was the only thing you knew. Why did he have to invade your mind and why did you want him to stay in it? It was the endless toxic loop that you were trapped in. It’s been one day since you’ve seen Harry, but it feels wrong after last night. Everything feels wrong and empty and unsaid. So much unsaid. You wanted him so badly to admit to you why he was doing what he was doing, and when he did, what did you do? Freeze up and panic? He was being vulnerable, and you just stood still and watched him leave.

A regretful tremble jerks your bottom lip and you feel the urge to cry. Not of sadness but of frustration with yourself. Harry is one of the greatest guys you’ve ever met and of course, you find a way to fuck it up somehow.

And although you want to push away the thoughts completely and focus on this requested video, the mystery man reminds you a lot of Harry. Like scary similar. Those tattoos were burning in your eyes, pulling you to look at them. Breaking some self-control, you watch one video. Just a short one. One where his tattoos are in full view, so your insatiable mind could be greedy and get off to this video of lookalike Harry for your flirty customer.

You fast forward until the man’s hands are on his cock, stroking all its thickness with precise teasing. As your waste of space panties start to get wet, your eyes immediately hook on the tattoos on his hands. A cross right by his thumb. You pause the video where his arm is in full view.

No fucking way.

There is no fucking way that’s Harry. What are the chances? Impossible, that’s what they are. Maybe this man just had the same under his index finger and near his thumb. Maybe he had the same anchor adorning his wrist like a large bracelet. Maybe…

Maybe you need to realize this is fucking Harry. And he found you somehow. Does he know it’s you?

–

With shaky fingers, you finally send the video.

You feel your heart plummet, the few seconds that passed already make you anxious. You had recorded the video, just like you were going to. Except you didn’t do it for DaylightDaddy. No, you did it for Harry.

What if you were wrong? What if it wasn’t Harry?

Is it possible to get sued for talking and moaning another guy’s name to a customer? You might just find out.

babyh0ney: *Video Attachment*

With shaky fingers, he finally presses play.

Harry’s head is dizzy with lust and his body is flooded with arousal. He watches intently as your body comes into view, nothing but panties on. Your camera is angled directly between your legs, so he can only see the underside of your breasts.

With lust bubbling in his eyes, Harry locks on your every move. Your hand massages all over your skin, exploring like Harry would die to do. Your nail polished fingers skim over the black laced panties, teasing your hidden opening. Harry is all for teasing and edging, but this is the most difficult thing he’s ever done. It’s physically and mentally hard to not orgasm on the spot. He will come when you come.

His hand drifts gently over to his own cock, which has greedily come once to your videos. When you go slow, he goes slow, so every minor and delicate movement you make, he replicates and it’s killing him. Finally, after what felt like a decade of torture, you shred your panties off slowly but surely.

Harry’s breath gets caught in his throat at the sight. He had already seen what your body looks like, but it was different knowing this video was just for him. Well, DaylightDaddy. The feeling in him was something primal. He loved knowing that this–all of you–was just for him. He wanted that all the time. He wanted you.

While Harry is copying your motions and lost in his own admissions, he barely notices you grabbing the small pink bullet and turning it on. You gently collect some of your wetness that was leaking out and cover the vibrator. Harry groans to himself at the lewd sight before him; he never imagined you would be such a dirty girl, but he never does know with you.

As you insert the bullet, a loud, breathless moan rolls out from your tongue. He’s mesmerized as your cunt clenches tightly around the object, body consuming the intense feeling. Based on your trembling body and echoing moans, you were going to come soon too. Your sounds were spurring him on, making his hand fly brisker up and down his shaft until his release was near. He didn’t want to close his eyes, but if he imagined your noises good enough, he could translate them as moans of his name.

“Harry…”

Yeah, that sounded like a dream. Like heaven coming from your pouty lips that he thinks about kissing way more than he should.

“Fuck, Harry.”

It almost sounds real. That’s how he knows he’s consumed in you too much for his own good.

“I wish you were here with me…touching me.”

Wait.

When he opens his eyes, you are still on his screen, moaning and falling apart in front of him just like before. But when he replayed the video a few seconds back, you really were saying those things. You were outright moaning his name, chanting it like a fucking mantra, while holding your legs wide open. It was a fever dream, a wet dream. You were lying on your bed with your cunt bare and soaked, whimpering his name and wishing he was there with you.

Losing all form of restraint, Harry fists his cock like never before. His thumb teases his leaking tip for a moment before jacking off with no regret. He feels his balls quickly tense, just like all the muscles in his body at the sight and sound of you.

Your dainty hand floats down to your throbbing clit, rubbing in tight circles in order to get to your high. The arch in your back becomes more prominent and your moans transform into airy gasps when the vibrations become nearly too much.

“I’m gonna come, H. Let me come.”

“Fuck. Let it go. Let it all go, Honey,” he didn’t even think about the words that were leaving his lips. The small nickname was cute. It matched your profile and the sweetness of all you were. You were talking to him as if he would say something back, so he did. He responded as if you were going to listen to him, and he didn’t know if you would, but you did.

Cum spurted from his cock intensely, splattering onto his breathless body and decorating his tattoos. He peeks at his computer screen and watches your orgasm spill out of you heavenly around the bullet. With big breaths, you eventually reach over to your phone and cut the recording, still hiding your face. Stunned to completion, Harry mindlessly reaches over to his nightstand to wipe himself down.

Somehow, some way, you knew it was him. He knew it was you. Harry had a feeling that you knew he knew it was you. So, with some sudden clarity, Harry finally messages you back.

DaylightDaddy [verified]: What are you doing to me?

—

i decide to leave for months, drop this chunk of writing, and leave y’all on a cliffhanger… sorry not sorry!! :D

part two

taglist:

@likeapplejuicenpeach @bisexual-desi @littlenatilda @crybabyddl @tiaamberxx @alwaysclassyeagle @whoreonmondays @armystay89

[anki-of-beleriand]

A heart Made of Glass ch. 13

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.

Oh, I am back and this chapter is a wrap-up for the confrontation between Reader and Wanda. They had been given a moment of solitude before going back to their own reality, can they really get past through everyting that happened to them in the past?

Please, do remember English is no my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Epilogue

Chapter 13

Can we change the past?

You never imagined this ordeal would end in the way it did.

The universe you left behind came crumbling down under the weight of its own shaky foundations, it became a cold unfitting world that disappear the moment you and the others touched the land of another Universe.

Everything was kind of blurry from the on.

You knew Wanda was taken away, and soon after you were also being carried to a room in which you lost consciousness after your body finally gave up. Your mind didn’t have the time to think about what had happened or what would happen after you were completely recover. You let things happened, and in that time you gave yourself to a blissful mindfulness in which you knew, sooner or later, you would need to face everything you had been running from.

It soon became evident that time was running out, with people coming in and out of your room checking over your physical and mental well-being before asking uneasy questions. Sometimes you would evade those questions, and some others you would give vague answers that would tell the others you were no fool.

You stretched out grasping thin air in your fist, tilting your head you started making a small sequence of Tai Chi you had learnt from Yelena. After more than a week of being in the hospital, you were finally able to feel your body as yours again. Your muscles flexed, and the shadows under your feet stirred with the silent command of your thoughts. You smiled glancing at your reflection through the window, everything was working just fine and you knew you were ready to go back home.

The door behind you cracked, and the knob turned to the left revealing the single figure of Doctor Jean Grey. The woman was beautiful, and her smile was infectious always putting your mind at ease.

“Hello, Y/N, how are you this morning?”

“Doc, I’m doing better now, thank you.” You spined around slowly, the shadows wavering around until they covered your feet, your smile grew cocking your head to follow the lead of your left arm then your right one.

“I certainly felt much better now.”

“I can see that.” The woman smile stepping closer to your bed while placing a single file on the breakfast table.

“Tell me you cam here with good news.”

Jean offered a single smile while taking a seat, she sat waiting for you to settle down on the bed. The room soon filled with silence that was only broken by the busy morning routine right outside your room. You had learnt your room was in one of the busiest wings in the hospital back in the Tower. Wanda had not been that lucky, though.

“Well, I do come with news, if they are good or not depend entirely on you.” Jean could see the change in you, even through the easy smile you wore the young doctor could see you were being overly cautious.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

Doctor Jean Gray sauntered inside the room with a light blush on her cheeks. Her eyes twinkling merrily glancing at the chart in her hands before settling then on you.

For some reason, the reaction of the woman made you squirm uncomfortably. You had been in this universe for two days now, but it wasn't until now that you were forced to go inside the examination room and get yourself a quick check-up. It was quite evident that in this world mutants and superpowered individuals were treated differently, and the rules governing each one of them were set to get control on the population. 

“You seemed rather chirp today, Doc, good news for you or me?”

Jean chuckled, placing the chart on the bed before putting a chair close to the bed.

“It's my anniversary, and I received quite the news today.” She stated tilting her head, you smiled back at her.

“Congratulations, then.” 

Jean nodded, putting a strand of hair out of her face, “thank you.”

“So that would be for you, what about me?” You finally asked leaning forward, your eyes drifting to the chart in your bed.

“Everything seems to be okay.”

“But…?” You arched a brow when Jean leaned back on the chair offering a serious facade.

“You had been quite silent in the last couple of days, keeping yourself out of everyone's way and most importantly,” here Jean stopped as if measuring her words, “your avoidance of your particular predicament has raised some concerns on our end.”

Silence followed such a declaration, you dared to lock eyes with the woman sitting in front of you well-aware of her ability to read beyond your initial thoughts. Jean didn't move nor did she give any indication of breaking into small talk, I stead she seemed to sit there and wait patiently for you to speak.

“I’m not sure I want to have this conversation.” You sighed, lifting a hand to the back of your head, scratching the nape of your neck. “But I guess it is inevitable.”

“It is.” Jean softened her features, grabbing the file she left on your bed, she opened it in a single page while presenting the form to you.

“How…how is she?” Your voice was above a whisper, but it was loud enough for Jean to hear it.

The woman leaned back letting you read the file while she started talking. 

“She is doing better now, trying to recover her magical core had been quite the challenge but our own team of witches and healers had come together to help around.” 

There was nothing much you could do but nod, your eyes drifted to the file with your thoughts trying to focus on a single issue at a time. Ever since the five of you got to that universe everything had been but a blur; your Wanda was taken straight to the hospital and she had been looked after Tony's team back in the Avengers Tower. 

“That's good.”

“I just want to do one last check-up before clearing you up, America has been waiting for you and the twins are very excited as well.” Jean chuckled, standing up making her way to the closest drawer and putting some surgical gloves out. “They seemed to think that having a pair of moms at their disposal would give them some kind of advantage in their mischief.”

You tried to hide your expression from the other woman, but it was inevitable. Jean offered a sympathetic smile while getting to work. 

“They are just children…” you mumbled feeling your body warm up, your muscles twitching just as Jean started testing your reflex. “I don't think they understand that much.”

“Mm, you would be surprised how much Billy and Tommy understand about the situation.” Jean leaned back, lifting her left hand and letting it hover right on top of your forehead. “They are pretty smart, and sensitive.”

You pressed your lips together not wanting to go into a discussion. Not that you could raise any arguments against that statement, you had noticed just how sensitive they were and how smart they were. They had come that first time into your room calling you mom without a care in the world, telling you about their day while also making you aware of how they had sneaked in to see you and Wanda.

Your counterpart had been amused by your reaction, while her Wanda had been just a tad bit concerned about the confusion the whole situation could create in the children. 

“If I were to be honest, you look more confused than them.”

“You told me you don't read minds unless you have permission.” You replied furrowing your brows, Jean had the sense of looking embarrassed but never lost her smile when looking back at you.

“You kind of scream that thought at me, sometimes it is inevitable.”

Jean then leaned back, grabbing your file and writing some notes down. 

“I think you're ready to go.” Jean cocked her head when the first thing you did was jump down the bed and go to the closest chair holding your clothes. “But Wanda…”

You winced, grabbing your clothes tightly before turning around, this time around Jean was looking serious, her eyes gleaming lightly.

“What about Wanda?”

The silence grew around the both of you, your body was already tensing the muscles you would need to run. Jean opened her mouth only to close it again as if she didn't know what to say or how to say it. 

“I think you should visit her, it can make a difference in her recovery.”

At the end of the day, this last visit from Jean Grey was just that, another attempt from these people to go to Wanda and make sure she was okay. For you to stop running and face her taking ownership of what would happen next.

It was complicated.

And you were unsure as to how to proceed or what was expected of you.

“Look, I just…”

“MOM!!!!”

Not sooner had you heard such a scream, you found yourself being tackled by a pair of bouncing kids. Your heart skipped a beat with your arms lifted at your shoulders height while the kids had their faces up to look at you with toothy grins. They were quite adorable, and in reality a part of you seemed to just instantly loved them, noticing the likeness they had to Wanda and yourself.

“Okay, guys let’s back up a little, remember what we talked to you about?” 

The room was suddenly very crowded, your counterpart came right in followed by America and Pietro. It became quite apparent that everyone was waiting for Jean to finish her last check-up on you before getting into the room and see how you were doing. You placed your hands on the twin’s heads ruffling their hair playfully while offering a tentative smile. 

“That’s okay, I’m getting used to the enthusiastic greeting.”

“And them calling you mom?” Pietro inquired, quaking his brow while placing his hands in his pockets.

You couldn’t help the little wince, recoiling from the comment with your body turning to the chair and grabbing your clothes once more. Billy and Tommy glanced at one another, with Billy opening his eyes really big while making a gesture with his head. 

“Anyway, I’m just glad to know your good to go, because I was thinking we can go right ahead and get a look around and perhaps…” America started babbling making her way to your bed.

You nodded absentmindedly, your attention drifting for a moment to your counterpart and Jean that had decided to step out of the room to have a small conversation. You couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going on, and what they were discussing with your thoughts going over and over to the woman that was still unconscious somewhere inside the building. 

Everything was strange in this universe. 

A part of you knew that sooner or later the conversation of Wanda and you going back to your respective reality would come; but it was quite evident everyone was waiting for the right moment to intervene and perhaps get something done. 

“Well, I think you better change so we can get out of here,” Pietro broke your line of thoughts, his eyes gleaming mischievously with his lips curling into a familiar expression. “Billy and Tommy prepare something for you, and I bet you are dying to eat something that isn’t hospital food.”

“You are completely right on that one, I’m going to change and then…you guys can show me a good time.”

You offered a tentative smile, your heart dropping for a moment when the twins cheered babbling non-stop to America and Pietro. For a brief moment you wondered…

…was this what you were missing back home?

_______________

You had been welcomed inside the household of your counterpart. 

This time around, the guest room had been prepared and you could enjoy the joys of a soft bed and a nice view of the backyard while trying to get some sleep. The day had been quite unexpected, with the twins and America being active participants in different forms of conversations and different sets of games and rambles that you were not prepared to share with these people.

You had tried to get away from it, but Billy and Tommy were very adamant on having you close and including you in every single moment of their afternoon. You didn’t fight too hard to not be there, though. After a while you realised Wanda would not be joining the family outing and actually your counterpart ended up being just a good source of geek material that differed from the one you had in your own world. 

Not for a single moment did anyone mention the white elephant in the room.

And for that you were quite grateful.

But now, in the middle of the night with the stars twinkling above your head and everyone sleeping in the house you couldn't help but think about it. Time was running out, sooner or later you would need to go back and face the consequences of what happened back in Norway and in that other universe. 

Sooner or later you would need to face Wanda once more.

“It is pretty late for you to be thinking so loud.” 

You kept your attention on the stars, the room was completely dark which was one of the reasons as to why you knew she had come home already. The young woman took a few steps forward until she was standing beside you, her face turned to the sky with her arms hugging her tightly.

“I just couldn’t go back to sleep.” You shrugged leaning against the wall, your head tilted to the side. “It was quite an exciting day, I think I’m still in a sugar rush.”

Wanda chuckled, lowering her head, her eyes gleaming lightly, turning her attention to you.

“So I heard. The twins really took you everywhere and made sure you taste everything back in the restaurant, didn’t they?”

Your face fell when the memories of that day came back, the twins had never left your side while telling you stories about their adventures. Not for a single moment did they think or even entertained the idea of them not being part of your life in your other world. For them it had been natural to make sure that you and Wanda did not forget about them. That was one of the reasons why it had been a shock for them to find out you and they didn’t know about that restaurant.

“You should tell our other selves about this place, mom! I know they will love it!”

“Yeah, we love it, and you love bringing us here!”

It still burnt that this life was not yours, but there was nothing you could do. 

Wanda could read your thoughts; she could sense your pain and it was something she couldn’t take. Not with you. Wanda dropped her arms, stepping closer to you. Her hand felt warm on your face, brushing away your hair and mapping out the form of your jaw. It was so unexpected you couldn’t help but freeze in place the tension evident in the contraction of your muscles, your left foot stepping back and stopping waiting for the other foot to join. It didn’t happen, though, you stood there waiting for something else to happen. 

“They are good kids.” Your voice trembled at the very end of that sentence, but your eyes never waver in their hold of those green irises.

“They are. They are very much your children as much as they are mine.” Wanda offered a timid smile that soon vanished, whatever hold she had on you broke and the young woman turned around as if ready to leave. 

The tension in your body didn’t leave, and your mind was poking at you uncomfortably pressing over for you to speak. To say something, to ask the question you were dying to ask but didn’t dare to do so. It looked as if nothing else was going to be said that day, as if nothing else was going to happen and you were trying to get a hold of your beating heart when Wanda stopped by the door turning to the side and locking her eyes with yours.

“You will need to face her sooner or later, Y/N.” Wanda let her words sink in, her eyes softening lightly when she could sense the conflict inside of you. 

“Do I have to?” The question left your lips before you could stop it, Wanda lifted her shoulder stepping back. 

“I think you know the answer to that question,” she stated letting out a tired yawn, “what you really need to ask yourself, though is what would happen if that confrontation doesn’t come the way you expect it to be? What if it becomes everything you thought impossible with her? Are you ready to face that conversation? Are you ready to make a decision for you and her?”

You hated the fact this Wanda was so insightful and you hated even more that she was right. That was the real reason as to why you couldn’t sleep, as to why you were trying to bury your emotions and your memories, while also running away from what you were experimenting with. Of the changes that had come knocking on your door all those months ago.

“Have a good night, Y/N, rest and follow your instincts on this one because they…” Wanda left the sentence in the air, and it was you the one to finish it.

“They had never failed me.”

There was a flash of a smile and then Wanda left, closing the door behind her. 

___________________

But trying to follow your instincts was easier said than done.

A part of you knew the meeting was inevitable, after all, the both of you needed to go back to your respective Universe and this would never happen if you two kept on avoiding one another. But then, there was another part, the one you had been carrying with you for far too long, that was afraid of a confrontation that might broke your heart all over again.  

You played with time for as long as you could, taking advantage of Tony’s curiosity and Loki’s infinite questions. You became very helpful of Wong and Hank’s questions, and you couldn’t help but give in the twin’s whims every night before going to bed. Nevertheless, you had the days count on that universe, and it wasn’t as if you really wished to stay. You missed home, and you missed your friends and family; but the final step to get everything ready to go back was something you had never felt ready to do.

On the fifth morning you woke up on a guest room, you knew you couldn't run anymore. America had finished her breakfast and Y/N was reading the paper, no one did or said anything for a moment until you sat at the table with the coffee warming up the mug in your hands.

“Wanda is fully recovered.” Your counterpart stated, never leaving her eyes from the page she was reading, “she is confused, a little weak but ready to talk and go back home.”

“Talk?” You asked a little harsher than you were meant to.

Y/N lifted a single brow, her lips pursing tightly.

“With you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but a kick on your leg made you stop. America was glaring at you, her head shaking slightly opening her eyes and glancing meaningfully at your counterpart.

“I know, I just…”

Y/N sighed, closing the paper and placing it slowly on the counter. Her eyes pierced you with a gaze filled with emotion, you shifted on the chair trying to look away but unable to do so.

“Whether you want it or not, you will need to have this confrontation. Whatever you are afraid of facing…I think you should get your shit together and face it right away. You are running out of time, and excuses.”

Your counterpart finished her tirade with a slap to the table, shaking her head as she stood up and left the kitchen. You cocked your head until you found America glancing at you.

“I guess there is no running from this, is it?”

America shrugged, biting her lower lip, “I guess not.”

You lowered your eyes to the counter before lifting them to ensure America was paying attention to you.

“Once this is over, are you staying or are you coming back with us?” The question caught her off of guard, America was looking shocked and her mouth tried to form a specific thought but was unable to respond right away.

You chuckled standing up, your hand on her shoulder.

“You would be more than welcome back home, but I know you missed this place greatly.” You squeezed her shoulder before walking away, a single wall of dark shadows spreading before you. “Think about it, America, I'll be back in a few hours and we will talk about me and Wanda going back home.”

“I will think about it.” America mumbled offering a half smile. “Good luck.”

You winked at her trying to show more confidence than you actually felt before crossing over the shadows and disappearing into them. The trip was short, with the shadows embracing you with a cold hold leading through the space until you stepped inside a dimly lit hall.

The place was completely silent, though you could make out the sound of chatter in the distance. You lowered your gaze to the floor, our ears twitching lightly ignoring the rest of the sounds and focusing on your heartbeat.

The last couple of months have been a complete rollercoaster for you. You never imagined, even in your wildest dreams, that Wanda would show at your doorstep with a young woman asking for help. For a very long time, you had put in the back of your mind the confrontation with Wanda. A part of you knew it would come, eventually. But you never intended to be the one to take the first step for the meeting to happen.

When you got to see Wanda face to face, and actually talk to her, your world came crumbling down around you. The barriers you had built around your heart and mind ended up not being as strong and resilient as thought them to be. Your heart still missed a beat at the sound of her laughter, and your hardened façade went away as soon as you saw the suffering and the heartbreak in those green eyes.

Wanda would always be one of your greatest weaknesses. 

And you hated yourself for that.

It was as if your own suffering didn't matter, as long as Wanda was fine and didn't have to feel what you felt. Yet you refused to believe her words or even offer forgiveness for the wrong doings in the past. All of this came crashing down in a single meeting, all the doubts and pain came back, but also the yearning and the confusion you were threatening to overwhelm you and leave you without a way out. 

You took a deep breath, your hand running through your hair helping your uneasiness. You closed for a brief moment, and your mind went blank emptying any thoughts that might come in and make you falter in your actions. The last couple of days, and actually the last couple of months, you had thought about this moment; you had given yourself and her a chance to step aside and let the past in the past and for the both of you ready to face the present without thinking too much about the future.

The room was in complete darkness, the lights were out and the curtains were still closed. You could hear the monitor in the corner, the bed occupied the left side of the room leaving a big sofa and a couple of chairs on the right. Hanging from the wall you could see the TV that was huge enough to almost cover the wall, the only thing that prevented this from happening was the side door leading to the bathroom. Tony was really into luxury, you closed the door behind you a little unsure on how to proceed.

The tension around the room only increased when you felt a pair of eyes on you. It didn't take too long for you to know who it was, you stepped forward making your way to the curtains. 

“Would you mind if I open them up? I prefer the natural light of the day instead of the artificial ones.” You turned lightly, finally locking your eyes with those of Wanda.

Your Wanda.

“That's fine.” She replied, her voice was but a whisper but you could get the strong laced tone that Scarlet used whenever she talked to you.

The room changed under the light of the day, while there was not much sun the sky was cloudless and the position of the tower as well as the floor you two were currently in allowed for the perfect setting for natural light. You glanced around a city that was familiar yet strange, the weight of that stare didn't leave you, not even when you finally turned around to lock eyes with her.

“You look fine.” Wanda lowered her chin, her fingers twitching on top of the bed wanting to do or say something else but unsure where her relationship with you stood at the moment.

“I wasn't that badly injured, but I think I did need the rest.” You took a step forward, then another until you were actually standing beside Wanda.

Wanda hesitated for a moment before moving to the left, she chewed on her lower lip before patting the spot on the bed.

“You can sit here, if … if you want, there is also a chair and…” whatever else Wanda was going to say was cut off by you taking her initial offer of sitting on the bed.

Wanda felt her heart do somersaults, her body tingling at your closeness and the little voice she had come to recognize as Scarlet’s whispering to her telling her to close the distance, to grab your hand, to not let you go. But she held back knowing that her position was precarious at best and whatever you had come to discuss with her needed to be addressed first. 

“How are you?” You fixed your position on the bed, well aware that the only thing you needed was to lower your arm and your hand would be touching Wanda's one. 

“I'm better now, a little sore and getting use to…” here Wanda trailed off with her brows creasing a little, “to be complete, I guess. It's difficult, but I think I am ready.”

Her words held a decisive tone, but her eyes were flashing the doubts running inside her mind. You realised right there and then that nothing much had changed in the last couple of years, there were things you could still read about her. 

“Ready for what?” You asked quietly, Wanda sighed shrugging.

“Going back.” She replied simply. “Getting out of your way, out of your life…I did promise you after all of this was over I wouldn't bother you any more…”

Her words stung your heart, spreading an electrifying pain all through your body until it hit your brain. You didn't understand why, exactly. That had been the deal, to help her out and then get her out of your life. Then, if you knew what was going to happen, how it would end, why were you having these doubts? Why did it hurt?

