#there are only about two things that are semi-concrete here

[greyyson-but-wrong]

ALIBIS; part two

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: typical marvel violence, airport scene, swearing, hydra mention, canon-adjacent civil war + post credit scene

summary: captain america vs iron man, was it ever going to go well? but now, with a chance to prove bucky innocent via a talk out with t'challa, freedom is right around the corner. the conversation ends better than you thought it ever could.

author notes: oopsie, it took me so much longer to get around to this than i thought it was... we've got a heatwave over here in the uk and my cat has fleas so ive been very very busy :/ hope you enjoy this and if i'm being 100% transparent, timelines get confusing towards the end and i forgot about the hint at them fucking previously so as far as everybody is concerned, they aren't together/haven't confessed yet (call it a fwb situation i guess...)

word count: 5.1K (the most i've ever written for fanfiction L)

There was no way on this holy Earth that all of you were going to make it out of this fight. The airport was a mess, crushed infrastructure, planes broken in two, cars and trucks chucked every which way. Even broken concrete from where Wanda and forced Rhodey into the ground earlier on. You weren't the most skilled here with combat, I mean, you were up against the likes of Iron Man and Vision, you were simply Hydra's brains, they hadn't put much effort into the little combat training they gave you. But you had the serum, only two other people here had it, and they were both on your side.

This fight was not the priority, everybody on this side knew it. The need to save people from the other group of Winter Soldiers was more important than this petty argument. The other team disagreed greatly and as a result, this fight was happening, and no change was being made.

A distraction was needed. You and the others had figured out that in order to win this fight in the end, some of you would have to lose it. Steve and Bucky were priority, they knew where to go, what to do, and were the strongest — you were not priority. Even though Bucky would rather die than to have to leave you behind, there wasn't any other way this would work. Those two would have to go to Siberia and figure it out, you and the rest would receive penance, probably prison, maybe something worse. Maybe you would finally tell them your name — they would find it out somehow, eventually. If you were losing Bucky either way, you might as will give the rest of yourself up.

Rhodey blasted you, arm held up and pointed directly at you. You launched yourself out the way, rolling against the concrete so the blast when above and over you. Semi-automatic pointed towards Rhodey, you shifted, intentionally missing and hitting the truck he was placed in front of.

He turned, laughing under the mask. "You missed."

"Did I?"

The bullet had lodged itself into the engine of the truck, but it wasn't just any other bullet. You turned, sprinting as fast as physically possible away from the vehicle. The truck blew up in five seconds, launching Rhodey into the ground, the explosion ricocheting into the nearby building, windows smashing and walls falling. You didn't wait around to see what Rhodey would do, instead running away from the explosion and towards the fight currently between T'Challa and Bucky. It was this argument that could be easily settled, perhaps even without fighting.

But you knew grief, you understood it better than most people, and anger was something that many couldn't combat when it stood alongside grief. It's a difficult thing to overcome, especially when the person his anger is directed towards was standing right in front of him.

Index finger up to your ear, you spoke. "Any update on that distraction? Steve and Bucky, you need to get to that carrier."

"It needs to be something big." Steve spoke, through the comms. You turned to see him throw his shield at the kid in red that you hadn't yet been acquainted with yet, all you knew was that he was young and on Iron Man's side, which meant he would do anything stop you and the others. "Has anybody got any ideas? "

"I'd blow something up but we need to keep debris at a minimum." You murmured, launching yourself at T'Challa and knocked him off of Bucky who seemed just as confused as the king did.

"Something big you say? " Ant-man, or Scott as he had introduced himself, came through on the comms from far across the runway.

T'Challa landed like a king, running towards you and leaping, claws sharp any ready to inflict pain when needed. Seeing him coming for you, you rolled to the side, letting him crash into the concrete floor, you grabbed the gun at your hip and shot, knowing that while the suit was made of vibranium and bullets would do nothing, the distraction meant that Bucky could get away.

"I might tear myself apart but hey, what a way to go…" Scott mumbled on the radio.

You tried looking around for him, but with no luck, opting for a finger to your ear again. "Scott, whatever it is, do it. We need to get these two out of here, stat." You had T'Challa on his back, super solider strength keeping him against the concrete as you watched Bucky run across the runway, towards the hanger. He was shouting something, but you couldn't hear what. He met with Steve, and then a second later, Scott went through with his plan.

From a small, Ant-like being, he enlarged, becoming a literal giant.

"Fuck—" You couldn't help but laugh.

The other team was very much distracted, the plan went perfectly. You spotted Bucky, jaw agape as he watch Scott become this giant, his eyes trained upward at the man, a slight sense of fear instilled. There wasn't long. You ran, just about making it towards him before anybody noticed. He saw you, hands flying to your cheeks to check you were okay. Fuck. This was going to be very very difficult. Reaching up to your cheek, confusion worked its way into the roughness of his face and you pulled it down, entwining your fingers with his. He didn't wait for you to say anything, just followed you as you started running towards the hanger.

Just a couple meters away, Steve was running too. Bucky had clocked back into reality and didn't need your hand to run anymore. If the three of you didn't make this, then everything would be over. Everybody would go to prison, Zemo would get to the other Soldiers, then chaos and power would unveil.

Someone shot at the building, brick and metal beginning to creak and fall under the pressure. You all picked up the pace a bit. Then the rubble stopped moving, held in mid-air, giving you and everyone else more time to get through and to the hanger. Footsteps echoed behind you, the best you could guess was T'Challa and maybe Black Widow. A scream reverberated across the runway, and the brick stuttered, readying to fall onto you.

Just as Wanda was forced to let go, the three of you slid underneath the rock and infrastructure, only being able to hear it crash behind you, not whether all of you made it though.

Did he make it through?

Is he alive?

You scrambled onto your feet, spinning to spot him. Just a couple meters along from you, he was lying flat on his back, groaning. A metal pipe was pressing into the bicep of his metal arm, so while you were able to sigh in gratefulness, you moved quickly, using your strength to lift it off him. He caught your eyes as you did so, but you barely saw, the only thing in your head being get him free.

His eyes were trained on nothing but you. He caught onto your black eye from the run in with Black Widow earlier and was filled with such an immense sense of guilt at being the fault of your pain, that the second the pipe was lifted away from him, he launched himself at you, arms around your torso, face squished into your neck. "I'm sorry—"

Hands palming against his shoulders, you furrowed your eyebrows and pushed him away. "What?"

"This is all because of me."

"Buck—"

"You're in danger because of me."

"That's not—"

He shook his head, palms against your cheeks, eyes closed as if he was training himself to remember your face without it being directly in front of him. "I should have never brought you into this mess, I can't— I don't wanna lose you, I—"

"James—!" You grabbed his chin between your thumb and forefinger, forcing him to open his eyes and listen to you. "I decided to be brought into this mess when we met in Romania. I remembered you, and trust me, I was in this mess long before I met you, okay? We're doing this for you, yes, but we're also doing this for the people that are gonna die if we don't stop Zemo."

"But you're hurt."

"And so is everyone else." You spoke, voice soft now as you let your grasp on him go. "You have to get onto that carrier."

He was in your peripheral, the Black Panther, who had launched himself into the air, in yours and Bucky's direction, claws once against ready to cut anybody who got in his way. You grabbed Bucky's shoulders, pushing him away from you and towards Steve, who was ready to, pick the solider up and direct him towards the jet. Arms out, you braced for impact, your horizontal arms blocking his vertical. If his weapons were anything but his claws, it wouldn't have worked and you'd be dead meat.

He shouted, clocking onto what had happened, and you pushed him, manoeuvring yourself somehow so that you were now on top of him, keeping him from moving.

From across the hanger, you could hear Bucky shouting.

"I'm not going without her, Steve!" He cried, fighting Steve's grasp on his arm, shaking the captain away from him. "I can't— I won't do this without her. I lo—" Steve had no choice but to intervene. There was a plan, and that plan meant only him and Bucky going, leaving you here. You had already dealt with that reality, you knew it would be a struggle to convince him.

The Captain groaned. "Buck, this was the plan, we don't have long. Come on."

You turned your head, looking over toward them, shouting. "James! Go! I'll be okay, go save those people, get them out, stop Zemo!"

He turned, that same fear carved into the blue of his eyes as he found yours and simply stared at you, not knowing nor understanding how and why he had to deal with leaving you. "I can't leave you— What if it goes wrong and one of us— I might never see you again!"

"That's not going to happen." You smiled, pushing down that lump in your throat at the hypothetical he was bringing up. "And if it does, I'll find you. I always will."

Bucky visibly gulped, fists clenched at his side as he quickly turned back to Steve who was waiting in the back of the carrier. He turned back to you, eyes wide and looking as if he was beginning to lose any hope he had managed to keep. "You promise?"

You nodded, taking in a deep breath. "I promise."

He nodded back at you, the storm behind his eyes calming as he turned and ran towards the jet, joining Steve. They fired up the power, and soon enough were flying off and away to Siberia, straight into danger but straight into a possible safe future.

Knowing Bucky was away and safe, you let go of the pressure you were putting on the Wakandan King, who pushed you off of him at the released. Your back hit the concrete harshly, grunting out as reality of the situation hit you. "Listen, I know your mind is being messed with as you grieve your father, but I swear to you, on everything that I am, he didn't do it, your majesty."

"Tell me then, if you're so sure they didn't do it, why are they running?" He panted, lifting himself up to stand at full height, and offering you a hand.

You took it.

It had been two days, you think. Apparently, T'Challa had pulled some strings and gotten you a different cell to the rest of them. Yesterday, he had come and spoken with you, saying that there were a group of people wit files and information that needed to talk to you. Romania. Your people, who had been tirelessly working away in the lab to get enough evidence to prove Bucky innocent, and they had come through. So you told T'Challa that's what they were here for, and he had agreed to hear you out.

And so, the files were tucked under your arm. Every single detail needed to prove Bucky innocent, that you would be able to show T'Challa and he would accept. Hopefully. But the point was that this was your oppertunity, and you had to take advantage of that. Your people back in Romania had really come through, and had been able to get every piece of evidence to the Avengers warehouse, or whatever that was becoming now that the Avengers had partly disassembled.

T'Challa was already in the room when you opened the door, accompanied by two guards, standing either side of you. The room wasn't anything special, two chairs and a table. That was all it needed to be.

You smiled at the King, partly out of politeness, but mostly out of understanding and the kindness of your heart. You knew what he was going through, and that's what was important in this situation. Understanding. Of both sides, of both people, of both stories. He was hurt, but so was Bucky. He returned the smile as you took your seat opposite him.

"Good evening." He greeted, accepting the file as you slid it over to him. "I hope you're well."

Nodding, you shrugged and pulled open the files. "As well as one can be when certain government bodies are keeping the whereabouts of her best friend a secret."

T'Challa chuckled a little, eyebrows furrowed and a glint in his eyes. "Best friend?"

"What else?"

"You two are not an item?"

"I— uh." There was nothing you could say.

Because, yeah, you would like to be. You couldn't act as if the idea hadn't swirled around your mind a couple times. That your eyes hadn't strayed to Bucky's lips and perhaps even further downward in the year you shared a living space. But it was so complicated. Hydra had broken the both of you so much, then built you back up again just to break you down once more. Neither of you were in the right state of mind to even think about a relationship, especially not in the current climate and the brainwashing technology still murmuring inside the both of you.

T'Challa shook his head, holding a hand out for comfort. "Do not worry about it. Forget I said anything. How about we move onto the evidence?"

"Yeah." You nodded, pulling the endless documents and photos so that they faced the both of you, visible to all. First was a photo a Zemo, and his file. "This is Helmut Zemo, he's Sokovian and he's done this all in order to break apart the Avengers and, ironically, avenge the lives of those lost in the Sokovia battle."

The King nodded, lifting up the photo to get a close look. "If this was all him, why did our security footage show Barnes at the scene?"

Flipping a couple pages, you opened the file onto the one that described the technology that Zemo used. It included a detailed description, and photos of the different tech that your team had gotten both in person and from different sources (you avoided the fact that you had stolen a lot from government files). "He's been developing this tech over the years, facial stuff, it can make him look like anybody he wants to be, and he chose Bucky."

He was believing it. "What are his backgrounds?"

"Military. He's technically a colonel." You spoke, flicking through and past a couple pages. "Has a lot of connections, that without, he wouldn't be able to achieve what he has."

T'Challa sighed, reading over a couple lines. "What were his exact plans?"

"That's what Rogers and Bucky are dealing with now, or have dealt with." It was only the beginning, there was a lot to explain. "While Bucky is the most well known Winter Solider, he wasn't the only one. They're all in cryogenic chambers in an old Hydra base over in Siberia, but since Zemo was able to awaken the Winter Solider in Bucky, that means he can awaken the others. We estimated about a dozen, from this data—" you pointed towards a particular graph that you remembered making back under Hydra's view. "and if Zemo can control them, he can control anything he wants to."

"Hence the urgency."

You nodded. "Yeah."

A moment of silence wavered over the room. Then, he spoke again. "He still killed a lot of people."

"His body did." You answered, almost too quickly. You had to act as if you didn't know someone was going to say that along the lines. "His mind did not. Please, your majesty, you have to understand what Hydra did. We have more proof. Images of him being tortured, of me being tortured, of the tech, mission repor—."

He held a hand out, pausing your speech. "I understand, believe me."

You nodded. "Thank you."

"People still died at his hand."

"I understand that."

"The brainwashing is still a part of him, you say?"

"Yes."

He took in a deep breath, raising a hand to his chin as he ran through the different options for going about this. All you could do was sit there and watch, maybe ponder as to what the different options could be. Prison? A cabin in the middle of nowhere? A psych hospital? Surely the government has some form of charity of formation that was made to deal with cases like you and Bucky. That would probably be the best option.

It was difficult. Both Ross and T'Challa had refused to tell you where Bucky was. As far as you were concerned, he could still be in Siberia. He could be dead. No. It was Bucky, he would survive out of anything. And you promised you would find him, you never broke a promise. Especially when it came to Bucky. You pushed the thought of him being dead far out of your mind.

T'Challa let out his breath. "How would you feel about staying in Wakanda for a couple of years?"

"As… a prisoner?"

He chuckled, leaning back in his seat and shaking his head. Your confusion and answer had amused him. "No… as a citizen, or guest. My sister, Shuri, I think you would get along. You're both creative, brainy people."

It seemed to good to be true. "Is this a trick?"

"No." He repeated, leaning forward to sit up straight, hands clasped atop the table as he looked towards you. "Barnes is currently being kept in a forced coma inside the walls of Wakanda. The American Government handed him over when their officers found him at the scene in Siberia yesterday. We may have the technology and ability to rid his mind of the Winter Solider once and for all, but we were unsure on whether to go through with it. We were waiting for your evidence."

He wasn't dead. He was safe. For the most part.

You dragged a hand down your face. "So what's going to happen now that you have the evidence?"

"Once his arm has healed properly, which shouldn't take long due to the serum advanced healing, we will wake him up and begin the journey of removing the brainwashing tech." He spoke, as if the concept of getting rid of the Winter Solider was like going to the shops and getting a loaf of bread. Normal. Expected. Unsurprising.

Truly, you had no choice but to pause him. "What do you mean letting his arm heal properly?"

He shrugged, clearly unsure as to how you would react to the information. "We have removed the metal arm Hydra gave him. In it's place is a short metal stump that, if needed, can have another arm attached to it."

"You've made him a new arm?"

"Vibrainium." He spoke, lips curling upwards slightly at the joy carved into your features at the news. "Lighter, easier to maneuver. But through the journey we think it would be best if he learnt to live without the arm. It will disassociate himself from Hydra and his past the the Solider."

You nodded, practically ecstatic. "I couldn't agree more."

"So you would like to join us in Wakanda?"

Taking in a deep breath, you looked down at the desk, and the endless files that had cluttered the entirety of the surface. A photo of Bucky had fallen out from somewhere, one from before the war, before the Winter Solider. He looked so soft, so unaware. It would have been nice to know him back then, but this was your Bucky. Your James. You wouldn't trade him for the world. You looked back up to T'Challa again. "I would be honoured."

It was warm. Not an overwhelming, sweltering warm but a settled, comforting warmth. The sun was high in the sky, laying a golden glow across the horizon as the sunrise came to an end and the day hit late morning. Beneath your feet, the grass was warm, the blades of green tickling your feet ever so slightly as you watched onto the two young boys running across the field. You didn't know them very well. Hell, you hadn't even been here very long. But they were nice boys, funny, mischievous, a bit hectic, but a sense f goodness in this hard hitting world.

You'd spent the past month with Shuri, in the lab, in the city. T'Challa had been right, you did get along, very well. Both of you enjoyed gossiping too much, messing with new inventions and ideas, spending endless nights brainstorming different concepts. It had been fun, and a great contrast to the dull experience your lab in Romania had been.

Then news had came that Bucky's arm would be completely healed and it was time for you to move. The plan was for Bucky to start his journey just outside of the city, by a set of small huts, one for Shuri, for Ayo, one for you and one for Bucky. Apparently Shuri and Ayo had a bet going that your hut would not be used as much. T'Challa had obviously passed on the information of your feelings onto his sister, who, like the gossip she was, passed them onto everyone else.

It had been a lot. The change, the differences. Preparing for what it would be like when Bucky woke up. Would he like Wakanda? Would he even still want to see you anymore?

No, he would. Or at least, that's what you told yourself.

Then, after a long night with Shuri in the lab, she convinced you that once he was awake and ready, you would tell him about your feelings. She settled your nerves, and offered up the idea that if he didn't reciprocate anything, you could just move back into the city. Wakanda was big, it didn't matter. So that's what you planned on doing.

Now, you were sat outside his hut, of which he was fast asleep inside, let out the coma but retracted from it in a way where it would just feel like he had been asleep. The grass against your feet and the sun on your face made the scene picturesque, as if there wasn't going to be a better time than this. Everything was grounding you, because everything was real. Nothing was holding you back, nothing was telling you what you could be or what you couldn't be. This was the realest things had ever felt for you, and in truth, you accepted the fact that you were content. This could be a good life, life could be enjoyed.

You turned, briefly, to where Shuri was stationed outside of his cabin. She grinned, holding two thumbs up and mouthing over to you, he's waking up, and you let a small smile paint itself on your lips and the concept of seeing him again.

The sun hit your face as you turned back around.

There was a crackle behind your, feet against bark, then you heard Shuri speak. "Sergeant Barnes, good morning. How do you feel?"

A pause. Then— "Good." Though he couldn't see you listening in, you were. A sigh left you at the single word he spoke, knowing that he felt safe and perhaps for the first time in a while, understood. "Where— where am I?"

You didn't need to listen as Shuri explained what happened and where he was. She went through what the plans were, who was going to be involved and what happened after the airport situation, having been filed in by both you and T'Challa. Bucky simply listened. That was one of the things he was good at, listening. Always intently, always letting you finish before he offered his own opinions or thoughts. His silence as Shuri spoke was all you needed to just be able to sit contently where you were. Against an old tree log, looking out over the lake, then the fields behind it, smiling at the sheer tranquility of it all.

When she stopped speaking, not much was said. Bucky processed, looked around, then caught the image of you, sitting on the log, your body silhouetted against the late morning sun. "Is that…?"

"She's been waiting for you to wake up."

"Can I?"

Shuri laughed, you heard it even from where you were sat. "I think she'd kill you if you didn't."

Hesitantly, but so insistent that he had to talk to you, the solider slowly padded through the grass, in your direction. You listened as his footsteps disrupted the silence, he grass crunching slightly under his weight, though much less now, without the arm. Soon enough, you could feel his presence behind you, his comfort, his warmth, his love. Slowly, you lifted yourself from the lo, a soft smile on your lips as you turned to face him. He looked good. Like really good.

For the first time in years, he looked healthy, well. Hair freshly washed, now nearly down past his shoulders, a lighter brown than usual due to the sunlight and half of it tied up in a bun behind his head. No cuts on his face, no bags under his eyes, no bruises. Shoulders not tensed but instead relaxed, calmly expanding then retreating along with his breath. And there was a glint in his eyes, one you had only seen a couple times, during late nights on the sofa back in Romania, that soon ended as the reality of your situation settled into the both of you. But that wasn't the case anymore. This was the reality. This was your new home, with new opportunities.

The blue that was staring back at you shined in the sunlight. "Hi."

"Hi." You repeated, your own shoulders relaxing at the sight of him alive and safe. But he didn't respond, instead choosing to simply keep staring at you, his breathing steady and lips parted ever so slightly. You laughed a little. "James?"

He hummed, "Hm?" But his eyes were still trained on you.

You broke out into a full grin, then. "Guess what?"

"What—?" He finally came back down to Earth, catching your eyes properly this time, his smile mimicking yours.

Your eyes darted downward for just a second, to his lips, parted and pink. Oh, the amount of times you had dreamt them pressed up against your own, but without the actual capacity to let yourself truly indulge in him. Yet, now, everything had changed. The two of you were safe, for the first time in 70 odd years, there was nobody chasing after any of you, no bounties, no missions, nothing to do and nowhere to go. Now, there was only each other. So, moving up onto the tips of your toes in order to reach him, balls of your feet still pressing into the dirt and grass below, you let your hand press up against his cheek. He didn't see it coming when you leaned forward, pressing your lips against him.

But just because he didn't see it coming, doesn't mean he didn't react well.

You felt him breathe in through his nose, lips moving against yours. Not hungry, not needy, not aggressive or rough, but instead a softness that you had never really seen from him before. The shift of his two lips pressed between your bottom lip, calm, smooth, everything that James was and nothing that the Winter Solider used to be.

His arm slid around your waist, pulling you taught against him. You half expected the other arm to meet his hand at the small of your back, but he didn't have it anymore. You didn't even know whether he had realised he didn't have his metal arm at the moment. But did you care? No. Of course, you didn't, because James Barnes was kissing you like it was the only thing that could keep him going. Like it was everything he's ever needed and everything he ever will need. So, no, you didn't care about his metal arm being gone. You didn't love him for his arm, you loved him for him, not some harsh reminder of trauma and pain.

You sighed as he pulled away, lips tingling and aching for more. He chuckled a little as you settled back down fully on your feet, hand never leaving where it was pressed against the small of your back. He smiled. "You have no idea—"

"Shut up." A hand to his mouth, you silence him, catching his grin and practically plastering it onto your own face at his reaction. "Because I have wanted to do that since the first time you stepped foot in my apartment in Romania, okay?"

"Okay—" He mumbles into your palm, the words muffled by your skin.

And you giggled, removing your hand from against his face, feeling no less content as you had ten minutes ago when you had sat down in front of the lake. You brushed a hand across his chest, the robes he wore soft against the skin of your palm as your hand slid upwards and towards his shoulder, feeling the metal encasing that T'Challa had warned you about. His face dropped as you did so, but that didn't stop you leaning forward and pressing a kiss against the area, resting your forehead against his collarbone and breathing him in.

He was safe. He was happy. The two of you had a future that didn't show death seven feet ahead of you. Soon enough, he would be rid of the Winter Solider and some form of… normality could be found.

You lifted your head from his shoulder, smiling up at him.

He grinned at you, taking in a deep breath then looking out into the open lakes and fields in front of you. "I haven't got a left arm anymore."

You laughed.

a/n: hope you enjoyed!! pls support I beg I swear I'll write more I just aah yeah. I promise? lmao

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 326

Adjective: Dysfunctional

Noun: Elixir

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Dysfunctional: not operating normally or properly; deviating from the norms of social behavior in a way regarded as bad

Elixir: a magical or medicinal potion; a preparation supposedly able to change metals into gold, sought by alchemists; a particular type of medicinal solution

[midniteamethyst]

I Will Follow You

Leon S. Kennedy x f!Reader🔞

Masterlist✨️

Word Count: 5.5K

Summary: After attacking your best friend and finding out you're infected, you run away to keep Leon and Ashley safe. Leon finds you distraught and terrified over losing him only for you to find out he's also infected. When emotions get high and reality gets the better of you two, both of you decide to tell each other how you feel about each other.