Wanda was in her own thoughts, a part of her she had tried to suppress, the one she tried to deny stirred in anger. Wanda wanted to speak out, to tell you she didn't want to go and that she certainly didn't want to pretend nothing had happened in the last couple of months. That seeing you had been one of her greatest joys in life, but it had also brought pain and sadness, that being in this universe seeing the twins and facing what could have been…

Without really noticing, tears started falling rolling down her cheeks while her heart shrank with the weight of her emotions. Wanda refused to give in, her fists closing tightly and her tears breaking her composure and without really wanting to she finally broke in front of you.

You observed the full process, the way her face changed and the tears pilling up her eyes. Wanda was trying to bottle up whatever she was feeling, whatever she was thinking. It was so easy to ignore everything the other woman was experiencing; it was easy to hold onto your shared past. 

But this was Wanda.

And you couldn't ignore her. That was the reason why you had to disappear after the breakup.

With a tentative touch, you let your hand fall on top of hers. Your thumb drew circles before leaning in and wrapping her in a hug. Wanda held onto you, her sobs filling the room while her hands tried to grasp your clothes. You didn't say anything, but for some reason you could feel it.

The apology you never allowed her to share with you. The broken heart she had been wearing ever since that day. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry…”

Wanda cried and once she started she couldn't stop. Fixing your position on the bed you made sure she was comfortably resting her weight on your left side, putting comforting arms around her while soothing her body with sweet caresses you had dared to make in anyone but her.

Whatever conversation you were meant to have with her, whatever it was you had come to talk to her about soon crumbled under the pressure of her tears and your own feelings for her. 

And just like that, you knew you couldn't let her go.

Not without a real conversation.

And not without a fight.

______________________

Wanda was not completely sure when she fell asleep, but right now she was completely aware of being awake resting on top of you with the warmth and comfort of your presence soothing her soul.

Her body tensed right away, though soon she relaxed into the embrace having noticed your even breathing and the relaxed posture of your body. You had fallen asleep as well and, at some point the both of you had ended up sharing the small hospital bed without anyone coming over to interrupt that moment.

Wanda nuzzled her face against your neck, she wished this was something she would share with you every day. How she had missed waking up in your arms, to see your smile in the mornings and your hyperactive body demand for the morning routine. Everything was so messed up, and she didn't know when she allowed her world to crumble into nothingness.

Her heart trembled with emotion, and her thoughts formed an idea Wanda knew was not completely hers but a figment of Scarlet. 

You have to fight back! You need to get her back! You need to tell her everything we discovered! Everything we know!

Her voice was demanding, yet it held a hint of desperation that Wanda was familiar with. It was the same voice she had woken up to back in the battlefield after the snap, the same one she had heard countless of times whenever she thought about you or a way to recover her life. Everything had been so complicated, yet it could had been so easy to recover her life to actually try to make a change and reconcile with everyone.

There were no more tears in her eyes, and the sadness and sorrow she had lived with all her life was a burden she was tired to carry with her. With some reluctance, Wanda let go of you stirring in the bed while trying to be careful in her movements, she missed your closeness and the warm that your body had provided but it was time for her to stand up.

You need to fight for her, you cannot lose her. Not again.

The voice echoed inside her head, and Wanda knew this time around she couldn’t allow her fears to stop her from at least getting a chance to be your friend. With that thought in mind, Wanda stood on weakened feet gathering her strength before walking towards the closes wardrobe and grabbing some clothes. She gave you one last glance before making her way to the bathroom, she would need to get ready for what would come next.

It was the cold what wake you up.

The cold and the fact you missed the weight of someone resting on your left side, you sighed blinking owlishly while patting the side of the bed where you were pretty sure your companion had been resting. In those glorious moments between being awake and asleep, you were trying to grasp the reality of the woman you had been holding. Your memory groggily moving through the smell of her shampoo, and the softness of her skin and then…

You remembered.

Wanda had been crying, you had held her, you had fallen asleep…

You stood up so fast that you fell of the bed hitting your head against the night table, while hitting your ass on the ground.

“Ugh, fuck…”

“Are you…are you alright? What…did you fall off the bed?”

You wished you could hide, but instead of that you lifted your face to see Wanda standing by the bed trying to hold back her laughter just as her eyes gleamed with worry. You could sense the blush forming on your cheeks, while your whole body seemed to protest under the pain of the hits you got when falling.

“I…yes, I just…woke up too fast and…I fell off the bed.”

That was all that Wanda needed to start laughing, she couldn’t help herself. She had seen you woke up and then lose all control while getting your feet entangled on the sheets and falling on your ass. It had been funny, and the fact that you now looked all embarrassed and were pouting made for the scene not only something funny but quite adorable.

You huffed trying to stand up, rolling your eyes while the other woman held against the bed trying to control her laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, little witch…” the nickname slipped your lips without giving it a second thought. That made the laughter died and once more the room was filled with a tension neither one of you were ready to maintain.

“I’m sorry it’s just…your face, and the way you fell, so full of grace…”

“I bet.” You rolled your eyes trying to check your head and body before settling your eyes on Wanda.

The young woman had put on some jeans and a white blouse, while her hair was still wet after the bath. You furrowed your brows looking away while catching the time on the clock on the wall. It was almost midday, which would explain why you were so hungry all of a sudden.

“I guess you really are feeling better.”

Wanda bounced lightly checking her hands and body, she wouldn’t say she felt better but she certainly was tired of being in bed while letting everyone come in and out to check her over. This world had a peculiar way to treat people with powers and having so many people with magical abilities come in and check her magical core had been extenuating and rather uncomfortable. The only time she had felt at ease had been with her counterpart, and that had been a whole different situation.

“I just need to get out of here.” Wanda finally revealed offering a half smile, “I heard from one of the nurses they have a nice restaurant right across the street, it has sandwiches and pizza…perhaps…”

You blinked a couple of times at the suggestion, your hand went right away to your pocket and your wallet. You hope the money you carried with you had some sort of value on this place, with a shrugged you nodded your agreement.

“Sounds like a plan. Lead the way, then.”

Wanda couldn’t hide her smile at the acceptance, she turned around and grabbing a jacket dragged you out of the room making her way directly to the elevator at the end of the hall. None of them noticed the camera watching their every move or the shadowy figure hidden in a close-by room. Your counterpart smirked shaking her head, she owed her wife a nice dinner. Wanda had always been right. Always.

In the security room, Wanda Maximoff allowed a tiny smile on her face, she lifted her stare to Tony and Loki, both of them shook their heads still slightly confused about the interaction.

“Now, what?” Tony finally asked staring at Wanda then at Loki.

“Now, we wait.” Loki replied waving away his hand. “For now, I think they are right, I’m starving and you ought to feed us, Stark.”

“Why is it always my responsibility?”

“You’re the one with money.” Loki replied ignoring the indignant huff coming from the older man, and the amused chuckled from Wanda.

_________________________

The restaurant was almost empty.

There were a few empty tables in the back, the one you chose was perfect for a nice conversation by hiding you two away from imprudent ears. The place was cosy, with decorations of blue and green creating a magical atmosphere with the dim lights around the establishment and the sweet aroma of spices that made you remembered home. You sat down facing Wanda who was looking troubled at the moment.

The waitress dedicated you a timid smile while putting a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Welcome to the Sandwich Emporium, what can I get you today?” Her question was directed at you, and her eyes never even bothered to look away as you grabbed the menu she was offering.

“I’m not sure, what do you recommend?” You glanced at the menu then back at Wanda, the redhead was glaring at the menu pursing her lips lightly while you merely frowned.

“Well, that depends on what are you looking for,” her tone of voice didn’t leave anything to the imagination, and you couldn’t help but raise a single eyebrow at that. The young woman opened her eyes wide blushing profusely. “I mean…I…”

“She is having La Tricolore and I’m having La Tartuffo.” Wanda point two pictures on the menu, before handing it over to the waitress, her eyes gleaming strangely while you just blinked slightly confused. “And I’m having some water, and she is having a cappuccino.”

“Very well, I’ll be right back.” The young woman left rather quickly, her ears burning red after having come across the redhead.

You had your eyebrows raised glancing over at Wanda who was trying rally hard to ignore you. After a moment she finally let out a heavy sigh, her head turned away from you.

“La Tricolore has beef, cheese, some hazelnuts, and that pistachio cream you…” here Wanda trailed off opening her eyes when she realized what she had done. “I’m sorry, I…”

“I like it, sounds delicious.” You placed your hands on the table not really bothered by what had happened but rather confused. “I’m surprised you remember.”

“I never forget.” Wanda brushed her hair away lifting her face to finally lock her eyes with yours. “I always…remember, Y/N.”

“I remembered too, Wanda. I remembered everything.” You stated but whatever anger you had held it had given way to bitterness and sadness.

Wanda winced tapping on the table before wiggling her hands together.

“I…I never got to…” She tilted her head, and you could see the tears hidden behind those green eyes. “I’m sorry.”

It didn’t even cover what had happened, all the pain she had caused on that day. But those words made your soul tremble, you scoffed shaking your head leaning back on the seat.

“It is too late, don’t you think?” You could see your words hurt her, and everything you had lived up to that point came rushing in piling up inside your mind until you just put everything away and left what was important.

Wanda nodded defeated, “I know, I just…I never got to say it to you.”

But it wasn’t about asking for forgiveness, and you knew that. And Wanda was also well aware of the fact. The question was not about forgiveness, the question was if you could move forward after everything that had happened.

“I never got to say it, I messed up. I was so afraid, I just…I didn’t know what to do, how to react, how to…deal with everything.”

Wanda spoke with a clear desperation tinge in her words, you could see the crumbling behind her eyes, how her soul would tremble while trying to tell you everything that you didn’t want to hear ten years ago.

“Vision was convenient.” Wanda said, this time around she grabbed the seat tightly her body completely tensed making her neck hurt as she forced herself to keep her head up and look at you. “I was so afraid, so lost and…and It’s not an excuse! I deserve your hatred! I deserved your anger! I just…”

“You could have told me, you know?” You finally said when it was obvious Wanda couldn’t continue talking. “I was there for you, and I could have helped. I thought you trusted me but instead of telling me whatever was happening you…”

This was not the conversation the both of you were supposed to have, or at least it wasn’t supposed to be this way. You weren’t supposed to understand, but to stand your ground and tell Wanda how much of a bitch she had been. But the last couple of days had taught you something about yourself, about Wanda and what could have been. And if Wanda was confused you weren’t fairing any better.

“I know you don’t get it, and that’s okay because you grew with Natasha and then you have Fury and Maria and Yelena…” Wanda waved her hand weakly, her tears rolling down while her eyes revealed the deep sadness she had always carried with herself.

“I lost everything, and I didn’t know how to deal…and you were strong, and brave, you were not afraid of anything and I was only me.” Wanda broke into a sob, with a crooked smile that showed you just how broken she was. How lost she was still feeling.

“I…after it happened I never…” Wanda started but couldn’t finish, you perked up at her words because this was something you hadn’t bothered to find out.

“What happened after I left? Were you happy? Did he make you happy?” You didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but your words carry with them poison that you had been holding for far too long.

“I didn’t stay with him, Y/N. I tried to look for you, to reach out for you but…but I couldn’t and I didn’t stay with Vision, I didn’t feel anything I just… I messed up! Okay? That’s what I did, and I didn’t know how to make it better and I’ve been trying to be good to make it better all these years…”

You wouldn't know about that.

Just as she was trying to do some good, you were trying to forget. It was one of the reasons why you kept yourself out of everyone's business and dealt with the superhero work alone. When Tony and Steve got into that quarrel and you saw what happened back in Lagos you knew you had made the right decision. Then, everything became more complicated and you just busy yourself with other problems, always trying to keep the team away while trying to get glimpses of news about Wanda. You knew it had been hard for her, and you also knew she was never alone.

Vision.

That had always been the main issue, wasn't it?

“I was on the run with the others, but I just wanted to disappear. Vision…he was helping me with getting a new identity.” Wanda leaned back tilting her head to the wall to hide the tears rolling down her cheek.

It was an answer to an unasked question. The conversation died for a moment, the waitress eyed Wanda before offering a smile to you placing the different orders on the table.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, if there is anything I can do, I'm Anne.” The waitress offered one last smile walking backwards and then leaving you two alone.

The food smelled delicious; you grabbed your sandwich allowing Wanda the moment of privacy. The silence grew heavier just as you distracted yourself glancing around the place while taking another bite from your lunch.  

“I was just trying to live my life, and then when Thanos happened…” Wanda huffed turning to her food, she was no longer hungry if anything she wanted to disappear. 

Everything seemed so pointless, the look in your eyes would never leave, and she would go back to a world in which she was despised by the only woman she had ever been in love with.

“This is really delicious; you should try it.” You interrupted her, offering a full smile while grabbing another bite.

Wanda blinked confused; she kept her eyes on you then back on her food. For a brief moment, she hesitated, she was no longer hungry and if she were to be honest she felt tired. You took a sip from your cappuccino, placing your hand on the table, dangerously close to hers.

“I know you are hungry, Wanda. And I also know…I didn't want to know, but I get it.” You passed your hand on your hair pressing your back on the seat. “I'm tired of this, I just…”

“I can't take it when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” You crunched up your nose, Wanda lowered her eyes grabbing her food.

“As if I am nothing to you, as if you…you hate me and…”

She trailed off putting the food in her mouth and silencing her words. You frowned, pursing your lips while playing those words inside your head. 

“I don't hate you.” You softened your features, your eyes glistening under the weight of memories. “I could never hate you.”

Silence followed your statement, the shivering discomfort of what your words could mean infused the atmosphere with questions Wanda didn't dare to ask. You lowered your gaze and focused completely on the sandwich that was still on the plate, and for a good half hour that was all you and Wanda did. 

When there was nothing else coming in between the unfinished conversation, Wanda put her hands on the table her eyes down casted. This was actually the very first time the both of you came face to face without anyone or anything coming in between. It was a confrontation you never thought would happen about something you had always imagined. It always came with different scenarios, but the outcome had always been the same. With you finally finding peace and never looking back, and with Wanda filled with regret for what she had lost.

This conversation though was completely different. You lifted your face finding those green eyes staring back at you with longing and a deep sadness that had become characteristic of Wanda. 

“How did you end up in Westview?” The question rolled out of your lips with a hint of bitterness you could not hide.

Wanda winced playing the napkin on the table, you waited until the woman started talking again.

“I found the box you hid in your room back at the Avenger's compound.” She stated simply, her lips breaking into a grimace. “I never…after you left I never went back there until after the battle with Thanos and Steve’s funeral.”

Your eyes opened lightly in realisation; you remembered the box in which you had hidden the future you hoped to share with Wanda. The ring, the map, and the picture…everything made sense now; now you understood why Wanda had chosen that place and how everything had fit at one point or another. The only thing that was out of place had been Vision, your expression hardened and Wanda could tell you were thinking about Westview the life she had created there.

“I never thought of him, you know? I went there because I wanted to…” Wanda snorted lifting her face to the ceiling, her voice trembling under the weight of the memories. “I wanted to understand, and in a way, I wanted to find a way to go back to you. Not as…I mean, I wanted to at least be…be your friend.”

You shifted on the chair hearing as Wanda finally tell you her part of the story, how she had been completely alone after coming back from the Blip. Steve’s funeral showed her just how alone she was, and how lost she really felt; she didn’t have a work or a home or even family and friends. She spent her time driving around until she decided to ask for help and went to the only person she could think of: Tony.

In all this time you could see the story behind her eyes, you could read the suffering and the deep sadness in the gestures and the words that carried with them the flashbacks of those days in which you were ignorant of Wanda’s fate.

“I went there to punish myself.” Wanda broke into a bitter smile, “I guess I did a good job.”

“Wanda…” You started but the words tangled in your throat, the other woman waited expectantly but after a moment her face fell.

“You don’t have to…”

“You don’t have to punish yourself anymore.” You frowned lowering your gaze to the empty dishes on the table, you were fully aware of her eyes on you. “All this time, isolating yourself while unable to reach out to anyone…then, finding yourself in Westview with this Agatha…”

Wanda swallowed down her tears, she was trembling with a flame of hope flickering inside her heart. Wanda knew she had created the world around Westview, she knew that her isolation and her grief had broken out into an explosion of her magic to create a reality she could deal with. But she also knew her magic had been tampered with, and her illusion had been corrupted.

“I never stopped thinking about you.” She whispered with her hands grabbing the chair tightly, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

You nodded standing up while making your way to where she was sitting, you offered your hand though your face never changed. For a brief moment, Wanda hesitated, she glanced at your hand and then with a trembling hand accepted it.

“They do look like us, you know?” You stated flatly, your hand warm against hers.

Wanda furrowed her brows, her tears rolling down her cheeks but her eyes gleaming in confusion.

“Why?”

“Billy and Tommy.” You stated simply. “They do look like us.”

_______________________________________

That night you sat right outside the house.

Music and conversation could be heard in the backyard, with the lights of the kitchen projecting shadows on the grass. The sky above hour head was still showered with white dots that resulted familiar yet so different to what you were used to; the air was cold but nothing you couldn’t take in a night like that one.

You took a deep breath filling your lungs with cold air, inside your mind thoughts came crashing down into a myriad of possibilities and plans yet to be executed. The conversation with Wanda had gone unexpectedly well, yet you knew a lot of things needed to be done and said before things would be okay.

“Aren’t you a little cold out here?” America crunched up her nose trying to balance the two glasses she was carrying with her.

You turned to her, chuckling before stretching a little to help her out.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a part of this great celebration?”

America shrugged offering a tiny smile, “the twins are distracted with Wanda, both of them, and the rest is just chattering around.”

“So you decided to come to me?” You shook your head taking a sip from the beverage the young woman had brought with her. “You’re crazy.”

“Not as crazy as you are.” America wrapped her hands around the glass eyeing you out of the corner of her eyes. “How are you?”

“I guess I’m okay, how about you?” You pointed with your head to the house behind you, “this is what you missed, isn’t it? Now that you are back, well…”

America nodded turning her body to yours, “I feel happy, but I also feel lost. I know that I found them again, and I have so many possibilities right now, I just…”

 “Don’t know what to do?” You asked, America shrugged lowering her eyes.

“I’m finally starting to understand my powers and to get some control over them, if I keep working on them I would be able to travel without getting lost.” America let out a sigh dropping her shoulders, “those are a lot of possibilities and right now I think I need stability and keep learning.”

“Wise words, you have grown some, kiddo.” You bumped against her shoulder; the young woman blushed lightly offering a timid smile. “It may take time, but I’m pretty sure you will learn to control them.”

None of you mentioned the possibility of America finding her way back home, while it was an option it didn’t mean that America would find it once she had some control on her abilities. But for now, the young woman was happy to learn more about her powers and herself, her heart and soul finally finding a place she could call home.

“You don’t mind me coming back with you and Wanda?” America finally asked biting her lower lip while taking the last sip of her drink to her lips.

“No, I think it’s going to be fun.” You replied glancing at the young woman, “but I have to tell you right now, the training is going to be brutal.”

“I didn’t expect anything else.”

You chuckled nodding, “good.”

America straightened up tilting her head to glance at you then back at the house. You knew what the question was she wanted to ask, but you didn’t rush it.

“Are you and Wanda going to be okay?”

“I don’t know.” The honesty with which you answered that surprised even you, you turned to America with a serious face. “I’m not sure what would happen, America, but I guess I’m willing to find out.”

“That’s good, right?”

You shrugged, and the young woman went back to rest her head on your shoulder still highly confused by your answer. The sound of laughter, music and conversation filling out the sudden silence that embrace the both of you, your thoughts coming back to Wanda and the day you had spent with her.

Only time would tell what would happen next, and you were waiting anxiously what would happen next.

_______________________________

Billy and Tommy were talking non-stop, they were excited showing Wanda the latest project they had been working on back at school. The young woman could hardly hold her tears while letting her children talk to her about school and their lives as if she had always been there.

At first, it had hurt.

Wanda knew they were not hers, and yet she couldn’t help but love them and see them with the same eyes she had seen the twins back in her universe. A part of her never thought she would see Billy and Tommy again, the moment the illusion had fallen around her and she discovered what she had done to Westview she knew there wouldn’t be a way for her to recover her children.

Yet here they were.

 In another world, in another universe looking the same as she had imagined them once.

This time around everything was as it was supposed to be, with you by her side raising two children being a happy family.  A part of Wanda felt envy for everything her counterpart had and she couldn’t have.

“Are you sure you can’t have a family of your own?”

Wanda huffed turning to the source of the voice, her counterpart stood right beside her with softened eyes staring at the twins that were getting ready for bed. Wanda dropped her arms to her sides, her eyes glancing back into the room then back to the woman standing beside her.

“I’m pretty sure, she…” Wanda wrapped her arms around herself furrowing her brows, “she doesn’t love me anymore. I am nothing more than…and ally, and even that would be to stretch out our relationship.”

The other Wanda pursed her lips, she stepped closer never letting go of those green eyes she was so familiar with.

“You don’t believe that.” Wanda stated holding back a smile when the other woman stepped back scowling.

“I have to believe it, I can’t…” Wanda sighed lifting her chin to the ceiling holding back her weakness, she didn’t want the twins to see her cry. “I have to believe it or I will break my heart once more and I can’t lose control of my magic, I…last time it didn’t go well.”

The room filled with laughter, Billy ran to the bed jumping up and down with Tommy trying to follow up before falling down on his face. Wanda couldn’t help but gasp ready to help out but stopping when a gentle hand wrapped tenderly on her forearm. It was strange to see herself staring at her looking the same yet being so different than she was.

The twins were back in the game, falling on bed while discussing some subject Wanda couldn’t hear pretty well. The fall was soon forgotten and both of them were ready to go to sleep.

“Go on, you can put them to be and I will wait for you here.”

“Thank you.” Wanda whispered to her counterpart entering the room and going to Billy first.

The woman offered a shaky smile, her trembling hand brushing away his dark hair while her lips curved into a smile. Billy smiled back blinking slowly.

“Are you okay, mom?”

Wanda nodded leaning in placing a single kiss on his forehead, “more than okay, Billy. Have a good night, baby.”

“Good night, mommy.”

Then, Wanda went to Tommy who was looking at her differently, he wrapped his arms around her hugging her tightly and this time around she couldn’t help but cry.

“I love you, mom.”

“I love you too, Tommy, now go to sleep.” Once more she placed a kiss on Tommy’s forehead and with that she stepped back walking towards the door. “Sleep well, guys.”

“Night, mom!”

The door close behind her, and Wanda stood there allowing herself the goodbye she had longed to have with the twins. She tried to give the right closure to her emotions knowing full well she would go back a world in which she would be all alone. No twins, no Y/N, only her.

“Thank you.” Wanda whispered locking her eyes with those of her counterpart, the other woman nodded curtly.

“I knew it was important for you.” The woman hesitated for a moment before continuing, “but you shouldn’t lose any hope, Wanda. You and Y/N…”

“Don’t, please.” Wanda said softly. “Don’t give me hope, don’t tell me it is possible because…god, I’ve been breaking my heart over and over again and I just…I can’t take it anymore.”

“Then don’t let it go, don’t let it go without a fight.”

Wanda lifted her face to see her counterpart dead serious, the woman came closer wrapping her hands on her forearms making sure Wanda could not look away.

“You love her, and I am pretty sure she loves you as well, whatever happened in the past it shall stay there.” Wanda then softened letting go of her grip. “Don’t give up just yet, you may be surprised.”

Wanda wanted to talk, she wanted to believe but at the moment she was just tired and overwhelmed by everything that had happened, everything she had lived up to that point. She was overwhelmed by the fact that you were so close to her yet so far away, that she would go back to a world in which the twins were not there and she would be, once more, alone.

________________________________________

It was a sunny day.

America went over the contents of her backpack, her body was tingling all over while a void filled with butterflies settled in her lower abdomen. She closed her eyes taking a deep breath, her hands trembling while she secured the zipper on the backpack.

“You look nervous, you know you don’t have to go, right?” Y/N came into the room glancing around before settling her eyes on America, the young woman turned around offering a tiny smile.

“I know.” She replied shrugging, her hands played with the band on her wrist she tried to look everywhere but at Y/N but at the end of the day she couldn’t help it, she lifted her face and let the tears fall down.

“I’m sorry.” America whispered waiting for a recrimination on her part, for Y/N to finally tell her how bad she had messed up the first time she had fallen on their Universe.

But it never came, nor from her or Wanda, or anyone for that matter. America surrendered to the warm embrace of Y/N’s arms, she let the tears and sobs she had been holding to scape and finally liberated her mind of the guiltiness she had been feeling all this time.

“Hey, kiddo, it’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.” Y/N whispered soothingly her hand drawing circles with a half-smile showing on her face.

“I just…I shouldn’t have run the way I did, I should have fight or something.” America replied, leaning back, she was furrowing her brows while lifting her hands. “I could have stayed and helped around.”

“It wasn’t optional, though. You had to keep going to survive, that’s rule number one in this line of work, America.” Y/N put her hands on her pockets, her hair falling to the side with an easy smile adorning her lips. “You did what you have to at that point and no one should ever blame you for that. If it hadn’t been that way well, I wouldn’t be here telling the story.”

America doubted very much that it would have happened in such a way, but she would never really know it for certain. Ever since she started travelling through universes consciously she had learnt to deal with the different realities, trying to adapt to them and survive them. She never thought she would settle in a single universe, much less that she would get attach to the people in it.

The sound of conversation broke the sudden silence in the room, the twins laughing with Pietro and Wanda yelling for everyone to go to the backyard was the signal America had been waiting for. She stepped closer to give Y/N one last hug.

“Thank you for everything you did for me, Y/N. I couldn’t say this the last time due to the circumstances…”

“Us running for our lives?” Y/N chimed in chuckling, America snorted rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, that, I mean you guys received me in your home and gave me a chance to a family, I just..I will always carry that with me.”

Y/N softened while giving the teen another hug, “anytime kid, you are welcome in our household whenever you decided to come back.”

“I know, I just think I am needed it elsewhere.”

“I think so to.” Y/N stepped back glancing to the open door. “Watch over them, make sure that they are okay.”

“I will.” America smiled grabbing her backpack ready to go.

It was almost midday by the time America and Y/n came out of the house.

The backyard was full with Tony and Loki working around the logistics and the twins just running around between the two Wanda’s and everyone else. You stood by the garden, the conversation that Loki was having with Tony, Wong, Hank and America had lost all meaning as you entertained yourself with the last sight of the world that could have been. Your body was completely tensed, your eyes drifting around until they fell on the form of Wanda, your Wanda.

“Are you ready?” Y/N asked, you turned to her shaking your head.

“Were you?”

“No, I was never ready whenever she was around.” Y/N replied shrugging, “but once we had made our mind there was nothing that could stop us.”

You snorted nodding, “that’s right.”

“Are you going to fight?” Y/N stepped closer, her eyes going from you to Wanda then back again.

“I am going to make things right, I’m not sure if they will end up the same way it did here.” You replied placing your hands inside your pockets. “I guess only time will tell.”

Y/N nodded stretching her right hand to you, an easy smile forming on her lips.

“I hope everything goes well for you and Wanda, Y/N, just remember what’s really important.” Y/N said grabbing your hand with a friendly squeezed. “Please, be happy.”

“Protect them and be for them whenever they need you.” You replied squeezing back.

“I will.”

“Well, I guess we can try the portal once more, are you guys ready? Did you say your good-byes?” Tony clapped before rubbing his hands, everyone went to get in position until the cries of two boys reached them over.

Tommy and Billy came running with Wanda following them close behind, Billy went directly to Wanda wrapping his arms around her while Tommy went to you.

“I’m gonna miss you.” He mumbled looking up at you.

You chuckled ruffling his hair playfully, “I doubt it, pal. You have your mom’s here, but I am gonna miss you.”

“Say hi to your Tommy for me, please? Tell him he has the best mom in the whole universe!”

Those words pierced deeply inside your heart, but the innocence and the smile in Tommy’s face made you held back any reaction that wasn’t one of agreement.

“I will, Tommy, be good.”

At the other side of the yard Wanda and Billy were having a similar conversation, Wanda hugged him tightly before trying to let go. Billy called to her, looking around before wrapping his arms around Wanda’s neck, his lips close to her ear.

“Everything is gonna be okay, mommy, don’t worry, mom will come around.” Billy offered a toothy grin to Wanda who was too shocked to talk. “say hi to your billy for me, love you mom!”

Wanda watched as Billy joined his brother right beside their mother, Wanda locked eyes with her counterpart who offered a half smile and a vision Wanda Maximoff would not talk about until several years later. For now, she was just filled with doubts, and hopes, and uncertainties and soon Wanda was drowned by the voices surrounding her.

“Okay, this shouldn’t be that difficult, everyone remembers their roles?” Loki asked once more standing to the side while pointing at America who rolled her eyes.

“I do, I remember.”

“Good, because if you fail the three of you are going to be traveling around without a proper destination and probably die a horrible dead.”

“That’s so comforting, Loki.” You replied rolling your eyes. 2Stop scaring America and do your job.”

Loki rolled his eyes flickering his hands while putting the golden book out of thin air, he sat down crossing his legs while looking to an invisible spot in front of him.

“Very well, your timeline is not that hard to find, it is the only one with a latent anomaly.”

“How can you tell is ours and not a random one?”

Loki glared at you before going back to his work, “I can sense it, and this one lack something, it is missing something, I guess that would be both of you.”

Soon everyone was taking positions, Wanda stood beside you shifting from one foot to the other, her hands wiggling nervously while she tried to keep her eyes right ahead of herself. You could sense her uneasiness, her hands twitching biting her lower lip. America came forward, she was showing off a frown filled with confusion that Tony helped erased with a whispered explanation.

You eyed Wanda out of the corner of your eyes, the woman was completely tensed still bouncing trying to hold onto something but unable to find herself at ease. You doubted it for a moment before you grabbed her hand in yours.

Her hand was warm and soft, at first she was completely tensed and rigid but as soon as she sensed it was you her hand started to relax and give in the feeling.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You whispered; Wanda offered a smile nodding.

“I know.” Wanda knew that as long as you kept holding her hand everything would be okay, she didn’t dare to say anything else but in a bold move she spread her fingers and soon her hand was intertwined with yours.

You jerked around but Wanda was completely focused on America, after a moment of hesitation you straightened up frowning lightly though your hand clasped tenderly Wanda’s hand.

“Okay, it was nice meeting you all, now let’s begin.” Loki closed his eyes and soon the golden light of his magic started gleaming powerfully forming a tight circle that surrounded you and Wanda alongside America.

America could feel the power, she was sensing it through her muscles and her fingertips while her mind became a mask of pure blankness trying to form an idea. She remembered the lesson, to follow the magic around her while also joining her energy with that of Wanda and Y/N, her power running through her arm in electric jolts and then igniting her eyes until she was finally ready to make it explode.

Pulling her arm back, closing her fist America stretched her arm hitting the space in between her and the backyard creating an explosion in the form of a Star. The portal opened until it was as big as America, you peeked in watching the white plains of Norway, or at least that was what you thought.

With a last glance to your counterpart and Wanda, you squeezed the hand you were holding tenderly.

“Ready?” It was all you could say before the young woman nodded and with a single step she dragged you right through the portal.

The world you three had left behind was waiting for you.

And you were not sure what would happen next, the only thing you knew for certain was that you didn’t want to let go of the hand holding yours.

The portal closed behind the three of you leaving everyone behind with many questions and little to no answers.

Billy and Tommy hugged Wanda still glancing the place where the portal had been moments ago. The woman glanced at her children knowing there was something bothering greatly.

“Mommy, do you think they will love us?” Tommy asked lifting his face to Wanda, Wanda furrowed her brows tilting her head.

“What do you mean, baby?”

Billy scrunched up his nose, “You think they will love Billy and Tommy the way you love us?”

Wanda softened at the question; she knelt in front of her boys not really knowing how to explain that in their world they both didn’t even exist.

“Billy, I’m pretty sure that they would be very lucky to have children like the both of you, and they would absolutely love you very much.” This answer seemed to satisfy the boys, and just when Wanda thought the topic was over Tommy talked again.

“They are gonna love us very much, mommy.” Tommy smiled snugging closer to Wanda. “Just like they love one another very much, that’s how you and mommy made us, right?”

Wanda didn’t answer, but a part of her certainly hope that Tommy was not wrong. She had always hoped that her love for you would survive in every universe, Wanda lifted her face to see Y/N looking at her with tenderness and love, and Wanda knew right there and then that her counterpart would be okay.

You never stopped looking at her like that, you just learnt how to hide it pretty well.

You were still pretty much in love with your Wanda.

And now that you were gone with her, only time would tell if love was still possible.

Wanda sighed wishing you would let go of your resentment and doubts and give yourself and her counterpart a chance.

With a last glance to the space where you and the others had been standing, Wanda turned around hopeful that the past would stay in the past.

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

Next Chapter: You are finally back to your universe, everything seems surreal as you and the others are taken to interrogation rooms before resuming your normal lives. Carol doesn't want to leave your side, and Wanda knows she needs to step aside even though that's the last thing she wants to do.

[mostlymihawk]

Getting Sick!

Straw Hat Crew (+ Shanks + Mihawk) x GN reader

Prompt: How they react to you getting sick.

CW: Emetophobia (throwing up)

Luffy:

Completely useless.

The man's made of rubber, he doesn't have a clue what to do.

"Um...it's gonna be okay? It's gonna be okay, right?"

You have to ask him for everything.

Does carry you to bed when asked, and will happily snuggle you.

Then asks if you want something to eat.

Food is the solution, and refuses to understand that food can also be the problem.

Nami:

Holds your hair and runs her fingers through it at the same time.

Also dabbing your face and neck with a cold cloth.

Certified professional make-it-better-er.

She did a lot of throwing up when she was younger.

Childhood trauma combined with lying to your sister and working for your mother's murderer will do that.

Knows exactly what she would have wanted, and gives it all to you.

"It's gonna be okay. I've got you, sweetheart."

Keeps tabs on your temperature to make sure this isn't a symptom of something bigger.

Refuses to let you out of bed until you're 100% better.

Zoro:

Keeps his face carefully blank and gently rubs your back.

Looking away the whole time.

You know him well enough to know he does not want to be doing this.

Handles blood just fine but this is a whole other ballgame and he wants no part of it.

Happily helps you to bed after, because it means the gross part is over.

"Better out than in...I guess."

Then he remembers someone has to take care of the cleanup.

Tries to frame it as discipline training to make it better.

Usopp:

Useless, but tries his best.

"Do you need a cloth? Some water? I can get, uh...fresh pair of clothes?"

Standing outside the door, so you croak out what you need and he runs to get it for you.

Needs to be filling the silence.

If he's not asking you something and you're not answering he's talking about how this reminds him of that one time in the Forest of Doom...

Spends the whole night telling stories to help you get to sleep.

Gets a lot better when he realizes this isn't all that much different than barnacles and bird poop.

Unfortunately, the worst of it has already passed by then.

Confidently assures you he'll be ready for next time, though.

Sanji:

As a gentleman, it's his duty to take care of his significant other when they're sick.

He's damn good at it too.

That doesn't mean he has to like it.

His face is pinched as his thumb gently rubs your back, he dabs your face and neck, and offers you sips of water when you can manage it.

"You're alright, sweetheart. A little bit of my tender love and care and you'll be on your feet in no time."

And then he notices the colour, not unlike the blueberry reduction from the dessert you'd asked for after lunch.

Gently helps you to your room, and it's not until the next day that you notice anything is amiss.

In. con. solable.

No one has ever gotten sick from his food before. Ever.

Refuses to serve food.

The Straw Hats have to turn back to Baratie so Zeff can literally beat some sense into him.

Shanks:

Bonus!

This crew loves its alcohol way too much for Shanks to be even the slightest bit bothered by a little vomit.

Sits by your side, dabbing your face, rubbing your back, completely unfazed, cracking jokes the entire time.

"Snuck into the hold and had yourself a little party without me, did you?"

Knows exactly what to do to help you feel better.

Again, the crew loves alcohol too much for anything else to be true.

Cuddles. So many cuddles.

This crew is too experienced to let a sick crew member come back to work early, so despite the unserious approach you're on strict bedrest.

The whole crew makes fun of you...but only once you've recovered.

Mihawk:

This is not a man who routinely deals with people being sick.

Confused.

Why are you sick.

Who caused this.

Who does he need to kill.

(It's whoever cooked your dinner at that restaurant you went to last night, but you don't tell him that.)

Completely repulsed, does not let it show on his face while he tends to you.

Rubs your back very gently, and uses a cool cloth to wipe the sweat off your face.

Helps you to bed, sits up and lets you lean against his chest so you're upright, and encourages a few sips of water.

"Get some rest, my jewel."

The next day there's a doctor at your bedside.

You don't need a doctor, but the look on Mihawk's face says this is non-negotiable.

[fictionalgap]

Roommate: Too sick (chapter 1)

Pairing: Hazel Callahan x Reader

Summary: Hazel, you, PJ and Josie got accepted in the same college and were living together. You didn't know that Hazel was such a mother hen till you became roommates. You tried not to get too flustered while she took care of you.

Warning: 18+ Themes

Warning: Swearing. Mentions of vibrators and alcohol. This fic most likely contain smut scenes in later chapters.

Other Chapters: Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5

Song Recommendation: Crush - Tessa Violet

PJ, Josie, Hazel and you all wanted to go to same college and accepted which you all were super excited about. It has been months since you share the same place. Four rooms, living room and kitchen are combined and two bathrooms. Of course only one has a shower. But still thank god It's two bathrooms.

It has been a real experience living with them for you.

It's usually Josie and you who cooks. PJ and Hazel were officially banned from the kitchen. Well, not the fridge. But you know, the stove…

It was decided by Josie and you when Hazel and PJ tried to make Hazel's grandmother's recipe. They were alone at home when it happened. PJ wanted to help Hazel to cook, for the first time in forever and it did not end well. You were the first one who found out this incident. You were going to a friend's to study but you realized you forgot your phone at your guys place so you went back and saw the the huge ass smoke and firefighters and a frantic Hazel and PJ on the street.

Sundays were cleaning days. Everyone cleaned their own room, except PJ. Her room was the messiest and most dust producing room which made the whole place worse. All of you argued with her regularly about this but she swore that she cleaned it regularly.

One time she took Hazel's shirt to wear it for a date which she never asked Hazel If she could take it and of course PJ being PJ, forgot to give her shirt back.

"Ugh, I couldn't find it, okay. Just look into my room."

"What do you mean look into your room? If I go there, I don't know If I will be able to come back! Have you seen your room?"

"It's literally a black hole that is disguised as a pile of stuff." You stated with a smirk.

"It's a PJ hol-" Josie was about to smugly say,

"Okay! That's enough! I got it, okay!" until PJ interrupted Josie.

You told Hazel you would help her looking for her shirt which was an encouragement for her cause God knows, It takes lots of courage to go in that room.

You and Hazel started to look for the shirt in PJ's room.

"Oh…Oh my god! OH MY GOD!" Hazel shouted. Hazel put her hands onto her head and moved backwards with worried eyes.

"What? You found i-, Oh my god! What is this!" Hazel gagged as she sat down on the floor and you looked at the thing for a while, not believing what you see.

You snorted and laughed hysterically. "Josie! Josie, come here!" You screamed and held your stomach as Hazel groaned as she was in pain.

"What? Guys, why are you-, Hazel are you okay?" Josie kneeled down next to Hazel.

"I wish I never came here." Hazel's bottom lip quiverred as her eyes got teary. She layed on the floor in fetal position, color drenched out her skin.

Josie left Hazel's side to see what you were trying to show her and she saw the 'thing' and froze in her place like three minutes then PJ came into the room.

The 'thing' was a vibrator. A baby blue vibrator with a silicone layer which was covered a mild green to a dark green mold. Plus tiny flies were on it. You didn't know how many.

"What's this all fuss about, huh? My room's messy I got i-. Hey, I was looking for this… I guess I have to get a new one." she sighed and got out of the room with a moldy vibrator.

"You guess?" you aand Hazel shouted at the same time.

We all got out of her room. Hazel recovered from this incident once she calmed down. As for Josie, we all knew she would never be the same after this incident. Except PJ, who thinks vibrators getting moldy is only natural so she didin't understand the trauma she caused.

Hazel never found her shirt as PJ never cleaned her room. You thought she wouldn't want it back anyways.

You would still laugh whenever you remembered this.

College was never really boring with your roommates. You thought your friends at college were cool but your roommates were TRULY one in a million.

For you, Hazel was one of a kind.

You knew you needed to wear something more suitable for autumn but you didn't want to look like a buritto, going to the parties. It had a cost.

You coughed and it sounded like as If you were an animal who's in pain and about to die. You sneezed into the poor napkin as you layed down on your bed. 'How It was possible to be tired while you were laying down all day?' you thought as you sneezed again. You got up and opened the window. It was cold but you needed fresh air too.

You were upset that you missed your classes. You mailed your professors and they let you know It's okay. You would take your notes from your friends anyway.

You thought of last night. PJ interrupted Hazel's studying last evening, again. You were glad that you studied at library earlier. It was quiet and PJ-free. You liked your friend but she usually would convince you all to watch a movie, play a board game or go to a party. Or she would simply talk to you not caring If you listen or not.

Flashback

"Come on! Barry is giving a huge ass party. There is booze, there are girls, there are-"

"PJ, you are with Brittany. You remember, right? " Josie interrupted.

"Yeah…but no one says you can't look. I am not gonna eat them. I'll just… observe them. Just a small feast for my eyes since she decided to went to a college far away." PJ crossed her arms with a frown.

"You can always video chat with her." Hazel pouted.

"It's not the same thing, Hazel!" PJ yelled, frustrated.

"Yeah but what would she feel If one of us accidentally told her what you have said about party and girls and observing them…" you said with a playful smirk.

PJ raised her brows. "I'd probably beat the shit out of you."

"Ugh, that's harsh." you scoffed.

"Anyways, we should get ready. Move your asses, now!" PJ said as she walked to her room to get ready for the party.

"Are you going, Y/N?" she looked at you with puppy eyes.

"Yeah… I would try to convince you to come but I don't want to interrupt your studying." you said with sad eyes.

Hazel played with her rings. " I had swimming practice. If I wouldn't, I could study with you earlier."

"Study with me?" You raised brow. How did she knew you studied? Did she saw you?

"Yeah…library is on the way to pool so… a-and you always study on the same corner next to window." She played with her rings nervously.

'She saw me all the times...' you gulped to the thought. You looked at her hands, not being able to face her. She was playing with her rings nervously until she catched you watching them. Three, maybe four seconds passed when you realized she saw that you were looking at her hands. It could be just because you liked her rings.

In a totally straight way, obviously.

You averted your gaze and got up from your seat. "I didn't realize you saw me." you chuckled nervously.

"Yeah…I never told you and you look very focused during studying so…" she nodded her head to herself.

"Hm…we can always study another time If you'd like… Well, not here though, cause-"

"PJ?" she smiled widely.

"Yeah." You answered her smile with yours.

"I am going to change now. Have a good study session." you said and walked to your room to change your clothes.

You walked to your room and after spending five minutes in front of your wardrobe, you wore a white crop top, black baggy jeans, black converse and a black denim jacket. You left your hair down.

"Nice…" PJ said with a smirk.

"Thanks. You too." You checked her clothes.

"Isn't that a little bit thin though? You might get cold." Hazel said pointing your crop top. You blushed at what she said.

She was changed her clothes as well.

Josie pointed at Hazel. "Are you coming?"

"Yep."

PJ smirked coyly." That's the spirit!"

"Weren't you going to study?" you raised a brow.

"I'll study tomorrow. I'm not gonna drink much tonight, anyways." she said, looking at your clothes. "Really, Y/N, you'll get sick. "

"It's fine… We have a ride." you sighed.

"Even I don't worry that much for my girlfriend, Hazel." PJ wiggled her brows playfully with a smirk.

You couldn't help but blushed at what PJ said. You saw Hazel was looking down at her shoes and Josie was smiling at both of you.

Josie's smile ended with her phone ring. "Our ride is here. Let's go."

End of the flashback

You didn't know If this was cold or flu but Hazel was right.

You got sick and everything hurt. Moving hurt. Your head hurt. Your eyes felt like they were pierced. Your ears hurt. You could hardly breathe. Whatever this was, It was draining the shit out of you. You hated that you were wrong but you loved that Hazel was all around you. You also felt guilty about it cause she was interrupting her studying by checking up on you, getting you water, food, making you herbal teas every half an hour…

The thing about Hazel, she turns into a mother hen whenever someone gets sick. Especially when you were sick. You thought it was because you were closer with her than PJ and Josie.

You still rememeber the first week of moving here, you had a migraine attack. She went to the pharmacy without anyone noticing and came back with painkillers and a migraine stick.

And she massaged your temple till you fell aslept. You didn't know If you imagined something touching on your forehead. Preferably her lips. But you thought It was probably a fantasy of yours or a dream.

Of course, you were very pleased with her taking care of you. So you didn't mind getting sick. Maybe even It led you to wear thinner clothes. Not on purpose though.

Subconsciously.

You didn't really wanted to admit it but the idea of someone taking care of you, turned you on a little bit.

The idea of Hazel taking care of you, burned and twisted the parts of you, which you never knew that existed because you had a slight crush on her.

Just a tiny one…

Hazel knocked the door three times.

"Come in." your voice came out shaky.

Hazel came into your room with a smile.

"Hazel you don't have to check up on me every hour." you coughed as you said.

Hazel grabbed a chair with her one hand and placed it next your bed with a smile. She became more musclar and the veins on her arms looked like they were going to pop since she decided to join the college's swimming team. You were very enthusiastic about her decision.

She had a bowl in her hand. You looked up to her and saw her pouting.

"I'm so close thinking you don't want me here, Y/N."

'Well, fuck me!' you cursed to yourself for making her think that. You didn't think she was joking.

"Of course I want you here, Haze. It's just you couldn't study last night and now you can't study because of me." you explained quickly.

She grinned. "I know you do. And I am studying very well and I need breaks too, you know."

She usually took things at face value so It made you shocked to see her saying something without meaning it.

"Well you said it seriously so I thought-"

"I was joking." She took the strand of hair which was front of your nose and placed it behind your ear.

She beamed at you for a half a minute. You felt your heart beating very fast.

"Yeah… What's that?" you pointed to the bowl in her hand.

You noticed a spoon in Hazel's hand and the bowl was smelling really good.

"Chicken soup. I squeezed some lemon in it too."

Your eyes widen at what she has just said.

"No, no, no! I didn't make it! I ordered it. Don't worry. I made a promise to you and Josie and I remember." Her eyes widened as well.

You chuckled. "Okay. Cool. Uhm,… thank you Hazel." You sit up staright in your bed and you were going to took the bowl from Hazel's hand but she didn't give it to you.

"Ugh…?" You have her a confusing look.

"Let me feed you, please. " She made a puppy face.

"Y-you don't have to." you stuttered. Honestly, even your arms hurt when you moved them. And you would definitely not mind her feeding you. It was just you were afraid to make a fool of yourself.

"You seem really tired. Come on. " She pouted again.

"Ugh…okay but stop making that face." you said you averted your gaze.

"What face?" she grinned. Maybe she actually knew what she was doing.

"You know what you're doing, don't you?" She ignored your question and sighed as she blew the soup little to make it colder.

"Open up." she smiled as she held the spoon full of soup to you.

You drinked the soup and It was delicious. You would drink whatever she gave anyway.

"Thank you Hazel. Soup felt really good." you smiled gratefully to her. Your cheeks burned but It was okay that your cheeks were pink because you were sick so she wouldn't think it that way.

"Of course. Least I can do." She smiled at you for a moment as you held eye contact with her. "Oh, I forgot the vitamin!" she said as she got up and left your room.

"What? You ordered vitamin too?" you yelled for her to hear you from the other room.

She came back with a vitamin c supplement in her hand.

"No, I went to the pharmacy."

"Hazel you spent too much time. You go study now!" You scolded her.

"Okay, okay! And It was a ten minute walk. It's not much. Plus walking in fresh air is a good break time."

"Here." She held the vitamin your lips and you felt bold and took it with your lips while keeping eye contact with her.

It was awkward.

In a sexy way.

Her body froze except her eyelids, they blinked a couple of times until she gave you a glass of water to swallow the pill.

She cleared her throat. "So, I'll go study now. If there is anything you need-"

"I'll tell you. I know."

"Okay." she said as she rushed out of the room.

'Fuck.' you told yourself and laid down on your back as you wait for sleep.

[yawnderu]

Daddy's girl - Vladimir Makarov x Reader

The daddy issues are hitting hard today. ^_^

CW: face slapping, death threats, degrading words, hurt/comfort... as comforting a terrorist can be. Reader isn't Makarov's daughter.

''You didn't come to my graduation.'' You stumble into his office without knocking, the liquid courage in your blood giving you the guts you never even knew you had.

''My little princess.'' His tone is full of sarcasm, brown eyes sizing you up as he looks up from the paperwork sprawled on his desk. He tilts his head slightly as you say nothing.

''How kind of you to grace me with your presence. Of course, I wasn't able to attend your graduation... I have important duties as a leader.'' He was making a show out of it, voice dripping pure disdain as he got up from his chair, walking over to you with his hands clasped behind his back. Your silence makes the corners of his mouth tilt up.

''Besides, I've never been much of a family man.'' Despite knowing better, the alcohol is poisoning your brain, taking full control of your tongue.

''Go fuck yourself.'' The words are spoken with pure hatred, years of suppressed words due to only being acknowledged with condescending words finally coming out.

''I'm shocked, my dear.'' There's a smirk on his face at your bold words, clearly amused by your courage. Oh, how his hands are aching to hurt.

''You know better than to speak to me like that. Maybe I should teach you a lesson in respect again.'' He leans down slightly, one hand firmly holding your jaw as he stares down at you with cold, piercing eyes. You hold your ground, arms crossed over your chest while you stare up at him stubbornly. In the past, you'd be begging and trying to run away, yet you stand tall and proud in pure defiance. Just this once.

''I've given you everything you could ever want, and this is the thanks I get for it?'' He's looming over you like a predator ready to pounce on its prey, eyes burning with resentment and anger you have seen many times before.

''You are nothing without me.'' With a swift, jerky motion, the hand grasping your jaw lets go just to reach out and slap you across the face, the sound of his hand connecting with your skin echoing throughout the room. Your eyes close out of reflex, trying your best not to fall down despite how dizzy the hard slap and the alcohol are making you. You take a few seconds to recover, looking up at him with nothing but disdain, mirroring his own expression.