Warnings: 🔞 slight gore and fighting (its Resident Evil Fam), smut, best friends to lovers, mentions of death, mutual virginity loss, emotional sex, semi-rough sex, oral sex (m&f), mouthfucking, p in v, fingering, mentions of breeding kink, creampie.

You walk down the concrete hallway as footsteps echo through the halls, you following behind Leon. The smell of dirt hits your nostrils every time you breathe in. Your gun is in one hand and flashlight in the other, keeping your guard up and eyes on your best friend in front of you. Ashley walks in between the two of you, jumping at the slightest of sounds. All of a sudden, your head starts pounding slightly. You stop and groan, making Leon stop to look back at you.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" He asks worried.

"My head is just a little sore. I'm probably not drinking enough water. I'll be alright." You say waving him off.

"Okay... make sure you're drinking." Leon says looking at you concerned. You give a thumbs up and Leon continues walking, still concerned. Leon looks back at you every few minutes to make sure you're okay. Rescuing the president's daughter might be the job you're here for, but if anything were to happen to you; he wouldn't know what to do with his life. The three of you continue walking for a few more minutes. Then your vision begins to blur, your head pounding like a sledgehammer is being smashed against it. You drop your stuff to the ground and Leon looks back at you and rushes over.

"Y/N!" Leon shouts catching you before you can hit the ground. He looks over towards Ashley.

"Ashley, grab the water canister in her bag. She's dehy-".

"Maybe you should start worrying about yourself instead of her". You say interrupting him, but your voice is much more sinister than before. You move and grab the knife out from your boot, quickly back on your feet. You stab the knife towards Leon's head, but before it makes contact, he reaches his hand in front. Leon yells at the feeling of your knife going past his glove and into his hand. Ashley screams at the scene in front of her while Leon grabs your wrists and puts them behind your back with his other hand. He pushes you back, your knife falling to the ground beside you and the gate closes. He walks over and puts his hand on the gate. He watches as you struggle, his chest hurting from the sight. You cry in pain as you regain composure over your body. You look at Leon, terrified over what just happened.

"I'm so sorry Leon... Keep Ashley safe and stay away from me." You say, your voice slightly shaking.

"I'll find you okay? Everything is going to be ok-".

"JUST STAY. AWAY." You yell sternly before grabbing your knife and running away. Leon tries to call after for you but you're already gone. His grip on the gate tightens. Ashley walks over to him, placing her hand on his shoulder causing him to jump startled.

"C'mon. I need to get you somewhere safe before I go find her. I can't risk something happening to you either." He says softly. While picking up your stuff

"She'll be okay, Leon. She's strong and smart." Ashley says. To Ashley, it was beyond obvious that you and Leon had a thing for each other. Well, more than a thing. Leon nods quietly while staring at nothing. You were both of those things.

Leon zones out, remembering how when you two were kids you weren't afraid to push a boy who was messing with you down the stairs. When the teacher asked what happened, you said he was running towards you to tackle you and you stepped out of the way and he couldn't stop before he fell down the steps. Naturally, Leon defended you and the boy had to stay inside for recess. Leon's lips slightly go into a smile remembering all the times you were smart enough to get you two out of trouble. Leon sighs before looking at Ashley.

Ashley nods in agreement, following after Leon.

"Leon, don't!" Your voice shaking.

*******************************************************You run and close the door of the room behind you. After catching your breath, you look around and see the walls are wooden and have paintings hung on them. The windows have black metal on the outside and dark red curtains, giving it a gothic style. There's a dark teal couch in the center of the room. You take a deep breath and sit down on it. You look down at the faint grey veins on your arms. The adrenaline now leaving your body, as your tears fall from your eyes.

You saw yourself. You saw yourself attacking Leon with your knife. You felt yourself reach for your knife but you couldn't stop. If his reflexes weren't nearly as strong as they were, he'd be dead. By your hands. You cry into your legs at the thought of not only Leon dying, but you killing him. You couldn't lose him. Anxiety took over your rational thoughts. What if you couldn't get the vaccine? What else would the solution be? If it wasn't him getting killed by you, it was you having him put a bullet into your skull.

Your chest ached at the feeling of not having Leon. He was the one who helped you keep it together. He was the oxygen that kept you alive. He was proof that not all men were assholes. It was the reason why you never dated. Leon was the one you always wanted, but you didn't want to ruin what you two had. But right now, you wish he was here so you could tell him everything. Tell him how much you love him. Tell him that if he died, you would be dying with him. You jumped when you heard the door open, seeing Leon rush in front of you.

"Its okay. You're okay. You're safe." He says.

"Yeah, but you're not. I'm infect-" . Your words are cut short as you notice the same grey veins on Leon's forearm.

"You too?" You say quietly, your voice dripping in sadness.

"Its okay to be afraid you know." He says, his voice smoothe and calm like it always is.

"Mhm.." Leon slowly nods his head.

He slowly walks over, placing both yours and his gear on the floor before sitting beside you on the couch.

"I'm terrified..." you whisper voice shaking with your face in your hands.

"You can fight this." He says gently wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"What if I can't-"

"You can. You're strong. Smart. And we will beat this." He says looking into your eyes. "Together. Like we always have."

You sniffle and shake your head, tears threatening to spill again.

"What if we can't Leon?"

"We wil-"

"BUT WHAT IF LEON. What if we don't find the cure? What if this is just the label for our expiration dates?! " You say crying again. Leon looks down at you before pulling you to his chest.

"I can't lose you..." you say quietly.

He stops for a moment and thinks. There are so many things he wants to do with his life. All of them dealing with you. What if it does get taken away from him before he even has a chance at starting any of them?

"Please tell me it's real. That what you're saying is real and I'm not passed out right now and in some sick dream." Your e/c orbs lock onto his bright blue ones as tears fall. The spark and fire that was normally in them, was gone.

Leon cups your tear-soaked face in both his strong hands. "If this is the end of it, my biggest mistake wouldn't be failing this job." He says as he wipes the tears on your cheek.

"It would be not telling you how I really feel about you. It would be not taking you out on dates. It would be not getting the chance to ask you to marry me, and it would be not being able to have a family with you like I've wanted for years." He says resting his forehead against yours.

You close your eyes, pressing your forehead harder into his. A lone tear falls onto your jeans.

"I love you. So fucking much. I'd go through Hell to be with you.." Leon says, his voice slightly cracking. You smile at him, your chest feeling both heavy and light as more tears shed.

"Does this feel real?" Leon whispers before softly pressing his lips to yours while gently cupping your jaw. His lips are soft against your mouth, moving slowly while you feel the breath from his nose lightly hitting your cheek. Your heart swells at the feeling of him kissing you. Leon worries for a second he overstep a boundary and thinks about pulling away. But the feeling of your relaxing against him and wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer stops him the moment he thinks of it. Leon breaks the kiss reluctantly to get more oxygen. He looks into your eyes and runs his fingers through the hair that has fallen from your ponytail.

He sets his fingers gently on one the side of your face. You lean into his touch, letting out a relaxed sigh at the feeling of the soft strokes he's giving your cheek.

"I love you too, Leon. I always have ." You say laying your head on his shoulder.

"I need you, Leon." You whisper against his lips.

"Wherever you go, I go.  I promise you, I'll never leave." Leon says before kissing you again.

This kiss was more passionate. Like all the hidden feelings you had for each other finally burst out. You gasp as Leon gently lays you on the couch, his legs straddling you under him. He slips his tongue into your mouth, making you softly moan, an ache hitting you between your legs. His mouth tasted like heaven with the flavor of mint gum he always chewed on. You pulled away from him, placing your hand on his cheek.

"You sure?" He says, holding your hand.

"I've never been more sure in my life. I've been wanting this for years. It's always been you." You say pecking his lips.

Leon sighs in relief.

"You have no fucking idea how long I've waited just to hear those words from you." He says kissing your lips again before kissing down your neck.

His hot tongue traces the slope of your neck while his large and warm hands lift under your shirt.

"Leon..." you say his name breathy, running your fingers gently through his soft blonde locks.

You arch your back, loving the feeling of his hands finally on you. You open your eyes, your hands falling from his hair. Leon feels your body freeze for a second.

"Baby, whats wrong? You want me to stop?" He asks looking down at you, his voice full of concern.

"Fuck no. But... I'm ... I mean I've neve-"

Your chest feels like it's going to explode from the nickname he called you. You let out an airy chuckle.

"I know." He says softly while looking into your eyes while softly stroking your brow. "I haven't either."

Your jaw drops in pure shock making him chuckle.

"What? Have you SEEN you?" You say, making Leon laugh quietly.

"Yeah. Have YOU seen YOU?" He responses while poking your nose, emphasizing everytime he says "you" making you smile.

"When I said I waited, I meant it. It felt like I would be betraying you if I was with anyone else. You've had me in this like... spell since we were kids." Leon says. "As bad as it sounds, I can't even count the amount of showers I've had to take since I was a teenager because of you. You're all I need." He says stroking your cheekbone.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous..." he breathes out.

You smile before bringing him close to you. "Believe me. You're not the only one who had this fantasy more times than you can count" you say pulling him in for a kiss again.

Leon groans into the kiss, continuing where he left off by pulling your shirt over your head and throwing it somewhere in the room. His broad form towers over you while his ocean orbs skim over your figure, taking in every inch and detail of your body. The freckles on your chest, every dip, and curve of your body. Wanting to kiss every scar on you that came from the hands of past enemies.

You place your hand on the hem of his shirt.

"So are you." You say looking up at him. The feeling of your soft hand pushing up on his stomach making it contract.

"Better?" He asks sweetly. Deep inside his ego was inflating over how he caught you staring at him. You nod your head, watching how he quietly inhales as your hands caress mid-torso.

"Off. Please." You say, gripping his shirt.

He smiles down at you and takes his holster off, the sound of it and his gun hitting the floor with a "thud". Leon grips the hem of his shirt and lifts it off of him. You can't help but stare at the hard muscles on his abs and pecs. The way you can slightly see the small bit of sweat glistening on his skin in the room's mood lighting. His biceps flex with every move his arms make. All the hard work of training he's done and working out has shown off. You'd been to the beach and pool many times before with Leon. But this was different. You could touch him. Feel his skin against yours. You could trace your fingers down his hard chest to his chiseled abs. Most importantly, he was all yours. Leon tosses his shirt before hovering above you. You feel his fingerless gloved thumb softly graze your bottom lip, causing you to look up.

"Can I taste you?" He asks softly, rubbing his thumb against your hip affectionately. You look down at him and cup his face.

"So much better." You whisper so quietly that Leon can barely hear you. You pulled Leon close to your face and kissed him deeply. He pulls you closer, his one hand tangled in your hair which is now completely undone from the ponytail it was in earlier. His other hand reaches behind your back.

Leon kisses down your neck and after a couple of tries, he quickly unhooks your bra with his one hand. You roll the straps off your shoulders and Leon tosses it before gently placing both hands on your breast, squeezing them softly. You moan at the feeling of his large warm hands and the cool feeling of his gloves against your hard nipples. He lightly tugs on your hard nubs, making you moan as Leon's hot tongue glides against your neck. He slowly and sensually makes his way down to your stomach, stopping to kiss your body every second. Leon looks up at you and places his hands on your hips, holding onto the waistband of your jeans. The sight in front of him makes him stiff in his cargo pants. How half-lidded your eyes are and how messy your hair looked. He's hardly done anything to you and you were already putty in his hands. He licks his lips staring down at your jeans before looking into your eyes.

"Yes please." You say lost in the feeling having him with you. Leon smiles and pulls your jeans down. He looks between your thighs and notices the damp spot on your boyshorts making his length twitch.

"Fuck, Baby." he exhales a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Leon undoes his belt, the sound of it hitting the floor before he slips off his cargo pants. You see the faint line in his black boxer briefs of him. He's fully hard and the site makes you even more wet. Leon leans down at the end of the couch and wraps his arms around your hips before he pulls your clothed core close to his face. He gently strokes your wetness, looking into your eyes.

" You like that Princess?" He says against your folds. The heat of his breath only added to the pleasure

"Leon... please." You say, needing him to stop teasing you. He smiles up at you.

Gently, he lifts your hips and slides your underwear off, tossing it into the pile of discarded clothing. Leon helps you spread your legs, his fingers dragging down your thighs so softly, that it makes you squirm. He kisses your inner thigh, inching closer and closer to where you need him. You breathe a giant sigh of relief at the feeling of his tongue slowly licking up from your entrance, past your folds, and over your clit.

Leon gently sucks on your sensitive bud of nerves, loving the taste of you. You moan at the feeling of his tongue moving up and over your folds and clit. The feeling of pure lava setting into your stomach. His mouth working on you so well, it's like he already knew what you liked.

"Don't stop, Leon. Don't stop." You say breathless.

Your fingers lace into his golden locks as your legs try to close around him. Leon lays his elbow across your right thigh, pinning it down. Your left thigh is brought up over his should spreading you out more as his tongue switches from sucking to fucking you. Your back arches off the couch as you buck your hips against Leon's face, making him groan. He slides his middle finger inside of you, making you gasp at the feeling of his finger fucking you and his mouth on your sensitive clit.

Your body buzzes with pleasure as Leon adds another finger before he repeatedly brushes your g-spot. The pressure in your stomach was about to burst at how good he was making you feel.

"Le... Leon. I can't... I'm gonna-". Before you can finish your sentence, you cry out as your orgasm overtakes your body.

Gripping the back of the couch instead of holding onto Leon. Your body is hot and all you see is stars as you chant Leon's name. The soothing feeling of a hand stroking your thigh makes you open your eyes. Leon's eyes stare into yours, filled with love, pride, and slight concern.

"You okay?" He asks, leaning over top of you, rubbing his nose against yours.

Your breathing slows down as you nod your head. You press your forehead to his.

"You don't have to-"

"I'm very much okay." You say before kissing his lips. "I want to taste you too." You say.

Your eyes are staring so intently at him that Leon feels your bright e/c orbs staring at his soul. How you managed to say something so hot and still look so cute was beyond him.

"Take it slow baby. No rush." He says stroking your cheek softly as a way of encouragement.

"I know I don't. But I want to." You say sitting up.

Leon shifts his position so he lays on the couch, you straddling him. You kiss his lips one more time, delivering feather-like kisses on his neck, down his chest, and his stomach right above the band of his boxers. You hear Leon sigh at the feeling of your soft lips on his body, his cock twitching in his boxers. He feels your hands grip the waistband and he lifts his hips to help you take off his boxers. Your eyes widened when Leon's length is out, laying on his stomach.

It's the perfect length. Long but not enough to hurt you.  A slight curve that you know will hit your G-spot perfectly. His girth is thick enough to make you feel full just looking at it. Your mouth drools at the thought of what he tastes like. Leon notices you haven't moved. Sitting up enough, he lays his head against the arm of the couch before reaching down to cup your cheek, making you look up.

You keep your eyes on him as you gently grab his shaft, your tongue licking from the base slowly up to the tip before gently sucking it.

"Fuck..." Leon says while exhaling.

His body shivers as he watches you slowly bob your head up and down while stroking what you can't fit in your mouth. He feels you moan around him, loving the salty and sweet combination taste of his precum and skin. You release him from your mouth, taking your hand and rubbing his tip softly while kissing his length. Leon leans his head back as he groans.

The sounds he makes only turning you on more. You want to fit him into your mouth as much as you can if you can't take all of him. You slowly ease him into your mouth, making sure to pace yourself. Leon looks at you and sees what you're doing. He gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

"God, you're so perfect." He groans

He tries to refrain the need of thrusting his hips but slightly moves his hips into your mouth. You moan around him, a sign to keep going. Leon pushes his hips into your mouth again, quicker while slowly bobbing your head by your ponytail. The only sound coming from you is the sound of you sucking him off and his length moving him and out of your mouth, his picks up his speed; you allowing him to move you how he needed. Leon's breathing picks up while you moan around his cock, slightly gagging a bit but it only turns you both on more. The feeling of how heavy and warm he is while he thrusts in and out of your mouth, feels just as good as when he went down on you.

Leon stops his hips and your head, watching as you look into his eyes while you pull him out of your mouth slowly before kissing his tip one more time.

"C'mere," Leon says roughly while breathing heavily.

Crawling up to his face, Leon pulls you on top of him to straddle him with your knees by his hips. You feel the hardness of him right against your slickness. He kisses you gently before asking

"You ready?".

You grabbed ahold of his hand that you stabbed earlier and gently kissed where the wound was.

"I've always been ready."You say leaning your head against his.

Leon smiles while moving a strand of hair out of your face. You lift your hips off of Leon while he uses his hand to place himself at your entrance. The both of you sighing at the feeling of each other. You hiss at the feeling of him stretching you out and grabbing Leon's good hand to squeeze it while he slowly pushes himself into you while you sit up.

Leon watches you as you ride him. His eyes loving how your face is scrunched in the pleasure that he was giving you. The way your breasts bounced every time his hips met yours.  He could enjoy the look of your face while he fucked for the rest of time. You feel Leon's large hands grab your breasts. He lightly squeezes them before licking your sensitive nipple. Your bodies moving in sync like you'd done this thousands of times.

"Take it slow, don't hurt yourself." Leon says while stroking your hand.

You slowly start to bounce yourself on his length, your hands on his chest to keep you steady while his hands gently grip your hips to help you move. You soon pick your pace, rolling your hips into Leon's as your clit rubs against his pelvis. His tip reaches deep inside you and you're in pure ecstasy. Leon's hips start thrusting up into you, making you moan loudly as he hits the sensitive part of your core. Your walls tighten around him making him groan.

"That's my girl." He says breathing heavy.

"Shit..." you say and your breath shakes while your fingers go back to his hair. "It feels so fucking good, Leon." You say.

Leon lets go of your breast and looks up at you.

Your heart clenches at hearing him say "my girl". You've waited years for Leon to call you his. Years for him to tell you he was in love with you. For him to tell you he wanted to marry you and have your own family. Tears form in your eyes, the thought of losing him coming back. Leon reaches and cups your tear-stained face. He stops his movements, but rubs your inner thigh causing you to shake.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks softly. One of your tears landed on his perfect face. You wipe it away.

"Losing you again. Not having the life we both want." You whisper while stroking his cheek.

He pulls you close and has you lay flat on top of him.

"I'm not gonna let that happen. I'm getting that vaccine and curing us both." Leon says seriously.

You gasp as he pulls you to him and kisses you passionately. He starts slowly moving his hips up into you, seeing if you're okay with continuing. When he feels you kiss him back just as hard, his hips start picking up and he places his hands on your ass to help bring you back down his shaft. He pulls away, his lips ghosting over yours while he looks deep into your eyes.

"I'm going to give you the life we've always wanted. The one we deserve." His voice filled with determination and lust.

The new angle has him hitting your g-spot perfectly. He moans at the feeling of you getting tighter around him.

"D-don't stop L-leon. It f-feels so fucking g-good." You beg him.

The feeling of Leon being so deep inside your overstimulated heat causes you to go lay your head on his neck. Your cries of pleasure being muffled by the slope where his neck meets his shoulder. Leon cradles the top of your head with one hand while sneaking his other between the two of you to rub your sensitive clit. Your release a desperate whine from how good it feels having Leon slam his hips into yours while rubbing your clit faster. It's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard and he feels himself getting closer because of it. Your body begins to feel like it's buzzing again. But it's so much hotter this time. Your nails digging into Leon's sides causing him to moan.

"Baby, I can't. I could get you pre-"

"I'm so close Leon." You say as your body begins to shake, the ache inside too intense. "Please come inside me." You say desperately.

Leon brings your face to his. Blue eyes stare back at you. Fuck he wanted to so bad. The thought of you being filled to the brim with him makes him twitch inside you.

"Come from for me, Baby."he says as his lips brush against yours. "I love you."

"I don't care. I want everything you can give me. I want you Leon. In every way. Please" you moaned.

Fuck it. It was a risk Leon was willing to take. Seeing you pregnant and how cute you would look with your belly. The thought of you being the mother of his kids. It drove him with so much pride and lust. He removes his hand from your clit and grips your hand tight. Your body feels numb and like it's full of electricity as your clit rubs against Leon's pelvis each time he thrusts him into you. Your walls flutter around him making him moan. He grips your hand tighter, laying it on his chest above his heart.

"I mean it you know." Leon says softly breaking the silence after a few minutes. You lift your head to look up at him.

"I love you too." You cry out.

One final thrust has you coming undone. The knot inside you explodes as you cum all over Leon's length. The feeling of your walls squeezing him makes Leon come undone himself. Leon moans roughly as his hot load shoots inside you and it's the best feeling ever. You lay your head on Leon's chest, your body completely boneless and tired. Leon carefully slides out of you, making you whimper. He wraps his arms around you, shushing you softly while tracing his fingers over your back. Your thumbs gently rub over his abs while listening to his heart.

"What? That you love me? I know that." You say cupping his jaw. Leon smiles down at you.

"Well, yeah. Of course, I meant that. But what I said earlier." He said moving the messy hair from your face. "We're beating this thing. You and I are going to get Ashley and get out of here. And I'm giving you the life you've always wanted." He says before leaning down and kissing you.

This kiss was everything. Soft, loving, passionate, and full of everything Leon and you had for each other. You both pull away from the kiss, a giant smile on your face. Your brows frowned.

"She's okay. She's staying in another room for a bit. It's locked up and nothing can get inside." Leon says as he runs his fingers through your hair.

"Wait... where is Ashley?" You say slightly panicked trying to stand until your legs shake from feeling heavy and your uterus feeling sore.

Leon sits up to gently grab your waist, carefully having you sit back down.

"Ready to save the world?" He asks pulling you closer.

"Okay. We need to get going then." You say, moving some of his blonde locks from his face, making him smile. Leon stands up and grabs your discarded clothing, helping you get your underwear and jeans back on.

Once fully dressed, you both grabbed your gear and made your way to the door. He looks down at you, wrapping his arm tight around your shoulder.

"I love you." He says against your hair.

"With you, I'm ready for anything." You say leaning into his chest.

Leon places his hand out for you. You take his hand in your smaller one as it becomes engulfed with his larger one. His thumbs stroke your knuckles as he kisses your temple.

"I love you too." You say.

"I will never stop loving the sound of those words come from you." He whispers before giving you one last kiss before taking off to get Ashley.

Everything was going to be okay. As long as Leon was there, you would follow him until the end of the world.

[gloomwitchwrites]

What If 141...

You gave us that amazing chase scene in Dangerous Pursuit....how about for the other 141? You can include Price again of course :) I'd only ask that it be consensual. Thanks!

Oh, the chase scene from Dangerous Pursuit. That was a fun one to write. If any of y'all are interested in that one, you can find it HERE. Let's just say that it involved mud, Price dragging Reader back to the safehouse, and then forcing her into the shower with him. Things...happen. (hehe)

To be fair, there are actual chase scenes with lots of running, and simply walking very fast to maybe escape. Three of the four are more fast walking, while the fourth is more "traditional." Kyle's is the mildest. Simon's is straight up CNC and involves more of a "stalking" aspect. Price's is all about stubborn, bratty Reader and is a Bodyguard AU, and Johnny's is the only genuine "chase" through the woods.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: CNC, Primal, Stalking, knifeplay, brief pussy slapping, unprotected piv, creampie, swearing, Bodyguard AU, arguments, rough sex, semi-public sex, established relationship, secret relationship, spanking, rough kissing, light breeding, possessive behavior

Word Count: 4.7k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“I told your father that I’d take you home.”

“And I want to stay, John.” He sternly stares back, unamused. “What’s the issue?” you shrug. “Why can’t I stay?”

“You know I don’t ask questions.”

“No,” you reply. “You just do as your told.”

John grimaces. “And you do as I tell you.”

“That only works in the bedroom, John,” you hiss, lowering your voice.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

You’re being stubborn, but this event is fun. Most of the time, your father doesn’t bring you along to work banquets or charity parties. When he does, you’re briefly shown about, and then quickly whisked away. This time, you were allowed to stay.

“I’m staying.”

John shakes his head. “Can’t do that. Can’t disobey direct orders from your father.”

The two of you stand in a small side hallway directly left of the main banquet hall. Only a few people loiter about, but they are closer to the main foyer. None of them are giving either of you any attention.

“No,” you retort.

“No?” asks John, slowly.

“I’m. Staying.” You emphasize each word, and when John doesn’t reply, you start to turn away to head back into the banquet hall.

But John has other plans. Grabbing your wrist, he pulls, returning you to the stop you just occupied. He takes a single step into your space, staring intently into your eyes.

“We. Are. Leaving,” he says in the exact same way.

A sharp reply forms on your tongue, ready to be unleashed. John knows you, though, and continues on, interrupting before you can even begin. “Now, be a good girl, and let’s go.”

“Fuck you,” you mutter, yanking your arm out of his grasp.

Pushing past John, you purposefully shoulder-check him before storming down the long hall. There is an emergency exit at the other end. Bursting through it, you nearly trip on the top step, but manage to right yourself at the last second.

John calls your name but you ignore him. It is your only defense. It’s not like you can make it far with him on your tail.

Passing the second landing, you head for the next short flight of stairs, but John is already on you, grabbing your upper arm.

“Wait,” he commands, but you blatantly disregard the order. “Stop!”

Keeping your back to him does nothing. John gives your arm another tug, and this time he puts his strength behind it, shoving you up against the concrete wall. His hips press against yours, his large hand coming to rest beside your head.

“Don’t make this hard. Don’t run.” His voice is sweet, and that stirs a need in your belly.

You do soften, lips parting to receive his. John goes in for the claiming, meeting you with equal softness. Heat rushes to your core. With a hand between your bodies, you palm John through his pants. Rubbing his erection, he groans softly. The sound of it sends a bolt of pleasure straight to your pussy.

Then, you squeeze. A little bit harder than you usually would.

“Fuck,” he mutters, breaking the kiss.

It’s enough to slip away—enough for you to break out of his grasp and flee down the stairs. John follows. It isn’t until you’re at the bottom floor and exiting into the parking garage that he catches up.

“Let go of me,” you bite, but John ignores you, grasping your upper arm in a vice grip.

He guides you toward the black SUV the two of you arrived in. John retrieves the key fob and unlocks it, the car’s headlights coming on.

“Get in,” he mutters, opening the rear passenger door.

He unceremoniously shoves you into the backseat.

But he doesn’t shut the door. He doesn’t walk around to the front to get in the driver side.

Instead, John follows in after you, slamming the car door shut behind him.

Your next words are lost as his hand wraps around your throat and he pushes you onto your back. John’s kisses are not sweet. They are rough. Claiming. You open for him, taking each one, your need for him spiking ever higher.

“Told you to behave,” he mutters, hand coming down hard on the inside of your thigh.

You yelp, and then you’re yanked upright into his lap. John adjusts your position, spreading you wide over his thighs.

The front of his pants is open, belt to the side, everything shoved down enough to reveal this thick cock. “You’re going to sit on my cock, and fuck yourself on it. Yeah?”

You stare him down. Unmoving. It’s not that you don’t want to—because you’d fucking love to—but you’re irritated with him. You want to be a bit stubborn in this.

Gripping your thighs, John lifts just enough to push your thong to the side, line you up, and bring you down on his cock. You’re immediately impaled, and you both groan loudly. His hand grabs the back of your neck, fingers lightly digging into your skin.

“Fucking do it, love. Or we’ll sit like this all fucking night.”

Planting your hands against the back of the seat, you start to rock and roll, lifting and coming down again.

“Too slow,” he murmurs. “Fuck yourself.”

Fingers digging into the rough fabric, you angle forward a bit, engage the correct muscles, lightly bouncing on his cock.

“That’s it, love,” groans John. “Just like that.”

You set a steady rhythm, and John releases his hold, placing his hands off to the side, deliberately not touching you. But you notice his fingers flexing, like he itches to do it.

“You can follow direction,” he murmurs.

“Shut the fuck up, John,” you moan, your own pleasure building with every second.

But you need more. It simply isn’t enough. Reaching down, you seek your clit.

“No.” John snags your wrist and raises your hand to eye-level. He brings it to his mouth, sucking your slickness off your fingers. “Not until I fill you with my cum.”

“John,” you whimper.

“After,” he repeats, and you return your hand to the seat behind him.

You want your end, but to find it, you have to give John what he wants. With each upward tilt of your hips, you lightly engage your pelvic floor, squeezing him.

“Fuck,” he groans, elongated the vowel.

You repeat it a few more times until John’s eyelids become slightly heavy. Then, you’re frantic. Desperate. The car might be rocking erratically but you’d hardly care. The need to come is driving you on.

John’s hands go to your thighs, and then they squeeze—hard. Guiding, he meets you thrust for thrust, until all of the control is his, and John has you sealed to him, taking every drop.

The two of you pant in the dark car. There is sweat on your brow and on the back of your neck.

Pushing your dress out of the way, John reveals your pussy and how his cock sits inside you. He’s not looking at where your bodies meet. He’s staring into your eyes, thumb poised at your clit.

“You followed my orders,” he murmurs with the first stroke of his thumb. The one touch sends a rocket of pleasure up your spine. You’ll be gone in seconds. “That’s how it should always be, yeah?” He rubs little circles. Your hips twitch, rocking into his touch.

John is still inside you, and you watch as his cum-slicked cock appears and disappears with each soft rock of your hips.

“My good girl. My good fucking girl.”

Another stroke, and then your fingers dig into his shoulder, back arching, head lolling as the orgasm grips you.

When you come down, John sticks his thumb in his mouth, sucking it clean. The next second, he’s lifting you off his cock, placing you into the seat next to him. The car down opens, and he slides out, adjusting his clothes and smoothing his suit jacket.

“Out,” he says.

“What?”

“Out.”

You do and he shuts the door behind you only to open the front passenger door. “Get in.”

The moment you’re in, he shuts it and goes around the front of the car. He hops in, and turns the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life. John backs out, and then the two of you are off.

The moment he clears the parking garage and the first stoplight, he glances in your direction.

“Punishment isn’t over.” He briefly nods toward your dress. “Hike it up. Play with yourself. Use my cum to do it.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The sky above Manchester is slightly overcast and grey.

It might be chilly, but that doesn’t appear to dampen anyone’s mood. The festival clogging the streets is packed full of people. Everyone’s attention is completely absorbed in what is happening around them.

Food and drink stalls line the street, interrupted here and there with stalls selling wares and crafts. There are activities for all ages, and live music on each corner. Everyone around you is enjoying themselves, and yet you are on alert.

A shadow is at your back. He is one with the crowd, moving amongst them like he’s simply one of them.

But you know him for who he is. There is no balaclava. No tactical gear. Just civilian clothes and a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

He comes to a stop one stall over, observing some art, admiring the brushstrokes like he’s actually there to shop and not stalking you.

Simon isn’t here for any of it. Not the food or beer stalls. Not for the trinkets or live music. He is there for you.

And the game is good.

It thrills your blood, churns your heart, makes every nerve fire erratically.

Casually turning away from the flowers you were inspecting, you pretend not to notice Simon. Yet, every time you glance over your shoulder, he appears to have grown a bit closer, matching you almost step for step.

Stepping around a giggling couple, you curve to the right, popping between two stalls and reappearing on the other street. You glance left, seeing no sign of him, and then glance to the right.

As if from nowhere, Simon appears. His arms are crossed over his chest, head tilted slightly to the side in a mocking gesture.

“Fuck,” you whisper, turning around to seek another escape.

If you can make it to the checkpoint without Simon grabbing you, you win.

If not…

You feel the brush of an arm against your own. Stepping to the side, you glance over, only to find Simon. He is standing right there, his body angled in your direction. Every limb and muscle freezes, solidifying you like stone.

It is a temporary paralysis.

You twist away, moving into the crowd.

Simon casually pivots with you, following as you weave through the crowd. He strolls, each movement slow and calculated, as if he knows there is no rush in catching you.

But then again, Simon always wins.

Even with the rules.

With each step, you glance over your shoulder. Simon holds the same distance, still casually strolling with indifference. You pick up the pace, intending to escape, only for you to knock into someone’s shoulder.

“So sorry,” you say quickly.

The older man you’ve run into shrugs, smiling. “No harm done.”

Giving him your best smile, you quickly glance away, seeking Simon.

But Simon is gone. A disappearing phantom.

You spin, gaze scanning the crowd, but you don’t see him. Simon is absent. Or hidden. He could be anywhere.

Taking off, you slip between two stalls to cut through a side street. There are people around but no one is hanging about. They keep moving, minding their own business.

The side street is completely empty.

You keep glancing back, expecting Simon to come up behind you, turning into the alley to pursue.

But he doesn’t come from behind.

He doesn’t come from the front, either.

A hand closes over your mouth, and you’re tugged from the side, dragged beneath a garage door and into a loading area. Simon pushes you against the wall.

“You lose,” he murmurs.

The cigarette is gone, and there is a mischievous glint in his eye. The rules say that if Simon catches you, he can do whatever he wants.

With his body trapping you, Simon withdraws a knife from his boot. He taps the flat edge against your cheek.

“If you scream. I cut. Got it?”

You nod frantically.

The knife disappears, and his hand falls from your mouth. He grabs you by your upper arms, hauling you away from the wall, only to push you down onto a nearby stacks of crates. You’re not bent over completely. Just shoved forward. At Simon’s mercy.

“Spread your legs.” You obediently do so. Simon’s hand roam over your jeans, gliding over ass and thigh. “Take them off.”

Reaching with one hand, you undo the button, and then you’re shoving your jeans down as best you can. When they stick, Simon grabs hold, yanking them down to the floor. You whimper, and Simon lightly slaps your pussy through your underwear.

The knife comes next, slipping underneath the fabric. Simon tugs, and you hear the rip before you feel the bare air against your slick pussy.

“Open your mouth.” You obey, and Simon shoves your underwear into your mouth.

Grabbing your wrists, Simon locks your arms at your back, keeping you stationary. From your advantage points, all you can see are his boots between your legs.

Simon’s thumb parts your pussy, the wet squelch of your arousal loud in the air. He teases your entrance—moves to your clit. Toying with it has you clenching on nothing.

“You love it when I hunt you.” Simon’s thumb disappears, replaced with the head of his cock. He rubs that through your slickness, coating the tip. “Do you feel that?”

The head of his cock starts to push in, and you moan around your underwear.

Simon chuckles, and then he’s shoving forward, forcing every inch of him inside. It is tight, the stretch a little daunting. It always is with him. With the next thrust, your foot slips against the floor, but Simon holds your firmly.

That thrust was just a tease. Using his weight to keep you pinned, Simon fucks you in earnest, skin slapping against skin. You are his toy. To do with as he wishes. To be his in whatever ways he wants.

Those are the rules after all. You’ve been caught. Simon is the one in control.

He grunts above you, not speaking. You’re unable to see him, but you feel the harsh grip of his hands. There are no people around, just the distant sound of music slipping in from underneath the garage door.

The warehouse is completely empty, and knowing Simon, he likely scoped this place out before the two of you arrived here. He enjoys planning ahead. If anything, he was probably herding you to this very spot on purpose.

The fucking bastard.

His thrusts increase—become more erratic. As the winner, your pleasure doesn’t matter. This is about him. Simon stifles a moan, and then he’s grinding forward, pressing himself full against you.

Simon shivers as his release floods him and enters into you. Your pussy clenches around him, squeezing, telling him to fill you until you’re dripping.

In the silence of the warehouse, Simon’s labored breathing starts to even out. He doesn’t release your wrists. Instead, he thrusts shallowly a few times, spreading his cum around before withdrawing.

“You did good,” he murmurs. Using the grip on your arms, Simon brings you up to standing, his softening cock pressing against your ass. “Behaved nicely.” He lightly kisses the side of your throat.

Releasing your wrists, his fingers find your lips. You open for him, and Simon removes your underwear from your mouth. It disappears into his pocket.

“Get dressed. And then you’re going to follow me out of here. Calmly. And without fuss.” Your only answer is nod. “You’ll get yours when we leave.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"You're being difficult," growls Kyle.

"I'm being difficult?" you snap. "How inconvenient for you."

Kyle rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in the air. "I'm not arguing with you about this," he sighs.

"Great,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders like you’re not bothered at all. “Not that interested either."

It earns you a sharp glare that you blatantly ignore.

"We need to cool off," murmurs Kyle, his demeanor softening.

"I agree," you say automatically, starting to turn away from him.

You’re being bratty. It’s not right, but it feels fucking good. Irritation simmers beneath your skin, and you’re itching for an argument.

“Where are you going?” asks Kyle.

"Away from you.”

Kyle mutters something you don’t quite catch, but you don’t turn around. You keep walking, trudging ahead, even when he tries to stop you.

“What are you going?” he asks again.

"You just asked me that. And I answered you.”

“We’re not at home. Where do you think you’re going?”

You shrug. “Why does that matter? You just said we need to cool off.”

“I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone in a public space.”

"And I don't feel like being in your presence at the moment."

Kyle mutters a curse, but you’re already walking away again, aiming for anywhere but beside him.

"No," he says, reaching out to grab your wrist. You pull back at the last second and continue on.

Kyle says your name.

You ignore him.

People are starting to stare—to glance in your direction. It only makes you want to run fast—to move swiftly away from the situation. It’s not that you want to fight. You hate fighting with Kyle. But you’re annoyed, and sometimes having it out in the moment isn’t the best time to sort through an issue.

Kyle moves out in front of you, coming to a stop directly in your path. You side-step, but Kyle matches the movement.

“I swear to God, Kyle,” you growl.

“You’re not leaving my sight,” he replies, voice husky and harsh. “Don’t care how mad you are.”

Your hand rises in a gesture for silence. Biting your own tongue, you swallow back a retort.

Taking a deep breath, you try again. “Move.”

"No."

As you shove past him, Kyle grabs your upper arm, haltering all forward momentum.

“Is this bloke bothering you?”

Putting on your best smile, you turn toward the stranger, intending to reassure him that everything is fine.

"We're good," says Kyle before you even get a word out.

Nope. Now you're beyond annoyed.

The stranger doesn't address Kyle. He doesn’t look at him at all. “I was asking the lady.”

"I'm fine,” you reply slowly. “Thank you."

Kyle’s back straightens, shoulders broadening. “She said she’s fine.”

All you irritation is melting away, pooling at your feet like a rainy puddle. You adore like this. Protective. Assertive. Slightly possessive.

The stranger inclines his head and backs away. Kyle watches him go, his mouth a thin line of annoyance.

Rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off stress, Kyle pivots in your direction, his grim expression switching to a puzzled one.

“I know that look,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What look?" you ask, all innocence.

Whatever Kyle felt before is gone. There is a knowing—nearly sly—smirk twisting at the corner of his mouth.

He takes a small breath, and then leans in a bit, lowering his voice. “You want to do this here?”

"Not here," you shrug. "But it would help work off some this," you gesture vaguely, "irritation."

Kyle’s gaze sweeps up and down your body, admiring every angle. He is not subtle. Each pass of his gaze is deliberate, like you are a shiny gold necklace he wants to purchase.

“You think you deserve it?” he asks, slightly arching an eyebrow. “After running away from me?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan.

Your arm rises, hand poised to push at him, but Kyle knows all your moves. His hand grips your wrist and squeezes, drawing you close.

“Don’t run, love. I’ll always chase you.”

He promptly releases your wrist and you spin on your heel, the irritation rising again, boiling hot in your blood.

It is just you, and your footsteps moving toward escape. People pass by you—but his presence is there, sitting on your heels. A weight you cannot shake off.

The moment you step into a side hall that exits into the main parking garage; Kyle is grabbing your waist. It doesn’t matter that the door he pushes you through says “Employees Only.”

You’re shoved against the wall, his hands roaming, tugging at your clothes. There is nothing soft about this. He is hungry. Wanton. Kyle loves the chase. You resist—but it’s pretend. You enjoy Kyle like this. You enjoy this attention.

Kyle’s lips press to yours, but you do not kiss him back. It earns you the reaction you desire. With an annoyed, grunt, Kyle turns you around and shoves you back against the wall. Your cheek flattens, the cold stone almost biting as Kyle shoves his hand down your pants to play with your pussy.

His finger slides through your slickness, seeking your clit, teasing a bit before retreating.

“I told you I’d always chase you.” He nips at your ear, and then with his other hand, slaps your ass.

You yelp, but all that earns you is Kyle’s hand. Not returning to your ass but to venture into your mouth. Fingers push in, and then your lips suck his digits, tasting your wetness.

“You need to fucking behave or—”

“Excuse me.”

Kyle freezes. He waits a beat, and then turns his head enough to look over his shoulder. With your position, you only see the vague shape of a person.

“You’re not supposed to be back here.”

Kyle clears his throat. “Sorry,” he laughs. “Got a bit turned around. Right, love?”

His fingers are gone, as is his hand.

“Yes,” you answer with a giggle. “Took the wrong door!”

The employee is unimpressed, but only steps to the side next to the open door, lightly extending their arm in a gesture to leave. Kyle promptly places his hand on the small of your back, ushering you forward.

He guides out into the parking garage, and you whirl on him, but Kyle is faster.

“We’re going home,” he murmurs.

“Kyle—”

“Behave,” he coos. “You won’t like your punishment.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

The moon glows high in the sky, casting white light across the tree line in front of you. Johnny is in nothing but a kilt and boots. There is a cheery, almost cheeky grin on his face. You have no idea how the man isn’t cold or even chilly. The cool night air doesn’t appear to bother him at all.

It is just the two of you. No one else is out. The farm is completely asleep.

“I’m gonna show you a piece of my history.”

“Your history?” you ask, shivering.

Johnny instructed you to bring a thin nightdress with you when you came to visit his family farm. Tonight, you’re in it, barefoot and seconds away from shivering. The material is almost translucent, and it clings to your body, hugging every curve and dip. It’s for sleeping. Not for frolicking in the Scottish Highlands at night.

“Aye,” shrugs Johnny. “Family history. Clan, specifically.”

Your cross your arms over your chest to hide your pebbled nipples. “It has to do with the forest?”

He nods. “You know what’s coming up?”

You frown. Shake your head.

“Beltane,” he answers. “It’s all about…coming together in fruitful union.”

“Fruitful union?” you deadpan.

“It’s a time to celebrate,” he replies, turning his back on the dark forest to address you directly. “Passion. Abundance. Vitality.” He pauses. “Conception.”

The back of your neck warms at the word.

“Why are we out here exactly?” you ask, pushing the conversation on. It’s not like it doesn’t intrigue you, but it is chilly.

“All the families in the area would gather their marriable sons and daughters, bring them to this very forest, and they’d…have a race.”

“A race?”

“The men in kilts.” Johnny gestures to himself. “Every bonnie lass in robes.” He gestures to you.

“I’d hardly call this a robe, Johnny.”

He takes a step closer. The heat at the back of your neck intensifies, running up to your cheeks and scorching down your back to pool in your core.

“Women were sent first into the wood with the goal to come out untouched on the other side. The men would be sent in a few minutes after. Chase them down.”

“And what was the purpose of this?” you ask, voice nearly a whisper.

Johnny steps forward. “Marriage.” His gaze drops to your lips.

"I see. And what happened in the woods, exactly?"

Johnny grins, gaze returning to your eyes. "I think you know."

You do know. It isn’t hard to connect the dots.

“Am I to be chased?”

Johnny’s thumb lightly brushes the underside of your bottom lip. “Would you like that?”

You nod.

He leans in, lightly pressing his lips to yours. “Then run.”

You don’t run. You don’t really jog, either. It’s more of a quick walk with an occasional skip into the dark forest. And it is that. Dark. The moment you slip beyond the exterior tree line, you’re swallowed up. The sky is clear with no clouds, and yet only a few slivers of moonlight break the canopy overhead.

You are not made for this. Especially barefoot.

The only thing you can do is to take it slow. And the other side? You didn’t even ask how far it is or in what direction you need to go. But it’s not like you want to be successful. Johnny is somewhere behind you, hunting you down, watching you in the dark.

You are the deer. And he the hunter.

An owl hoots. A twig snaps. Like a startled animal, you spin around, head on a swivel as you scan the darkness. There is nothing. Only you. And the intense hammering of your heart.

You take one step back, the soft ground melting under your foot.

Reaching out, your fingers brush against bark. It is rough and coarse beneath your fingertips. Splaying your hand flat, you press your palm against the trunk of tree beside you.

Its outline is hardly visible.

Just a shape in the dark.

“Found you.”

Johnny’s voice comes as a whisper just over your shoulder. You start, body lurching forward as the adrenaline spikes. His arms grab at your waist, and then the tree is at your back, biting into your skin through the slim fabric.

Johnny’s hand cradles the side of your neck as he goes in for a kiss. It is claiming. Deep. Intense. You open for him eagerly, tasting him, and sucking on his tongue.

He groans in response, his pelvis grinding against you. Even with the kilt you feel his hardness. It is pressing. Insistent.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss, giving breath before stealing it again.

One hand slips underneath the hem of your nightdress. You’re not wearing underwear, and that hand—Johnny’s hand—pushes between your thighs, seeking your wetness. He finds it, moaning softly into your mouth as he glides his fingers back and forth over your pussy, teasing your clit in slow circles.

The cold is distant now. Fuzzy. There is only heat, and your legs part for him, wanting more.

Johnny’s grip tightens, and then he’s drawing back, turning you around and pressing you against the tree again. You brace yourself against the bark. Johnny shoves the nightdress up, exposing your ass to the chilly air.

But then the cold is gone, replaced by his heat.

Johnny cages you in, and then you’re the one who fills the wood with your moan. The head of his cock pushes in, and then Johnny is thrusting. With his hands on your hips to keep you in place, Johnny ruts into you, teeth grazing along your exposed shoulder.

You are unable to move. Unable to do anything but take it.

Each stroke hits deep, sending waves of sensation up to cloud your head. There is a hazy settling over you. Your pussy clenches, and Johnny shivers, his thrusts stuttering slightly. Once it relaxes again, Johnny is right back at it, grunting.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he groans, pace quickening.

It’s slurred a bit.

Reaching behind you, you grasp the back of Johnny’s neck. Turning your head just enough, you find his mouth, seeking your own claiming.

“I’m yours.”

[psuedosugu]

2am ★

suguru geto x reader

synopsis: your friend (?) comes into your room at 2 in the morning because he can’t sleep.

notes: hes so precious i just wanna kiss him ahhhhhh

the glowing numbers on your alarm clock read 2:00 am. the sky outside your semi-open window shows pitch black while the curtain covering it occasionally flutters due to the wind.

you lie in your bed, still and unable to sleep due to the thoughts running through your head plus your efforts to suppress them.

these days, your mind seems to always wonder back to the star plasma vessel mission, to riko herself.

riko amanai. a young girl, no older than 13. she didn’t deserve to die. you can still remember the sound of the gun hitting her, the sound of her now-still body hitting the ground, and her cold lifeless gaze. what could you have done differently to save her?

moping about it was doing you no good, though, so you decided that you would stop thinking about it all together, which was easier said than done.

you stared up at the ceiling, trying to think of something, anything else. counting sheep was turning out futile. sleep. sleep. you just wanted sleep. it felt like you hadn’t slept in months.

the familiar click! of your doorknob turning snapped you awake. you almost never lock your room, but only one person would come in here so late at night.