''You've given me everything but your love.'' Makarov's expression hardens even further, disgust mixing in with the anger.

''Love? What do you know about love? You're a naive little girl who has never in her life faced the reality of this world. You think I'm so cruel, so heartless, but I've made more sacrifices than you could ever imagine.'' His Russian accent got more prominent the more annoyed he got, making his words sound even harsher. He grabbed you by the arm, spinning you around and forcing you to face the window that looked out into the city skyline.

''Your mother's love didn't stop her from dying when she gave birth to you. You're lucky I took you under my wing and gave you a life of luxury.'' You scoffed at his comment, staying quiet for now as you held back tears.

''I tolerated your insolence because I thought that with time, you'd respect me... I see now that I failed to raise you properly.'' He pulled out his revolver, pressing the muzzle against your temple. There was barely any emotion in his face, simply cold, calculated indifference.

''That can be fixed easily.'' He presses the gun harder against your head, and all you can do is hold back tears. You bite the inside of your cheek softly, waiting for a ''bang'' that doesn't come yet.

''Go ahead, pap.'' Your stubborn mouth lashes out before you can even think about it, trying your best to give him a smile despite the way your eyes are burning with tears.

''Free me from this life of death and war you gave me.'' Makarov frowns, finger tensing on the trigger as he looks down at you. He would never admit it, but the unexpected response caught him off-guard.

''I've been too soft on you.'' He pulls back the hammer, metal clicking loudly.

''Quite the opposite, but whatever.'' There was an icy calm in his gaze as he looked down at the younger girl.

''Do you know what your problem is? You're ungrateful. More stubborn than a mule and twice as bratty. All you've ever done is take, take, take.'' His finger tightens on the trigger, patience wearing thin by the second. He wanted to see the fear in her eyes, to see the tears finally roll down her cheeks, to hear her beg for her life, yet she wasn't giving him the satisfaction.

''That's my problem?'' You ask sarcastically, turning your head slightly to look up at him, gun now held against your forehead as you lean closer to him, challenging him even further. ''I've done nothing but dedicating my time and life to you and the Inner Circle.''

Makarov takes a step back, lowering his gun by his side before almost hesitantly putting it back in its holster. He looks you up and down with pure disdain, blood boiling inside his throbbing veins.

''It's your attitude that irks me, not whatever you think you've done for me and the Inner Circle. You're underserving of the respect that comes with your position, ungrateful for the life I've given you, you're living proof of all my failures. Do you understand, child?'' He lets go of your arm, hand twitching to get the gun back, but he ignores it for now. He sighs heavily, walking over to his desk and pulling a bottle of vodka out of a drawer, gloved hands opening the bottle and taking a long, long swig. He's way too sober to deal with you.

''Why are you even drunk at 9:00AM?'' He asks softly, trying his best not to grow gray hairs at the stress your mere presence causes him.

''I've been up all night. Graduation party with some friends and the after.'' You speak just as softly, looking out the window for a while before finally turning back to him, hands clasped behind your back politely, a fake, calm expression on your face despite the turmoil in your head. He simply nods his head, elbows leaning on the lavish desk while taking another swig of the vodka.

''No chaser?'' You try to bring some humor to the situation, all anger gone as you now simply try to please him, ignoring your own emotional needs like usual. To your surprise, he lets out a soft amused chuckle.

''No chaser.'' He confirms, taking a deep breath before pulling two glasses out, filling them up before holding one your way.

''You better not disappoint me.'' The words lack their usual venom, though he's still clearly not happy with you. He knocks back his glass, filling it again without waiting for you. You hesitantly reach for the glass, holding your breath as you knock it back as well, making a face once the alcohol burns your throat and warms up your stomach.

''Ugh.'' Is all you can say, sitting in a chair in front of his desk as he fills up your glass again.

''Come on, try not to embarrass yourself.'' He's not being hostile for once. He almost sounds teasing as he says that, keeping eye contact while he takes his shot without even grimacing or making a face, clearly handling alcohol much better than you.

''You're trying to get me drunk for fun.'' Yet you still grab the glass and knock it back, making another face of pure disgust at the burn of pure vodka he seems to be drinking so easily.

''It certainly looks like it's working.'' He says with a small teasing tone, gesturing towards your slightly unfocused gaze.

''It is.'' Your voice is slightly slurred, the mix of the alcohol you drank earlier, the hard liquor and the lack of sleep hitting you like a fucking train, making you more tired by the second. You rest your head on the desk, eyes closing as you hear Makarov let out an amused chuckle as he gets up from his chair.

''Come here.'' He speaks with surprising softness, and you can feel him lifting you up with care, bringing your barely conscious body to his much bigger chair as he sits down, holding you close on his lap. One of his hands is on your lower back, safely securing your body, while the other one is running up and down the length of your hair.

''Get some sleep.'' He whispers softly and he doesn't have to repeat himself twice. Before you're fully gone, you can feel his lips plant a small kiss on the top of your head. Just this once, he'll allow himself to be weak.

[tojisblade]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐄

— 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

synopsis: after your divorce, you kept quiet and to yourself as you took a break to recover from everything. you ended up meeting fushiguro toji, who ended up asking you out and delivering the 'best possible medicine to heartbreak' as your best friend had recommended. getting fucked with no strings attached.

wc: 2.7k

cw: unprotected sex, fem!reader, pet names (good girl, baby, sweetheart), oral, overstimulation, toji is FERAL, cliffhanger at the end, part two will follow with some angst and more :3

this is not proofread.

likes and reblogs, as well as feedback is very much appreciated!

“you know what?”, your best friend, hana, suddenly said, gulping down the wine she had just sipped. “you really have to get fucked.” 

you choked on your own wine, spluttering in shock as you stared at her. “what the fuck, hana?!”, you giggled, shaking your head. “no, i do not.”

“fuck, yes you do. come on, babe, you’ve separated from your ex-husband weeks ago. it’s time for you to get fucked again, like… just raw, meaningless sex. no strings attached. that’s everything. believe me, that’s the best medicine”, hana giggled, drinking her glass empty and filling it up again, clearly tipsy already. 

“i totally disagree. i’m… okay.” 

“no, baby, you’re not. you’re not and it’s too obvious. you don’t take care of yourself anymore. i’m absolutely worried about you. but i know that this is just temporary and you will get yourself together again. i just worry that you won’t be able to do so without forgetting about the separation. and honestly? the best medicine to get that crap out of your head is by getting fucking drunk and get into it with somebody.” 

you sighed, still shaking your head in disbelief that this conversation actually happened. 

—

the headache you woke up with the next morning was something you were used to from the past few weeks – getting drunk to the point you were throwing up almost every single day. this only started after your husband – well, ex-husband now – asked for separation and divorce, after you had become so distant to him because of your research and work. 

it had been weeks on weeks where you wouldn’t even spare a glance at him, exchanged barely a word with him. of course, he would get sick and tired of this. 

it was too late when you realized your mistake and finally snapped out of it. that day was the same one he had asked for a divorce. 

luckily, it was a quick and easy case – you both had quickly agreed on your assets. you didn’t want anything, just enough of your shared savings that you could afford a new apartment to rent. 

it was yet another lonely evening in a shabby bar in tokyo, you were drinking some lightly alcoholic beverage just because you didn’t want to get totally drunk again. 

“what is a gorgeous woman like you doing in this shabby ass place, sweetheart?”, the bartender asked – a very tall and muscular man, smirking at you. you lean your head to the side, noticing a tiny scar on his lip’s right side.

“what is a handsome man like you working at a shabby bar like this?”, you encountered, chuckling. “can you give me some alcohol-free cocktail? i don’t… want to get drunk tonight.”

“well, coming to a bar in general was the wrong idea then, sweetie.” 

“i’m fully aware”, you laughed, shaking your head. “i just needed to get out of my home for a night.”

“well, no matter what got you here, you’re very welcome and here is your drink.” as you reached for your purse, he shook his head, refusing the pay for the drink. “no, no, this one’s on me, yeah? enjoy, sweetheart.” 

“thanks, uhh... what’s your name?”, you asked, giggling as you sipped the cocktail. “it’s toji. fushiguro toji”, he introduced himself, smirking confidently and you couldn’t help but think about how fucking hot that man was and the words of hana struck back into your head.

maybe she was right. it had been weeks and you were nothing but a total mess, thinking about your past life with your ex-husband every minute of every single day. 

“nice to meet you, toji. i’m y/n”, you introduced yourself with the first genuine smile in weeks on your lips. 

“oh! aren’t you that news reporter? you do those real cool investigations on undiscussed topics, don’t you?!”, he asked, eyes widening. “i didn’t recognize you at first, sorry about that!” 

“ah, no worries. i have been on a break for the past three weeks, so…”, you trailed off. “i.. guess i haven’t really been working on anything much.” 

“ah, we all have those times. want to talk it out? sometimes emptying out your heart to some stranger can help”, toji chuckled as he wiped off some of the glasses, drying them off to place them back on the counter. 

“is that really a thing?”, you retorted, laughing with him. “i never believed in that, to be honest. my best friend suggested i needed to get fucked, like, she described it as ‘raw, meaningless and no-strings-attached sex’. maybe that’s what i really need, huh?” 

perhaps you were already tipsy from your previous alcoholic drink, but didn’t realize it. because sane-you would never have blurted this out to a total stranger. 

even toji seemed to be caught totally off-guard by this. his eyes widened before he chuckled. “i thought you were married?”, he asked then, a little bit shy about knowing that fact. “at least… that is what i remembered from when i looked you up once after i watched some of your reports..” 

“ah, no… well, i was. not anymore. that is why i’m here at this ‘shabby ass bar’”, you laughed, but it was a heartless laugh this time. “we got divorced. that’s why i haven’t been back to reporting yet. we finalized the divorce three weeks ago and then i asked my boss for a month long absence. i’m supposed to be back in a week and i’m still not prepared mentally for coming back.” 

“and that’s okay, sweetheart. you can’t set a specific timeframe to get over something so major happening in your life. how long were you married?” 

“five years. we married young. we were both… 21? something around that. yeah. high school sweethearts, you know? we got together when we were 17, so”, you replied, smiling softly. “we didn’t have much back then, so we only had a small little thing between us both in some tiny venue. just me, him and two of our closest friends. never even got to do a proper ceremony after we build our lives to our likings.”

“see, that’s been what, nine, almost ten years? you almost spent ten years with one person and you expect yourself to forget about that in, what? twenty eight days? come on, that’s impossible.”

“to be fair… i grew so much more distant from him ages ago. i just didn’t want to admit it.”

“and still, the divorce that finalized it all only happened recently. it reminded you of your mistakes during the last moments of your relationship. no matter how long ago you started growing distant to him, the last moments are the most crucial ones.”

“you know, you’re insanely insightful for a bartender in this shabby ass bar”, you giggled, shaking your head. 

“well, you’re surprisingly not the only freshly single person in front of me. though, you’re the most beautiful one of them, sweetheart”, toji mumbled, smiling softly. “and definitely the only one i’ve ever felt so attracted to.” 

that statement made your cheek heat up. you were always told that you were very stunning, but hearing it from someone other than your ex-husband had you slightly embarrassed. 

“thank you”, you mumbled, drinking your beverage to stop yourself from saying something more embarrassing. 

“hey, can i… have your number? i’d love to see you again someday”, toji then blurted out, chuckling softly at his own sudden move. “you’re pretty cool.” 

you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “sure.” 

—

toji and you had your first official date just a week later, the same evening you had your first day back at work after your month-long break. 

“listen, uhm… i don’t mean to burst your bubble or something but me agreeing to this date wasn’t me trying to get your hopes up. i still need my time to adjust being a single woman after years of being with one single person and i hope you understand that”, you said, a sad smile on your lips. “you’re a really great man and all but i’m not ready for a relationship.”

“i know that. don’t worry, sweetcheeks”, he chuckled, softly caressing your cheek with his thumb. “i asked you out because i wanted to get to know you more. mayhaps, one day you’ll sit in front of me and be happy to say yes to being my girlfriend but i know that day won’t be happening anytime soon. and i’m perfectly fine with that.”

you giggled, raising your first glass of wine in a week and a little clinking sound echoed in your ears when his encountered yours. 

the night was filled with laughter and genuine smiles. you were amazed at how much you loved being with toji, not expecting to feel this comfortable with anyone else after the divorce finalized. 

“thank you, toji. for this amazing night”, you hugged him goodbye after he had walked you home, his big arms engulfing your body fully and you felt so comforted in his grasp. 

“of course, sweetcheeks. you’re very welcome”, he mumbled, planting a gentle kiss on your head. “you were amazing tonight, by the way. i mean… on tv.”

“you watched?”, you asked, looking away shyly. 

“of course, i did. i watched you every single night up until your break. you amazed me on screen and then tonight again when you gave me the chance to get to know the real you.”

his gaze was lidded as he glanced down on your lips for a moment and back to your eyes, his one arm wrapped around your waist as his other hand was on your cheek again. “you’re so beautiful, sweetheart. had me glued to my screen every single night as i watched you, listened to you and actually cared about what crap was happening around the world.” 

he was so close that you felt his breath on your lips, your breathing slowly getting shaky and you couldn’t help it anymore – you just had to do it. you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss, the tension had you in shivers as you felt his other arm hold you tightly against his massive body. 

after that, everything was happening very fast. he let go of the kiss for a moment, asking you if you were sure about all this and let you get your house’s keys out so that he could lift you up easily, your legs wrapped around his waist, as he carried you towards the bedroom. 

“where is it, sweetheart?”, he asked, the smirk on his lips was so addicting to see that you were distracted for a second. toji playfully smacked your ass as you didn’t reply, getting you out of your trance-like stance. 

“over there”, you pointed at the door, as he carried you over, planting soft and gentle kisses over your neck and collarbones, before you were thrown onto your bed, giggling softly. 

“what a fancy bedroom you got here, sweetcheeks”, toji chuckled, noticing the remote control for the lights in the room. he pressed on the red-colored button, turning on the red lights, making you laugh at the cliché type of mood he was setting. 

“much better, huh?”

this whole thing didn’t feel like a one-night-stand. it felt like a romantic moment between two lovers and you liked this feeling a lot. there were lots of kisses and gentle caressing before toji got too impatient and finally ripped off your lacy panties, lifting your hips with his big hands on your hips and latched his lips against your clit, having you moan out in surprise and pleasure rushing through your body. 

“t-toji!”, you exclaimed, eyes rolling back as he ate you out like his whole life depended on this, like he would die if he didn’t make you cum on his mouth and drink up every last drop. “ah, fuck, so good.”

“taste so fucking good. how could you deprive me of this for an entire week, sweetheart?”, he groaned, he was so far gone with his mind, the only thoughts in his head were about how fucking sweet you tasted and how good he was going to fuck that sweet cunt of yours. 

“fuck, please”, you whined, “don’t tease me.” 

“but sweetheart, it’s so fun to tease you”, he chuckled. before you could say or do anything else, he had buried his head between your thighs once more, distracting you from what you were going to say in the first place. 

it wasn’t long until he had you trembling, crying out his name as nothing but pure pleasure coursed through your body that your hands clutching into his hair. 

“need your cock”, you whined, trying to get his pants off his body, eyes widening as you saw his bulge through the boxers. “o-oh.” 

he chuckled, biting his lip as he slowly and teasingly removed the fabric from his body and you gulped as you saw his size. “like what you see, baby?”, he laughed lightly, slowly kissing his way back up to your face. “don’t worry, i’ll be careful.”

as he aligned his tip with your entrance, he slowly lifted your legs, wrapping them around his waist and finally thrusted his cock inside, your eyes widening at his girth practically splitting you open. he groaned out, face buried against your neck as he praised you for how good you were taking his cock. 

“fuck, baby, you’re taking my cock so good”, he’d grunt out repeatedly, his tip easily hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, having you arch your back so prettily for him and your eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. 

“t-toji”, you cried out, nails digging into his back as you tried to pull his head closer to yours, wanting to kiss him so badly because you needed the distraction from how good he was fucking you. 

“deprived me and yourself from this pleasure for an entire week?”, toji groaned, his eyes were focused on where you both connected, smirking as he noticed a little creamy ring forming around his cock. he was in nothing but pure bliss. “stupid, so fucking stupid, but the wait was so worth it.” 

“yes, fuck, it wa–”

you stopped talking as a sudden and pretty intense rush of pleasure washed through your body, making you forget whatever you were saying as you were clinging at toji once more so tightly he let out a groan. 

“fuck, you’re so beautiful when you come for me, baby. gonna make you feel like you’re in heaven all night long, hm? how does that sound?”

you could only nod, all sense and logic had left your mind, except for the one thing your best friend had said. 

“it’s time for you to get fucked again, like… just raw, meaningless sex. no strings attached. that’s everything. believe me, that’s the best medicine.”

well, fuck, she was totally right. 

— 

toji fucked you all over your place. 

the bed wasn’t enough for someone of his patience and experience – he had expressed his urge to bend you over the counter once you both had been to worn out for another round and decided that you both got too snacky. just as you were eating some light food after all that, you in his shirt, sitting on the counter and him just in his boxers between your legs as he fed you some strawberries, before he leaned down to your ear, whispering what other nasty things he’d love to do to you. 

it wasn’t long until you were bent over the counter, his cock buried back inside as he fucked you like nobody ever had – not that you had ever anything with anyone else except with your ex-husband. 

and this was nothing like the soft, vanilla times you had with him. 

toji fucked hard. he was unrelenting, patient to tease you and most importantly: he switched up things enough but not too much to keep things interesting. 

just as he once again buried his seed deep inside of you and you were about to clean up the mess you had made with your snacking, your door bell ringed. 

your eyes widened – it was the middle of the night, who the hell would come see you at this time of hour? 

“expecting someone?”, toji asked. 

you could only shake your head and reply with a “nope. no one.” 

you quickly went to grab your panties and buttoned up toji’s shirt which was long enough to cover the entirety of your thighs and you finally opened up the door, toji shortly following you. 

“nanami? what the hell are you doing here?”, you asked, as your ex-husband was staring at you and then at toji.

READ PART TWO HERE.

[devilmen-collector]

When They Learn They Are Going To Be A Father (HC)

Pairing: Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Lucifer x Fem!MC (separate)

Warning: None

Summary: MC tells them she's pregnant

Satan

*slams the wall with his fist*

He's not angry at you, he's just too excited and he has to punch something.

*takes you on a ride with his motorcycle while all of Gehenna celebrates*

"I can't hear anything." "It's still in early stage, Satan" you chuckle as the king of wrath's excitement as he puts his ear on your belly.

However, he can't sleep at night. Thinking about the state of the country, the war, your health, the environment for a kid to grow up, etc. His insomnia is already bad and it just gets worse.

Mammon

*Laughs*

*Lifts you up high and kisses you*

"Master, those words you said give me so much happiness."

He will order all the best and latest technologies of Tartaros be employed to take care of you and the baby.

It's a given that the child will be spoiled rotten and will be given countless presents. But first, the king of greed must choose the first present to be gifted at the child's birth. The first present must be something with special meaning. He's going to take hours to look through the his treasury.

Leviathan

"You are not allowed to leave the royal palace. It's for your and the baby's own good."

Whenever you go, at least one Hades noble must be with you at every moment. Well, in the case of you going to the bathroom, the noble is to stand guard outside.

Keeps talking about the future heir and succession to the throne of Hades, but you know he cares for both you and the baby deeply.

Another king to have insomnia at night. He has a childhood that is horrible than any word can describe, so he can't imagine taking care of the child and giving them a beautiful childhood. The moment he snaps out of his thoughts, it's already morning.

However, he will try his best, he will read everybook there is about taking care of a baby, even practicing with a baby doll. He won't let you know. The king of envy can't wait to see your shocked face when you know that he can take care of the baby perfectly.

Beelzebub

*dies for a good few minutes*

"Then you should eat some more. After all, you have to eat for two now." The king of gluttony says after recovering from shock and winks at you.

Another king to have insomnia at night.

Smokes a lot while thinking about everything that is going to happen, especially the fact that he's going to have a child but can't be with them constantly as they grow up because of the danger he attracts.

Seeks Bael out. He needs to talk it out with his friend.

Will kill anyone who tries to give you drug or alcohol from now on.

Lucifer

Kinda expecting it. After all, pregnancy is a result of sexual intercourse. But that doesn't mean he isn't surprised nor remains completely calm. After all, he's going to be a father.

Even though he seems to be calm on the outside, he's worried on the inside. Probably stops to pray for a few seconds to calm himself down.

He gets insomnia from remembering the atrocities his brothers have done and he fears that he will also fail in raising the kid just as he failed in showing his brothers the right path.

Makes sure that throughout your pregnancy, you will feel comfortable as much as possible and that you will have a smooth childbirth.

Ironically, his child is also "son/daughter of Adam" now. He better starts using your real name more often.

"Daughter o-...MC, if you feel uncomfortable anywhere in your body, call me or the others immediately."

[starkwlkr]

a little too much | charles leclerc

a very happy dilf day to jenson button and sebastian vettel!

All week Ruby had been wiggling her loose tooth trying to get it to fall off. Ever since she was told that the tooth fairy would bring her money in exchange for her tooth, she was desperate for it to fall off.

“Ruby, don’t do that. It will fall off on its own, you just have to be patient.” Y/n said to the little girl after dinner. As Charles and Y/n cleaned up the dinner table, Ruby ran to the bathroom and checked her tooth in the mirror.

“Arthur should be the one to give her the money since he told her about the tooth fairy.” Charles joked. He already had money put aside for when Ruby finally lost her tooth and it was his job to slip in a couple of euros under the girl’s pillow.

“You know she told me she’s expecting enough to get that barbie dream house but she wants the one with the pool so her barbie’s can swim in it.” Y/n explained. Apart from talking all week about her tooth, Ruby also had her eyes set on the Barbie dream house she saw weeks ago in the store.

“She already has two of those. My mother got her one and I bought her the other one.”

“She has two because her papa couldn’t resist buying her anything she wants. What was it you said? Whatever Ruby wants, Ruby gets? I love you for making our daughter happy, but she doesn’t need a million toys.” Y/n kissed her husband’s cheek.

“She’s only little for a while, amour, I want to enjoy it while I can.”

A week later, Charles and Y/n were invited to a party by Joris. And of course Charles took advantage of the alcohol. Pascale had offered to look after Ruby so the couple could have a day off from parenting. Ruby loved being with her grand-mère. She even showed Pascale her loose tooth and when she tried to wiggle it with her tounge, she felt the tooth move more than it did before. Seconds later, Ruby spit out her tooth into her hand and proudly showed it to Pascale.

“The tooth fairy is coming!” She ran around the house holding her tooth.

“She is! How much do you think the tooth fairy is going to bring you?” Pascale asked the excited girl.

“A lot! I’m going to buy Barbie’s dream house that comes with the pool and all my Barbie’s are going to live in it.” Ruby explained.

By the time Y/n and Charles arrived home, Ruby was fast asleep with her tooth under her pillow. Pascale had informed them of it when they arrived. She also saw how Charles was being held up by Y/n since he had a little too much to drink.

“Thank you for taking care of my Ruby, maman.” Charles said as Y/n helped him up the stairs.

“Take care of yourself, Charles. I’ll see you two soon.” Pascale smiled and left the Leclerc house.

“I’m taping your hands so you don’t ever have another drink ever again.” Y/n teased.

“I will find a way to drink.”

When the couple finally made it to their room, Charles threw himself on his bed and let out a sigh. He missed his bed all day.

“I’m going to take a quick shower. Go to sleep, I mean it.” Y/n kissed Charles and walked to the bathroom.

While his wife was busy, Charles remembered about Ruby’s tooth. He groaned as he moved to his side to grab his wallet from his back pocket. Then he forced himself out of the bed and stumbled to Ruby’s room, trying to be quiet.

Ruby’s room wasn’t completely dark. She had rainbow night light illuminating her room. He gently lifted Ruby’s pillow and grabbed the small tooth then placed the money where the tooth was. He then managed to make it back to his room without Ruby or Y/n noticing.

When morning came, the first thing Ruby did was check under her pillow and what she found made her extremely happy. In school, her teacher had taught her about money and it’s value so when she counted it, she was 100% sure it was enough to buy her Barbie dream house.

In the kitchen, all the Leclerc’s had reunited for breakfast. Charles was still in pain, but with some painkillers and breakfast, he was soon recovering. Arthur had been teasing him all morning.

“So, how much did you give Ruby for her tooth?” Arthur asked.

“Four or five euros. She’s probably going to spend it on candy.” Charles replied, grabbing his orange juice and drinking from it.

“Papa! Maman! The tooth fairy gave me one hundred euros!” Ruby ran to the kitchen where she found her entire family eating breakfast. That made Charles choke on his drink and spill most of it on himself.

“Ruby, let me see,” Ruby handed her mother the money she was given. After double checking, it was clear that Ruby definitely had one hundred euros. “Wow, the tooth fairy did give you a lot of money.” Y/n glanced at Charles, who frantically searching for his wallet.

“Can we go buy Barbie’s dream house? My Barbies told me they want the one with the pool.” Ruby asked.

“Barbies don’t talk.” Arthur teased. He and Ruby always joked around with each other.

“Not to you.” Replied Ruby. “Ask uncle Enzo. Tour guide Barbie told him Italy is the best place to ask auntie Charlotte to marry him.”

Lorenzo nodded, playing along with the girl. “It’s true. Tour guide Barbie doesn’t lie.”

“Is there a teacher Barbie so she can teach your papa how to count?” Y/n asked.

Ruby stayed silent and thought about her collection of Barbies. Then she gasped. “There is.”

[cactus-cuddler]

Chapter 1: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

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word count: 1,1 k

plot: You work in a small bar but you don't like your job, you don't feel safe and the uniform you are forced to wear doesn't help.

One day, during one of your shifts, a mysterious man comes in asking you for the most alcoholic drink you sell. After glass after glass you decide to stop him, your heart's too big to watch a man get drunk in the sunlight.

With your kindness and your sweetness you will little by little penetrate the heart of this man who will decide to become the bodyguard of the bar where you work just to protect you from other men, no one knows like a man what they are capable of doing.

warnings: nothing for now

ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ <3

You are behind the bar at your workplace, dressed in a skirt that falls above your knees and a matching blouse, both in a pale red. Working closely with an almost entirely male clientele while dressed this way makes you feel uncomfortable. But quitting isn’t an option; finding another job now would be too difficult, and you need the income.

The bar is empty, and with no customers in sight, you sit on a chair behind the counter and open a book you brought with you for moments like this. The doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of a customer. You stand up, smile on your lips, and look towards the entrance. A tall, imposing man with a serious expression enters, dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, a glove on his left hand, and dark jeans.

“Good morning! What can I get for you?” you ask cordially. He sits at the bar, and his expression remains unchanged.

“Give me the strongest alcohol you have,” he demands in a rude tone, with an anger he’s trying to suppress. You hand him the drink without comment. It’s eleven in the morning, and it seems unusual to be drinking so early, but you simply follow his orders. He asks for four more drinks, and now you are serving him the fifth. He takes the glass, downs it in one gulp, and asks for a sixth. You try to stop him, feeling that he has reached his limit, and you were never taught to stay quiet while others ruin themselves.

“Bring me another one, or I’ll go to another bar!” he exclaims angrily. The alcohol has taken its toll, and he’s no longer fully conscious. His mind is clouded, and his vision is growing blurry. You hand him a glass of water.

“I know this isn’t what you asked for, but drink some water and wait until you recover,” you tell him, smiling sweetly to gain his trust.

"The more I try to hurt myself the more I find someone with a heart trying to stop me" he tells you chuckling. He drinks the water, and you observe him closely, trying to decide if you should ask him more about himself. Isn't this the first time he's tried to hurt himself?

He doesn’t seem willing to share, so you leave it for now, though his words have left a troubling impression on you.

As rush hour arrives, more people start coming into the bar, and the man is still there, watching you work. You move back and forth, serving tables, receiving unsolicited compliments, and collecting tips. When all the tables are served, you take a short break to wipe the sweat off your face. At the end of your shift, your colleague Megan arrives to take over. She is a tall woman with brown hair who is not as kind to customers and has no qualms about serving excessive amounts of alcohol, even encouraging men to drink more. But the boy from earlier, still sitting at the bar, you don’t want anything bad to happen to him. From his words, you sense that if he gets completely drunk, he might do something reckless.

“There’s a guy on the balcony, the one with the glove on his left hand. Please stop him if he tries to drink too much; he can handle up to five glasses. I’m not sure beyond that,” you warn Megan. She looks you up and down, chewing her gum.

“I can’t promise anything,” she replies.

You exit through the back door reserved for employees, donning a light cardigan over your uniform, and head briskly towards home. Your small studio apartment is in a building with a gruff landlord who complains if you’re even a day late with the rent. You can’t help but think about the boy from the bar; his words in a moment of weakness have stuck with you, and you feel guilty for leaving him in Megan’s care. You have some instant noodles for lunch and try to distract yourself by reading a few pages of your book, but before you know it, it’s almost time for your next shift. You put your uniform back on, spritz some perfume, and head back to the bar.

“Sorry for the delay!” you tell Megan breathlessly.

“It’s fine,” she reassures you. “That guy asked about you as soon as you left. I told him your schedule. I hope you don’t mind; I thought you were interested. His name is Bucky. I heard him talking on the phone,” she says with a wink before leaving, and your shift officially begins. Knowing that he asked for you as soon as you left makes you smile unconsciously, and you start your shift in a better mood than usual, even humming the notes of your favorite song while you clean the bar and wash the dishes.

The bar is quiet, and everyone is served, so you sit down in a chair and read. After a quarter of an hour, the bar is empty, and you hear the bell announcing a new customer. It’s Bucky. As he enters, you’re filling the fridge, and upon seeing him, you greet him with a friendly smile. He doesn’t know that you’re aware he asked Megan about your schedule.

He sits in the same spot as before, with the same cold expression.

“The same alcohol as before, please,” he requests before you can ask him.

As more people enter, including groups of kids, some elderly ladies, and others who have come to socialize, you serve them all under Bucky’s watchful eye. He only asks for another drink when he sees you’re not busy. You appreciate customers like that.

By eight in the evening, the bar is empty, knowing it will start to fill up again after nine. Bucky is still there, and after the fourth drink, you tell him to take a break.

“You shouldn’t be so nice to people who don’t deserve it,” he says, sipping the glass of water you offered him.

“It’s not about kindness. If you get drunk, I’d be in danger too,” you reply, giggling and looking at him.

“I haven’t touched a woman in years. I don’t think I’d start now.”

“Better not to find out. How come such an attractive man hasn’t touched a woman in so long?” you tease him, having given up on focusing solely on your own thoughts.

“How come such a pretty girl works in a place like this?” he counters, hitting the mark. You giggle and put your hands up in surrender.

After half an hour, the mysterious man pays for his drinks and leaves a generous tip.

“Thanks for your company, pretty girl,” he says as he departs, making your heart race.

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[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Twelve

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 16.6k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hi babes!! Welcome to the latest update (a crazy one!!) Lot's going on in this chapter, including a boatload of angst, a bit of fluff, some ~spice~, and lots of emotions. It is a pretty Yoongi-heavy chapter (nice) so for all my Yoongi stans-- this one is for you! I hope you all enjoy this update, and let me know what you think if you'd like, and I'm sending you all my love 💕

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Yoongi leaned against the grimy plaster that made up the back hallway of The Black Lodge, trying not to grimace as he felt the silky material of his button-down sticking to the years of smoke residue and alcohol fumes. The air was thick with wispy clouds of cigar and cigarette smoke, as it always was, and the strange, dark energy of the bar was still ever-present; but Yoongi wasn’t entirely focused on that, for once. 

He could really use a cigarette, himself. Yoongi quit smoking around the time his mother passed away– no, don’t think about it. Using his pointed incisors, he bit down on his lower lip enough to draw blood, the piercing pain chasing any thoughts of his mother from his mind, a coping mechanism he’d picked up over the past year. Refusing to cut his hair, abstaining from composing, gnawing his lips into shreds; anything to distract, or perhaps to punish, to forget. 

Time marched on, unfortunately. Mourning in an already mournful place was useless and made him feel like he was drowning in a pit of molten tar. Even clinging to hope, that one day he’d be able to manage breaking free and finding somewhere else to live, the hope grew dimmer by the day. 

The frown on the leopard hybrid’s face deepened as the sound of someone retching in the men’s bathroom he was standing across from reached his sensitive ears. Sometimes, he wished he could stick pencils in the spotted appendages– he’d take normal, dim human hearing from his other set over some of the shit he had managed to overhear with hybrid ears during his nearly 28 years of life. Absently, he reached up to fiddle with one of the earrings dangling from his lobe– the silver, pointed shape of a feathered wing gliding between the pads of his forefinger and thumb. 

His frown turned into the faintest ghost of a smile, that vicious and searing sensation of growing hope knocking the wind out of him as he caught the scent of jasmine– mingling with sharp botanicals, a saccharine underlying sweetness, and something uniquely human. He straightened up immediately, the door of the women’s bathroom creaking open and a great gust of that delicious scent smacking him square in the face. 

“I-? I what?” Y/N squeaked, not only unable to recover from the tender kisses Yoongi had showered over her wrist and hand, but the words that had come out of his mouth immediately after he pulled away from her slightly. “Y-yoongi. We kissed? I asked you to kiss me?”

Yoongi was now rather quiet, slowly moving away from her and staring out his window, his face somewhat closed off now that he had revealed what Y/N knew he was leaving out of the whole story of their first meeting. His tail was curling around his own waist mindlessly, and Y/N was cold and reeling with the absence of his body heat that was once accelerating her heartbeat into a gallop. 

It seemed that Yoongi was giving Y/N a few moments to process everything he confessed, a poorly-constructed imaginary wall in between them as she babbled nonsensically. 

“I’m? I don’t even know what to say. I never get that drunk, enough to ask for a kiss from a total stranger,” Y/N blurted out something that actually made sense after a few moments of stuttering, however, the statement that left her lips had Yoongi hissing and a flash of hurt sparking up his feline hazel gaze. Abruptly, Y/N wished she could collect her words from the air and stuff them back into her mouth. “I’m so, so sorry, Yoongi… I shouldn’t have forced you into a corner like that.”

Yoongi was astonished, his tail beginning to flick back and forth so sharply Y/N knew that he was very agitated. Deciding to shut up before she offended the leopard hybrid any more than she clearly already had, Y/N began to approach Yoongi at snail’s pace to prevent him from flinching away. 

“When did I say that you had forced me into a corner, Y/N? Are you serious right now?” Yoongi used her name for the first time in what felt like months, taking her off guard and making her swallow thickly. His voice was soft, but had a deadly edge to it, and the way his jaw was clenched had shivers rolling down her spine– Yoongi actually looked like the predatory leopard he was. 

“I was just saying, um, like I feel bad that I threw myself at you like that,” Y/N wished she could rewind time and relive the tender moment they had right before the bombshell was dropped, but that tenderness seemed to be leagues out of her grasp. 

“You did nothing of the sort. I told you, we talked for almost two hours. We were hardly strangers by the time I kissed you, by the way,” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at Y/N with a dangerous look in his eyes. It made Y/N want to back up and shrivel beneath his gaze, but she knew that Yoongi would never hurt her, so she stood her ground, albeit shakily. “I liked you, Y/N. I wanted to kiss you.”

“L-liked?” Y/N couldn’t help but emphasize the end of the word, the past tense, where Yoongi had implied that his affection for her had disappeared over the course of the year. 

After all, she made him wait, got his hopes up, and was now implying herself that he was nothing but a drunken mistake. Heart plummeting into her stomach, she watched Yoongi’s nose twitch, likely picking up on her anxiety and rising stress levels, the stoniness of his features loosening up a tad. The air was charged, tense, and Y/N wasn’t sure who would cut it first, and where the complicated conversation was going. 

“Y/N–” Yoongi took a step forward, his hand raised as if to place it on her cheek, before the sound of his bedroom door being blasted open cut him off with a surprised grunt, blood draining from his face. 

“HEY, YOONGI. WHAT TIME IS DINNER?” Hoseok jogged into the room shouting, loud rap music coming out of the earpods he was wearing, his breathing labored. 

The fox hybrid must have just come back from a run, and nothing on his face indicating he had a flying fucking clue what Y/N and Yoongi were talking about– he didn’t even seem to notice the tension swirling around the room, Y/N’s stricken expression, or the fact that she was just standing in the middle of Yoongi’s bedroom. Urgently, Yoongi put space between her and himself, dropping back into his composed attitude, like nothing had occurred at all. 

Ambling forward calmly, Yoongi yanked one of Hoseok’s earpods out, Hoseok grinning at him cheekily and switching off the music on his phone. Still standing in the center of the room motionless, Y/N gawked at Yoongi’s flawless attempt to appear normal and nonchalant. 

“Foxy, you trying to blow out your eardrums?” Yoongi grumbled, frowning deeply when Hoseok plopped down on the leopard hybrid’s bed. “Dude, you’re fucking soaked. Get off my bed.”

Hoseok did nothing of the sort, simply repeating his question about dinner, flicking his sweaty bangs off of his forehead with a smirk and leaning back on Yoongi’s cushy beige comforter smugly. 

“I don’t know when dinner will be ready. I was going to make something carb-heavy because I have a game tomorrow night. There’s pasta dough in the fridge…” Yoongi began tying up his hair with a purple scrunchie Y/N had got for him at work, the sight of him both using it and the fact that he didn’t let her put up his hair for the first time in weeks, making her chest squeeze in pain. “Can you help roll out the pasta for the machine, Foxy? I think Y/N mentioned she wanted to shower before dinner, which honestly you should be doing instead of perspiring all over my bed.”

Y/N hadn’t mentioned taking a shower before dinner at all, and she didn’t know if Yoongi wanted space from her and didn’t want to come out and say it, but the lie stung nonetheless. 

“Ah, I’ll shower before bed. Especially if I’m going to be covered in sweat and flour,” Hoseok heaved himself off of Yoongi’s bed, following Yoongi to the door and out into the hall. 

Willing her legs to move, Y/N felt her throat grow thick, confused and left out in the cold. Swiftly, she made her way into her bedroom once she was confident Hoseok and Yoongi were in the kitchen, hastily getting right into the shower so she could put off a crying session. Having red eyes and a swollen face at dinner wasn’t appealing to her, and would attract way too many questions. 

There was a lot for her to think about surrounding the state of her and Yoongi’s relationship now, but Y/N knew if she dwelled on it for too long, her attempt to keep tears at bay would be spoiled. She would give anything to pull the memory of her night at The Black Lodge with Yoongi out of the deep corners of her mind; to relive it, to understand her thought process and how her brain absorbed it. Her body felt weakened after the intensity of what she had learned, head pounding and legs like jelly, and she wasn’t sure if she could make it through dinner acting like everything was okay when she really just wanted to burrow into her bed for the next three weeks. 

Y/N took her sweet time massaging her jasmine lotion into her skin, selecting a warm set of pajamas, and even tidying up some clutter around her room to make sure she was only in the kitchen long enough to choke down some food before she could pull her cozy quilt over her head and sleep away all of her confusing thoughts. It would be damn near impossible for her to get out of the nightly movie routine she had created with all of the boys, and it was her turn to pick out the movie that night as well, but perhaps she could act like she was too exhausted to stay up past dinner. 

Taking Yoongi to his game the following day ought to be awkward. It wasn’t like they could exactly continue their conversation– the rest of the hybrids were going to tag along, so they could grab some dinner afterwards and have a nice Saturday night out on the town. In reality, she wasn’t sure she’d get more one-on-one time with Yoongi until their next piano lesson, if he kept dragging other hybrids into helping him with meals rather than her. 

Slapping moisturizer onto her face, Y/N stared at herself in the old silver mirror hanging over her sink vanity, miraculously appearing pretty normal despite the pure bewilderment she was still experiencing. There was barely detectable puffiness around her lash lines, probably from the effort of holding back frustrated tears in the shower, and she was fairly positive no one would even notice– that is, unless Taehyung got close up to her face, which was always a frequent occurrence. 

 Hoseok 🦊: dinner’s ready, darling~~~

Y/N’s phone chimed, a message and photo coming in from Hoseok. He sent her a selfie, flour dusted across his nose, holding up a plate of fettuccine alfredo, with broccoli and chicken, from the looks of it. Immediately, she saved the picture and added it as his contact photo, loving the little grin on his face– it replaced the former incredibly attractive photo of him post-track meet sweaty and smirking at the camera. Brightening upon seeing Hoseok’s good-natured, radiant smile, Y/N felt a whole lot better about heading out into the kitchen. Whatever was going on between her and Yoongi would eventually be sorted out and addressed, but it wasn’t fair to the others for her to hole up in her room and ignore their nightly routines.

Exiting her room, she headed straight to Namjoon’s half-open door, the crackly sound of his Walkman playing an old Bob Dylan tape filling his cozy space. The room was filled with lamplight, and Namjoon even had a stick of amber incense going on his desk, and she felt immense comfort in even just hanging out in the threshold of his door. However, the wolf hybrid wasn’t in either of his usual spots– the wooden desk chair or the cushy window seat. 

“Joonie?” Y/N called out softly, wondering if he had popped out to his van to retrieve a book or something. 

In response to the sound of his nickname being called, the door to Namjoon’s bathroom creaked open, a mumbled ‘hold on’ coming from him gruffly. Y/N took it upon herself to enter his room further; ever since his birthday, Namjoon really didn’t have a problem with her in his space, and often invited her into his room when he wanted her opinion on something. Typically, it was over a Tarot card meaning or her thoughts on a passage in a book he was reading; Y/N thought it was really sweet of him, and besides– she loved talking to Namjoon, he was insightful and overwhelmingly intelligent. 

Finally, the wolf hybrid emerged from his steamy bathroom, silvery hair towel-dried and ears similarly damp. It looked like he haphazardly threw on a wrinkly gray sleep shirt and sweatpants, Y/N realizing she must have caught him just out of the shower. The reality of that had her stomach flipping over, sheepishly cowering by his desk as he tossed his towel into the hamper and turned the volume down on his Walkman. 

“Is that tape one of the ones you got from the music store last time?” Y/N tried not to snort at the reediness of Bob Dylan’s croon, Namjoon meeting her at his desk and stubbing out the burning stick of incense. “I thought you only saved the ones that weren’t grating,” Y/N recalled Namjoon’s comment from that day, which seemed years ago, with a fond, teasing smile. 

Namjoon shook his head with a playful grimace, catching her gaze out of the corner of his eyes. He smelled really good, homey and masculine, and he was close enough for Y/N to try and pick out the top notes of his body wash: honey, musk, pine?

“Believe me. Dylan was one of the least grating of the bunch,” Namjoon responded, a dimple appearing on his cheek as the corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk. “Besides. ‘Visions Of Johanna’ is one of the most beautiful songs ever written. Lyrically speaking.”

“I’ll make sure to give it a listen, if that’s what you think,” Y/N automatically responded, already adding the song to a queue on her phone. Lately, she’d been getting really fantastic music recommendations from each hybrid, which was a lovely thing to share with them. It allowed her a tiny window into all of their different, complex personalities. “Dinner’s ready, by the way. Wanted to grab you before I headed to the kitchen.”

“I know. Yoongi texted all of us,” Namjoon reached down to ruffle Y/N’s hair, as if she was being silly for even telling him. 

“Oh, really?” Y/N squeaked quietly, following Namjoon around his bedroom like a lost puppy. He was tidying up, something Y/N noticed he tended to do before bed (otherwise, he’d be sleeping with encyclopedias and chess pieces). “Hoseok texted me…”

“Yeah, in the group chat,” Namjoon murmured distractedly, not minding that Y/N was hovering behind him like a phantom while he stacked loose pieces of parchment onto his nightstand, her eyebrows furrowing. “That’s usually how Yoongi lets us know food is ready.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond. Apparently, all the hybrids had a group chat between one another, one that didn’t include her, and she didn’t quite know how to feel about that. She wasn’t even sure if Namjoon realized that he had revealed a secret– perhaps it wasn’t and she was just unobservant– but he sensed something was up when she was quiet, looking over his shoulder inquisitively. 

“What’s the matter? You look like I just stole candy from you,” Namjoon accused, though his eyes were soft and filled with concern. “Your eyes are a little puffy, too, have you been crying? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Namjoon, I’m okay. Just tired, is all,” Y/N didn’t even care if Namjoon could sniff out her lie, considering everything she had gone through that day. She didn’t have a shred of energy left to try and hide her emotions from her hybrids, and Namjoon usually wasn’t one to pry, so she prayed he’d take the hint. “Let’s go eat, okay?”

Before she could get too far, Namjoon caught a hold of her shoulders, two large palms settling over the joints and spinning her around so he could get a good look at her face. She was shaking, slightly, under his strong grip, eager to escape the scrutiny of those penetrating eyes of his. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but don’t lie to me. If you’re upset, at least don’t try to cover it all up,” Namjoon said firmly, leveling a stern look her way. 

“Joon, please…” Y/N used her hands to ease his off of her, resigned. “It’s nothing, just some stress. I’ll be fine after I get some sleep tonight.”

Namjoon looked unconvinced, some unknown emotion flashing through his eyes, Y/N squeezing his hands before releasing them. She swore she could hear low growling coming from deep within his chest, but he composed himself and lightly cleared his throat, jerking his head towards the hallway. 

“Okay, I’ll drop it,” Namjoon began heading out to the foyer, Y/N close behind. “Maybe you should read a book before bed to relax and get some good sleep. You’re really tense, I felt it in your shoulders. Have Yoongi make you some tea, too.”

Jolting at the mention of the very hybrid causing her rise in blood pressure, Y/N made a noncommittal noise. On the other hand, Namjoon’s kind consideration and concern for her well-being had butterflies coasting in her stomach. 

“You’re sweet, Joonie,” Y/N murmured, mirroring his earlier action by reaching up high to ruffle his still-damp starlight hair. “Pick out a book for me, please?”

Though he was in front of her leading the way to the kitchen, Y/N could see the very tips of his human ears turn red as he grunted out an embarrassed ‘okay’. Namjoon, she found out, was more of a softie than she originally understood. Besides, he always picked out excellent books she’s never read before, which was a bonus. 

The kitchen was warm and thick with the smell of roasted chicken and buttery, cheesy pasta, Y/N’s mouth watering against her will. Spite started to well up inside of her, surpassing her confusion and melancholy, and she desperately prayed to the sky that somehow Yoongi had screwed up the seasoning so she would have an excuse to not enjoy his food. Following Namjoon with a swish of his silvery tail, Y/N begrudgingly slunk further into the room. 

She caught sight of Taehyung first, seated at the breakfast nook by himself, adjusting settings on the camera strapped around his neck. His hair was wild and curly like he just washed it, a vibrant multicolored, vintage-looking sweater slipping over his wrists giving him sweater paws. Cooing, Y/N made a beeline for the Kodiak hybrid– trying with all her might to appear as unaffected as Yoongi took garlic bread out of the oven and shot the breeze with Jimin about the cold weather. Taehyung was a more than wonderful distraction.

“Hi, Tae,” Y/N scooched into the booth, having no trouble cozying up to his furnacelike side, his chest rumbling as he instinctively used one of his arms to hook around her shoulders and pull her closer. “Working on something for the next expo? It’s a week before Christmas, right?”

Smiling with his mouth closed, Taehyung let Y/N wiggle closer into his warmth, wordlessly passing his camera over and resting his nose in her hair as she took it gingerly. Being pressed up so closely against him, Y/N could feel his chest expand with the deep inhale he took, Y/N so used to him and Jimin taking a whiff of her hair daily that it didn’t even register as odd to her anymore. Turning on the camera’s display, Y/N flicked through a couple of Taehyung’s latest works, his editing more streamlined than ever before and each shot more creative than the next. The subjects were images of nature, primarily the backyard and around the neighborhood, but taken from unique angles and using natural light in interesting ways. 

“You’re getting so good at this, Tae. Pretty soon, you’ll have people asking to take wedding pictures for them!” Y/N passed his camera back to him, resisting the urge to totally curl into him or climb into his lap. He was just too cuddly. 

“Thank you,” Taehyung now offered her his toothy smile, wide and showing just how beautiful it made his face, conveying joy contrary to his ever-so-quiet voice. “I still need to work on taking portraits. That’s the assignment for next week…”

“Well it’s fortunate that you live with seven other people to practice on, huh?” Y/N teased, loving the flush that dusted his cheeks and tip of his nose. 

Their moment was interrupted by a black shadow, Y/N somewhat peeling herself off of Taehyung a tad to look up. It wasn’t a black shadow at all, however, it was just Jeongguk– dressed all in black, naturally, and with an enormous bowl of pasta and chicken in his hands. 

“How was your day, Jeongguk? The Tarantino movies you guys were watching… which one was your favorite?” Y/N reached across the table to poke the top of his hand with each word she was speaking to capture his attention, knowing that doing so usually irritated him enough to answer her questions. Since Halloween, though, he’d been much less easily perturbed, and usually regarded her attempts to agitate with amused midnight-black eyes. 

“Kill Bill. The first one, not the second. Pulp Fiction was good, but didn’t live up to all of that bullshit hype college kids drone on and on about,” Jeongguk playfully slapped her hand away from him so he could pick up a fork and start eating, a tiny wry grin pulling up the corners of his mouth. 

“I don’t think I really liked any of them,” a new voice joined the conversation, Seokjin filling up the last empty space in the booth beside Y/N, miraculously balancing three bowls of pasta on his forearm to deliver to Y/N and Taehyung. “Gory, lots of swearing and violence.”

“Grow some balls, Pink Panther,” Jeongguk rolled his eyes, Y/N finding it extremely difficult not to laugh– he was quick on his feet to come up with that nickname, since Seokjin was wearing his favorite ballet-pink hoodie. “Why am I surprised? You could barely make it through an episode of Tokyo Ghoul, and that’s fuckin’ animated blood.”

“Oh, leave him be, Jeongguk. Action or gore isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and that’s totally okay,” Y/N emphasized her point by using her slipper-clad foot to collide lightly with his shin under the booth, a free hand coming up to smooth over Seokjin’s back affectionately. “Also, it’s hard to take you seriously when you’re talking over a mouthful of half-chewed chicken.”