“nnh…suguru.” you sat up to look at him.

“did i wake you up? i’m sorry.” he asks sheepishly. his dark hair is outside of its usual bun, cascading onto his shoulders and part-way down his back. his eye bags are obvious, he must be just as tired as you are.

“i can leave if you wa-“ he starts but you interrupt him. “you didn’t wake me up! i- i couldn’t sleep either and even if i wasn’t awake, you’re always free to come in here.”

he had already stayed the night in your dorm a handful of times so him still being nervous about it was confusing, but cute nonetheless.

“you’re too kind to me,” he says, a smile adorning his face. that smile. that stupid smile.

admittedly, when your mind wasn’t occupied with dead girls toppling onto concrete floors, it was usually filled with him.

you scooted over and patted on the space next to you. as you started to sink back into the warm sheets, he made his way beside you, sliding into the covers.

“how’d your mission tod- yesterday go?” you ask, turning your head to look at him. he’s gorgeous, so gorgeous, you think.

“mmh, about as good as it could’ve gone.” he sighs.

sometimes, you feel like he’s the only person who will ever truly understand. he was there, right next to you when it all went down. maybe that’s why the two of you are so close now, a trauma bond of some sort.

the two of you lay together, only a few inches in between. that space was slowly shrinking as you gradually shifted closer every time you stole a glance at him. it felt taboo, these feelings that you were having for him. you weren’t supposed to feel this way. not about him.

unaware to you, suguru had been having similar thoughts. as much as he’d try to deny them because you would never ever like him back, he thought, they always sprang back up. he was tired of having to hide them.

to him, you were the sun itself, the center of his galaxy. he was so lucky, he thought, that you let him in your space so often, that he was able to breathe in your presence.

your shoulders were now side by side, touching, and he didn’t say a thing. suguru’s comforting presence had your eyes drooping.

your mind started to wonder to what it would be like to sleep next to him every night, maybe in a house the two of you would own instead of these dorms. you knew were getting ahead of yourself with your white-picket-fence fantasies, but you were too tired to care.

half asleep and absentminded, you snuggled closer to him, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck and slipping an arm around him. maybe you were feeling bold. maybe you were too tired to fully comprehend what you were doing.

suguru froze, his heart threatening to thump out of his chest. he was sure you could feel it against you. could you feel it? could you feel his emotions for you? did you know? he wanted you to know. he wanted to spill his hear out, to kiss you like there was no tomorrow, to have you.

he needed this. he needed you.

“[name]?” he murmured. you let out a faint hum in response, teetering between the border of awake and asleep.

“look,” he braced himself. he didn’t know what would come out of this, if your friendship would survive. he didn’t want to lose you, the only one who, he thought, truly cared, but he couldn’t live like this.

“..I’ve been having these feelings….these feelings about you. i..I’m really glad we’re friends, but every time you talk to me i just don’t know. i don’t know if i want just this. i want more. i want us to at least try having more. i know its sudden but its how i feel.”

he waited in anticipation for your response, staring at the ceiling. a few moments passed and he called your name. “[name]?” he asked, “..please say something.” a few more moments passed and he heard a soft snore. he looked down and sure enough you were knocked out, your chest rising and falling.

he smiled, moving a piece of your hair out of your face. had you heard any of what he said? would you even remember? probably not, he thought. oh well. there’s always tomorrow.

his eyes started to droop too, and he slipped into unconsciousness to thoughts of you, you, you.

[mechanicalpiper]

Hey so I know your busy doing important things (And hearts out for whatever your doing) but I just had another idea come to mind that maybe you could put in a catalog for the future!

"Villain has just been defeated in a long battle by Hero and has decided to try a bit of seduction to win the day. However, Hero is Touch Starved to hell and back and cries at the slightest nice touch/caress"

Bonus points for some heart clenching fluff

Yours truly!

Cooper

You ever procrastinate so hard you start and finish an entirely different project?

By FAR the sappiest and most hurt/comfort-y I've done and was stupidly fun to write. Enjoy :3

Snippet #8

The sounds of strike after strike rang out through the empty city street.

Hero and Villain were once more locked in a tense brawl- nothing new, of course. It had become second nature to them by now- when you spend almost every other day scrapping with the same person for years, it's not hard to get used to it. Hell, with how familiar the two had gotten with each other's fighting styles by now, it was easy for either of them to just let their mind wander while they brawled if they just weren't feeling too up to it that day.

Hero was certainly having one of those days.

They semi-consciously blocked Villain's strikes and threw blows back, less like they were brawling for the safety of the city and more like they were doing a boring day job. An entirely different focus was on their mind... one that had stuck around for a while now. A thought? A worry? A feeling, or the lack of one? Hero couldn't tell by now.

They quickly ducked out of the way just in time as Villain threw a kick at their head, knocking them out of their train of thought and back into full consciousness.

Yeah, fuck, they were fighting Villain. Almost forgot.

Villain certainly took notice of their sudden attention. "Oh, THERE you are. C'mon, can't you at least focus? It's so much less fun when you zone out like that."

"Whuh-? Pff, fun? I'm here to stop you from committing murder, not for a little playdate." Hero grumbled back at their rival, still not fully back at attention.

"Hm. Certainly not the attitude from our first battle. Losing your touch, maybe?" Villain taunted back.

"You wish."

"I don't think I need to. You seem to be dulling just fine without help."

"Still sharper than you. I was winning without paying attention! You couldn't beat my subconscious, how do you expect to beat the rest of me?" As Hero shot back, a tiny smile began to form on their face. Wow, it's been a while since they've bantered in combat like this... it felt nice to just speak with someone, even if that someone was Villain, of all people.

"PFFFF. Winning? The only reason you're not bleeding out on the concrete right now is because I'm having fun with this. I spared you there, y'know~" Villain taunted, a confident grin on their face.

"Yeah, riiiight. How about you actually do something threatening before making simple empty thr-"

Hero was cut off by a sudden feeling- they brought a forearm up to block a strike from Villain, but instead of the expected punch, they felt a grab.

A... grab?

Hero froze in place for the slightest moment.

It was only a split second, but it felt like ages, as if their brain was desperately trying to to cling onto the brief moment. The slightest sensation.

Villain's touch was soft.

Yet, despite everything, the moment was still over far too quickly. Hero hardly even considered why Villain would go for a grab in the moment- by the time they processed the fact it was an attack, it was far too late.

Villain turned around to throw Hero against the concrete wall of the building behind them.

They let out a yelp of pain as they slammed backwards into the wall. After the touch, the motion of being thrown, the hard hit... Hero was far too disoriented to get back into action, let alone stay balanced. Unable to stand up, they just slid down against the wall with a small groan of pain until they found themself at a sitting position, defeated.

Villain let out a small, cocky giggle, stepping closer to Hero to look down at them.

Hero, while still rather disoriented, looked up to see Villain towering over them. ...Wow.

"Is that 'threatening' enough for you, sweetie~?" Villain taunted once more, looking down at the defeated Hero with cocky confidence. God, they loved the feeling of the weakened Hero looking up at them. Always felt nice to win against them.

Hero was already ignoring the pain.

Their brain latched onto that one word- one Villain didn't so much as emphasize saying, like it was nothing special.

Sweetie??

A pet name. A pet name??? Villain called them a pet name??? Sure, they've heard of it being used for taunting before, and really never thought much of it, but- but something about it felt so, so different. When was the last time they were acknowledged like that? Was there a last time? Why did just being acknowledged feel so good? Fuck, they shouldn't like this, they were beat up and lying against a wall with their arch nemesis towering over them, taunting them, but- but not k-killing them? It shouldn't feel... c-comforting, should it?...

...'Sweetheart'...

Villain just looked down at Hero, their cocky expression switched to mild confusion. They certainly didn't react like they were in much pain... Hero's face wasn't that red before, was it?

"Hm. Losing focus agai-"

Hero shook their head 'no' almost instantly, cutting Villain off in mild surprise. They were definitely paying attention, alright, but...

Villain slightly cocked their head at Hero, thinking for a moment. The pause was only a second or two, though. They were quick to get back to teasing, assuming they were simply overthinking a weird reaction.

"Hmmm~" they muttered, crouching down to get level with their defeated rival, keeping that same smug, satisfied look.

"See? I could've taken you out like that aaany time I wanted~"

Hero looked off to the side, as if trying to hide from the other's gaze- Villain's confidence only grew seeing the embarrassment they wanted out of Hero.

At least, what they saw as embarrassment. While that certainly was an aspect of it... it wasn't why Hero's attention diverted like that. Their thoughts weren't the feelings of humiliation and defeat Villain assumed.

An entirely different focus was on their mind.

A thought?

A worry?

A feeling, or the lack of one?

It could be any of them. It could depend on the circumstance. It could technically fall under every one of them, with the right logic.

Hero didn't know nor care.

All they knew is what it felt like right now.

It's a fear.

A fear of this. This emotion.

The first time in memory they've felt so... acknowledged, so strangely comfy- the only time they could have this feeling was when their nemesis was using it to taunt them. The only thing they were ever really seen or known for is their protection of the city. The Agency was obviously impersonal and corporate, other Heroes saw them as an antisocial business partner, the citizens of course only liked them for the protection, and they had nobody else outside of that despite their years of previous efforts.

The only value others saw in them was the tangible benefit they provided. The only value they saw in themself was just that. They so, so badly wanted this feeling of comfort, but they so, so deeply believed they didn't deserve it.

Believed the only way they could ever be worth loving is when it was a punishment like this.

All Villain saw was Hero looking off to the side. Zoning out again? They mumbled something to themself, leaning down just a little more.

Hero didn't always used to do that. It had them worried, honestly. It only began somewhat recently, but it was absolutely constant.

Villain felt bad. Yeah, their public motive was always money or power or whatever evil plot they had for the week would accomplish, and while those certainty were good benefits, they weren't the reason they did it.

They did it for Hero.

They weren't joking when they said they were messing with them for fun earlier. It started as just a want to fight, but the second they came across Hero, they couldn't keep themself away. At first it was simply their fighting style being fun, as Villain justified it to themself. Then the wit in their banter was more entertaining than others. Then they provided the biggest challenge. Then... well, Villain couldn't deny a sense of warmth when they were around Hero.

They had so much personality, so much energy, but as time passed it felt like they got less so. Villain was almost scared to watch it. Not because it was more fun to fight them, but rather... well, they had to admit to themself they just didn't want to see Hero so thoroughly unhappy. So sapped of life.

Villain took one hand and gently swooped it under Hero's chin, turning their head back to face them and lifting their chin a little. Hero flinched a little, but didn't pull back.

"Hey. Pay attention, sweetie."

Hero's breathing got slightly quicker. Shallower. Starting off subtle, it ramped up.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, hOLY SHIT, HOLY SHIT.

The feeling of Villain's hand was the best thing they'd ever felt. In their life. They didn't know anything could be this soft, any temperature could be this comforting and warm, that any grip could be so firm yet gentle, that any gaze could be so powerful yet soft- they were completely hyperventilating, tears welling in their eyes. They didn't want to trust it, but they wanted the comfort too badly to treat this rationally. They'd never felt anything so unbelievably wonderful. They wanted it so, so bad.

Villain couldn't stop themself from gasping. They certainly weren't expecting that reaction, but seeing Hero just break down like that, they were absolutely overcome with the heat of the moment need to just... protect them. Comfort them.

Only a moment later, the two simultaneously fell into an impulsive hug.

Villain squeezed Hero tightly against them as Hero buried their face in Villain's shoulder. Hero completely stopped thinking about their doubts- only one thing mattered right now, and that was Villain. It was so unbelievably comfy, warm, happy, soft, safe... years of built up serotonin was flooding out all at once, and it only got better as Villain brought one hand up from the hug to run it through Hero's hair.

They'd never been this much of an absolute mess. They'd never been this happy in their life.

Villain just continued holding Hero tight.

Minutes passed. Neither wanted the moment to end.

But finally, after what felt like years, Hero's breathing finally began to get deeper again. Villain let out a relived sigh, though didn't quite let go yet, allowing Hero's tears to dry and breathing to fully steady. Villain stayed patient as Hero got calmer and calmer until their desperate squeeze against Villain finally relaxed.

Hero felt the safest they ever had, and Villain couldn't be happier. The idea that they were rivals didn't even cross either of their minds- it just felt so right.

"...How're you feeling?"

Hero answered in a quiet, vulnerable, satisfied whisper, more emotion in their voice than Villain had ever heard.

"...n-needed this."

For the first time in ages, an entirely new focus was on Hero's mind.

A thought?

A worry?

A feeling?

They were certainly leaning towards it being a feeling.

That feeling was love.

[sxeraphfic]

6 with Loki!! NSFW please (maybe smut? hhaha) he’s saying!!! thankss

DETECTIVE LOKI -  JEALOUSY NSFW PROMPT    

╰┈➤“It looked like he was trying to flirt with you”

Pairing: David Loki x reader 

Word count: 2232

WARNINGS: p in v sex, creampie, slight grinding, possessive sex, biting, marking, swearing, average dirty talk, spanking, palming, semi-public, loki is a little bit of a grump at the start, not super ooc i hope, both of you are a little toxic lol, fingers in mouth. Let's assume birth control is in place here. Lol. Think that's it, there might be more. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈  

This is actually my first ever published nsfw fic, so please go easy on me <3 Enjoy my loves!

You and Loki had been coworkers for what felt like an eternity by now, he was a diligent person who took his occupation acutely seriously. Which is grounds for why he managed to not only get promoted up to being a sergeant of the sector you worked in, but also have exclusive access to his own private office and dictatorship over other workers' roles. Unmistakably, he is incredible as a detective and supervisor. That being said, he isn't perfect. He’s reckless, arrogant, stubborn, cocky,  antisocial, a workaholic  and breaking what would be considered a societal rule of workplaces. Don't mess around with your coworker! 

You two had been in a secret situationship for around almost a year now, casual but also intense. No-one in your work suspected a thing either, Loki was just as good at hiding things as he was at figuring them out. The thing about casual yet intense secret situationships is that how concrete the “relationship” actually is, could be considered shaky. He’s never really explicitly made it clear to even you what you both are, despite spending almost every waking hour outside of work together whether that be romantic dates, cuddling, sex etc. Did this frustrate you? Yes. You wanted him to be emotionally available and ready for you, to not have to wonder to yourself whether he even considers you an actual partner or not. You'd bring up the question and he would act so stupidly nonchalant about it or say he just wants to “let it go with the flow.”  

Does he even give a shit? You sighed to yourself staring at the timed out screen of your computer, leaning back and stretching your back and arms out. 

Before you could go back to your daydreams, or work for that matter. You heard one of your coworkers call out your name from across the room. 

“Hey! y/n! y/n! C'mere for a sec.” Your coworker Miles announced 

Your cheeks widened, Miles was a relatively new guy around your age. He was kind of childish, bright, bubbly and overall just a nice guy. You were assigned to train him and since then he's more or less stuck by your side and been a great coworker for you to do cases and research with.  

Making your way over to his desk you spotted a certain someone from the corner of your eye. Loki, walking towards another coworker's desk yet clearly distracted by whatever you were up to. He thinks he's good at having a poker face, and he is. Just not with you, that furrowed eyebrow and light frown said it all. It's mainly your fault he's on high alert right now though, a few nights ago you felt tired of feeling like you were just an undecided casual fling for him. And so you may have.. Accidentally made a point that if he doesn't make a decision on what you guys are, you'll find someone else to be the one for you.     

It pissed him off, clearly. But you assumed that you were both over that silly little argument by now since things had been relatively normal, but guesses are that wasn't the case.  You and  Miles chatted for around ten minutes or so, maybe even less. You giggled a few times here and there and even absent mindedly placed your hand on his shoulder, in the back of your head you realised how this may look to Loki and internally shuddered.

He began to stutter, “oh..oh um.. By the way y/n”  

“Yes Miles?”

“I was thinking..um.. Well if you want to at some point we would like.. Maybe hang outside of work? Go to a bar or something?” he continued on “i mean- it's fine if not but y’know.. You're so sweet and kind to me… and well, beautiful.”  

You saw from the corner of your eye Loki making his way over, oh boy.  

“We are doing work here right, the two of you?” he asked sternly. You rolled his eyes at him “Yes Loki, we are. It's just unlike you, some people have lives outside of work” Miles looked awkwardly between you and Loki, the tension in the air was insanely thick. “Yeah uh.. Sorry about that Loki. I guess I got kind of distracted since y/n is fun to talk to” he smiled before semi-flirtatiously winking at you. Loki didn't twitch a single muscle in his face, you gave Miles an awkward smile to alleviate the atmosphere. Before Loki scoffed and pointed towards your desk “y/n. Off back to your desk please. I have some paperwork I need you to fill.” and then proceeded to turn to miles ``Miles, i know you're new here but flirting and dating is strictly prohibited in the workplace. If I catch that again you will be in trouble.” You huffed and walked away, how hypocritical of him..

It was past 11 pm now, the station was practically empty besides maybe a few less than a dozen people working. Loki had so happened to ask you to stay back to “talk about documents,” but you were well aware of what the conversation was really about. You walked into his office, immediately crossing your arms together.  

“Come closer.'' He directed, pointing you to stand next to him as he sat down in his chair finishing up some paperwork. “So, wanna explain what was happening earlier? I saw that. And heard it” he continued on “It looked like he was trying to flirt with you, or maybe you were trying to flirt with him too.”

You extended your hand to his back, slowly moving up to his shoulder and beginning to massage him gently to cool him off. “Well no i wasn't flirting with him, but i didn't realise we were exclusive like that David.” he scoffed, and you huffed in return. “last time i checked our thing was barely even a thing right? Hardly even a label on it,” you began to apply more pressure to his shoulders. “Thats fucking hilarious” he asserted with an unfriendly grin, “So you want us to be an official thing and yet you accept others flirting with you right infront of me, really?” he pushed your hands off him and in response you glared at him. He continued on, “After our little argument the other day you have to have some sort of understanding on why I might be fuckin’ concerned.”

“What? I hardly accepted it..and even so you expect me to just sit around here waiting for you to be ready to label our relationship??? How about you look at the reality here David. You refuse to make the claim on me. Maybe someone like Miles would actually be able to commit and I appreciate the idea of it.” 

David looked at you with shame on his face, something strangely comforting considering the argument you were in right now and his usual stubborn self. “Look Y/N, I know.. That i'm not exactly good at this whole thing. I’m so used to being alone that the thought of giving myself fully to someone.. well.. scares me.” he placed face into his palm “I don't want to be uncommitted to you, i want you to be mine. And maybe this has made me realise that.” He wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you to sit on his lap, wheeling his chair back a little for space. “The thought of some little twerp like Miles flirting with you drives me crazy.  I know it's selfish but I want you to myself without the fear of uh.. Well, abandonment.”  

You stretched your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against his ��I'm not leaving you David.. You're all I want.” “So make me yours please, commit me to me..” you whispered to him softly. His breath hitched and he sighed, pressing his lips against yours before tugging at your bottom lip ever so slightly with his teeth. The pinch of it made you squeak, you reached up to his hair and tugged on it tenderly. He pushed you up against him so he could have proper access to your neck, Slowly biting and sucking it between different places to give you light bruises. You moaned, beginning to rock your hips against him to gain some pressure against your clothed pussy. The sound of him growling against your neck as he sucked on the skin vibrated right down to your core, “Fuck this feels good, David” you gasped. “God y/n i want to ravage you right now” he whispered against you before leaning into another deep kiss, you could feel his dick throbbing through his pants as you both swirled and pressed tongues together. 

You began to palm him through his pants during your kiss, stroking and feeling up the growing length. “David.. What if we get caught?” you said in between breaths. He choked out a stammered laughed in response “Fuck i don't even know if i care y/n, i need you so badly i wouldn't mind if people found out.” You giggled slightly, staring deeply into his eyes. “That's just your dick talking, but it's pretty empty in the station.. I'm sure it'll be fine.” You used that to cue him to start pulling down your pencil skirt and panties, whilst you unbuttoned his shirt and undressed his lower region halfway down to his thighs. His dick was hard and leaking with precum, his face flushed red. “You look so needy right now dave.” he sighed in response and you snickered as you began to grind your exposed wet pussy against his cock. He began rubbing his sticky hot tip up against your clit for extra stimulation and you whined, settling your head against his shoulder weakly. He furrowed his brow and showed his toothy grin “Look at you. a complete mess in my office on my lap, what happened to me being needy?”  Before you could get another rebuttal in, he moved his hands down your body to your hips and began to align your hole to his cock. As he steadily pushed into you he groaned into your neck. “Fuuuck y/n” he murmured as he began to thrust up and down, you moaned in response pulling against his hair. He swiftly spanked your ass with one hand and placed the other around the nape of your neck massaging it, enjoying the whimpers and mewls he’d pull from your lips.  

Unexpectedly the two of you heard footsteps from outside his office, both of you froze in place unsure of what to do 

“Detective Loki? Are you there? May I come in please?” a voice of one of your coworkers called from outside the door 

You expected him to stop and pull you off, but he smirked coyly and inserted three fingers into your mouth and began to slowly thrust into you again. You arched your back in response, trying to contain your moans and noises of slurping from the drool beginning to fill your mouth and dribble down your chin.  

“Uh.. yeah i'm in here, look i need some uh.. um.. space for the moment” he awkwardly yelled back out, even you could see in his eyes that his adrenaline was at a maximum right now. What on earth was he thinking? 

“Oh.. i have some pretty important paperwork man i-” David interrupted him before he could finish, “Please just leave it at your desk and i'll..” he stared at the way you were grinding up and down onto his dick, before snapping back to reality,  “...come pick it up when I'm ready.” David was struggling to contain himself. He gazed into your eyes as you swirled your tongue around his fingers pushing in and out of your mouth, simultaneously thrusting his cock slowly and deeply inside of you. The warmth and stickiness of your bodies pressed against each other made him melt back into his leather chair.

As soon as he heard the door from outside his office shut he briskly lifted you up and flipped you over onto your stomach against his desk, he leaned down pressing his chest against your back, the pressure of his weight crushing you was so intense yet felt so good. “God you're sexy y’know that?” he half whined half growled into your ear, his thrusts becoming more and more powerful. You cried out in pleasure, unable to move or escape from the position. He pulled your hair to gain access to your ear, gently nibbling on your lobe as he continued his deep and sharp thrusts. “You’re all fucking mine y/n” he groaned, “Oh god i feel like i'm gonna cum David. Please cum in me” You yelped out squirming beneath him, gripping onto the edge of his now mess of a desk. He didn't need to be told twice to do so, he buried his face into your neck before pressing a final thrust into you, loading thick streams of cum inside. You practically shrieked, it felt incredible.  

Afterwards you both just sat there together on his chair, unsure of what to do with the mess you made. But content and loving in each other's arms with him stroking his fingers through your hair.

“Bet he couldn't make you feel that good ay?” he chuckled.

partially proof read, will come back to check on it when i wake up <3

[capricornlevi]

on the edge of a blunt knife

mid-shibuuya incident, nanami decides he needs some serious stress relief

(wc 2.9k, 18+ mdni. cw rough (but v consensual) sex, semi public sex, cursed energy as sexual tension lol, no gendered pronouns but reader has a vagina)

Nanami: Need you to come here.