There was Seokjin’s squeaky-sounding laugh coming from her right, Jeongguk rolling his eyes again, taking a swig of whatever cocktail he had made for himself. Looking down at the food Yoongi made and Seokjin had brought to her, she felt her stomach turning. While it looked and smelled delicious, she didn’t want to give Yoongi the satisfaction of horking the whole plate down right away. Instead, she watched everyone in the booth tuck in promptly, Y/N glowering at her slab of garlic bread with feigned disinterest. 

“Not hungry?” Taehyung’s voice was in her ear, as always, low and indulgently rich. Concern lit up his eyes, his fork and knife paused mid-air as he studied the side of her face, even giving an animalistic sniff in her direction. 

“I had a big lunch,” Y/N admitted, even though that was a bit of a lie. She had been so nervous about her piano lesson with Yoongi earlier in the day, all she could choke down at lunchtime was a handful of baby carrots and hummus. 

Taehyung lifted a brow, definitely not buying the lie, but let it go without a word, mercifully. Y/N discovered that keeping her emotions under wraps from everybody while thoughts of Yoongi swirled around in her head constantly was more challenging than anything she had dealt with before. 

Yoongi’s words kept echoing like a pagan chant in her ears: ‘I know how you feel. About us, all of us’. Was Yoongi that keen, already able to intimately decipher her emotions and feelings through scent alone, or was she painfully obvious about her embarrassingly large crushes on each hybrid she adopted? Flames licked her cheeks, and she afforded a look past Seokjin’s wide shoulders to Yoongi sitting beside Jimin at the island, his back to her. Even now, Y/N could detect a whisper of tension threading through the lean muscles of his back through his shirt, and though she was puzzled– at best– by everything that went down between them in the last few hours, she was pleased to see how much he had filled out with muscle between consistent meals and his basketball practices. 

Sighing lightly, Y/N picked her way through her meal once tearing her eyes from Yoongi, not wanting to attract more attention by not eating dinner. Besides, her stomach was beginning to make embarrassing rumbling sounds, earning an annoyed side-eye from Namjoon across the room, pointedly using the tip of his nose to gesture towards her untouched plate. She resisted the split-second impulse to stick her tongue out at him, reconsidering upon remembering how intimidating Namjoon could be when teased. 

Throughout dinner, Y/N distracted herself from her thoughts and the lack of typical banter she’d have with Yoongi by cozying up to Seokjin and Taehyung; asking them about their preferences for birthday meals during fast-approaching December. Jeongguk asked her if she happened to celebrate Christmas– she replied yes; while her and her mother celebrated the pagan holiday of Yule, her father was more of a traditionalist and loved Christmas. 

“Yule lasts several days, and is made up of just some quiet rituals and whatnot– burning a Yule log, for example. But my dad adores all of the fun traditions of Christmas he had growing up, so he wanted to share that with me, too. We’d deck out the house in all of the lights, bake a thousand Christmas cookies, go out every year to pick out a tree… watch holiday movies in corny matching pajamas. My mom called it ‘Commercial Christmas’, but it was always really fun, and she was just poking fun at how silly my dad can get with it,” Y/N explained to the elk hybrid, him nodding along to her words while pushing broccoli around on his plate. “Oh! And there’s a Holiday Market in the city, too, if you guys are interested in checking that out next month. Food, decorations, music, all of that.”

It dawned on Y/N that her hybrids had likely never celebrated Christmas in the way she had in her youth. She had similar thoughts before, based on each of their strange, varied behaviors during the last three birthdays and Halloween, as well. It had her lower lip jutting out slightly, and she knew that perhaps the reason she worked so hard to make these events extra special in the past few months was because she was making up for their lost years of merriment and celebration of milestones. 

Dwelling on that, she totally zoned out at the breakfast nook, only coming to when Seokjin collected her near-empty plate from her, snapping back to reality when he stood and her hand slipped from the middle of his back, where she was absently rubbing circles into the cozy material of his hoodie. All the jaguar hybrid did was flash her a sweet smile, bringing the dishes to the sink with a purr. 

Shaking off her nerves, Y/N also rose from her seat, taking Taehyung with her so she’d have an excuse to cling to someone (and avoid Yoongi), by pulling him by the loose sleeve of his sweater, the Kodiak hybrid happily being hauled away from his camera and half-drunk glass of wine. Taehyung was one of the hybrids that didn’t drink as much as the others, or even Y/N herself, so sometimes a half of a glass of wine was all he needed for a pretty flush to color his cheeks and his tongue to loosen. 

“What are we watching tonight, Y/N? Nothing scary, I pray?” Y/N managed to scoop Jimin up in her grasp, as well, his expression filled with trepidation as she sandwiched herself between the two hybrids and dragged them into the parlor. 

The fire was roaring, and Taehyung broke free from her hold on his sweater to add another log to the tall flames in the fireplace– he was very serious about keeping it going strong until everyone headed off to bed, like it was an unspoken household duty he felt responsible for completely. Thankfully, he was quick to return to her, eager to claim one of the spots on either of her sides before anyone else could. As Ben had joked about over the phone with her, the hybrids did almost claw at each other in order to get a seat next to her on the couch, even Jeongguk, at that point. With Jimin and Taehyung being the ‘lucky’ ones that night, Y/N didn’t have to worry about sitting awkwardly inches away from Yoongi. 

“No, sweet pea, nothing scary. Just for you and Hoseok, though… on second thought, Seokjinnie, too. I’ll save the horror marathons for another time. I was thinking we could watch something funny?” 

Jimin’s shoulders relaxed downwards several inches, and his ears perked back up to their natural position as he handed her the remote, soothed that she wasn’t about to repeat her surprise showing of Suspiria from last month. Hoseok had to leave the room during the last few scenes of that one, in fact. 

Y/N scrolled through the options in her digital library, avoiding romcoms at all costs, landing on some random comedy with Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn. She needed something mindless, something that required not much critical thinking, so she could forget about the tangled cobwebs clogging up the cavity that once held her brain. 

The room slowly filled up with the rest of the hybrids, Hoseok tossing wrapped Klondike bars to everyone, Jeongguk taking up the recliner; Namjoon took his usual seat at Y/N’s feet, while Seokjin and Yoongi ended up sitting on the floor next to the couch. Yoongi minded his business, not even sending Y/N a glance as he sank to the floor with his glass of wine. Seokjin didn’t seem pleased that he was so far from Y/N, but knew that her rotating who she sat next to was in an effort to be fair– and he respected that. 

“I know how you feel. About us, all of us.”

“Ben, can you just listen before you say ‘I told you so’?” Y/N stirred cream into her coffee, her lower eyelid twitching when she tasted the concoction on her tongue. Somehow, ever since Yoongi started making her coffee for her each morning, she couldn’t seem to make her favorite ratio quite as precise as he did– even though she had been making it perfectly fine years before he took up the task for her. “I’ll let you say it all you want after I get some of this off my chest.”

Saturday morning, Y/N met up with Ben in the city at their favorite brunch spot on Newbury street, leaving all of her hybrids at home for a lazy morning by themselves. It was rare these days that she’d carve out time to go out with her human friends without at least one of the boys tagging along with her, but miraculously, she was able to break free for a few hours to catch up– or vent– with Ben. Ben cocked an eyebrow at her, taking a measured sip of his mimosa.

“I can do that, but first–” Ben reached into his briefcase, rummaging around within the depths of the leather bag, boldly pulling out a nip of Kahlua and swiftly dumping it into Y/N’s coffee. “You look like you’re one inconvenience away from a nervous breakdown. Happy Saturday, have a drink.”

“Thanks,” Y/N grimaced, sucking down the entirety of the scalding, now spiked, coffee in one go, Ben waving his hand as if to say ‘don’t mention it’. “Christ, I don’t even know where to start…”

Y/N had spent the night tossing and turning, even after the stupid movie she watched with the hybrids and a few shots of gin, waking up with dark circles under her eyes and two hours of sleep under her belt. In those two hours, she had dreams of red curtains, whiskey-scented whispers, piano, and hazel, feline eyes. 

“I think I have an idea of where this is going,” Ben broke the ice after several moments, once the waiter came by to take their brunch orders and bring another round of drinks. This time, Y/N got herself a mimosa, too. “Let me guess. You fell for one of them.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop, the Kahlua, coffee, and champagne churning in her gut as Ben stared at her expectantly. Ben was always quick to pick up on how Y/N felt, particularly when it had to do with her romantic life, but it wasn’t like she was around him enough these days for him to observe her around all of her hybrids… fell for one? She had to laugh, and the sound came out snorted and pathetic. 

“Oh, it’s worse than I thought. More than one? Taking cues from those reverse-harem animes you used to love in high school, huh?” Ben pressed, his nose scrunching up upon hearing the braying donkey laugh Y/N was trying to cover up by chugging her mimosa, a swig of it going down her windpipe. 

“Nnn–ugh! Fuck me, Ben. Lower your voice,” Y/N coughed into her cloth napkin, frantically glancing around the restaurant as if she was being surveilled.

“Relax, Y/N, they’re not even here. They can’t hear you all the way from the Haunted Mansion, even with hybrid ears. Get on with it, spill. You’ll feel better,” Ben pushed a hand through his coiffed red hair, sucking his teeth as he assessed Y/N’s frazzled appearance and erratic behavior. She must have looked like a nutcase. 

“I… Stop looking at me like that! If you’re so smart, you must have pieced together everything already, so why bother?” Y/N accused, but when Ben simply hardened his cerulean gaze, Y/N knew that he was encouraging her to talk through her feelings rather than squirreling them away until she exploded. “Fine. Yeah, okay. I have a crush on them, all of them, as a matter of fact, if that’s even humanly possible… and I know what you’re thinking, I’m batshit, I’m gross, and I’ve put myself in a horrible scenario.”

“Y/N, will you just take a breath, please? We’ve been friends for over a decade. Nothing you say to me is going to scare me off or make me ‘shame’ you Cersei-Game-of-Thrones-style. So, you’re attracted to all seven of them? I mean seriously, Y/N, I can’t blame you, and if you called Laura or Alice, they wouldn’t either. They’re all gorgeous,” Ben leaned back in his seat, both seriousness and amusement dancing across his features. 

Y/N wrestled the champagne bottle resting in the tableside bucket of ice up and out of the shards, pouring herself another glass and completely ignoring the orange juice pitcher nearby that would make her mimosa, well, a mimosa. 

“You know, Y/N… humans and hybrids can be in romantic relationships, and before you fly off of the handle, let me finish! Listen, I know, you know, and your hybrids know that you didn’t adopt them to use-and-abuse, obviously. You’ve always been a romantic, Y/N, it’s not like you can control how you feel, especially when it comes to love.”

Processing this, Y/N gawked at Ben, suddenly unable to come up with any kind of retort. Their waiter came by with their food, and the smell of Y/N’s French toast made her utterly nauseous as soon as it was placed in front of her. Grimacing, she pushed the plate to the side, Ben smirking over a bite of crispy bacon. 

“Love…” Y/N squeaked, the four-letter-word wheezing from her chest painfully, Ben having the nerve to roll his eyes. 

“You do love them, don’t you? Besides the fact that it's obvious to me, as your wonderful best friend, when you fall, you fall hard,” Ben nudged Y/N’s plate back in front of her, sticking a fork in her hand with mischief in his eyes. “It’s a different kind of love– but I love Daisy, she’s my daughter, and I can’t imagine my life without her anymore. That must be similar to how you feel, no?” 

For at least a month, Y/N kept herself in blissful, complete denial, trying to squash down her feelings as best she could in an effort to keep them from the hybrids. She didn’t know if she was fooling them, because she definitely wasn’t fooling Ben, who looked like he was trying to refrain from laughing. The more she thought about her recent behavior; stuttering, blushing, heart racing, constant cuddling, the more stupid she felt. 

“God, I’m a moron,” Y/N stuffed a piece of French toast into her dried-out mouth, the consistency like glue as she chewed. “They probably already know and are just too nice to reject me. Or they’re scared to.”

Ben didn’t say anything, just letting Y/N come to terms with the startling realization: she loved them. Seven different men, she was in love with seven, and the gravity of that realization was driving her to silent lunacy.

“Whatever scenario you’re coming up with in your head, stop it, you’ll start panicking,” Ben reached across the table to grasp Y/N’s hand lightly, his thumb smoothing over the back of it. “It’s kind of a scary, tricky… uh, delicate, subject, but how would you feel about maybe just talking to them about it instead of bottling things up? Even at the cookout in August, I could tell most of them cared about you quite deeply.”

“Can you imagine that conversation, Ben? ‘Hey guys, I know we’re in the middle of dinner and it’s not like you can get away from me after this, but I accidentally fell in love with all of you, so that’s why I’ve been walking around like a bumbling idiot’,” Y/N hissed, her face going hot just by visualizing that scene in her head. “Also, I haven’t even told you what happened yesterday, and if a confession to the seven of them went anything like what went down last night, I’d have to move to a rock out in the middle of the sea.”

 Motioning for her to explain, Y/N launched into the long, complicated report on her interaction with Yoongi post piano lesson, speaking in a hurried and hushed tone. Ben listened carefully, but Y/N chose to leave out some of the more supernatural aspects of her first meeting with Yoongi in The Black Lodge– Ben was a skeptic, at best, so she told him she had gotten too drunk and forgot about meeting Yoongi. By the time she had ended her story with how Yoongi seemed to be acting like nothing happened, Ben’s eyebrows were knitted and their breakfasts had long since been polished off and forgotten. 

“Uh…” Ben leaned back in his seat after he was stunned speechless for several moments, robotically passing his credit card to the waiter, his free hand coming up to rub his close-cut beard. “You weren’t bullshitting me with that text last night. That’s a lot to unpack.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. He pretty much revealed to me that he knows I’m crushing on them all, totally called me out on it. Even went as far as saying it wouldn’t be long before the others figure it out, too,” Y/N moaned miserably into her hands, covering her face exhaustedly. 

“Y/N… from what you told me,” Ben started gently, as if he was trying not to spook a nervous animal. “I think Yoongi likes you too. I mean, he waited for a year for you to remember him, he said he enjoyed talking to you, and honey– he kissed you. You shouldn’t take that bit lightly, either. Predator hybrids like Yoongi, specifically the big cats or canines, are extremely selective when it comes to choosing their romantic partners. To them, it’s like finding their mate.”

“I– no. If that was the case, he would have told me, I’m sure of it. You’ve seen him, right? Met him? He’s gorgeous, funny, caring, can cook like a dream and is a talented pianist; he could have anybody he wants, and I’m not exempt from that, and he knows it… so that’s my reasoning, I guess.”

“Why are you spewing nonsense? You’re starting to tick me off. You were never this full of self doubt in the past, especially over a man. You have to talk to him about this, sooner rather than later. Tell him how you feel, and don’t beat around the bush. And even though I’m almost positive that he likes you romantically, you two need to sort it out before the others catch on and it spirals into something even more tangled,” Ben, as they prepared to leave the restaurant, helped Y/N shrug into her coat, his hands on her shoulders as he gave her a necessary reality check– though his expression was sympathetic and full of concern. “I’ll help you out. I can borrow a couple of your guys on Monday to watch Daisy while I go into the office, and you see if you can somehow get Yoongi alone, okay?”

“Monday…” Y/N blanched, not prepared to throw caution to the wind and admit her feelings that soon. “I-I guess I can make that work. Seokjin and Joonie will be at the library with my mom for the book club, Tae at the rec center preparing for his next expo…”

“Alright. I’ll take the other three for babysitting– the cowboy, the grump, and Foxy, am I correct?” Ben attempted to lighten the mood, holding the restaurant door open for Y/N with a wry grin. “You can do this, Y/N. You’re a smart, beautiful young woman, and I know how much you love those boys. They all deserve to know how much you do– but start with Yoongi.”

Y/N made a noncommittal, grumbling noise, grinding her teeth as the bitter wind whipped through the streets of Boston. Autumn was nearly over, and the harsh winter was well on its way, Christmas decorations already beginning to pop up on certain storefronts. 

“If it goes to shit, I’m calling you. You know how I am with romantic confessions. Remember Liam in high school? I broke out in hives asking him to homecoming,” Y/N muttered, grabbing Ben’s hand and shoving their joined palms into his coat pocket, her best friend snickering at the memory. “Can we change the subject? I’m starting to feel itchy. You can still swing by Copley with me, right?”

“Yeah, I have some time. What are you going there for?” Ben steered her in a different direction than they were going, cutting through some side streets to get to the mall. 

“I’m picking up some things for Seokjin’s birthday, it’s coming up really soon. I found some cookware online I think he’d like, he’s been into culinary pursuits recently,” Y/N felt some of her anxiety dissipate as she thought about sweet Seokjin. He had pouted that morning when she left to meet Ben, and it was hard to pry him off of her as she was heading out the front door. 

“Oh! That reminds me. Has Sarah gotten in touch with you?” 

“She did, actually. We’re planning to meet at some point after the holidays, probably in January. I don’t know if I should tell Seokjin, or keep it a surprise for a little while…” Y/N bit her lip, recalling the pleasant email exchanges she had with the woman who had adopted Hannah. 

“With everything you’ve got going on right now, I think it’s alright to hold off on telling him until the plan is more concrete. Focus on the two birthdays you have coming up, Christmas, and sorting out the thing with Yoongi,” Ben shrugged, squeezing Y/N’s fingers as they ambled down the frosty sidewalk. 

“Shit. I have to order Christmas presents soon…” Y/N used her free hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, thanking the sky that she had that extra income from the boarded horses– gifts for seven hybrids and her other friends and family would certainly add up cost-wise. “I wish I had an assistant to keep track of everything I have to do.”

“Ah, you say that, but I haven’t seen you this happy in years, Y/N,” Ben countered, winking at her. “Even with all of the romantic drama, adopting those boys brought you back to life.”

“Stop being sappy, I’ll cry. Seriously, I will! They’re not around to fuss over me right now and I can do so freely, and that’s an opportunity I would take if you keep it up,” Y/N nudged Ben in the ribs, separating from him as they reached the revolving doors of Copley Place. 

Once in the toasty mall, she and Ben changed the direction of their conversation, Y/N feeling merry despite the looming task of confronting Yoongi in two day’s time. They made plans to have a holiday get-together at her house, with Roy and Daisy, and the Santos twins as well, all while piling items into a cart for Seokjin’s birthday. 

“Come on, sweets, won’t you do it for me?” Y/N was perched on the velvet bench at the foot of Jeongguk’s bed, attempting to convince him to go willingly to Ben’s for ‘babysitting’ early Monday afternoon. She tried to make her eyes as doelike as possible, Jeongguk chewing on his lip ring with his arms crossed, staring down at her. 

“That pouting doesn’t work on me. Go find literally anyone else in the house it does work on, Y/N,” Jeongguk tsked, pulling a few buttons loose on the creamy button-down he was wearing. 

“Okay, shithead. You want to be sassy today? Be my guest. Just saying though, Daisy has been asking for you. Ben says you’re one of her favorites,” Y/N bit back, just to see if guilting him was the way to go. Jeongguk simply shook his head, having the audacity to look amused by her outburst. She was already on edge, and his nonchalance and stubbornness did not make things better. “Maybe this will sweeten the pot. Ben said he was going to pay you guys.”

“Bribery, coercion, ass-kissing… you must really want me out of the house today,” Jeongguk drawled, turning away from Y/N as he used his floor-length mirror to clasp the necklace her mother gave him for his birthday around his neck. Through the thin material of his light-colored shirt, Y/N could faintly detect the black lines of the mystery tattoo on his back. 

“No, but it wouldn’t kill you, Jeongguk. Don’t you want to get out for a little bit? You, Hoseok, and Jimin can take Daisy to the playground in the Common, get some food, walk around…” Y/N refrained from flinching when the elk hybrid accurately called her out for shooing him out. 

“How the fuck can we go out without a human with us? Won’t the four of us get scooped up by agents and tossed back into Gerry’s shithole shelter? Besides, why does a four-year-old hybrid need three babysitters, aren’t Foxy and Blondie enough?” Jeongguk approached Y/N once more, using his thumb and forefinger to gently flick her forehead. 

“Ugh, you’re such a little shit,” Y/N rubbed the spot he flicked, even though it didn’t hurt at all. “I ordered you all ID’s, remember? They arrived this morning. If you get stopped, you show agents your ID, and it tells them that you’re adopted and can roam even without me being present. Daisy has one too, the version for children… She needed it for enrollment in her daycare.”

Jeongguk paused in contemplation, his eyes scanning her face thoughtfully as she squirmed on the bench under his scrutiny, one of his ears lazily twitching. It was a stare-down, Y/N needed to have that talk with Yoongi, and she wanted the conversation to be as private as possible, and Jeongguk seemed a touch suspicious. 

“You really want me to go babysit the bunny that badly?” Jeongguk narrowed his eyes, a spark of triumph lighting up inside of Y/N as she sensed him beginning to cave. 

“Yes, please! I’ll call in some baked ziti for you from Sal’s for dinner,” Y/N jumped to her feet, Jeongguk rolling his eyes and sticking his notebook into the pocket of his baggy black cargo pants. 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re only saying that because I’m doing you a favor, and you probably want pizza yourself, kiddo,” Jeongguk grunted as Y/N elbowed him in the ribs, scoffing at him indignantly. 

“I’m only like a year younger than you. ‘Kiddo’, really?” Y/N paused by his bedroom door, softening up once seeing the twinkle of merriment in Jeongguk’s dark eyes. 

Suddenly overwhelmed with affection for the elk hybrid, considering how much he had warmed up to her over the past few weeks, she leaned up on her tip-toes, lips brushing over his sharp cheekbone for a barely-there kiss while he froze to a complete stand-still. Pulling away as quickly as she could before he could say anything, she giggled at how round his eyes became before heading out to the hall. 

“Thanks for the favor, sweets. Ben will be here in 15 minutes to pick you and the other two up!” She called over her shoulder, hurrying away with the image of Jeongguk looking adorably stunned burned into her retinas. 

Bounding downstairs, Y/N managed to round up Jimin and Hoseok from the backyard, both of them more than willing to watch Daisy for a bit– the both of them practically doted on her. She handed out their new-and-shiny ID’s, Y/N smiling at the pictures on the cards. Staring at Jeongguk’s picture, with a serious expression on his face, she snorted at the way his antlers didn’t quite fit in the frame. 

“Tae did a nice job with all of your photos for these, huh?” Y/N gushed, brushing her fingertips over the tiny picture on Namjoon’s ID, which she’d have to give to him later. “Next time I get my license renewed, I want him to take my picture too, I always look washed out and horrendous in the ones taken at the DMV.”

“I doubt that, Y/N. You always look nice in pictures, even the ones Taehyung takes of you,” Jimin disagreed with her, grinning when she pinched his fleshy cheek bashfully. 

“Such a charmer, Jiminie. Aw, her heart’s racing,” Hoseok crooned, squeezing himself in between her and the coyote hybrid, a wicked smirk on his face as he patted his chest to mimic heartbeats.

Hissing, Y/N tried to step away from the teasing bastard, even more humiliated now, but Hoseok was far too quick for her to make a feeble human’s attempt at escape. Boldly, he grabbed her by the belt loops of her jeans, bending low to press one of his ears over her heart. Squeaking as she wiggled in his grasp, a few of his fingertips slipping into the waistband of her jeans to keep her in place, his skin burning hot with hybrid heat. 

“Hear that, Jiminie? It’s beating even faster now!” Hoseok continued gleefully, squeezing the flesh over her hip bones before he– mercifully– pulled away. “How cute, darling, you’re way too easy to flatter, and even easier to tease.”

“Hoseok,” Y/N used all of her strength to prevent herself from melting into the floorboards, not even noticing that Jimin’s shoulders were shaking with laughter and Jeongguk had crept into the foyer during the spectacle. “Stop fucking with me, the playing field isn’t even. I can’t hear your heartbeat, or smell your embarrassment, or whatever.”

“You could always try flattery, you have a knack for it,” Jeongguk leaned against the front door, seemingly recovered from the smooch she planted on his cheek only moments ago. 

“Brat,” Y/N sneered, though it was half hearted, and she was interrupted by a three-beat honk from outside. “Ooh, Ben’s here. Okay, I think you two have poked enough fun at me, get going. See you soon, sweetheart, have fun and be safe.”

Y/N murmured her last statement directly to Jimin, using a hand to shove Hoseok towards Jeongguk and out of the front door. Patting Jimin’s shoulder lightly, she leaned up to whisper into his ear. 

“You’re in charge, make sure those two don’t swear in front of Daisy, please,” though Y/N was whispering in Jimin’s ear, she was the one shivering with the proximity, intoxicating, dark lavender filling her senses and calming her steadily-climbing anxiety; it was almost time for her to look for Yoongi, who she hadn’t seen the entire day. 

“See you later, Y/N,” Jimin grinned like he knew something she didn’t, craning his neck sideways to press a kiss to one of her knuckles, her hand turning clammy as it slipped from his shoulder when he strolled out the front door. 

Y/N stood in the threshold of the door, watching the three hybrids get into Ben’s car, and stayed until Ben drove off down the street. The silence that followed their departure was eerie, Y/N wondering if Yoongi was taking a nap or was even in the house at all. Typically, during the early afternoon, the leopard hybrid would be messing around on the piano or reading a book in the parlor, but there was no music coming from upstairs and the heavily trafficked parlor was deserted and dark. Sighing, Y/N started to stack logs into the fireplace, knowing if Taehyung came home later and there was no fire, he’d be upset. She knew that she was stalling the inevitable, finding Yoongi and having the conversation she had been dreading for 48 hours, but she tried to summon courage to face him from the growing flames in the fireplace. 