Nanami: {location shared}

Nanami: As soon as possible. 

You blink down at your phone once, twice, three times, still unsure whether or not you actually understand the texts that are displayed clearly on the screen. 

His directions are straightforward – blunt, even. It’s not that you don’t understand what’s being asked of you. 

It’s just that you don’t understand why he would send texts like those; completely out of the blue, you can’t even guess the context. You haven’t heard from him for three days now.

For the past year or so, your relationship with Nanami Kento has been casual – in the most extreme sense of the word. A few hook-ups at his place, even more at your own, twice in a hotel he was staying in for ‘business’. You’ve met for coffee, shared some meals, never so much as toeing the line of anything more committed.

Sure, you know certain things about him, have garnered some understanding of his personality, but there’s so much you don’t know. More than you’d care to admit. 

You’ve never actually asked him what he does for a living, for one thing. 

You’ve caught glimpses of enough blood-soaked shirts to hazard a guess that it’s something sketchy, which does make it easier to avoid asking questions.

Still, he’s not your boyfriend. You don’t care what he does as long as you don’t get dragged into it. It actually helps things, you think, this barrier between the two of you, keeping either one from getting too attached.

But these unprompted texts, this uncharacteristic urgency … it all makes you deeply uneasy. As you reread them for the fifth time, your gut twists with a sense of foreboding.

... and perhaps the tiniest hint of anticipation.

Still wanting to cover your bases before diving into the unknown, you type up a quick response.

You: Is it safe?

You don’t have to wait long before your phone buzzes in your hand.

Nanami: For you, yes. 

The location pin he dropped you is based in a metro tunnel just outside of Shibuya. 

It’s dark out, you’re not familiar with the area, the October air is bitterly cold. There are a thousand reasons for you to stay home and wait until Nanami just comes over to yours as he usually does.

The other side of the argument has far fewer points in its favour.

But against all logic you slip on a jacket, shoving your phone into your pocket as your apartment door slams shut behind you.

___

The journey is unusually quick. Glancing at every side street as you pass them by, you see they’re all virtually abandoned, with no traffic to hold you up at the street crossings. 

You shrug it off; it has no connection to your meeting with Nanami, so why waste time worrying about it?

However, your concern only deepens when you arrive at the metro station. On a night like tonight it should be bustling, packed with crowds of partygoers and drunken salarymen singing the wrong lyrics to pop songs, but as you slowly descend the concrete steps, you soon realise that there’s not a single soul waiting by the platform.

It’s quiet, too. Eerily so. All you can hear is the low drip-drip-dripping of rain trickling onto the tile from the grates above, mixed with the occasional screech of the tracks. It’s cold down here, smells of damp and stagnant water, and you can't see Nanami anywhere.

You wait, but no trains appear.

The air is heavy with mist, even underground. You hug your arms to your chest to keep warm. 

You’re just about to reach for your phone to text Nanami, demanding to know what the hell is going on and why he’s dragged you into it, but before you can do so, you’re distracted by the sensation of a strong hand on your shoulder.

You nearly choke out a scream when you’re the grip on your shoulder releases, the person pulling you in by the waist instead.

Nanami.

Though you held off on screaming before, you want to shout at him for startling you anyway, for giving you the fright of your life for no good reason.

However, as your mouth opens, you find yourself unable to do so.

For just a moment, you forget about how insane this all is; how he’s dragged you to an abandoned metro platform in the dead of night, with all sorts of other weird, unexplained shit happening just a few feet above your heads. Without a word of explanation as to what he needs from you. 

You forget about it all, instead letting yourself get lost in the feeling of being pressed up against his chest. 

The only thing to cut through your hazy train of thought is when you see –

“You’re hurt,” you murmur, lifting a hand to ghost your fingers over the scrapes on his face. 

“Not very.”

“How did you – what is – what happened?”

“It's a long, long story,” he answers softly, gentle despite the strength of his touch, the protectiveness in how he holds you against him. “Too long to tell in one sitting.”

“Then why did you bring me here?”

Nanami doesn’t answer at first. He takes a hand and tilts your chin so that you have no choice but to meet his eye, to watch as he scans your face, lingering on your lips.

“Remember New Year’s?”

Now it’s your turn to pause, brain processing the hidden meaning buried in his words.

This past New Year’s was the only other time Nanami had visited you in a state like this; exhausted, injured, but bursting with a sort of power and intensity you couldn’t begin to understand.

He put it down to adrenaline, a busy day at work leaving him pent up, but you knew there was something more to it. He crackled with an energy that you had never seen before. Something about him felt electric, a live wire, you could almost feel it against your fingertips as you ran your hands over his muscled chest that night, taking it all in. 

He came to you needing relief. It was an unspoken request that you happily answered; perhaps the energy he emanated during that visit was infectious. 

After he called to your apartment that night, you didn’t leave your bed for the better part of three days. Relief was all he sought, but it was never enough until he has burnt the last bit of energy from his body. It took time. 

Now, he searches your face for signs of recognition, any indication that you know what he’s asking of you.

You know he would respect your answer if you refused, if you got the hell out of this dingy tunnel and ran back to the safety of your apartment. He would never bring it up again. 

It would be so easy to refuse, to turn around and take the more sensible option.

But the only issue is that you really, really don’t want to. 

“I remember.”

The tiniest crack appears in Nanami’s facade – his jaw tightens, the sharp angles of his features looking almost pained.

“You do?”

Your nod confirms it.

“So you know what I’m asking of you?” he elaborates carefully, grip tightening in the fabric of your jacket.

“Yes. And yes,” you hastily add, sensing his follow-up question. “I want to.”

At that, Nanami lets go of your waist, lifting his hands to fist in your hair as he drags you in for a crushing kiss. 

He kisses you so hard it almost hurts but you give as good as you take, dragging your teeth against his bottom lip to the point it could nearly draw blood. 

It’s messier than it’s been before, even more so than New Year’s. You gasp into his mouth as he keeps you flush against him with one arm, barely able to take a breath before he slips his tongue against yours, ravenous in the way he’s capturing your mouth with his. 

He mumbles something against your lips, utterly incoherent, and you don’t bother asking him to repeat it. 

He kisses you, running his hands over your body as though he’s never had the chance to do it before now, mapping every inch of your frame even over your clothes. 

Soon you’re being guided away to somewhere more private – a nearby bathroom, just as abandoned as the rest of the platform, a place where he can take what he needs for as long as he needs it. 

You watch silently as he leads you there, feeling that energy radiate from his palm to yours. 

Inside the bathroom, you see that only one of the lightbulbs is still working; this bathes the room in a warm, dim light, a glow that’s just enough for you to see the transformed expression on Nanami’s face.

Your breath catches. 

In almost any other setting, he’s the picture of control. He’s polite, reserved, and keeps his emotions well-guarded from the outside world, never showing his secrets of vulnerabilities to anyone. 

But when this sensation overcomes him, his face twists into something unrecognisable. Hungry, primal, something that would send a bolt of fear through you if you hadn’t experienced something like this before; now, you find yourself wanting to spur it on. 

Before he loses himself in it, you take the chance to start undressing, your clothes dropping to the floor as your mind starts to swim with thoughts of what will happen next, what you know he is capable of doing with those hands.

His eyes darken until they’re almost black as you bare yourself in front of him. 

Back home in the safety of either of your apartments, this would undoubtedly take a lot longer. He’d use his mouth on you until your cries of his name disrupted your neighbours. You’d take him in your hand and stroke slowly, meanly, building him up to the edge until his knuckles turn white and broken swears echo around the room. 

That sense of languidity is gone now. It’s urgent, both of you needing this as much as you do oxygen, fearing you’ll die without it, and so you waste no time in bending over the sink and looking up at the mirror to meet his eye in the reflection. 

Here you are, in public, where anyone could just walk in off the street and see you bending over for him, completely soaked and utterly shameless – though for some reason, you’re almost certain you’re not going to be interrupted.

Nanami unbuttons his shirt, revealing the pinks and reds of bruises blossoming on his skin. Your brow furrows; somewhere in your pleasure-addled mind you think to ask him about it, press him on the cause of his injuries … on what he’s gotten himself into …

But once his hands reach for his belt, you refocus your attention on gripping the sink’s countertop to prepare yourself. 

He won’t hold back. One word from you and he’ll stop, but until that word is said then he will be merciless.

He tosses the belt to the floor and undoes his suit pants, stroking himself slowly.

You look to the mirror; a short nod, you skin already prickling with goosebumps, and you’ve started something you don’t know how to finish. 

He takes your ass in his hands and squeezes, spreading you open and running his length up and down, the reflection of him mumbling something to himself as he stares, transfixed at the sight of your folds ready to suck him in without so much as being touched yet. 

His throat bobs, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead glistening under the low light; he slips inside with one smooth thrust. 

Your spine arches as you take all eight inches of him, thicker than anything you’ve had before, pressing in at such an angle that you worry it will render you a babbling mess before the hour is out. 

Already his name is spilling from your lips, voice breaking at the crescendo of each thrust, gasping for air as though he’s somehow hitting your lungs. You feel the fabric of his pants against the backs of your thighs as he fucks you half-clothed, too desperate to feel you wrapped around his cock to even fully undress.

It’s full, it’s a lot, but it doesn’t hurt – it never does. It’s why you think this … thing, this state that takes over him, that it has some sort of transferable nature to it. You need this relief just as badly as he does.

You feel the fingers of Nanami’s right hand fist in your hair, pulling you back to keep your eyes fixed on the mirror. The left stays gripping your waist, pulling your body back against him to meet the snap of his hips. 

You let out a breathless giggle which only serves to spur him on further; a tug at your hair prompts a pathetic-sounding mewl of pleasure to take its place, his hold on you as unmovable as it is possessive. 

It makes no sense for you to enjoy that feeling so much, to enjoy being his when you can count on one hand the concrete facts you know about this man.

You’re not thinking straight, though, not when you’re being bounced on his cock like this, no coherent thought staying in your brain for longer than three seconds.  You gush around him, wet and lewd sounds bouncing off the tiled walls of the bathroom.

The mirror is blurry with condensation from the mist and the once-cool air, but you can still make out the sight of Nanami holding your hair tight in his fist, the veins in his hand prominent as he speeds up his movements.

He pauses only to help you hike your knee up against the counter. Once stable, he’s back inside you again, telling you how good you’re taking him, how you’re the only person he needs for this, leaning down and pulling your hair back up so he can press a kiss to the nape of your neck.

You, on the other hand, are far less talkative. The change in angle is hitting that spot in your core that has you fluttering around him already, short little half-groans catching in your throat and dying before you can even breathe them out. 

The feeling of being wanted by him, of being the one who he seeks out to help with this ache, it is something you struggle to put into words. 

He’s so powerful, but you are too. It’s how he knows you’re perfect for this – he told you as much last time, when he thought you were too fucked-out to even comprehend what he was saying. 

His gaze meets yours again and you marvel at how he maintains such a solid grip in your hair, never slipping even as his rhythm turns more erratic and uncontrolled.

He seems to enjoy having you in his grasp, his lower lip bitten between his teeth as he holds you, adjusting the position when he needs to. His thumb smoothes soothing circles against your skin, a pleasant contrast to the unrelenting sensation of being filled.

This is a side of him only you can see.

It's so good, teetering dangerously close to being so good that you're ruined for anyone else, unable to take anything inside you that isn't Nanami's cock.

You feel yourself burning, that familiar heat starting to coil in your lower stomach, your limbs starting to lose strength as you brace yourself for the waves to wash over. 

Nanami keeps you steady, never faltering as he fucks you through it.

You gasp, clenching around him as it bursts within you, spreading like wildfire through every nerve in your body. Your body trembles beneath him and he slows mercifully. He moves slowly, careful not to overstimulate you too soon, waiting for the waves to subside before he fucks into you again, chasing his own pleasure with the closest thing to a clear mind he can hope to have in this situation. 

It doesn’t take long for him to follow you over the edge, spilling over the small of your back with a gutteral moan that makes you clench around nothing, only releasing his hold on your hair and waist once the rise and fall of his chest has steadied.

Sweaty and boneless and satisfied, you wait as he cleans you off before turning to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Did it help?” you ask quietly, knowing he’ll understand.

His lips curl slightly, the divot in his brow having disappeared – the edge has been taken off momentarily. “Yes.”

His pupils are still blown out, though, and his demeanour tells you there’s more to come. 

“Is this … is what’s happening outside … is it over?”

He shakes his head once, twice. “No.”

He reaches for his pocket, fishing out a silver keychain which he immediately presses into your palm.

“Go to my place. Go there and stay there, and don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

You take the key, cold against your clammy skin, and look up to him again.

“You’ll come back later?”

“I’ll come back later,” he replies immediately, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead while running a hand through his own hair. “Just wait there for a bit.”

Though still in the dark, you figure that it just might be worth the wait. 

[reigenaratakasleftear]

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader - The Little Things

A little one shot that’s been in my wattpad drafts for awhile, I completely forgot about it 😭

wc: 806

_________________

He drawled out a sigh.

Here the two of them were after a mission, caged in under a dark orange overhang of a half round tiled roof as raindrops violently splattered from the gray sky. Overgrown, soft stems of chlorophyll high blades sprung lively from the ground after its well needed dose of water, tangling with the spirited wind. And most importantly, you, next to him.

The sky had been looking ominous all day, dark gray clouds practically looming over the land ready to pounce, so why exactly did you guys still go? Oh, right. Because putting an end to these nasty curses was apparently more important than a bit of awkward silence. He chided himself, silently cursing Gojo for putting them in this situation. As much as he thought he wanted to be alone with you, Yuuji and Nobara would have something to say when he didn't. To be the comic relief, break tension. Hell, he'd grown used to just zoning out in conversations most of the time because they always filled the empty air with mutual, nonsensical rampant ramblings and he didn't want to listen to all of it. Definitely not because he was staring at you. No.

He did want to talk to you, though, really. He was just shy.

"Hey, Meg'alodon?" 

Your words cut him out of his silent stupor, earning a glare from the ravenette.

"Stop calling me that," he huffed, leaning back against the semi-moist concrete that splayed behind them "What?"

"Heh. Look at that cloud," You hummed, leaning over his shoulder a little to get him to see from your angle as you outstretched your arm to a point. "It looks like a koi." 

Frozen for a moment at the close proximity, he slowly nodded as what you said slid right through his right ear and back out the left. That was nice and all, but your face was a little too close for his attention to be anywhere else at the moment. A sigh left his lips, glancing away as he feigned stoicism, sealing away that shy, tender part of him that was bubbling up. Damn you..

Finally, his eyes snapped up to the obscured-by-rain target above them, giving another small nod as an actual response instead of his distracted one only a moment ago.

"Pretty,"

Damnit. That did not sound very cool of you, Fushiguro. Act cool, act cool..

"..you should paint that someti—"

"Ah, that reminds me!" 

He blinked at the grin you suddenly wore, raising a brow as he turned his head your way. Eyes following your movements curiously as you fished a hand into the pocket of your black uniform skirt, the corners of his mouth twitching up ever so slightly at the sight of your smile. Not even minding the interruption. This has got to be a new Fushiguro record, somewhere..

His jaw dropped at the small item you had gently placed in his hand. A delicate, Amagurumi plush of his snow white divine dog, the small red symbol placed on its head and everything.

"W-huh?" He sputtered, glancing between you and the soft crocheted plush. Did you.. make this for him?

"Do you like it? I just saw a tutorial for a wolf on YouTube and had plenty of white yarn, so I just decided to freehand the red part on top.. yeah!" 

He just about melted at the proud smile on your face, and gently took the little creation in his hands, thumbs softly brushing over the fuzzy strands wrapped around each other to make such a cute representation of Shiro. Amazed by the attention to detail, inspecting it was swiftly started. The shape of the ears, the slightly off center red triangle on its forehead, and the sheer work that was clearly put in. What.. a sweet gift.

“Thank you,” The murmur came out quietly from him, not daring to glance back up, afraid of the hue on his cheeks that was darkening by the second. More so than that, your reaction to the prior. “It’s really cute.”

“Of course! I’m so glad you like it!”

He didn’t notice how your proud grin shifted to something softer, nor how your eyes sparkled a little in pride, still hiding from your prying gaze; but he did notice the hotness of his face. He’d been trying to ignore it, but all his good excuses were futile at the moment. Too hot out? It’s raining. And quite chilly, actually. Just mad at Yuuji or Gojo? They weren’t here. Once he came to terms with the fact his face was, yes, indeed red, he puzzled together it was because he’d never been given something like this.

Gojo was always one to spoil him with fancy clothes and mentorship from the best, never something with so much thought put into it like this little trinket you’d just gifted him.

It made him feel special.

“Haha, that cloud looks like tits.”

Nevermind. He was still in hell.

-

[fandomfluffandfuck]

I may have been reading a bit too much omegaverse but I stumbled upon your stuff on ao3 and uh now it’s not getting out of my head so I’m here

may I request omega!Steve + alpha!Bucky having a sparring session that escalates beautifully?

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

Also, before we get into it, I semi-recently wrote another lil thing here on Tumblr about Steve and Bucky sparring that you might want to check out, although that prompt fill is much, much angsty-er and not omegaverse specific.

And, lmao, that's fair. I haven't been thinking a lot about omegaverse recently, but every time I am on my omegaverse bullshit I am on it and into it.

And I was really thinking about what I could do with sparring and omegaverse and smut, reading your prompt, but then... I had a thought: omegaverse, fighting not sparring, and something similar to this iconic scene from Captain American: The Winter Soldier.

Then, things got angsty. I'm sorry, lmao. I didn't mean for it to happen! It just did.

So, consider the idea that Steve and Bucky were bonded mates before Bucky fell and "died" during the war. Bucky is Steve's alpha; Steve is Bucky's omega. Yet, when Steve wakes up in the modern world, not only has history been rewritten to say that Captain America was an alpha but, also, his relationship with Bucky has been erased. It had to be because if it weren't, that would mean that either (a) they would have to claim that Steve and Bucky were an alpha-alpha couple which they don't want to do because that'd make them queer and that's not a good propaganda pawn or (b) they would have to claim that Bucky was the omega, swapping Steve and Bucky's designations which is... plausible... but, that would mean admitting that omegas went to war and, that, again, is unpopular and not good propaganda. So, they just destroyed their relationship entirely and reassigned Steve's designation.

Steve isn't sure how to feel about his life being eroded like that. His relationship; his very, very strong feelings about what society tells omegas, especially omega men, they can or can't do; his history; his understanding. But, as fucking confused as he is about all that, warring with himself and trying to figure out where he stands, it is easier to let it be. Without his bonded mate--really, with having just lost his bonded mate according to his body, that doesn't know it's been seventy years, it thinks it's been just a handful of weeks since Bucky "died", his mating cycles haven't started to try and re-calibrate, triggering themselves to get back on tracks. Bucky was the one his heats were synced to. His grief puts a halt to his regular cycles for now anyway. Besides, the suppressants that exist nowadays are so much better than those from Steve's time.

So, yeah, it's much easier to let the world think he is an alpha, using scent-blocking deodorant and body wash and all that, letting people believe that it's just the chivalrous thing Captain America would, of course, do because his alpha scent is so fucking strong, if he didn't, he'd have a multiple-block line of omegas trailing after him throughout New York City.

They don't know the truth.

No one really does. There are just one or two high-security clearance people at S.H.I.E.L.D. in medical that know because they're synthesizing an extra strong heat suppressant for when Steve's body does decide it will try to realign itself without his mate. The secret needs to be kept.

However.

That all fucking changes in the blink of an eye when, finally, fucking finally Sam, Nat, and Steve track down the Winter Soldier, or rather, the soldier tracks them down to a rundown metropolitan area, all empty warehouses, junk cars, and beat up loading docks. They're running (or flying, in Sam's case) through cracked concrete and warped metal, swearing they see the soldier around every corner and hearing him, too. Their coms are haunted by whispers of each of them believing to have heard his footsteps just ahead, the sound of his arm recalibrating just over their shoulder, his weapon cocking behind them, or the eerie, all-around them sound of his breath through his mask, filtered and almost Darth-Vader-esque (Steve knows that reference, thank you, Sam).

It's hours of a wild chase, running in circles.

A death spiral.

Until...

Steve chokes on his own spit, sweating through his stolen museum uniform, as he's rushed from behind.

He's hit.

There's a nanosecond of stunned shock before he registers what's happening--it's the muzzle of a gun shoved into his back unforgivingly and trying to throw him to the ground with the impact. Steve bends under the weight but throws his own mass to the side, not letting himself get pinned to the ground and effectively evading the heavy gun pressed against him. He's lucky that the soldier doesn't just shoot a hole through him.

As he rolls away from the impact. His back stings with hot, vicious pain. He slams his shield to the side and CLANG! rings the dinner bell. Metal on metal. The large, bulky machine gun the soldier is carrying clashing with his vibranium shield. The vibration of the hit rattles Steve's teeth in his jaw. He won't let himself be stunned again, though.

So, he throws more of his mass behind his shield when he gets both feet on the ground and strips the soldier of his biggest gun. But not before he fires off a handful of shots against his shield at point-blank range. The POP, POP, POP of the gun is so loud Steve is momentarily deafened, his ears ringing so badly that there's no sound at all. The heat of the gunpowder combusting radiates through Steve's shield back into his body--he can feel it in his arms. His heart races. The combustion is all he can smell. He doesn't need hearing or smell, though. Not when he's so close. He doesn't mind being burned alive, either. Not in his frantic state of mind. He's right fucking here. This is the closest they've come. They need to make this happen. And they need it now. So, he can take it.

He has to.

Another shove and the soldier loses his grip entirely. The big, heavy gun skids across the ground, scraped up and scratched on the concrete before finally slowing to stillness impressively far away from them. Already, though, the soldier is moving to grab another.

Steve needs to beat him to the punch. Brute force.

And so, he has no choice but to swing the shield away, leaving himself open to be hit, but sacrificing safety to hold onto the muzzle of the next much smaller handgun the soldier rips out of its holster.

Steve can't let him have it.

They struggle in the overcast, humid weather.

Strength-to-strength.

Hand-to-hand.

Breath-for-breath.

They're shockingly on par with each other, even as the soldier's arm recalibrates with a mechanical war cry, whining sharply through the ringing in Steve's ears. But ultimately, the handgun goes flying, too. Landing on the magazine, jostling it, and making it pop off in a random direction. It doesn't hit either of them. Steve doesn't hear Sam or Natasha close by either, so they're safe for now. He focuses on the fight he has in front of him, trusting they'll keep themselves out of harms way as best they can.

The gun just goes off once and then slides across the ground just as the other one had. The dragging sound of it is sickening like nails on a chalkboard. Steve wants to wince but can't risk it. His eyes have never been more goddamn open.

The soldier has a knife next. Not another gun.

Steve, through his exerted panting, lets out something of a sigh of relief, at least that shit can't make as much terrible, sharp fucking noise. It's also, y'know, good that the threat of having holes shot through him isn't as pressing. A knife is still bad, but he can work with a knife. He can.

He will.

Steve backs up, giving himself room to play. Both side-stepping for real and faux rushing in, Steve blocks every stab, cut, and swing the soldier throws his way, forcing him to make moves he wouldn't if he weren't brawling with Steve.

With more and more missed hits, Steve can see he's getting frustrated. He isn't tiring out because Steve isn't tired out. Not yet. He can do this all day. But the soldier is getting angry--it's the only flash of emotion he's seen on his face. Granted, he's never seen this much of his face before with his goggles gone. His mask is still firmly in place, though. Only his eyes are exposed--especially his eyebrows are exposed, 'cause they're so dark and expressive, furrowing in aggravation with what must be a vicious snarl.

The next thrown stabs are reckless. He's leaving himself open. Steve takes the window he's giving, exploiting it and using it to his advantage. Punching in.

Steve manages to get the knife away from him, too, but not before the soldier strips him of his shield entirely. It rattles against the ground like a coin dropped, rolling around its rim with an obnoxious clang!-groooooiinng-roooooiing-ooooooiinnnng-rnnnnng-rrrrrnnnng.

They're fists to fists then.

It could only be more vulnerable if they were bare knuckles to bare knuckes. That'd suck worse. The soldiers metal arm could surely best his flesh and bone to a bloody pulp easier than Steve could fuck over his metal architecture.

It's a rushing, messy blur of body-weight-thrown-behind-them punches and knee-sweeping kicks, getting knocked down and getting up, rolling and turning and tucking. At some fucking point, Steve's face down on the floor, fist thrown out into nothing but concrete, and he's gasping through his gritted teeth. His ribs hurt. He sees fucking red but it washes out, running pink and then clear like a bloody wound rinsed clean behind a faucet, as soon as he feels the soldier's organic arm wrap around his throat like a boa constrictor.

Shit.

Steve opens his mouth, gasping, not through his teeth this time. He fights that much harder. Motherfucker.

He twists like an alligator in a death roll, except he's not holding onto prey. He is the prey, and he desperately needs not to be. In the soldier's grasp, he lifts his leg and kicks it back hard. The soldier barely grunts, and instead of being deterred by his thrashing and kicking, he hauls Steve's body back as if he weighs nothing at all.

Steve twists harder and harder and harder and ends up with his nose in the soldier's armpit, his neck twisted and strained harshly to the side, tendons screaming at him. His vision is just starting to go fuzzy at the edges without oxygen, getting choked by the soldier so intensely, when--

Steve's choppy, barely successful inhale that fights to happen under the instinctive need for air, his lungs spasming and chest heaving even while his brain knows he won't find any oxygen--that inhale, it brings in the barest hint of a devastingly familiar scent.

Bucky.

The scent that's wafting off of the soldier's underarms is undeniably alpha, and it's choked with the acrid scent of distress and exhaustion. But, deeper, beneath that unpleasant, unwashed scent, it's just... that's... it's-! That's the smell of his alpha. Seventy years long dead. His alpha.

His alpha smells like sweet tobacco and fragrant cigarettes and summer sweat and well-loved leather and deep, old woods. His alpha smells like home. His alpha smells like himself. Bucky. His alpha used to smell, most of the time, like Steve. They were always all over each other, of course.

Steve can't tell if the soldier smells like him. For one, he's always slathered in scent blockers, so he's not even sure what he smells like without them anymore. And for another, the moment is there and then gone, so he doesn't get more than a single, earth-shattering whiff.

It's a faint whiff, even though the soldier's smell is so strong, but Steve knows what he fucking smelled.

He knows the truth.

His body knows the truth, dropping limp beneath Bucky, reacting so viscerally to his alpha. All the fight drops out of him.

Alpha.

His body screams for his alpha.

Steve doesn't even fucking do anything, he can't. His hindbrain works a million times faster than his conscious, logical brain. He folds to his alpha because that's what his innermost omega demands. That's what it wants. That's what it needs.

Bucky.

He needs Bucky.

He needs his alpha.

He misses his alpha so fucking much.

Steve whimpers, the call of his mate's designation right there on his lips, "a-alpha," but it dies before he can get it out. He doesn't have the air for it.

And in a fucking flash, before he's even processed what's happening in his logical brain, he's hard. His body and hindbrain are working overtime to push him. Hitting hyperdrive. He's wet. He's gutted with the sudden onslaught of heat rushing into him.

Heat.

Steve is on the cusp of spilling over like a little Dixie cup beneath a pouring, rushing faucet.

Pheromones. Fever. Slick. Cramps.

Heat.

He's tripping.

He is.

He is spilling over.

Steve is unraveling. Every constructed asset of Captain America peeling away beneath the terror and celebration he exists undeather, knowing that his bondmate is alive. Terror for what's become of him--what's been done to him--and celebration for knowing he's still alive, even if alive may be a stretch. He is a shell.

He is a shell because Steve's Bucky wouldn't choke him intent to kill. But the soldier does.

The soldier is.

The soldier is going to do him in.

The soldier would--the soldier will choke him out. The soldier will kill him. He will because he's been giving the opportunity on a silver platter, Steve's body limp. His instincts can't be overriden. The pure relieve and horror he feels. The rushing, rising tide of his stunted heat suddenly overcoming him. The soldier would murder Steve if not for Sam, who does a flying kick to Bucky's shoulder and knocks him away from Steve.

Bucky growls roughly, even more frustrated than before. But, something in him has changed. His eyes dart between Steve and Sam uncomprehending what's happening. There's the darkness of primal instinct behind those eyes. Steve desperately wishes he knew if it was his natural alpha instincts or whatever perverted, twisted instincts whoever did this to him placed in his broken mind.

This is Bucky, but this isn't Bucky.

Steve watches, heart throbbing in his crushed, hurting throat, as Bucky scrambles to his feet. Body lifting and moving with deadly precision, his metal hand clutches at his flesh and blood shoulder. It's sitting at an awkward angle compared to the rest of his body. Sam's kick must've dislocated it. Steve can't shove down his own growl, territorial over his alpha who's been abruptly dangled in front of his face, just out of reach.

Although Steve's possessive, mate mate mate protective instincts turn into a whine quickly. One of his hands lifts without his conscious input and stretches out toward Bucky. His fingers tremble, aching to soothe the hurt he's masking and aching to be soothed himself. Moments from every heat he's spent with his alpha over their life together flash before his eyes as his alpha's eyes bore into him, confusion plain as day, then realization, then horrified fear, and then he's scurrying away.

Bucky doesn't bother to grab a gun, knife, steal his shield, or anything. He's just high-tailing it out of there--there one moment and then gone the next and leaving Steve to deal with the aftermath.

Alone.

With no mate.

Entirely devastated.

Steve is choking and sputtering after being choked, feeling wet and sticky between his legs as the fever of heat really starts to sink its teeth into him. Jesus Christ. One smell of his alpha and his grieving, out-of-wack body has locked itself into a tailspin. Jesus Christ. He's so fucked. So not fucked. He remembers what his heats were like after the serum. They're unstoppable. Worse than they ever were when he was just a runt omega. He needs his alpha.

How's he going to survive one without him?

What is he supposed to do?

Steve has just begun to comprehend some of what unfolded, and he already feels helpless. He's crushed. There's nothing he can do.

Steve swallows a pathetic cry, stuffing it down his throat.

A cramp roils through Steve's shivering body. He ends up collapsing forward into a ball, his cowl-covered forehead hitting the concrete ground with a desperate, defeated clunk.

His ears are still ringing. His heart is still, of course, pounding. His nose tells him he can still smell his alpha, his perfect, familiar scent crowded by the scent of so much fucking pain. And his eyes squeeze shut that much tighter. So, he can't hear what Sam is saying. He can't see Natasha rush over. He can't parse out the questions they're asking him or the way they're touching him gently, trying to figure out where he's hurt, how badly he's hurt. Steve can do nothing but try and fail to grapple with the impending doom of knowing he's in for a week of agony without his alpha.

His alpha who is alive.

He has to find him.

He needs him.

P.S. if you enjoyed this pain™️ you'll like this orphaned fic, "it's gotta get easier somehow ('coz, i'm falling, i'm falling)"

I forgot about it until I finished this little drabble, but I've had it bookmarked forever, so, it probably inspired this subconsciously!

[wooahaeproductions]

You Drive Me Crazy (But It Feels Alright)

Lee Jihoon (Woozi) x Female Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, smut, fake dating au, 90s au, ex-best friends au, and heavily based off the movie You Drive Me Crazy

Word Count: 15.2k (IM SO SORRY🙃 )

Warnings: language, mentions of terminal illness and death, bullying, drinking, drunken bad ideas, mentions of medicine, cheating, breakups, general college debauchery, making fun of furs in the fashion industry (used only to go with the 90s vibes), lots of feelings and oppressing them, jokes and conversations about sex, making out and kissing, and mentions of vomiting.

Smut Warnings: a little dry humping, semi public sex in a backyard treehouse? and protected sex (honestly the smut in this is pretty vanilla)

Rating: 18+

A/N: After forever, I’m excited to present this fic to you. I have never written anything this long before so once again I am sorry. Thank you to @beomcoups and @mingsolo for hosting the Now That’s 90’s! collab, as a 90s kid myself it was my pleasure to participate. Please go check out all the other amazing writers who joined as well!

Special thanks to Indi @playmetheclassics and Sammie @slightlymore for beta reading this monster for me. You guys are the best and I love you 💕 ~Bee

Network tags: @kbookshelf

With one last glance at your appearance in the mirror, you grabbed your bookbag from the chair in the corner of your room. You headed down the long curved staircase before opening the front door of the sorority house. 

You were almost going to be late, and to make matters worse, you came face-to-face with your enemy at the end of the driveway. Which wasn’t that unusual since he walked this way too, despite living further away, but you tried your best to avoid him anyway.

“Ew, what are you doing here?” Jihoon asks, walking past you at the driveway and lifting his lip in disgust.

“I live at the sorority, remember, asshole?” you spat, hating the fact that you had to walk in the same direction to get to campus. You two had been this way for a long time now, and it had become a habit to be prickly toward him. 

It hadn’t always been like that, though. In fact, you guys used to be best friends, completely inseparable. At least until his mom got sick when you were in junior high, and he started hanging out with some different people and getting into trouble. You then got in with the popular kids, and you and Jihoon have become enemies ever since. 

You two walked stiffly beside each other as you reached the edge of campus, and Jihoon’s friends appeared. Seokmin put him in a small headlock, and Seungkwan gave you a small smile while Wonwoo just shook his head. You actually knew his three best friends as well. You all used to hang out way back when. You smiled meekly back before arms wrapped around your shoulders, and your boyfriend, Johnny, had found you as well. 

“Hey, babe,” Johnny said, smacking a kiss near your ear. You resisted the urge to cringe. He was in the popular crowd too, a football player. While he wasn’t that bad and was easy on the eyes, he was boring, only caring about football and whatever party was next to attend. You missed having someone with a level of intelligence, someone you could debate things with like you used to do with Jihoon. It didn’t matter, though. You were enemies now, and nothing would change that. 

You made it through your first few classes, and you were having lunch in the courtyard with Johnny along with what you considered the entire popular crew, including your best friend, Jennie. You sat at a long table, eating a sandwich while everyone talked about the next football game and a party at Mingyu’s that was happening later. 

Across the courtyard, you spotted Jihoon in your line of vision, his girlfriend pushing him against the concrete wall, practically sucking his face off. You swallowed a bite of your sandwich, trying not to gag. Just as you turned away from the sight, Seungkwan was walking past. Before you could stop him, Johnny pretended to accidentally put his foot out in front of him. Seungkwan tripped over it, dropping the food he was carrying all over the ground and falling forward. The entire table erupted in laughter as Johnny retracted his foot like it had never been there. “Having trouble walking, Kwannie?” Johnny’s best friend, Mark heckled.

Seungkwan looked at Mark and Johnny with loathing. You got up, giving Johnny and Mark a glare. “What? We were only having some fun,” Johnny said innocently. You threw what was left of your food in the trash and walked over to Seungkwan. You stuck your hand out, letting him grab it and helped him up from the ground. 

“Thanks, Y/N. You know you didn’t have to,” he said.

“I know, Seungkwan, but it’s not like I hate you too,” you said softly.

“See you around,” he said, a sad smile on his face before he walked out of the courtyard.

Later that evening, you were getting ready for Mingyu’s party with Jennie because both she and Johnny insisted you had to appear. “So, our sorority ball is coming up…do you think Johnny is going to ask you soon?” Jennie asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s going to. I mean, who else would I go with?” you said, brushing off her question. You were helping plan the entire thing, and he knew it was important, so there wasn’t any reason why he wouldn’t be asking you. 

She nodded, but her face said she was skeptical. “What about you? Has anyone asked you yet?” You turned the question around on her.

“No, but I’m sure Mingyu or Taeyong will ask. It’s not like I don’t have options,” she bragged, and you struggled to hide your contempt. While you were part of the popular crowd, Jennie had always been the most popular. Others were more drawn to her than you.

You escaped the rest of the conversation with Jennie when it was interrupted by a honking sound, indicating Johnny was there to pick the two of you up to go to the party. You both walked outside and as you approached his truck, you heard music blasting out of the open windows. Mark was in the front passenger seat while you and Jennie slipped in the back with Mark’s girlfriend, Miyeon.

Miyeon waved at you and you barely got your seatbelt on before the truck lurched forward, making its way down the road towards Mingyu’s house. “Who’s ready to dominate at pong tonight?” Mark bragged.

“Yeahhhhh,” Johnny enthused, reaching over to bump Mark’s fist with his. You rolled your eyes and looked over at Jennie. She just shrugged at you like it wasn’t as big of an annoyance as you were making it out to be.

The truck swung into the driveway of Mingyu’s house, and as Johnny cut the engine, it was replaced by the louder sounds of the house party. More music blasted from the back of the house where the pool was, and you could hear the sounds of splashing along with the hum of many people conversing at once. 

You followed behind Johnny as you weaved through the house, making your way to the kitchen for a drink. The large island was littered with many types of alcohol and random snacks. The signature punch bowl filled with some sort of pink liquid had also made its usual appearance, but you had made that mistake enough times and knew better enough to stay far away from it. 

You grabbed a red solo cup from the stack on the counter, making a mixed drink out of some random soda and liquor that sounded decent. It looked like Johnny had done the same and was pulling you by the hand to go out in the backyard where Mingyu and the rest of their buddies were. Jennie was already cozying up and dancing with some guy you didn’t recognize, likely from another university.

Meanwhile, Jihoon was on a date with his girlfriend, Shayla at a weird little bar across ton. Well, it was supposed to be a date, but all Jihoon had done was down beers while Shayla listened to some guy on the stage in front drone on about how real furs were being used in the fashion industry.

Jihoon hated how Shayla was looking at this guy, like he was the one single-handedly stopping the usage of real furs. Never mind the fact that she was on a date with Jihoon, her boyfriend. Jihoon scowled as he chugged beer after beer. 

He didn’t even notice how drunk he was until he got up and the room started spinning slightly. Stumbling over his chair, he looked over to find that Shayla had gone to the edge of the stage and was actively flirting with the fur guy. Jihoon needed to go to the bathroom and then he needed to get out of there. 

As he was washing his hands in the bathroom, he stared at his reflection in the mirror and realized he had started to sober up rather quickly, but he had ridden here with Shayla. Jihoon found the pay phone near the door of the bar. The opening and closing of the door created cold rushes of air, sobering him even more. He called one of his best friends, who also happened to be a designated driver for when the popular kids had parties. 

After feeding the pay phone the correct amount of coins and dialing the number, Wonwoo’s voice picked up after a few rings. “Jihoooonnnn, what’s up?” Wonwoo asked.

“Can you come get me from that stupid bar Shayla likes? I drank, and Shayla drove here,” Jihoon explained. 

“And you aren’t coming back with her?” Wonwoo questioned. Jihoon looked back toward the table he had been at with Shayla, only to find her making out with the fur dude.

“No, we broke up,” he said, bitterly. 

Wonwoo sighed. “Alright, I’ll come get you before we head to pick someone up at Mingyu’s party,” he said before hanging up. 

Jihoon hung up the line on his end and made a beeline back to where Shayla was. He tapped on her shoulder, breaking her from the make-out session, and immediately her face turned into one of someone who had been caught.

“We’re done, Shayla,” Jihoon said, rather dryly. He turned on his heel, not waiting for a reaction from her and walked out of the bar to wait for Wonwoo outside in the parking lot. 

When Jihoon was busy drowning in beers at the bar, you were also having an unfortunate turn of events. The party started out fine, you were having a good time dancing with Johnny and it progressed into being his partner for beer pong against Mark and Miyeon. 

Unfortunately, you and Johnny were losing. It started out okay, Johnny was being a bit of a gentleman and was drinking for you, but that was leaving him pretty smashed. It was Mark’s turn and he had gotten the ball in another cup, making Johnny drink yet another cup of beer. 

Johnny stumbled backward, spilling most of the contents of his cup on a girl who was walking behind him. It was like a scene from a movie, you watched as Johnny apologized to her and their eyes met each other’s. Anyone around could have seen the immediate connection. 

You originally tried to brush it off but with Johnny being as drunk as he was, it was apparent that something was bound to happen. Later, when you had come inside to use the bathroom, you would find Johnny and that girl sucking face right next to the bathroom door.

A screamed breakup and way too many drinks later, Jennie had called a designated driver to take you home. You sat on Mingyu’s front porch, sulking and watching the world spin when Wonwoo’s car pulled up. 

“Hey there, Y/N,” Wonwoo said, getting out of the driver's seat and approaching you on the porch. You gave him a nonchalant peace sign before noticing he had another passenger in the car. 

“Oh, great. That’s just the thing to top off my night, being stuck in a car with Jihoon while I’m drunk,” you said sarcastically, letting Wonwoo lead you down the steps and toward the car.

“I know, Y/N, but he called me too, and he is my friend as well. Try to bear with it, and you’ll be home soon enough,” Wonwoo said, knowing full well the relationship, or rather hate-ship, between you and Jihoon.

You rolled your eyes but slid into the seat next to Jihoon as Wonwoo shut the door after you. “Seriously, Wonwoo? This is who you needed to pick up from Mingyu’s party?” Jihoon’s annoyance was evident. Already tired from your rant, Wonwoo just gave him a hard stare in the rearview mirror. 

Leaving the party, the car was silent until Wonwoo brought up the reason for picking you up. “Y/N, you aren’t one to get that drunk at these parties. Jennie may have mentioned something happened..” 

You pulled your sweater around you and grumbled. “Johnny got too drunk, and after some weird drama connection shit, I found him and a girl from another university making out. He claims they ‘fell in love’,” you explained, using air quotes at the end. 

“So you broke up?” Jihoon’s question surprised you, but you were too tired and drunk to actively be rude to him

“Yeah, we broke up,” you confirmed.

“Seems to be the theme tonight,” Wonwoo mused from the front seat.

Confused, you looked over at Jihoon who was picking at his hands and looking at something particularly enthralling on the floor of the automobile. So, he and Shayla must have broken up as well. You felt that was interesting since they seemed attached at the hip, attached at the mouth too. Jihoon looked out the window now, and you saw a hurt in his eyes that he so seldom showed, but it was a familiar vulnerability that you remember from when you were kids. 

“We’re here, Y/N,” Wonwoo announced, and you realized he had pulled up in front of your sorority house. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or being in an enclosed space with Jihoon that messed with your perception of time, but you were home quicker than you expected.

“Oh. Um, thanks, Wonwoo,” you mumbled, pushing the passenger door of the car open.

“Are you good? Can you get to the door okay?” Wonwoo asked.

“Yeah,” you responded, swinging your heavy-feeling feet out of the car before shutting the door a little harder than you meant to.

Jihoon watched as you stumbled down the walkway and nearly smacked yourself in the knee when you opened the front door of the sorority, a chuckle escaping him. “Was that a laugh I heard?” Wonwoo asked, turning around in his seat to scrutinize Jihoon’s expression.

“No…” Jihoon mumbled and cleared his throat. Wonwoo just shook his head, turned back to the front and pulled away from the sorority house to drop off his friend. 

“So, are you really that broken up about Shayla?” Wonwoo inquired, filling the five-minute drive with conversation.

“Honestly? Not really. I’m more upset about the way we broke up rather than the actual break up,” Jihoon explained, his hand running at his bangs in annoyance.

“Seriously. Out of everyone she could have kissed, it was some dumb activist guy at the bar. Now that you guys are over, I can say this, but Seok, Seungkwan, and I didn’t really think she fit with you. You deserve so much better,” Wonwoo ranted on Jihoon’s behalf.

The car had pulled up in Jihoon’s driveway while they were talking, and Jihoon slapped a hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder as he got up from the backseat. “Thanks, Woo. I know you guys didn’t care for her much, so now it’s ancient history,” Jihoon said, leaving Wonwoo alone in the car and making his way up his front porch steps.

He had barely gotten into the house and gone up the stairs to his room to flop onto his bed when the phone rang. “No, Seokmin. For the final time, we are not adding dancing suns to the music video edit,” Jihoon said into the phone automatically, not even bothering to say a greeting first.

“Uh, what?” you asked, confused.

Hearing your voice on the other line caused Jihoon to sit upright immediately. “Y/N? How did you get this number?” he questioned, surprised. 

“I remembered it..” you said, softly. As much as you hated Jihoon, your memories of your childhood remained, and that included his phone number. 

“Oh. So..why are you calling?” he asked, falling back onto his bed.

“I had an idea. What if...we dated each other?” You stated your idea, twirling the phone cord around your finger.

“What if we what? Y/N, you’re drunk,” Jihoon exclaimed.

“I'm not anymore, just hear me out. Not really dating but just pretending so that we could get what we wanted. I’d get to go to the sorority dance that I worked hard to plan and maintain my status while making Johnny jealous, and you’d get to show Shayla that she made a big mistake,” you blurted out your crazy idea.

“I don't know where you got this insane idea, but you should drink some water and take an ibuprofen for the nasty headache you’ll have in the morning,” he said, sighing.

“I’m serious, just think about it okay? Goodnight, Ji,” you said, his old nickname rolling off your tongue easily. 

Jihoon sighed again, “Good night, Y/N,” and he hung up the phone before falling asleep.

Your sleep was invaded by the sunlight shining in through your window, and as you opened your eyes, the splitting headache that resulted from last night's events made itself known. You sat up in bed slowly, pressing the palm of your hand against your eyes as if that would help when you remembered your phone call last night with Jihoon. He told you to drink water and take an ibuprofen.

You got up sluggishly and made your way to the bathroom, grabbing the cup that you left on the counter for when you got thirsty in the middle of the night. You filled it with water from the sink and found the ibuprofen bottle that was kept in the cabinet, spilling two pills into your palm. You popped them in your mouth and knocked them back, taking a drink of the water to swallow them. 

As you took a second drink of water for good measure, the rest of your conversation with Jihoon passed through your memories, and you spit water all over the mirror in front of you. You knew that you had been thinking how pretending to date each other would be an option, but you didn’t think you would actually ask him to do it. Apparently, drunken Y/N thought otherwise and had straight up called him and asked him to do it.

You smacked yourself in the forehead, making your head feel worse. “Well, it’s been said. And he didn’t agree to it yet, so let’s see what happens,” you murmured to yourself, resigned to the fact that it had indeed been said and maybe he wouldn’t go for it. No sense in being embarrassed about something you barely remember saying.

Which is why you didn’t expect to have Jihoon standing in front of you in the campus cafe on Monday morning saying, “I’ll do it,” causing you to spit your drink out for the second time in three days.

“You’ll what?” you asked, incredulous, as you wiped the coffee you sprayed all over the table in front of you. 

Jihoon sighed, not wanting to repeat himself. “I said, I’ll do it. Let’s fake date,” he repeated anyway, slowly to make his words heard. You blinked and just stared at him, absorbing what he just said. He stared back, his eyes boring into yours, and you saw no sign of his usual pettiness or jokes.

“Okay,” you finally breathed out, “but we should have some rules.”

“Agreed,” he said, sitting down next to you now.

“Okay….” you said, mulling over what those rules would actually be. “Alright, you’ll need a makeover. No one would believe we are together looking like…this,” you continued, gesturing at his overall self.

“Like what, Y/N?” Jihoon asked, even though he knew full well what you meant.

“We need to make it seem like you are someone I’d go for,” you said, trying to make your case.