Once she had mustered enough nerve, Y/N wandered through the house to find Yoongi. She searched every nook and cranny, every back hallway and hidden passageway, but clearly he wasn’t inside. Muttering under her breath, she dropped some clean laundry off in Namjoon’s room, pulling on the sherpa-lined jean jacket he had draped over his desk chair to prepare herself for traipsing around the yard. Inhaling Namjoon’s scent on the collar of his jacket, the oversized fabric swallowing her whole, she felt warmth fill her up with the notes of honey and Namjoon. 

“Fuck, it’s cold,” Y/N whimpered as soon as she opened the slider to the backyard, wrapping Namjoon’s coat more tightly around her torso. In the distance, horses were whinnying in the stable, and there were some creepy looking turkey vultures sitting in the naked oak tree next to the picnic table. “Where’s my angel…”

The sky was a gloomy gray, and Y/N wondered if snow was on the way with the way the frost-dusted grass was crunching under her feet. That quiet, still sensation just before a snowstorm was present, as well, which is why the echoing sound of a basketball striking asphalt made her jolt in surprise. Bingo. 

Weaving her way past the gate to the driveway and garage, Y/N let out a nervous breath, becoming a misty cloud of white in front of her. The turkey vultures in the oak tree started making their disturbing, guttural shrieks, sending a chill down her spine. Quickening her pace, butterflies started fluttering in her stomach as the basketball hoop came into view. 

Aware that Yoongi could both hear and smell her, she paused several feet away, eyes sweeping the area for the leopard hybrid. He was just there, she was sure of it, but he was nowhere in sight. 

“Yoongi? Where are you?” Y/N called, annoyed with the possibility that he was avoiding her on purpose. She knelt down, numb fingers grasping the acid-washed hoodie Yoongi must have tossed onto the ground, when a pair of sneakers appeared in her line of vision, she glanced up at the owner, swearing colorfully. 

Yoongi was staring down at her, basketball tucked under his arm, very sweaty and very much without a shirt. Mouth drying up, she felt a range of emotions flood through her; fluster, affection, happiness, concern, before finally landing on anger. 

“Oh my god, it’s like thirty degrees out here! Put this on,” Y/N impulsively threw his sweatshirt at him, hitting him square in the chest before it unceremoniously fell back onto the pavement. 

“I was too hot. Hybrid body heat, silly girl,” Yoongi replied simply, his old nickname for her making a comeback. Unfortunately for Y/N, paired with his damp, long hair and naked chest, it sent a bolt of arousal through her unexpectedly. Hopefully he couldn’t smell it. “What’s up? Where is everyone?”

Y/N read between the lines– that was Yoongi’s newest code for ‘find one of the others, I don’t want to talk to you’. Gritting her teeth, she managed to straighten up, forcing herself to look him in the eyes and not the dewy skin over his collarbones. 

“They’re all out. It’s just you and I, at the moment,” Y/N cleared her throat, getting a strong blast of vanilla-and-cloves as Yoongi passed a veiny hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Please, for my sake, put on the sweatshirt. I don’t want you turning into a popsicle.”

“Nah,” Yoongi turned away from her, dribbling the ball and aiming to shoot it into the basket, his tail curling around his leg as it usually did when he’d play. “Why, don’t like what you see?”

Y/N’s eyes glazed over as she watched the muscles in his back move and flex, effortlessly sinking the ball into the basket and elegantly slinking to the hoop to retrieve the ball before it could bounce away. The pale skin of his chest was slightly flushed pink, making Y/N’s mouth water, and all at once she felt like a creep. 

“Cat’s got your tongue?” Yoongi drawled, his gravelly voice raising goosebumps on her flesh. Apparently, her hybrids felt like toying with her that day. 

Steeling herself, she approached Yoongi with determination, forgetting all about his sweatshirt, his expression growing curious and spotted ears flattening against his head at their proximity.

“Are you avoiding me again? We never finished our… conversation,” Y/N began, chickening out on professing her love right away, considering his lack of a shirt. 

“You reek like the wolf,” Yoongi dodged the question and subject entirely, moving like he was going to take another shot at the hoop. Before he could get far, Y/N reached out and yanked the basketball out of his hands, scowling. 

“We need to talk, Yoongi. You’ve hardly been able to stand in the same room as me longer than five minutes since that night,” Y/N averted her eyes from his face, finding it hard to look at him with all the emotions running through her. 

Yoongi sighed, the sound of it seemingly coming from the depths of his soul, scooping his sweatshirt off of the ground and shrugging it on. 

“Let’s go inside. Seokjin would die if he saw you out here without a hat,” Yoongi mumbled, resigned, and motioned for Y/N to follow him into the house. 

They were quiet, Y/N’s pulse thundering in her ears, positively dreading the conversation they were about to have. If Yoongi rejected her, she’d have to lock herself in her room to cry and  lick her wounds for hours, but if he didn’t… how on earth would she explain the situation between her and Yoongi to the others?

“So, what is there to ‘finish’ about our conversation?” Yoongi broke the silence as he followed her up to the music room– the most soundproof room in the house, lest someone come home early and interrupt them. Yoongi sounded bitter, like the words on his tongue tasted of grave dirt, Y/N wincing knowing that she was the cause of it. “I thought we wrapped it up already. What’s the use of beating a dead horse? We met before, you forgot, we kissed, now we’re here. End of story.”

“No, Yoongi, it’s not. I–” Y/N cut herself off, sinking down onto the couch with her head in her hands. “Let me apologize, first. I don’t want you to think that our kiss was a drunken mistake to me. I shouldn’t have insinuated that. I’m sorry, angel.”

Yoongi stiffened, at either her words or her nickname for him, she didn’t know. He remained standing in front of her, ears perked up and alert, hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie. 

“I’m sorry I can’t remember. Believe me, I want to, more than anything. I’ve been having dreams, though, flashes of a memory. Maybe it will return to me, in time,” Y/N peeked at Yoongi through her fingertips, nervously chewing on her lip. 

“Y/N–” 

“Please, just, can you hear me out for a minute?” Y/N interrupted whatever warning he was undoubtedly trying to dole out, desperate to get it over with before she lost her nerve. “Last time we talked about this, you said you knew how I felt, about you, about the others, but I changed the subject.”

Yoongi nodded, his eyes narrowing and arms crossing over his chest, waiting for her to continue. Taking a deep breath, Y/N dropped her hands from her face, finally making eye-contact with the leopard hybrid, who appeared to be taking in all of her micro reactions. 

“You were right, or are right, about my feelings. I’m only starting to, um, understand those feelings, but you noticed them before I even realized they were there,” Y/N fidgeted with her fingers in her lap, growing hot in the face. “I’m sorry for hiding it, and I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Met with silence, Y/N’s worst fear was coming to life; he was going to reject her, their relationship would be permanently damaged, and her heart was going to shatter. Yoongi simply stared at her with that sharp feline gaze, a muscle in his jaw working and his expression giving away nothing as two what he was thinking. 

“I don’t want to lie to you anymore, and it’s totally fine that you don’t feel the same way, but I need to tell you,” Y/N’s voice became shaky, heart feeling like it was going to explode, ready to careen off the edge of no return. “I love you, Yoongi.”

The world went still, not even the birds outside chirping, and Y/N wasn’t confident that she was breathing anymore. Without a word, Yoongi turned on his heel, plopped down on the bench and slid a hand over the weathered keys of the piano. Baffled and heartbroken, Y/N sat frozen on the couch, stiff as a board and head spinning. 

Before her vision could go black, Yoongi began to play. Eyes snapping open, she couldn’t help the gasp that ripped from her chest; Yoongi was playing the song he had composed, the one he previously wouldn’t perform for her even upon her countless requests to. Though his face was blank of emotion, his playing certainly wasn’t, and the song almost breathed air as his hands floated across the keys. It was one of the most beautiful songs she had ever heard, so much so that she wasn’t even aware that she was crying until she felt the hot tears tracking down her cheeks. 

It was over too soon, the final note ringing out solemnly, Yoongi standing from the bench and heading towards the door, his ears flat against his head again. He stopped, hand twitching over the doorknob when he heard Y/N sniffle pathetically, looking over his shoulder. Heart bursting into smithereens at the look of anguish on his face, Y/N wanted to rush over to him, but couldn’t bear looking at him any longer. 

“I wrote that the day after we met. The first thing I composed in years. I wrote it for you.”

With that, Yoongi left the room, Y/N feeling her tears run down her neck, listening to the sound of him closing the door to his bedroom and turning on the tap to his shower. 

“So Y/N, it wasn’t exactly a rejection,” Laura soothed through the phone, Y/N humming noncommittally. She was in her car in the driveway, several days later, Seokjin’s birthday, his birthday cake sitting on the passenger seat beside her. 

“I don’t know what the fuck it was. He’s been walking around the house like a fucking ghost for days now, I think I broke him,” Y/N ran a hand through her hair, not believing that she had to resort to taking phone calls in her car to avoid eavesdropping. “I set out to see if I could fix things, or tell him my feelings, but now everything is even more messed up. I don’t know what to do.”

“Give him time, honey. He shouldn’t be leaving you hanging like that, but maybe it’s a lot to process for him. Your hybrids have been through a lot, he probably wasn’t expecting you to confront him,” Laura theorized, making Y/N snort. She had just accepted that Yoongi had been weirded out and didn’t reciprocate her feelings, but she humored Laura anyway. 

“Yeah, I know. I’ll keep you updated, I guess,” Y/N replied airily, eyes landing on the pink buttercream frosting spelling out Seokjin’s name on his cake, a small smile spreading across her face despite everything. “I gotta run, Laura. Have to round everyone up for Seokjin’s brunch.”

“Keep me updated!” Laura exclaimed urgently, Y/N grunting in response, before hanging up and hauling herself outside. She moved Seokjin’s cake to the trunk where his gifts were, making room for him to sit next to her during the ride to the restaurant. 

Y/N: Time to go! Reservation is at noon &lt;3

Hoseok 🦊: Jinnie looks so handsome on his birthday 🤧

Seokjinnie 🌸: -_-

Jimin 🦋: We’re coming!

Y/N: Can one of you please lock the door on the way out

Joonie 🐺: I got it.

Making sure the heat was cranked up in the cab for Seokjin, she watched the front door like a hawk, waiting for everyone to file out. They came out in pairs, first Jimin and Taehyung, then Hoseok and Seokjin. Last out was Jeongguk and Yoongi, followed by Namjoon diligently locking the door and even giving the handle a jiggle to ensure it was deadbolted. Feeling warm all over at the sight of them, all dressed up in their unique styles, Y/N grinned, even though her heart was still bleeding for Yoongi. She pushed that aside, for now, for Seokjin, determined to give him the best birthday ever. 

“It’s so cold! Fuckin’ Boston weather,” Hoseok whined, the first one to the car, sliding in the seat behind Y/N. “Would moving to Florida ever be an option?” 

“Hell no,” Y/N twisted her face up in disgust even thinking about swampy Florida summers. “We can visit someday, though. Go to Disney World or something.”

“Where are your gloves?” Seokjin climbed into the passenger seat, Namjoon begrudgingly giving up his designated spot for the birthday boy, pointedly narrowing his orange eyes at her bare hands on the steering wheel. 

“Oh, somewhere in the house. I don’t need them, we’re going from the car to the restaurant,” Y/N blushed when he took her hands in his, his thick lips puckering to blow warm air onto them. “Happy birthday, my Seokjinnie!”

“You’re old as fuck,” Jeongguk commented from the third row of seats, his hair slicked back with gel as Y/N glared at him in the rearview mirror. “30? Judas priest.”

“Have some respect for your elders, fuckface,” Hoseok defended Seokjin, a lazy smile on his face when Y/N turned around to back out of her spot in front of the house. 

“Please, stop swearing,” Jimin pinched the bridge of his nose delicately, making Y/N snort. 

She drove one-handed to the restaurant, one of them captured by Seokjin, who was doing the thing where he lightly traced his fingertips over her skin in endless patterns. He was purring, too, Y/N stealing glances of him every once in a while– Hoseok was right, he looked unbearably handsome. Shiny, wavy raven hair, a cozy plum-colored sweater, and his expression content and relaxed. 

When they arrived, Y/N had Namjoon and Taehyung help her bring in the cake and the gifts, never letting go of Seokjin’s hand once. She shouldn’t have noticed, but she did, that Yoongi was keeping a lot of space between them, sitting the furthest away from her at the table and silently reading the menu while everyone else chatted. If the other hybrids had noticed his odd behavior the past few days, they were very good at pretending they didn’t. 

Shaking her head, she put all of her attention on Seokjin, who still hadn’t released her hand. He wiggled in his seat happily, tail curling around her lower back, scooching his chair closer to Y/N. 

“What are you going to get?” Y/N leaned her cheek on Seokjin’s shoulder, reading his menu instead of her own. With a purr, Seokjin pointed out a few items, his teeth digging into his lower lip. “Ooh, that sounds yummy! Eggs benedict?”

They ended up ordering an obscene amount of food, Y/N passing on the mimosas so she could drive home uncompromised, but ordered a round for all of the hybrids. 

“So, how’s the book of the week so far?” Y/N asked Seokjin, who was taking a dainty sip of his mimosa. “A Christmas Carol, right?”

“Mm-hm. It’s a little early for Christmas stories in my opinion, though,” Seokjin cocked his head, a contemplative look on his face. “Have you been sleeping okay lately, Y/N?”

Seokjin was too kind to not point out the very obvious dark circles under her eyes, but she knew that was why he asked. Truthfully, she was lucky if she got three hours of sleep every night since she told Yoongi she loved him, but she couldn’t admit that to Seokjin. The last thing she wanted was to concern him on his birthday. 

“Yeah, I’ve just been having strange dreams that sometimes wake me up. I’m perfectly fine, though, honey,” Y/N attempted to soothe, Seokjin nodding and taking another swig of his mimosa. 

Thankfully, before he could pry, food arrived, and Y/N busied herself by stuffing her face so she didn’t have to talk. 

“This is the first time I’ve ever celebrated my birthday,” Seokjin admitted quietly, the food in front of him untouched as he seemingly soaked everything in. Chest squeezing, Y/N snaked an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder through his sweater. 

“Good thing you’ll have plenty more to celebrate each year, to make up for that,” she replied equally as soft, Seokjin’s eyes softening as he returned a kiss to her– his lips stamping affection on the crown of her head. 

Flushing, she caught Yoongi’s eyes across the table, that same blank look on his face from when he played the song for her days ago. Her song. Hurriedly looking back down at her food, she stuffed the emotion welling up inside her deep down. 

“Try this,” Seokjin interrupted her attempt to not wallow, a fork with a perfect bite of eggs benedict on it appearing in front of her face. 

Automatically, she opened her mouth like it was second nature; Seokjin often liked to feed her bites of his food like that, and she was never one to deny him. His lips twisted up into a smug smirk, using his free hand to cup her jaw like always, angling her face upwards so he could feed her the bite of his entree. She felt eyes on her from the whole table, but she couldn’t have cared less, locked in on the way Seokjin’s gaze was fixed on her mouth. 

“How is it?” Seokjin asked through his shit-eating grin, his touch vanishing but his tail still curled around her waist. 

“Mmm,” was all Y/N could articulate, swallowing slowly and unable to break free from his spell. 

“Spoiled,” Seokjin murmured, tutting. Heart falling to her ass, she gawked at his gorgeous side profile with utter disbelief, ears turning hot with humiliation and something else. 

“H-huh?” She squeaked, though the jaguar hybrid simply resumed eating, striking up a conversation with Hoseok a couple of seats down, still smirking. 

Reeling, Y/N managed to choke down the remainder of her meal, only snapping out of it when the waitresses came by with Seokjin’s cake, lit up with sparkler candles. Amazingly, Seokjin didn’t even flinch when the cake was placed in front of him, despite his usual aversion to things that were on fire or noisy, his cheeks rounding out as he read the top of his cake and blew out the candles. Hoseok sang a rather off-key version of “Happy Birthday” with the waitresses, and Y/N noticed that Taehyung had brought his camera with him, furiously taking pictures with flash of the entire event. 

“You got the lavender cake!” Seokjin exclaimed while Y/N was cutting a slice for him, pink frosting covering the pale purple sponge; a very Seokjin color scheme. 

“I did! You said you liked it a few months ago, I hope you still do,” Y/N pushed the plate in front of him, wondering if she should have a slice herself, considering how stuffed she was from all of the food Seokjin had just fed her. 

This time, Seokjin was the one blushing, mouth full of cake. Chuckling, she ruffled his hair, sliding plate after plate of cake down the table for each of the hybrids, astonished that they still had room in their tummies. 

“Okay, so what did you get Jinnie for his birthday? Did you snag him an audition on Masterchef?” Hoseok asked, frosting coating his lips. 

“Oh! Joonie, can you pass me those bags?” Y/N exclaimed, Namjoon getting up from his booth seat to deliver the three gifts at the head of the table, his damaged ear flickering when she called his name. 

Seokjin, who wasn’t quite as shy as he was when she first met him, accepted the first gift bag with pink ears despite all of his opening up. The whole table– apart from Yoongi, who excused himself to the bathroom minutes prior– watched Seokjin peer into the bag with rapt interest. 

The first gift was from her mother, a lovely vintage watch that Y/N had helped her pick out at a pawn shop recently. When she spotted it in the shop, it had Seokjin written all over it; elegant and classic, and went well with his polished wardrobe. Hoseok oohed and aahed, reaching across the table to strap it on Seokjin’s left wrist for him. Giggling, Y/N admired the way it looked on his slim wrist, leaning against his arm while he went for the other two gifts; several sweaters and shirts in various shades of pinks and neutrals, a pretty set of silver dangling earrings (Y/N noticed that he had two lobe piercings on his left ear, but didn’t have any earrings to put through them), and a set of brand-new Japanese knives. He loved every single gift, gushing over the knives in particular, but he had to slap Hoseok’s hand away when the fox hybrid attempted to put the earrings on Seokjin. 

Once the cake was eaten and plates were cleared away, Jeongguk and Namjoon both began to grow antsy, probably hoping to leave soon and get back to their routines. She handed her car keys to Taehyung beside her so he could pull the car around– he was the only one Y/N was confident that he knew how to drive, and Namjoon was known to speed– everyone following the Kodiak hybrid outside. Yoongi had long since returned from the bathroom, but once he saw that it was just Seokjin and Y/N waiting at the table to pay the bill, he too went out to the car. 

“Thank you, Y/N. Today was…” Seokjin trailed off, like he was at a loss for words. They were standing by the bar, waiting for his leftover cake to be boxed up, Seokjin straightening out Y/N’s coat and making sure it was clasped correctly. “Perfect.”

“My Seokjinnie,” Y/N cooed, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in chest. She felt him purring, his own arms coiling around her back, rubbing circles over her coat. “I have one more thing for you.”

Pulling away, she chuckled at the look of bewilderment lighting up his features, Y/N reaching into the pocket of her coat for an envelope, offering it to him with a wink. Carefully, Seokjin tore the envelope open, fishing out the two pieces of paper from within and turning them over. His eyes scanned the text, his pupils blowing out wide and mouth dropping open once he registered exactly what he was holding.

“A cooking class,” Seokjin breathed, cheeks turning bright pink. “At Eataly?”

“Yeah! I heard the classes there are awesome, and in that class you get to have wine pairings with whatever you cook, you learn about the regions in Italy where the dishes come from. You’ve been so into cooking lately, and I thought the class would be perfect for you, especially with the wine pairing aspect,” Y/N explained, Seokjin hanging on every word and reading the tickets over and over. “It’s in February. I got two tickets, so you can take whoever you like. Hoseok, Yoongi, Joonie, it’s your choice!”

Seokjin froze, a curious look in his eyes, tucking the tickets back into the envelope and reaching for Y/N’s hand again. 

“You don’t wanna come with me?” Seokjin squeezed her hand, a frown on his face for the first time that day. Blinking, Y/N made a noise of surprise. 

“Me? You want me to take the class with you?” Y/N asked stupidly, Seokjin furiously nodding and his ears perking up. 

“I don’t want to take it with anyone but you,” Seokjin confirmed resolutely, taking his cake box from a waitress ogling him without so much of a glance in her direction. Heart soaring upon hearing those words, Y/N couldn’t help but give him another tight hug. 

“Okay, I’ll go with you. Can’t wait,” Y/N agreed, mouth full of his felt coat. 

Seokjin just grinned brilliantly, leaving her embrace, tugging her towards the door, where her Land Cruiser was double-parked with the rest of the hybrids. 

“Let’s go home,” Seokjin held the door to the restaurant open for her, uttering the statement like it had great meaning to him. 

Even though she shouldn’t have, she let Taehyung drive home, Yoongi sitting beside him, while Y/N squeezed into the backseat between Namjoon and Seokjin. It was halfway back to the house when she realized Taehyung wasn’t using GPS; he knew where home was by memory, or perhaps by heart. 

“It’s just a piano lesson, just act natural, like nothing’s wrong,” Y/N glared at herself in her bathroom mirror, pinching her own cheeks to bring life back into her complexion. “Just act like you aren’t in love with the teacher.”

Groaning, Y/N switched off the bathroom light, feeling a touch ill. She had barely spoken more than a handful of words to Yoongi in over a week, nerves still too raw. Last week, she skipped her lesson, not even bringing it up to the leopard hybrid, and spent much of that Friday out in the stable with Jimin taking care of the animals. That week, however, she ironically decided to face the music and resume with the lessons, an attempt to grasp a sense of normalcy between her and Yoongi. 

Y/N paused before she left her bedroom, shooting her crumpled sheets a dirty look. Sleep still evaded her, and her dreams had been getting more and more vivid and taunting, the locked memory of her first meeting with Yoongi driving her insane even while unconscious. Growling, she left her room, taking a peek into Namjoon’s bedroom to find it empty, disappointment flooding through her. He must have been in his trailer, where he and Jeongguk had been hanging out recently like a pair of Ghostbusters.

She could hear a movie going on in the parlor, but she didn’t stop by to see what was on or who was watching, not wanting to drag her feet any longer. Y/N knew that Yoongi wasn’t there; he spent most of his time those days in the music room with the doors shut. Poor Taehyung couldn’t even use the record player all week. 

Crawling up the stairs, once she reached the room at the end of the hall, she knocked on the closed doors. Of course, he knew that it was her, but there was still a chance that he wouldn’t open up. As the door opened, her heart throbbed at the sight of him– similarly tired looking, just like her. Yoongi stepped aside, letting her into the room, before promptly shutting the both of them into the silent room. 

The room was a mess, sheet music strewn everywhere, a throw blanket tossed messily over the loveseat, several dirty mugs on the coffee table. She half-turned, too grief-stricken to face him fully, she gestured around the room. 

“Have you been sleeping in here?” Y/N managed, picking a crumpled piece of sheet music off of the ground, instantly recognizing the writing on the paper to be in Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi ran a hand over his face, his clothing all wrinkled and pen ink covering his fingers. “Um, I guess as long as it’s comfortable…”

“What do you want?” Yoongi asked softly, Y/N flinching at the question like she was burned with a fire poker. 

“I just wanted to ask… If we could have a lesson? If you still want to teach me? I understand if you don’t,” Y/N felt her throat grow sore from trying to keep down tears, feeling like a giant crybaby. 

Yoongi grunted, trudging over to the piano, pushing sheet music off of the bench and sitting down. 

“Come,” Yoongi patted the bench, avoiding her eyes, tail wrapping around his waist snugly. 

Y/N’s legs moved on their own accord, perching on the edge of the bench as far away from him as she could accomplish, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by touching him. Scanning the sheet music in front of her, already able to read it pretty well thanks to his vigorous teaching style, she heard the notes in her head as her eyes roamed over the notes. 

“Is this…?” Y/N timidly pointed to the paper, unable to look at him whatsoever. This was a terrible mistake. 

“It’s your song,” Yoongi gruffly admitted, his voice coming out strained. “I can teach you.”

Nodding, she was surprised she was able to keep the waterworks at bay, Yoongi launching into his lesson patiently. Y/N was leagues better and playing than she was months ago, so Yoongi hardly had to correct her or fix her hand placements, but the air in the room was suffocating her. Being so close to him, so close yet emotionally miles apart, had the queasy feeling in her gut growing by the second. 

She made it halfway through the song, but the more complicated section of the piece was starting to trip her up. Fumbling through the same measure four times in a row, she huffed in annoyance, considering throwing in the towel for the night. 

“No, try again. Like this,” Yoongi snapped her out of her self-criticism, gently rearranging her fingers on the keys to form the correct chord, the contact shocking her so much that she yelped, her vision going black immediately. 

“Give me your number,” the girl– Y/N– demanded, apparently trying to sound confident, but her alcohol-flushed cheeks were countering her desire to seem intimidating. 

Yoongi chuckled, for what felt like the first time in years, watching the girl stick out her arm and using her free hand to dig around in her purse for something. With a triumphant grin, she produced a pen from her bag, shoving it in Yoongi’s palm. 

“Give me your number, Yoongi,” Y/N repeated, waving her bare forearm in his face. 

“Silly girl. Why don’t I just put it in your contacts?” Yoongi teased, though he was secretly delighted that she wanted to keep in touch with him. He prayed that you’d be the one to remember. 

“My phone died,” Y/N pouted– oh, she didn’t know how irresistible she was. “Just write it on my arm, I’ll plug it in to my phone tomorrow, I swear.”

She didn’t know that promises, when it came to The Black Lodge, often disappeared into thin air. She didn’t know that there was a strong possibility that come morning, she’d forget she was even at a bar, that she met him. He shook his head, as if to clear the thoughts from it, reaching out to hold her wrist steady, uncapping the pen with his teeth. Yoongi could tell she was holding her breath, her heart rate picking up as he copied his cell phone number onto her smooth flesh. 

“What time is it? I have work in the morning…” Y/N looked regretful, like she couldn’t bear to leave the bar. It pulled at his heartstrings, embarrassingly enough. 

“Midnight,” Yoongi checked his watch before looking back at her face, trying to memorize every inch of it. “You should probably get going. I’ll call you a cab.”

Yoongi let Y/N cling to his arm, a little unstable on her heels, walking her to the back entrance of the bar. He felt the ache of having to say goodbye to the first person who made him feel like a real person in years, but there was nothing he could do– it’s not like he could lock her away in his apartment upstairs just so he could have someone to come home to. Breathing in deeply, he knew that he’d miss her scent as soon as she’d get in the cab and drive away. 

Leaning by the door, watching for the cab out of the window, Yoongi tried to appear nonchalant, but he was truthfully shaken. Y/N was talking about a concert that she wanted to go to with him the following week, an indie band he never heard of. If you remembered him the next day, there was a possibility he’d have actual plans with someone. Someone interested in getting to know him. 

“Hey Yoongi?” Y/N brought him out of his reverie, frowning as he spotted her cab waiting outside. 

“What’s that, silly girl?” 

“Can you kiss me?” She asked quietly, Yoongi positive that only a hybrid could hear her with how low she spoke. “Please?”

Stunned, Yoongi swallowed thickly, forgetting all about the cabbie waiting outside and honking furiously. She looked shy, and judging by her scent, she was anxious. Stepping closer, Yoongi’s body moved on its own, his hands slightly shaking as they reached to cup her delicate jaw. Y/N sucked in a breath, gaze dropping to his mouth, before her pretty eyes fluttered shut. Stooping, Yoongi shut his own eyes, his lips finding purchase on hers, her sweet sigh being swallowed up by him willingly. She gripped his wrists, still cradling her face, her teeth nipping lightly at his lower lip. Y/N pulled away all too soon, looking dazed, Yoongi equally as breathless. She reached up, flicking the angel wing earring dangling from his ear, giggling. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow, angel.” 

With that, she disappeared into the night, and the call never came.

“Y/N? Y/N, sweetheart, are you okay? What happened?” Yoongi, his voice somehow far away but definitely panicked, drew her out of whatever vision had taken over her body. She could feel herself being held, propped up against a heaving chest, a trembling hand cupping her cheek. “Y/N, please baby, open your eyes!”

Wheezing, Y/N could feel consciousness coming back to her piece by piece, the crack in Yoongi’s voice devastating her. Peeling her eyes open, she was met with Yoongi staring back at her, mortification and fear all over his face, ears pressed so flat to his skull she almost couldn’t see them. 

“What happened?” Y/N echoed Yoongi’s question back to him, her own voice scratchy. Yoongi, despite himself, pushed hair out of Y/N’s face, his whole body coiled with stress. 

“I don’t know. You passed out for a few seconds, but you s-sounded like you were having a terrible dream,” Yoongi’s voice cracked again, still holding her close to his chest. 

“I– it wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t a dream. I think,” Y/N spoke slowly, like her mouth was full of molasses. “I think it was a vision, like the ones my mom has.”

Y/N felt sapped of energy, entirely sagging into Yoongi’s embrace, forgetting all about how estranged they had been for weeks. When he put his hand over her’s, she got the vision. 

“What did you see, sweetheart?” Yoongi seemed to calm down a bit, though still held onto her like she was going to dissolve into smoke. 

“The bar, you and me. But from your perspective. Our kiss,” Y/N whispered, trying to replay the vision in her head over and over again, trying to remember how Yoongi’s lips felt on her. 

“You– you remembered?” Yoongi exclaimed, color flooding his cheeks. “Wait, what do you mean, from my perspective?”

“Like I was seeing it from your eyes,” Y/N explained tiredly, slumping further into his arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you the next day, angel.”

Yoongi went ramrod straight, a hiss coming from the back of his throat as he maneuvered Y/N upright by her upper arms so he could look into her eyes. 

“You need to stop apologizing to me,” Yoongi breathed, his eyebrows pulling together, pained. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what?” Y/N’s voice broke, moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes. 

“How many times am I going to make you cry?” Yoongi used a thumb to brush away the tears under her eyes, his anguished expression becoming even more pronounced. 

“I-I get that you don’t like me like that, Yoongi, b-but–”

“Y/N, I love you. I think I fell in love with you a year ago,” Yoongi confessed desperately, his other hand coming up to cup the side of her face. “As cheesy as that is. I love you, and it’s killing me.”

The world stopped, her heart stopped, and everything around her ceased to exist except for Yoongi. Tears drying up as if by command, Y/N searched for any sign of deception on his face or hidden in his body language, but came up with nothing. 

“You love me, too?” Y/N whimpered, heart aching from something else now. 

Yoongi leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes falling shut as he exhaled shakily. She twisted her fists into the fabric of his tee shirt, craving his warmth, savoring how close he was. 

“So fucking much,” Yoongi confirmed, voice above a whisper. “I love you so fucking much, baby.”

“Yoongi…” Y/N breathed, heart about to beat out of her chest. “Love you…”

With a purr rounding out into a growl, Yoongi moved one of his hands to the small of Y/N’s waist, dragging her closer to him. Inches away, danger, but also tenderness, filled his hazel eyes. He was beautiful. 

“Kiss me,” Yoongi’s barely audible request sent fireworks off in her gut, his eyes shutting again as he nudged his nose against hers. “Please.”

How could she possibly deny him, her Yoongi, her love, when he asked her so sweetly?

Pulse racing, Y/N released her hold on his shirt, tucking a long strand of jet black hair behind his ear, humming when he shuddered, placing her hand on the side of his neck, his own pulse thrumming as fast as hers was. 

“Please, baby,” Yoongi repeated, the pet name making her stomach flip. Without any more hesitation, Y/N leaned up, perfectly slotting her lips against Yoongi’s, gentle, slow, and impossibly sweet. 

His lips, full and soft, were yielding against hers, letting her take the lead, his hands remaining still– one holding her face, the other on her waist. Locking lips for several moments, innocent and so full of love, Y/N drew away, winded and over the moon. Yoongi stayed close, eyes lidded and breathing labored, before he spoke again. 

“More. Kiss me more.”

Yoongi pulled her into his lap, his tail curling around her waist, one arm around her back and the other traveling down to the outside of her thigh. Y/N, growing shy, gave him a simple peck, face on fire. She never imagined that this was how her night was going to go, but she couldn’t even remember when they weren’t like this before. Not satisfied with the measly peck she planted on the corner of his mouth, Yoongi chased after her, gripping her jaw tightly and descending his lips on her once more, Y/N gasping in surprise. Yoongi took that opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth, swallowing the startled moan she made hungrily, the tip of his tongue flicking against the roof of her mouth. 

Melting in his grip, Y/N kissed him back with renewed vigor, a hand moving to tangle in his silky hair, pleased that he took over the kiss, lungs screaming for air as Yoongi sucked on her lower lip with a purr. As if sensing that she needed to catch her breath, Yoongi released her lip with a pop, his mouth peppering kisses along her sensitive jaw voraciously, hand on her thigh rubbing up and down. Sighing blissfully, Y/N’s head tilted back when his lips trailed to her neck, mouth wet and kisses searing her flesh.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” Yoongi groaned into her neck, lightly sucking on a spot behind her ear that had her mewling. “Let me mark you…”

Words failing her, Y/N nodded desperately, eager to feel his teeth sink into her flesh. Chuckling darkly, Yoongi started muttering sweet nothings, dragging his tongue up the length of her throat. The hand on her thigh moved again, this time to grab a loose hold of the base of her neck, Y/N’s eyes rolling back into her skull with the weight of his palm in such a vulnerable spot. 

“Hold onto me, my love,” Yoongi murmured in her ear, Y/N obediently tightening her grip around Yoongi’s waist, whining at the sensation of his teeth tracing the vein fluttering with her erratic pulse making her see stars behind her eyelids. 

With one more open-mouthed kiss to her throat, Yoongi bit down, Y/N crying out his name, never feeling more alive than in that moment, in his arms, teeth in her neck. Tail protectively curling even tighter around her waist, Yoongi’s purrs were growing so loud, he sounded more predatory than ever. She didn’t know if it was the fact that he loved her, that he was kissing her, or the the side effects of scenting, but Y/N swore her soul ascended as he removed his teeth from the mark, a sensual swipe of his tongue sweeping over the wound to cauterize it. 

Growing entirely limp in his arms, Y/N barely had the energy to kiss him back when his lips returned to hers, whimpering at the tangy taste of her own blood on his tongue. And then, all at once, his lips were gone. 

“I don’t want to get carried away, sweetheart,” Yoongi’s voice was strained, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead with a hum.

“What if I do?” Y/N countered dopily, her head full of cotton and Yoongi. Yoongi barked out a hearty laugh, unable to help himself by pecking her lips once more, smoothing her hair into place. She probably looked like she got attacked.

“Not tonight, love,” Yoongi helped her stand, snickering at her whining protests. “Let’s take it slow, hmm? You need to get some rest, proper rest. So do I.”

“I guess you’re right,” Y/N admitted begrudgingly, though she wanted nothing more than Yoongi kissing her senseless all night, her body was sagging with exhaustion. “Your edginess has been keeping me up for nights on end.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Yoongi apologized sincerely, his ears flattening against his skull again. Before he opened up the soundproofed door, he stopped, lifting her hand to his lips to brush a kiss over her knuckles. “I love you.”

Realizing, until they figured out how to tell the others, they’d have to keep their affections to themselves, Y/N pouted even further. Now that she had a taste of him, she was insatiable. 

“I love you, too, angel.”

Silently, Yoongi walked Y/N to her bedroom, stealing one last kiss after making sure the hallway was clear, Y/N floating on air as she sunk onto her bed, Yoongi shutting the door and leaving her to relive everything that happened mentally. 

On her nightstand, where she had left it, her phone chimed, making her flinch and swear. Blindly reaching for it, still a little hazy from the scenting and makeout session, she unlocked her phone, only to feel dread wash over her as she read the text that she received.

Hoseok 🦊: What the hell is going on with you and Yoongi? 

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[bachiras-toaster]

dazai teaches you how to suck dick : ̗̀➛

OSAMU DAZAI x f!reader

cw. nsfw virgin!reader, dick sucking, hand job, alcohol consumption

wc. 2.9k

When the two of you arrived at Dazai’s apartment to hang out after a long evening at the Agency, you had already made yourself comfortable on his couch as he placed the pizza boxes he had ordered on the coffee table in front of you.

"Nice!-" You beamed, taking a slice before your best friend even had the chance to sit down.

"Hey, don't get too comfortable there without me." The scruffy-haired man smirked slightly as he took a seat on the other end of the sofa, looking at you over the pizza; also putting a bottle of sake down. "You might want to sit closer." He teased lightly before taking a bite of his own slice.

"Alcohol? I like your way of thinking." You giggled, already having grabbed it by the handle to pour yourself a mix into the cup you had preparedly set in front of you.

Dazai laughed slightly, holding his pizza up in challenge as he watched you pour your drink from beyond his bites.

"You can't resist a drink, can you?" He hummed lightly, pouring his own glass once you had finished. "I knew you’d be all over the bottle as soon as I put it down.”

"You know me so well." You beamed brightly at him, clinking your cups together when he had finished pouring.

“Cheers." He exclaimed with a small smirk before taking a sip from his cup, watching intently as you did the same. Your willingness to drink with him had always amused him, and he couldn’t help but smirk as he felt the need to take advantage of the situation with the spark of an interesting conversation. "So to pass the time... Let's play twenty questions."

"Twenty questions? Alright." You giggled, already beginning to tap your chin thoughtfully. "Well, I've known you for quite a while, so there aren't a lot of questions I could ask, so I'm gonna try to be reall obscure about what I say..." A lightbulb seemed to flicker in your mind. "Aha! What's the worst thing you've been told off for during your school days?"

The man just chuckled lightly at your query before taking another bite of his pizza, considering the question deeply.

"Oh, well, there's been quite a few times I’ve been in trouble. Usually, it's just for something small like talking in class or not turning in an assignment on time." He grinned, taking another sip of his sake. "...But the worst thing I got into trouble for was sneaking a girl into my dorm room. The dean wasn't very happy about it."

"Seriously?!" You chuckled brightly. "Oh my god, you would do that, wouldn't you?" You asked rhetorically with an amused smile. "Okay. now your turn to ask me a question."

Dazai questioned almost immediately, like he had such a question simmering in the corner of his mind for so long.

“What's the one thing you want to do but are too afraid to try?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

You giggled a little, trying to cover your laughs by sipping your drink over your own words.

"Oh, god. This is an embarrassing one..." You mumbled out, hesitant to respond- but figuring you didn’t have a lot to hide from one of your closest colleagues at the Agency. "...I guess probably giving someone a blowjob." She shrugged lightly, bringing her legs up onto the couch to cross them as she drank more.

"Wow— I really expect that from someone who's a virgin." Dazai’s eyes widen slightly in surprise before he quickly recovered and chuckled, trying to keep his expression neutral. "I'm not sure why you’d think that's embarrassing. It's just something you haven't done before." He jabbed, leaning back on the couch slightly. "Don't be afraid to try it. You never know if you'll like it until you do." He teased lightly, enjoying the playful banter between you two.

"Okay, haha, very funny." You feigned an amused expression, rolling your eyes at his virgin comment. "I get it. I'm a virgin and you're a massive playboy."

"Hey, I didn't say I was a massive playboy! I just happen to be a little popular with the ladies.” Dazai grinned, his eyes twinkling with pride. "I have more experience than you, that's all." He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees.

"...Have you ever gotten a blowjob?" You asked curiously, but you quickly felt like retracting your statement when you realised what kind of question you had just asked- and to your best friend too! "—Nevermind! Forget I asked that—"

"Well, it is twenty questions. If you're going to ask, you might as well know." Dazai shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. "Yeah, I have. Feels good." He smiled slightly, trying not to look too smug about it. "If you ask me, it's nothing you should be scared about trying."

"It's just scary because I'm a—... I haven’t done it before." You grumbled, hiding your lips behind your cup. "Like— I wouldn't even know what to do. And if the guy I lost my v-card to turned out to be an asshole, it'd ruin my whole experience."

“Then you'll just have to find someone who knows what they're doing, then." He winked playfully, his smirk turning slightly teasing. "Or you could always practice on something else beforehand." He casually took another sip of his drink, watching you carefully.

"Oh yeah? And who the hell would be willing to let me practise giving them a blowjob?" You scoffed at his suggestion, only for them to respond in all seriousness.

"I could always volunteer, you know. You know I'd be more than happy to help you out, even if it's just practice."

You froze for a moment, staring blankly at him. You didn't seem to believe that he was being anything but sarcastic in what he was saying, and you just let out a chuckle in order to match what you thought was his playful intention.

"You're funny."

"I try." Dazai chuckled, putting his cup down onto the coffee table to focus his entire attention on you; he couldn't help but grin. "So, are you gonna take me up on my offer or what?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Are you being serious?" You asked plainly.

"Of course I'm serious." He couldn't help but tease you a little bit, enjoying the atmosphere between you two. "You know I'd never lie to you." He added. "But then again... Maybe you're to innocent for that." He commented with a grin as he looked away for a second, knowing that it would get a rise out of you.

"I am not innocent!" You put your cup down on the table, your face flushing as you looked sort of offended at the remark.

“Oh, come on, (Y/n)." Dazai chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "You know you are. But that's what makes you so damn cute." He leaned forward, his nose scrunching with an adorable smile.

But you simply furrowed your brows, gnawing your her bottom lip as you seemed to be deep in thought at his abrupt offer.

“…You'd really help me?"

"Of course I would!" He smiled, taking your hand in his. "I'd do anything for you." He leaned back in, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "It'll be our little secret, okay? Just between us. I just know you’d be embarrassed falling into the same palm of mine that so many women have fallen into before.” He boasted, to your reluctant agreement.

"Okay..." You said, watching as he reclined comfortable against the sofa before you began inching closer towards him. "But— I don't know what I'm doing." You gulped, abruptly freezing at the realisation.

“That's what practice is for." Dazai smiled, pulling you closer to him. "Don’t worry! We’ll take it slow, and I'll teach you everything you need to know." He ran his fingers through your hair, savouring the feeling of you sat so meekly opposite him. "I'm actually glad you agreed to this. You have no idea how much I've imagined you in front of me like this."

"What—?" Your face immediately felt warm when he said that.

"Don't pretend like you didn't know." He teased, smirking at you. He leaned in close, his lips close to your ear, whispering softly. "And don't pretend that I'm the only one with such thoughts… You seriously thought I couldn’t hear you the nights you’d let me crash on your couch?”

"What are you talking about?" You asked, reluctant to crawl any further towards him.

"Oh, come on," He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with playful amusement. "You know exactly what I'm talking about." He leaned back against the sofa, patting the spot in front of him. "I've heard you… And it wasn't just the occasional moan," he whispered, his hand stroking along your jaw as he leaned in close. "I'm always getting hard listening to you. Fuckin' my own fist and pretending it's you."

"You— What?" You gulped, your face blushing profusely. You admitted, you did find him a attractive as hell, but never had you thought that he'd have such lewd thoughts about you.

"You were always whispering sexy things in your sleep, about wanting someone to fuck you hard." The man smirked, his hand running gently down your arm before lifting his thumb to trace your collarbone. "It only made me want you more… The fact that you’d be so bold to make those noises while I’m here."

He reached out to take your hand to place it on his crotch, which already seemed to have a tent formed in it due to his erection. You gulped as he forced you to feel his hard-on, and you looked up at him, sweating a little.

"You could... Hear that? I didn't realise I spoke in my sleep..."

“Well, now you know." Your friend smirked, still holding your hand firmly against his crotch. "You were really anything but quiet. But truly. Your voice was like music to my ears." Dazai whispered, holding a smug grin. "I couldn't get enough of it." He leaned in close to your ear, his breath hot against your neck. "And I still can't."

You felt like you couldn’t say anything. You just remained seated where you were, hesitant to crawl further towards him; but your hand was still confidently placed on his pants, which you could feel was growing tighter by the second.

"(Y/n)..." Dazai moaned softly, his hand moving to your thigh. "You're making this so fuckin’ hard for me..!" He chuckled gravelly. "How about this, sweet..." He purred, his fingers lacing with yours as he began to guide you to the space between his legs, his other hand moving down your thigh to tease at you. "If you like the feel of this..." He trailed off, his thumb brushing against your clothed cunt. "Maybe you could return the favor? Come on. I’ll talk you through how to suck dick well.”

After a moment, you just nodded, feeling as if you were complying completely.

“Okay… As long as you tell me what to do…” You sat on your knees between his thighs on the couch, loosening the bands of his sweatpants so you could pull it down— He had helped you with that.

“Atta girl." Dazai murmured, his voice rough with desire as he watched you undress him. He had even leaned back against the couch, giving you plenty of room to work. "Just take your time and pay attention to how I react." He purred, his hand reaching down to guide your hand to his base. "…C’mon... Touch it. Take it all in your hand. Feel how hard it is for you."

As he fished his cock out of his pants, you seemed a little intimidated by how big he was— you started to understand what women saw in him… Had this been the first time you had actually seen a dick in person? You took his length into your palms, trying to adjust yourself to the feeling before looking up at him and awaiting further command.

“Good." Dazai praised softly, his voice hoarse with need. "Now, slowly, start to stroke up and down." He instructed, watching as your hand began to move in time with his words. "Don't worry about being gentle. I like it when you're firm."

You started firmly stroking your hand up and down the length of his cock, interested in how warm he felt in your palm.

"That's it." He encouraged, his hips starting to roll slightly in time with your strokes. "You're doing great." He murmured, reaching down to run a finger lightly over your lower lip. "Tell me... do you like touching me like this?"

“It… Feels okay…” You said softly, continuing to run your hand up and down his cock.

"Just okay?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow playfully. "To me, I'd say it looks pretty fucking hot seeing you touch me like this." He leaned back against the sofa, leaving you more space to work with. “Now, I want you to use your tongue.”

“My—?” You stammered, not stopping your hand movement. “Like… What do I do? Do I just— Do I need to put it all in my mouth?”

"No, not yet." He reassured you. "Just tease me with with your tongue; run it along the underside of my cock." He watched as you complied, his member twitching slightly at your touch.

You leaned down forward a bit so you could run your tongue up the length of his dick. You seemed a little surprised with the surface of how it felt, but you let your taste travel the entire length before you got to the tip, where you swiped a lick over the slit of it.

“Fuck." He hissed, his hips jerking up slightly. "That feels so good." He groaned, his hand sliding into your hair to grip gently. "Keep going, (Y/n)." He encouraged, his voice thick with lust.

You kitten-licked his cock, your tongue licking stripes up his dick like it was some piece of candy. The view of you from above only aroused Dazai more- Which you could tell by the way he subtly attempted to lush your head down.

"Oh god—“ He groaned, unable to get the words out fast enough. "You feel fucking incredible." His hips jerked up, his cock twitching almost painfully against your mouth. "Suck on it, (Y/n), suck me off. Take the tip into your mouth first.” He demanded, his grip on your scalp tightening.

You followed his command, finding the tip of his cock and planting a soft kiss onto it before you took it into your mouth. Once the tip was settled between your wet lips, you began licking at it from the inside of your mouth.

“Oh, fuck." He shakily breathed out, his hand sliding from your hair down to your neck, gripping it lightly. "You're doing so good, baby." He praised, his voice rough with need. "Don't stop, just keep going. Take more of me down as you go.”

You nodded, holding the base of his cock with your hand as you gradually began taking more of his dick inside of your mouth as you sucked on him. Your tongue swirled from his tip down to the veins of his length, your saliva coating his cock.

"Shit." Soft groans were heard from his lips, his eyes closing as he leaned his head back against the couch cushions. His voice was thick with lewd noises, almost hoarse from the sound of it. "(Y/n)— Fuck, that feels so good." Dazai moaned, thrusting his hips forward slightly. "Don't stop, baby. Come on—" He encouraged, sliding his hand down to your cheek to rub lightly.

Your head bobbed up and down on his cock, and you quickly realised that the parts that you couldn’t reach with your tongue, you could just stroke with your palm. Your slurping became more aggressive as you found your rhythm, and the pace in which you sucked him off became more steady.

“Fu-uck—" You could vividly hear his panting, hands gripping the couch behind him. He could feel himself getting close, his hips starting to buck forward more forcefully as he gave in to the pleasure you were giving him. "Your mouth is so fucking amazing, you sure you’re not a virgin?”

You continued, feeling fuelled by his praise and wanting to suck him off more simply because of how much he seemed to enjoy it. You also seemed to get off to how much his muscles tensed at your tongue. Dazai moaned— Almost a little too needily— hips jerking up forcefully. His head was thrown back, eyes closed tight as he tried to get closer.

"Don't stop, don’t stop, don’t stop—“ He whined out. “(Y/n). I'm about to cum. Fuck. Fuck." Dazai’s breathing hitched as he watched you, his fingers tangling in your hair lightly. He could feel his climax building fast, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. "Fuck...”

You kept at the pace you were going at, but your sucking became more desperate as you wanted to know how it would feel to make a guy cum— And partially because of how nice Dazai sounded when he whimpered.

“(Y/n), open your mouth." He ordered, voice low and demanding. He knew he couldn't hold out much longer, and he didn't want to cum in your mouth without permission.

Though thankfully, he didn’t have to. You did as you were told quite obediently, and immediately opened your mouth wide to him, your tongue laid flatly as you let him in. Dazai looked down at your opened mouth, eyes dark with lust. He could feel his climax rushing up fast, his cock throbbing against your soft inside.

"Swallow, (Y/n)." He warned.

As his reddened tip spurt his seed into your wet mouth, you didn’t even need to be told twice before you swallowed it almost immediately without a second thought. Your face seemed to contort a little as you hadn’t expect the cum to taste so salty, nor did you expect it to have such an odd consistency, but you swallowed nevertheless.

Dazai let out a shaky breath, his hips jerking back against the couch.

“Fuck." He panted, unable to believe how good that felt. He looked down, eyes soft and smouldering. "I really shouldn't have let you do that." He sighed as he felt your warmth envelop his cock, swallowing him down. He groaned deeply, his body shuddering from the intense release. "Shit, (Y/n)..."

“Why not…?” You queried innocently, swiping off the cum that dropped from the corner of your lips to swallow in your mouth.

"Because now I want more." He had confessed, running his fingers through her your gently. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "And I know you're not ready for what I really want." He whispered, his voice low and rough.