“Fine, but I will not like it,” he replied with a glare, and you let out a little triumphant smile. “So then the other rule is that we have an easy out clause,” he said, offering a rule of his own.

“An easy out clause?” you questioned. 

“Yeah. So we can end the fake relationship at any time for any reason, and there won’t be any hard feelings. Other than the ones we already have for each other, of course,” Jihoon continued.

“Alright, an easy out clause,” you agreed. You let the awkward silence stew between the two of you for a bit before you spoke once more. “We both have classes until 4 pm today and then I have some work for the ball to do…are you free tomorrow night?”

“I think so, but why?” he asked, skeptically.

“So we can take care of the first rule, your makeover,” you replied.

Jihoon grimaced. “Okay, meet me in front of my house at 6 pm tomorrow,” he said, getting up and stuffing his hands in his pockets before leaving for his class. You attempted to finish what was left of your coffee and head off to your next class as well.

The next day at 6 pm, like promised, you were standing in front of a very familiar house from your childhood-Jihoon’s house. While you joined a sorority and lived on campus, Jihoon still lived here with his dad. Not only was it close to the university, but you figured some part of him didn’t want to leave his dad alone. 

You took a deep breath and walked up the front steps, ringing the doorbell. The door swung open, revealing Jihoon’s dad. “Well hello, Y/N. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” he said, opening the door further to let you step inside. 

“Hi Mr. Lee,” you said, standing in the foyer rather awkwardly. Honestly, the last time you stepped foot in this house was the day of Mrs. Lee’s funeral. It was also the last time you and Jihoon acted like friends.

“Ji should be down in a minute,” Mr Lee said, leaving you and going back into the kitchen. You looked down at your feet, rocking back and forth on your heels until you heard the creaking of the stairs. Jihoon looked like his usual self, wearing jeans and a band tee. You couldn’t help but smile. However, if the two of you dating were to seem real then he needed to fit in with the popular crowd. And that started with a look that aligned with that.

Jihoon cleared his throat, suddenly standing in front of you, and you realized you must have spaced out. “Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah, we should get going,” you said. He grabbed his car keys from the small table near the door before ushering you back through the front door and closing it behind him. He also opened the passenger door of the car for you, making you quirk an eyebrow at his actions. His only response was a shrug of the shoulders. 

After you were both settled in the car he asked, “So where to?”

“The mall,” you responded with an excited smile.

Jihoon groaned, “Are you trying to kill my reputation as a geek?” You blinked, surprised at his joking tone before letting out a giggle.

“Precisely,” you answered, laughing once more. Jihoon started the car, driving toward the demise of his geekdom, or at least the image of it.

After about fifteen minutes had passed, he pulled into the parking lot of the city mall, also known as the place where all the popular kids shopped and hung out. 

You walked into the large, store-filled building with Jihoon trailing behind you. Pausing at the entrance, you thought about what you needed to do first. “New outfits,” you pondered out loud. You looked over at Jihoon who was mashing his lips together and you grabbed the edge of his shirt, pulling him with you to the first clothing store.

You deposited him in the middle of the store, near the dressing rooms. Jihoon stood there almost in awe as you swirled around the store, picking up different combinations of pants and shirts to create outfits for him to try on. He was already exhausted, and he hadn’t even tried anything on yet.

After what felt like forever, you returned, holding up multiple outfits for him. He sighed, something he was doing a lot when he was with you. “The sooner you try them on, the sooner we can be done,” you said, trying to sound motivating. Lucky for you, he knew you were right and took the hangers of clothes from you. He trudged into the dressing room and shut the door behind him.

You made him come out after every outfit, much to his annoyance. You rather enjoyed it, clapping and smiling for most of the outfits. You were proud of yourself for picking things out that made him look the perfect mix of sophisticated and casual. You gathered all the outfits that worked and brought them up to the checkout counter, once again with Jihoon trailing behind you. 

Coming to stand next to you, Jihoon went to take his wallet out of his pocket, but you grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Don’t worry about it. It was my idea for the makeover,” you said, handing money to the cashier as she placed his new clothes in a bag. She handed the bag to you.

“Are you sure?” Jihoon asked.

“I’m sure,” you confirmed, handing the bag of clothes over to him. As you pulled your hand away, your stomach let out a few grumbles. 

He let out an amused snort and said, “This place has a food court, right?” You nodded, and your stomach grumbled some more. “Let’s get some food then.” 

You led the way toward the center of the mall, where all the food smells were coming from and a few minutes later, the two of you sat across from each other at a table with pieces of pizza in front of you. Another memory with Jihoon crossed your mind as you chewed a piece of the cheesy slice. “You remember the time Seungkwan’s mom specially bought that only cheese pizza for him at your birthday party and when he fell asleep early, we ate it all?” you asked, a smirk gracing your face as you remembered your childhood antics.

“He was so mad. He didn’t talk to us for like a week and then hid his pizza the next time there was a party,” Jihoon laughed. It grew silent again after that, not exactly an awkward silence but not a comfortable one either. You were nearly done with your pizza when Jihoon asked another question. “This makeover doesn’t include other things, like cutting my hair or something?” 

You looked up at him. You looked at his slightly shaggy black hair and his bangs that lightly brushed over his forehead. You didn’t know what possessed you, but you reached forward and grazed you fingered through the ends of his hair. Your eyes locked and instead of the growling it had done earlier, your stomach did flip flops. You panicked slightly and abruptly pulled your hand away.  “No, I don’t think we need to change anything else..” you said, looking down at the table.

Before things could get weirder, you two finished eating and left the mall with your mission accomplished. 

The car was quiet as it sat in the driveway of your sorority and Jihoon wondered why you hadn’t taken your seatbelt off to get out of the car yet. You were struggling, debating whether you wanted to tell him something that you had thought about telling him for ages. What better time than to say it now, a day when you spent the most time with him than you had in years? 

“Listen, Jihoon…” you started in a bit of a solemn tone. He turned to look at you. “When your mom got sick, I just didn’t know what to do or how to feel. Then at her funeral, I wasn’t sure how to comfort you or even if I could. And then you started getting in trouble at school and hanging out with other people. I’m just…I’m sorry.” 

Jihoon gave a wry smile after listening to your whole blurted speech. “It’s okay, I get it,” he said. “I didn’t know what to do or how to feel either, and then eventually we became…enemies sorta?” 

You nodded. “How about we be, uh, frenemies now, I guess?”

He snorted at that. “Frenemies,” he agreed.

Eventually, you took off your seatbelt and opened the car door. Before you fully shut it, you peeked your head in to remind Jihoon of your next plans. “Remember, we should be seen together at the football game tomorrow and then at the diner with my friends after.” 

He cringed but said, “Okay, see you tomorrow then,” and you shut the car door before watching him pull out of the driveway.

A few hours before the football game you mentioned to Jihoon that you were in the journalism room with Jennie, Miyeon, and a few other girls who were part of the ball planning committee. You were trying to finalize the theme so that you could get started on getting the decorations. The ball was held at the same place every year, so you didn’t have to worry about that, at least. Everyone was set on their own idea for the theme, and no one could come to a decision, making you massage your temples in frustration. 

You were really regretting not grabbing that coffee before this meeting when the very thing you wanted appeared in front of you. A iced coffee was sat in front of you and you looked up to find Jihoon, looking nonchalant with his hands in his pockets like always. “Thanks. How did you know I was here?” you asked, surprised.

He shrugged. “I was here working in the editing room on something with Seungkwan and Wonwoo and saw you were still here. I thought you could probably use the caffeine.” You squinted at him before slowly taking a drink of the coffee, wondering if he had some sort of other motive. Then he leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “I’m just trying to make it look like we didn’t, you know, suddenly go from hating each other to dating. So, just go with it.”

Of course, there it was. He couldn’t have really just thought to bring it to you for no reason at all other than just because. You were supposed to be fake dating starting today, so he needed to make it look true. 

Arguing between Jennie and Miyeon brought you back to reality, and you sighed. “Guys!” you snapped, making them both stop midargument. “Look, it’s almost time for the game and we should be there. Let’s try and come to an agreement by next week. If that’s not possible, then I’ll be making the final decision, by myself,” you said. Miyeon looked surprised at your unusual forcefulness while Jennie just looked, well annoyed. 

You grabbed what was left of the coffee Jihoon brought you and him by the arm. “We should get over to the stadium,” you said and left the room with the others, wondering what was up with you, or more importantly you and him. 

“Okay, chill,” Jihoon said, pulling his arm back from you once you were in the hall.

“Sorry,” you said, letting him pull his arm back. You looked up at him, finally noticing that he was also wearing one of the outfits you had picked out the day before. You smiled at him.

“What?” he asked, wondering why the heck you were smiling at him like a weirdo in the middle of the hallway.

“I didn’t think you would be wearing the clothes yet,” you responded.

“I thought that was the deal? Now come on, let’s watch some stupid game and start this dating thing in front of your friends.” Jihoon grabbed your hand, leading you down the hall and out the door to head to the football stadium. Why was your heart feeling funny?

An hour later, Jihoon was sitting next to you in the bleachers complaining in your ear about how “all a football game is, is an excuse for dudes to touch other dudes' butts.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Go, Fight, Win!” A chant had started in the stadium and was gaining more people with it. After about the third round of the chant, you joined, smirking at Jihoon. He looked at you chanting with your other friends that sat nearby and shook his head. You nudged him, smiling like a maniac. 

Rolling his eyes, he finally joined with a monotone, “Go, Fight, Win!” and a half-hazard fist pump in the air. Then something happened. Watching the game, feeling the excitement of the crowd, and seeing you sitting next to him, enjoying yourself; he thought maybe this wasn’t so bad, fun even. Next thing he knew, as the chant ended he was taking turns shouting insults at the refs with Mark and high-fiving him. 

You looked at him. It was peculiar. All that fuss and now he was fitting in like he had been a part of the group from the beginning. You couldn’t help but think that it could have been this way all along, as if you and Jihoon never had been enemies. 

After the game, you and Jihoon made an official new couple appearance at the diner your friends often frequented after games. You had barely sat down in the group booth with your food when Jennie pounced. “So after seeing you two together twice today, I need to ask. Are you two like a thing now?” she asked, pointing between the two of you. You nodded. Jennie gave a look of distaste. “How on earth did that happen?” 

“So, remember the night at Mingyu’s party when Johnny and I broke up and I got drunk, you called me a designated driver? Well, Jihoon had also called Wonwoo and was in the car too. It just sort of happened?” you explained. None of that was technically wrong at all, that was what happened. You just left out the part about the drunken phone call later and you know, the fact that it was fake. 

Jennie looked over at Jihoon, who had his mouth full of fries. “Yeah, pretty much,” Jihoon confirmed with his mouth full and Jennie gave a slightly disgusted look. Seeming satisfied with that answer, Jennie left it alone and conversation flowed around the table. Mark, Mingyu, and Jihoon were debating things about a video game and you found yourself smiling once again at the fact that they seemed to be getting along well.

Yet, your smile fell when you looked at the other side of the table to see Johnny and his new girlfriend making out. You didn’t know why, but tears were gathering at the corners of your eyes. “I’ll be right back, bathroom,” you mumbled. Jihoon heard the tone in your voice and the sheen in your eyes and was pulled from his video game conversation. He immediately saw what likely upset you, and decided he needed to do something about it when you came back.

In the bathroom, you splashed water on your face and hoped that would help regain your composure. You took a few deep breaths and made sure there was no trace of your sudden tear-up before heading back out to the table. As you sat back down next to Jihoon, he asked “Everything okay, babe?” He wrapped an arm over your shoulders pulling you close to him and placed a peck on your forehead. 

Babe? Your brain malfunctioned and you were frozen at Jihoon’s side. “Y/N….” he hissed in your ear and you broke from your stupor. “Oh, sorry. Yes, I’m good,” you answered. He must be doing this for show, to make it really look like you were dating and to make Johnny jealous, right? It had to be that, of course.

“So, you’re friends with DD Wonwoo, right?” Mark was asking Jihoon now.

“Yeah, we are friends. And it’s Wonwoo, not DD Wonwoo. Just Wonwoo,” he answered and you could hear irritation starting in his voice.

“Cool, you think he’d be down to be the designated driver for all our parties? We’ll pay.” Jihoon’s body tensed at the question.

“Okayyyyy,” you said the minute Mark finished his sentence, getting up and pulling Jihoon out of the booth with you. “It’s getting late and I’m tired. We’ll see you guys later,” you rushed out before dragging Jihoon out of the diner with you and leaving what was left of your food on the table.

“What the hell was that? Wonwoo has probably saved the lives of half those people in there and what? They just want to continue getting drunk off their rockers and think throwing money at him is compensation for that?” Jihoon was fuming. He was pacing back and forth in the parking lot, tugging his hand through his hair. 

“Jihoon…” you started. 

“Who do they think they are? Do they have no integrity? Did they trade their brains for being popular?” He continued to rant.

“Jihoon!” you said again, sharper this time.

“What?!” he shouted and you flinched slightly.

You didn’t know why, but you felt the urge to comfort him and calm him down. And to apologize even. You came up next to him, brushing his hand with yours, and said, “I’m sorry.” Jihoon’s breathing calmed down and his eyes met yours. “Endure it for me, please? I promise you and Wonwoo can do something mean to him the next time he’s drunk, okay?” you said. 

Jihoon cracked a smile at that. “Fine…” he responded and stalked over to the car so he could get the two of you back home.

You and Jihoon had made appearances at a few other things during the week, but as Friday approached there was actually one you were looking forward to the most. It was starting to get warmer, which meant some days were spent soaking up the sun at the river.

The ball’s committee had also taken your previous threat about choosing the theme on your own seriously and had finally come to a consensus. The theme was Moments in Time and you were looking forward to downtime with your friends before having to plan more for the ball. Maybe you were looking forward to downtime with Jihoon too. 

This time you were all riding with Mingyu in his jeep, floats and picnic supplies strapped to the utility bar on top of the vehicle. He had come to pick you up with everyone else in the car but Jihoon and he would be picked up last. Which meant that when Mingyu honked at Jihoon’s house, the only seat left in the car was in the backseat, squished in the middle next to you.

Squeezing in next to you, you became immediately aware of his bare legs pressing against your own. He was in the swim trunks you had picked out for him and a t-shirt, already prepared for the day's activities. “Ouch,” you said as he accidentally pinched your arm between him and the seat. 

“I’m sorry, is this better?” Jihoon asked, moving his arm over your shoulders so that you could settle next to him. 

You swallowed down the butterflies that were now becoming a common occurrence when you were with him. You were still doing everything you could to ignore them. It was just the proximity and situation making you feel that way. You didn’t actually like him. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

You didn’t dare speak words out loud, afraid it would come out garbled or as a squeak. You just nodded in response, the warming of your cheeks still threatening to give you away. Throughout the entire drive to the river, you were painfully aware of how much his body was touching yours.

When Mingyu pulled into the parking lot of the River Park, you nearly flung yourself out of the car causing both Jihoon and Jennie to look at you like you were insane. As the others got out of the car, you moved your attention to retrieving your things from the back. You grabbed your bag, which held a swim towel, sunscreen, and a few snacks.

More bags were grabbed, leaving the trunk area empty while Mark and Mingyu worked on getting the other things down from the rack on the roof. You waited until everything had been taken before walking down the path that led to the larger bank of the river. The area was a little rocky but many of the rocks were big enough to lay blankets and towels on. 

You spotted one big enough for multiple people to spread out on and it was also close enough to the river itself, which would make it easy to get in and out of the water. It was decided the girls would take the spot you found and the boys would hang out on the next one over. You spread your towel out, setting your bag near the front and slipping your sandals off on the other end to weigh it down before settling down on it in a cross-legged position.

Jennie and Miyeon put their things out next to you, while Jihoon was helping Mark and Mingyu set their chairs out on the other rock. You leaned backward on your hands, enjoying the sun on your face while chatting about things every once in a while with Jennie and Miyeon. You had tuned them out a little when Miyeon started talking about Mark’s sexual habits, comparing them with things Jennie’s many partners had done. Not only did you not want to know those things about Mark, but you didn’t really have anything to contribute since you and Jihoon obviously weren't on that level.

“Y/N? What about you and Jihoon?” Miyeon asked, bringing your attention back to the conversation. 

“Well….it’s a secret,” you answered, trying to be as elusive as possible so you didn’t have to try and come up with more lies than needed.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Jennie goaded. “You cleaned Jihoon up so nicely, I'm sure you’ve had a piece of that.”

You looked at your best friend in annoyance. “Jihoon is a private person, I’d rather not discuss our sex life,” you responded. Miyeon seemed to understand but the look on Jennie’s face was like she took your response as a challenge.

The boys were having a similar conversation over at their rock, with Mingyu bragging about his latest endeavors. Jihoon didn’t really understand the need to boast about the subject as if it were a competition. “But what about Y/N, though?” Mingyu asked, looking over at Jihoon.

“What about her?” Jihoon questioned.

“She’s hot. You’d be stupid not to get a little ‘something, something’ while dating her,” Mingyu continued.

Jihoon narrowed his eyes, “Even if I have, Y/N has feelings too and I’m not going to divulge her sex life without her permission.” 

“Okay, dude. I was just trying to make conversation,” Mingyu surrendered, putting his hands up as a white flag. 

Mark took that as a sign for him and Mingyu to grab some floaties and go hang out in the river. Jihoon had brought his walkman and slipped on the headphones, going into his own little music world. Miyeon and Jennie had grown quiet now and were tanning behind you.

After scooting forward on your towel, you stuck your feet in the cool river water and let yourself relax a bit. You looked over to find Mark and Mingyu having a war on the floaties, both trying to push the other off and into the water. You shook your head at their antics and moved your feet back and forth in the water, creating a calming effect for yourself.

You weren’t sure how long you were all hanging out there but eventually Mingyu mentioned that you should all get home and you started packing things up. You looked over to find Jihoon gone from his previous spot.

Your eyes wandered around the river bank area and you finally spotted him, playing with two younger kids. “Oh noooo, you got me,” you heard him exclaim in mock upset. The two kids were squirting him with water from the super soakers they each had, both giggling the more exaggerated Jihoon sounded. 

He moved, chasing them around and getting revenge with his own super soaker. You couldn’t help but smile at the pure joy you saw on his face as he played with them. He looked so at ease with them. You thought that maybe you really were starting to fall for him, but if you were then you couldn’t keep up this fake dating ruse. You promptly shook the thoughts from your head. 

“Come on Captain Kangaroo, our ride is leaving,” you shouted across the bank. He looked up at your voice and shot you a devastatingly adorable smile that showed off his dimples. He gave the water gun back to the kids and he ruffled their hair, telling them he had fun. 

He jogged to where you were, saying “Okay, let’s get going.” He picked up his things from the rock he and the boys were on earlier and the two of you headed back up the path to Mingyu’s jeep. All the items you had brought had been put back in the trunk and everyone was just waiting for you and Jihoon so you could head back home. You two were squished against each other again, in a similar position as on the way there. However, you weren’t paying attention to that part as much now that the scene of him playing with the kids earlier kept replaying in your head. Before you knew it, you all had been dropped off at your respective residences and it was time to settle down for the evening. 

Jihoon had just walked in the door when his dad appeared holding the house phone. “Ah, good timing. Jihoon just came in, Seungkwan. Here,” he said, holding the phone out for Jihoon to take. 

“Hey, Kwan. What’s up?” Jihoon said into the phone, bringing it up the stairs to his room with him. 

“The Pixies are playing at the bar tomorrow night. Come with Seokmin, Wonwoo, and I,” Seungkwan said.

“I don’t know. I think one of Y/N’s friends is having a party that we are supposed to go to.”

Seungkwan sighed heavily. “I wasn’t going to bring this up, but you’ve changed. You used to hang out with us, you know, your best friends, all the time and now you're always with Y/N and her group of populars. Are we not good enough for you anymore, Jihoon?” 

“Jesus, Seungkwan. No, I haven’t changed. I don’t like hanging out with them, I’m just there to make Y/N happy and somewhat get along with them.” Jihoon explained, annoyance tingeing his voice. 

“Whatever you say,” Seungkwan gave a flippant response.

“Tell you what, I’ll talk to Y/N and see if we can come with you guys to the concert instead. Okay?” Jihoon compromised.

“Fine, let me know later,” Seungkwan conceded.

“Okay, bye.” Jihoon hung up the phone and rubbed his hands over his face. He didn’t think he was changing at all. He wasn’t fitting in with that crowd, was he? He was only pretending so that you two could fake date, right? 

Jihoon picked the cordless phone back up from the bed where he flung it after saying goodbye to Seungwan and dialed your number.

“Hello?” your voice sounded from the other end.

“Hey,” Jihoon said.

“Jihoon? You usually don’t call me first,” you mentioned.

“I know, but I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay…” you responded, a little confused.

“I know we are supposed to go to another party tomorrow but do you think we could do something with my friends instead? I feel like we only do things with your friends,” he complained.

You let out a rush of air. “Okay,” you agreed.

“Okay?” Jihoon asked, surprised you agreed that easily.

“Yeah, you’re right. And it seems weird for a couple to hang out with only one group of friends. Plus, they used to be my friends too…” you trailed off.

“Alright, then there’s a band we follow playing at a bar we go to. Seungkwan invited us and both Wonwoo and Seokmin will be there too. I can come get you at 5 pm tomorrow,” he told you.

“Sounds good. Hey, today was kind of nice wasn’t it?” you asked, a smile on your face as you remembered.

“Yeah, it was kind of nice,” Jihoon admitted and you both hung up the phone.

Even though it was a Saturday afternoon, Jihoon found himself on campus in the broadcasting room. Seungkwan and Wonwoo were there earlier too but Jihoon wanted to finish editing the music video they had been working on. They had gone to get lunch and would be back later. 

It wasn’t that he was in a real hurry to finish it exactly, but he tended to immerse himself in his projects when he felt unsettled about something. He wasn’t even sure what he was specifically feeling weird about. Was it the fact that he really seemed to be getting along with your friends? Or was it that his heart seemed to speed up every time he caught your eyes yesterday?

All that could be heard in the room was the clicking of the mouse as he edited, thoughts swirling in his head. He was so distracted that he didn’t even realize that Wonwoo and Seungkwan had come back and that it was three hours later. He was brought back to reality as Seungkwan snapped his fingers in front of his face, literally snapping him out of whatever trance he was in. “Hellooooo, Jihoon,” Seungwan said, trying to get his attention. 

“Oh, sorry, Kwan,” Jihoon responded and turned around in the computer chair he was sitting in. 

“We should probably leave so we can all get ready for the concert tonight with Seok,” Wonwoo mentioned.

“Did you ask your girlfriend? Are you coming?” Seungkwan asked with a hint of bitterness.

“Actually, yeah. Y/N was kind of excited about it, so we’ll be there,” Jihoon said, ignoring Seungkwan’s tone.

Rather than getting into another heated discussion about whether Jihoon was acting like himself or not, Seungkwan and Wonwoo left and so did Jihoon after finishing the last bit of video editing. He went back home to get ready in another outfit you had chosen that day at the mall before going to pick you up. A few hours later, he was waiting in the car outside your dorm like he had multiple times before.

Jihoon drummed his fingers on the steering wheel along with the beat of the song that was on the radio as he waited for you. He was pretty into it and didn’t see when you had come out of the house. You grinned as you slowly approached the car. Jihoon had been into music when you were younger and it was nice to know he truly hadn’t changed much despite everything that happened. “Okay drummer boy, I’m here. We should leave,” you said, making him jump slightly at your voice before he unlocked the passenger side for you to get in.

“So what band are we going to see?” you asked when Jihoon had pulled out onto the road that would take you to the bar.

“The Pixies. Wonwoo found them one time when he was DD’ing and went to pick Seokmin up at the bar one time. They showed Seungkwan and me the next time they played and we liked them too, so we try to catch them every time they play there.” Jihoon explained and you could tell how much he liked the band.

“Hmm, okay. Well I’m excited to hang out with you guys, to see Seungkwan, and to get to know Wonwoo and Seokmin even more,” you said and you really were. You wanted to catch a glimpse of what Jihoon had been like for the period of time you didn’t know him. He hummed in acknowledgment. It was quiet for a few minutes before you spoke again. “Hey, do I..look okay? I’ve actually never been to this kind of thing before..” you asked, feeling a little nervous.

Jihoon looked a little surprised, but then again seeing a girl punk rock band at a hole-in-the-wall bar was not exactly your scene. Eventually, he scanned your outfit, taking in the dark jeans and nice shirt you were wearing. “Yeah, you look nice,” he responded. He was probably just being polite but you noticed he was also wearing something similar, making you wonder why you spent so much time trying to find the right outfit in the first place. 

He pulled into the parking lot of the bar and parked next to a car that was familiar to you at this point, Wonwoo’s. You followed behind him as he walked into the bar and scanned the area for his friends. “Jihoon! Y/N!” you heard someone shout over the band that was already playing. You walked with Jihoon to where Seungkwan had shouted from, in the middle of a crowd standing somewhat near the stage. It got louder the closer you got to where Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Wonwoo were.

“Hey, boys!” you greeted them over the music. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Seungkwan said when you got closer. Wonwoo gave a small wave and Seokmin flashed a smile.

“I’m going to grab some drinks from the bar. Want anything?” Jihoon asked you all.

“Martini for me, please,” Seungkwan said.

“Suprise me,” came Seokmin’s response.

“I’m driving, of course, so just club soda?” Wonwoo asked.

Jihoon looked over at you, waiting for your order. “Rum and coke?” you asked. Jihoon did not expect that from you. He figured you’d want something more fancy like Seungkwan wanted.

“Okay, be back soon then,” Jihoon said and he disappeared into the crowd.

You turned your attention to the stage in front of you that had since grown quiet, guessing that the band that was playing when you walked in was the opener for who you were really here to see. You were making small talk with the three boys while waiting for the main event and for Jihoon to come back. As you had noticed before, Wonwoo was quiet but funny and had quite a knack for video editing. Seokmin was bright, adding a lightness to their group. You talked with Seungkwan about your junior high days when you, Jihoon, and he made up a trio. You remembered those days fondly and definitely noticed how wary Seungkwan was when talking about that part of your shared past.

Before you could address that, the crowd started cheering and colored lights were starting to shine on the stage as a group of girls came on stage with their instruments. They looked amazing. The girl in front had her hair teased in a high pony and wore silver pants that matched the glittering tank top of the girl drummer behind her. She picked up a guitar and started playing a riff that must have been from one of their well-known songs, judging by the howling in the crowd. As the song continued to play, you realized you liked it. The punk aspect was not something you would not have normally picked, but it made you feel something.

Jihoon was still waiting for your drinks over at the bar and was turned around to watch the stage. His eyes were automatically drawn to where you were, finding you with your eyes glued to the stage and complete joy written on your face. He watched as you got closer to the stage, starting to jump up and down with the music. He honestly couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “Here you go,” the bartender said from behind him, setting the drinks on the bar top. Jihoon grabbed them all, balancing them in his hands and set off back into the crowd with an amused smile on his lips.

He wove back through all the people, stopping to give his friends their drinks before moving forward in the crowd to where you were standing. The song was finishing as he reached you and you screamed and clapped for the band, making Jihoon laugh at how much you were actually enjoying this. He tapped you on the shoulder and you turned, the look on your face probably the happiest he had seen recently.

“Your drink,” Jihoon said, passing the glass to you.

“Thank you,” you said, taking it from him and giving it a light sip before turning your attention to the next song. You began bouncing up and down to the beat of the new song, as much as you could without spilling your drink. Jihoon thought you were cute like this. 

He stood there enjoying the music with you, his own drink in hand until you heard Wonwoo let out an “Ah, shit,” somewhere behind you. 

“What’s wrong?” Jihoon questioned. 

“She’s here,” Wonwoo responded.

“Who?” you asked, confused. 

You followed Jihoon’s line of sight before you spotted who and he spoke her name. “Shayla.” She had a guy hanging off her, which you could only assume was the one she cheated on Jihoon with. You watched as they acted all lovey-dovey, making Jihoon look positively miserable. Her eyes crossed paths with Jihoon and you could only think of one thing to do, you kissed him. 

You made out with him to be exact, tongue and all. You couldn’t bear how hurt he looked, couldn’t stand the fact that Shayla was looking at him like she still cared. Jihoon didn’t know how he should respond other than to let you continue kissing him. You kept sneaking peeks at Shayla out of the corner of your eye as you kept making out with him. Eventually, Shayla looked away with a bit of a sneer and pulled her boy toy to another area of the bar. 

You pulled away from Jihoon and said, “Sorry, I was just returning the favor.” He had rescued you in a similar way, albeit a tamer way, that night at the dinner when your ex was there. You took it a little further than intended but you were just making it even, weren’t you? 

“Uh, thanks?” Jihoon responded, a light blush warming his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. This was not a reaction you expected from him or even one you thought he could have. It was actually pretty adorable. You tried not to think about it. You didn’t see it because you were too focused on the boy you weren’t supposed to like, but Wonwoo and Seungwan shared a look. 

“They are about to play the next song,” you said, trying to redirect attention back to the band and the stage. Jihoon only nodded, not knowing what else to say after that. You let the music take away thoughts of whatever feelings you might be starting to have for your fake boyfriend and by the time the concert was over, you had buried them deep in your mind once again.

In the parking lot of the bar, you said goodbye to Seungkwan, Wonwoo, and Seokmin before you got in the car with Jihoon to go home. It was a little awkward again before Jihoon turned the radio on. (You Drive Me) Crazy by Britney Spears came on and he groaned before he reached over to change the station. “Aw come on, Ji. Leave it there,” you whined before starting to sing along to the song. He grimaced at you but pulled his hand away from the dash, leaving the song on. “You drive me craaaazzzyyy, I just can’t sleep!” you sang loudly and badly on purpose. You poked your elbow into Jihoon’s side, trying to get him to sing with you as you continued with the lyrics.

After a few harder nudges Jihoon belted out, “Baby, thinking of you keeps me up all night”. You gasped, putting your hand over your mouth. You didn’t think you’d actually get him to sing it with you. He continued driving with the two of you singing the rest of the song and giggling like maniacs, Jihoon showing a smile genuine enough that the dimples you only saw one other time appeared. You found yourself having fun more often with Jihoon and spending time with him was beginning to feel more and more natural, like you never parted ways to begin with.

Once again, you found yourself in the journalism room working on things for the ball. More specifically, the decorations. This time you were by yourself, there was yet another party happening tonight and the others left you so they could get Jennie’s house ready since she was hosting this time. Honestly, you didn’t mind and felt like you could get more things done without Jennie’s constant nitpicking. 

You were looking at a few different options for string lights when someone you didn’t expect to see walked in. Shayla. “Um, Mrs. Rathburn asked me to bring you the posters you had printed from the big office printer,” she said, showing the large posters she held in her arms.

“Oh, thanks for bringing them. You can set them over there,” you responded, gesturing toward the bigger table next to you. Shayla set them where you indicated and started toward the door but hesitated, turning back around. She looked like she wanted to say something to you. “Was there anything else?” you prompted.

She pondered for a moment before saying,” He seems happier with you.” You were sure what to say when she continued. “He never wanted to go places with me, never wanted to stop by the lab to see me, not the way he does with you.” 

The way she said it struck a chord with you. You knew she was a medical science major and worked in the chem lab a lot but it didn’t occur to you before and obviously, she didn’t know either. “He didn’t tell you about his mother, did he?” you asked. The confused look on Shayla’s face confirmed your suspicions. “His mother died when we were younger…of cancer. So you can imagine why he wouldn’t want to be around medicine and labs.”

Now she had a shocked look on her face, mixed with something like pity. “I didn’t know. Well, I hope he continues to be happy with you,” she said as she turned back around and walked out of the room. For once, you felt a little sorry for Shayla but fake or not, Jihoon was with you now. You sighed and got up from the chair you were sitting in, pulling the posters closer to you so you could examine them to make sure they had been printed properly. They looked good and you were glad that nothing was wrong with them. 

A few minutes later, Jihoon walked through the same classroom door that Shayla walked out of. “Hey, how's it going in here?” he asked casually. 

You shrugged, “It’s going. But, what are you doing here? You didn’t bring me coffee this time.” You grinned, enjoying being able to give him a hard time now without it turning into a big deal. 

“Wow, see if I ever bring you coffee again..” he teased back. “Anyway, I was working with Seungkwan on some AV stuff for the school news show and thought I’d stop by. It was strange though, I passed by Shayla in the hall and she was acting oddly nice to me.” 

“Huh, weird,” you said. There was no way you were going to tell him that you told her about his mother. He must have had a reason for not telling her, although some part of you was relieved he hadn’t.

“So, how do you feel about having dinner at my house before we go to Jennie’s party? My dad invited you. I think he’s noticed how close we’ve gotten again,” he asked, looking a little sheepish.

“I’d like that,” you responded, the corners of your lips turning up at the thought of Mr. Lee making Jihoon ask you over. You gathered all the things you were working on, organizing them so they made sense when you went to work on them again and left the room to go home with Jihoon.

You had really only been just inside of the door of Jihoon’s house since you reconnected. It felt weird going past the dining room threshold as you followed him into the kitchen, even though as a child you had been in every room in the house. It was a reminder of how things truly had changed after his mom died. 

Yet, the sight of Mr. Lee in the kitchen and the familiar smell of his famous Yangnyeom chicken transported you right back to those times when you and Jihoon would get called in for dinner when you had been playing outside or doing homework together. Mr. Lee turned around after plating the chicken. “Glad you could join us, Y/N! I had to practically beg Jihoon to ask you,” he beamed, walking into the dining room to set the large plate on the table.

“Thank you for inviting me Mr. Lee,” you said, politely as you took a seat in one of the chairs at the dining table. 

“At least I didn’t have to drag you two inside from the treehouse,” he said with a laugh and you found it ironic that he remembered that as well. 

Your eyes shifted to sliding doors on the other side of the dining room, looking out into the backyard to see if the treehouse still existed. “It’s still there..” you murmured as you made out the familiar wood walls poking out the only large tree still in the yard.

“Of course it is! Jihoon kept it up all these years and made sure no nail or board came out of place,” Mr. Lee exclaimed rather proudly. You looked over at Jihoon who was doing his best not to look at you. You thought it would have been destroyed by now. Jihoon’s actions lately were already confusing, but the fact that he had preserved the treehouse all this time confused you even more. 

The rest of dinner went well, it was comforting that it felt almost the same as it did when you were young. Well, minus a major person, but you tried your best not to think about that. You and Jihoon were helping Mr. Lee clean up when he glanced at the clock on the wall. “We should think about heading to the party now,” he said.

“I got the rest of this. You crazy kids go have fun at the party,” Mr. Lee said, basically telling the two of you to skedaddle already.

“Don’t wait up,” Jihoon joked, following you out of the kitchen and back into the front room.

Since you were busy enough today, you chose an outfit when you got ready this morning that would translate well from everyday to party. It’s not like you were the host or like it was that special of an event, plus you were willing to bet something would be spilled on it by the end of the night anyway. 

“Let me change into something more suitable and I’ll be right back,” Jihoon said to you. You nodded and sat on the bottom of the stairs to wait for him. Five minutes later, he came down the stairs looking effortless and amazing at the same time. Once again, making it hard for you to ignore the ever-annoying butterflies that filled your stomach. 

“Let’s get going, we don’t want to be late,” you mumbled, turning your attention back to the front door.

The party was already in full swing when you arrived and you narrowly avoided being mowed over by Mingyu and Mark playing some sort of drunk game involving a soccer ball the minute you and Jihoon walked into Jennie’s house. You took Jihoon’s hand in yours as you wove through people, telling yourself it was so that you didn’t lose him in the crowd but you couldn’t help but feel like they fit together.

You made your way into the center of the house where more things seemed to be going on when you caught the sound of the familiar voices of your friends in the backyard. Jennie was already drunk, laughing loudly as she swayed her hips to the music blasting from speakers on either side of the yard. “There you guys areeeeeeee,” Jennie exclaimed, her words sounding slightly slurred which gave a bit of an indication of how much alcohol she’d had so far. 

You stifled a laugh as Miyeon gave you a look that essentially said “help me” as she lightly sipped on the drink she had while keeping an eye on Jennie. Mark suddenly appeared, without Mingyu this time. “Yoooo, Jihoon. Come be my partner, Mingyu got too drunk and I need someone who actually has hand-eye coordination,” he said, trying to rope Jihoon into whatever hair-brained game they had been playing. 

Mark dragged him off before he could protest, leaving you with just the girls. “You know, I wasn’t sure about Jihoon in the beginning, but the makeover he had really suits him well. If you weren’t dating him, I would be all over that,” Jennie babbled, the multiple drinks in her system acting like an unwanted truth serum. You felt a hint of animosity toward her, and you had to keep telling yourself that you shouldn’t be. You weren’t dating for real, but in principle, it was since nobody else knew that. 

To make it easier to resist the urge to strangle Jennie, you excused yourself and went to get a drink from the bar on the other side of the patio that you assumed Jennie paid to be there. Walking up to the bartender, you ordered something that tasted good but wouldn’t get you blasted immediately. A few seconds wait and you thanked the bartender, taking your drink from him. You turned around, maybe to go find where Mark dragged Jihoon off to when you found yourself face to face with your ex.

“Oh, Y/N. I was actually looking for you,” Johnny said. He was just passing by but he was clearly looking for someone. You, apparently. 

“Um, okay…didn’t you come with your new girlfriend?” you asked, confused as to why he was looking for you when he seemed so infatuated with the girl the last time you had seen him.

“Well, that’s kind of why I was looking for you. Let’s find a quieter place to talk,” he motioned to some chairs that sat out off the side of the patio where fewer people were milling around. You sat down in one and he sat in the one across from you.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” you questioned, not exactly interested but he did specifically seek you out.

“I know you are with Jihoon now, but I was wondering if I could take you to the dance?” Johnny asked, with what he thought might be a convincing smile on his face. You choked on your drink. He couldn’t be serious. The very thing you had wanted before everything got messy and he was asking you now?

“But what about your girlfriend?” you inquired.

“She broke up with me, said she found someone new,” he shrugged. You snorted. Ironic wasn’t it? She broke up with him for nearly the same reason he broke up with you.

“Once upon a time, all I ever wanted was for you to take me to the ball I planned. But you know what? I’m not the same person as I was all those months ago and I’m with Jihoon now. Go find some other poor sucker to go with you because I won’t,” you responded and you knew it was true. You weren’t the same person anymore. You could care less about being popular. All you cared about was being yourself. And being with Jihoon.

Johnny looked stunned, “Damn, Jihoon is a lucky guy.” You felt that was your cue to leave and you had to go to the bathroom anyway. So you left Johnny there and went inside to search for the restroom. You walked back into the house through the sliding door and were headed down the hall when you saw it, saw them. 

Jennie was talking with Jihoon when suddenly you saw her lips meet his. You didn’t know what was happening and your face crumpled. Immediately, you knew that the feelings you were trying to suppress for Jihoon couldn’t be covered up anymore. Jennie broke free of the kiss with a smirk, turning Jihoon around by his shoulders so that his eyes would meet yours. “Bitch,” you murmured, a sob trying to break free from your chest.

Jihoon’s eyes widened as they met yours. “Y/N, wait!” he shouted, a pleading tone bleeding into it. You didn’t want to hear it. This whole thing was fake anyway. You ignored him and stormed out the front door, not caring where you were going. You just needed out of there. Jennie’s house wasn’t that close to the dorm, but it didn’t matter. You wanted to walk anyway.

You did eventually make it back to the dorm, you didn’t know how long it took you and you didn’t care. Everything was ruined and you felt the most pathetic that you had ever been. You retreated to your room and the warmth of your bed, wanting to never leave it. You should have never come up with this idea if you knew it would turn out this way. You weren’t supposed to fall for your ex-best friend, your enemy.

Jihoon was also miserable, perhaps on a different and newfound level. He thought he was in a bad way when he broke up with Shayla, but it was nothing like the way he felt after Jennie tricked him. Nothing like the way his heart cracked when he saw your face and the way your chin trembled when you saw the kiss and nothing like when he called out to you, only for you to ignore him and walk out the door. 

He thought he might have loved Shayla when they were together, but he was so wrong. He loved you and it took losing you to finally realize it, to admit it to himself. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now, but the most immediate solution was to numb the pain. He knew Wonwoo would come get him anyway, and so he drank. He drank a lot. Likely more than he ever had.

He drank so much that he didn’t even know how time moved forward and transported him to where he was now, outside, throwing his guts up in Jennie’s front garden. He must have called Wonwoo at some point, he most certainly didn’t remember doing it but Wonwoo was suddenly standing there in the yard, waiting to see if Jihoon’s stomach was done forcing out whatever contents were left. 

Wonwoo didn’t have much sympathy for his friend at this point. “How does it feel Jihoon? Being part of the popular crowd?” he mocked. 

“Shut up, Wonwoo,” Jihoon croaked, slowly getting up from his kneeling position in the grass to slowly tread toward Wonwoo’s car. Jihoon all but melted into the backseat once the two of them were both in the car, his head already starting to pound. 

“You really screwed up, you know,” Wonwoo said, once the car was on the way to Jihoon’s house. 

“How do you know what happened?” Jihoon mumbled the question

“You know how fast news travels around here,” he responded.

“Considering everyone was at the party, I’m not surprised.” Wonwoo slammed on the brakes, making Jihoon fall forward and smack his nose on the seat in front of him. “Ow, what the hell Wonwoo?!” he yelped, hands moving to his face to touch his now tender nose.

“Everybody was NOT there, Jihoon! Seungkwan and I weren’t there, Seokmin wasn’t there, so no, everybody was not at the party,” Wonwoo nearly growled. 

“Okay, sheesh. Everybody was not there,” Jihoon conceded, given his growing headache and the fact that Wonwoo so rarely yelled. 

“Get out,” Wonwoo said and Jihoon was about to protest when he looked out of the window to see that they had actually stopped outside his house. “Call me when you’ve decided to return back to being the friend I know.” 

Jihoon couldn’t respond, he didn’t have a decent answer for that. He just got out of the car, went into the house, and flopped face-first onto his bed. He did know that Wonwoo was right though, he royally fucked up. The only thing he could think about was talking to you, to see if there was a way to convince you of what truly happened with Jennie. 

He rolled back to his side, reaching his arm out to grab the phone from the nightstand. He didn’t know how late it was but prayed you’d still answer the phone. He punched in your number and waited as it rang and rang. He was just about to give up when a tired “hello?” answered. 

“Please let me explain,” Jihoon said, immediately. 

You sighed. “It doesn’t matter. It was crazy to think we could fake it this long, this is our easy out,” you responded, trying to keep your voice from breaking and giving you away. 

“What about the dance? That was the main goal of this whole thing,” he said. Jihoon knew that wasn’t why he wanted to keep this ruse going but it was all he could think to try.

“I’ll figure something out. Or maybe I won’t go at all. Let’s just go back to how things were before.” Tears were starting to slip down your cheeks now and you hung up the phone before Jihoon could hear the sob that left your chest.

After the party, days and weeks continued on but you and Jihoon were not the same. Jihoon spaced out often, going about his days in a trance. He even ignored Shaya’s renewed and constant advances on him. He didn’t want anyone else but you. Wonwoo had seen how depressed Jihoon was and took pity on him, letting everything that happened between the two of them that night go. You threw yourself into ball planning which was ironic considering you likely wouldn’t even be attending anymore and Jihoon spent more time editing in the broadcasting room, only being pulled out by his friends. 

You had all but stopped hanging out with all your “friends”, only working with them for the ball because you had to. Everything felt like a blur. You had confronted Jennie shortly after the night of the party, her only excuse being “I was doing you a favor.” Maybe in some way she really was, just not in the way she intended. Your relationship with Jihoon may have started out as a fake one but now your feelings were real and you needed to stop before they destroyed you both.

When the night of the ball came around, you found yourself in your dorm room with no date and crying once again. The dress you had picked out long ago to match the tux you had helped Jihoon pick out was hung on the back of your door, mocking you. Maybe you should go by yourself, it would be weird if the planner herself didn’t attend. You brushed the tears from your cheeks and shook your head. That was enough of that, crying and feeling sorry for yourself wouldn’t change anything.

Then your phone rang. “Hello?” you answered.

“Y/N? Hi,” spoke a voice that was vaguely familiar but not one you’d heard over the phone.

“Seungkwan?” you questioned.

“Yeah, it’s Seungkwan. Listen, I know you probably don’t have a date to the ball anymore and I think it would be a shame if you couldn’t go. You deserve to see your event finished so, how about I take you?” Seungkwan said.

For the first time since the night of the party, a genuine smile crossed your face. Seungkwan had always been the sweetest person you’d known, even after you all had parted ways as kids. “I’d like that,” you responded.

“Okay, cool. I can come pick you up in an hour. Will that be enough time to get ready?” he asked 

“Sure, see you soon,” you said, hanging up the phone and scrambling to start getting ready. That gave you an answer to your earlier thoughts of just going to the ball by yourself. You were much happier going with Seungkwan, someone you knew you’d have some fun with. You pulled your dress from where you had been glaring at it earlier, glad that it was no longer going to waste. You grabbed shoes that went with it from your closet and got ready as efficiently as you could.

You were smoothing out the bottom of your dress and making sure the last strands of your hair were in place when one of your dorm mates called up the stairs to let you know Seungkwan was there. You picked up the light sweater and small purse you had set out on a chair and walked down the stairs to meet Seungkwan. 

He smiled as he spotted you and said, “You look great.”

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself,” you said back. His simple black tuxedo made him look handsome. You reached the bottom of the stairs and he pulled something out from behind his back, showing it to you.

“It was short notice, but this is for you,” Seungkwan said, holding out a pretty wrist corsage. 

You let out a pleased laugh and held out your wrist so that he could slip it on, the white rose simple but pretty. “Thank you, that was sweet of you.” 

“Of course, I can't let my best girl feel left out,” he said with a chuckle. 

Immediately you were thankful for at least one good thing that came out of all of this. You had a good friend in Seungkwan once again. “Let’s go,” you said and you headed to the dance.

Walking in the doors of the venue you rented, you took in everything. Seungkwan was right, you shouldn’t miss how everything you planned had come together. From the centerpieces on the tables to the twinkle lights winding around the beams in the ceiling, everything you had imagined and planned out. It looked perfect. There was only one thing missing, but there was nothing you could do about that anymore.

You and Seungkwan sat down for a little while at one of the tables, talking about different things and people watching before he asked you to dance. He got up from his seat, holding out his hand for you to take. You took it and he led you to the dance floor. Stopping at an empty spot toward the edge, he placed his hands on your back and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You began swaying to the music the DJ was playing. It was nice and comfortable but of course, it was only platonic with Seungkwan.

“Jihoon really likes you, you know,” he said eventually. You sighed, knowing this topic would come up eventually. Seungkwan cared about both of you. “And I know you like him too.” He continued, recounting how bleak the two of you had been in the past weeks.

“I know Seungkwan, but everything is all messed up now,” you said. 

“Well, now is your chance to fix it,” he suddenly said, looking up at something or rather someone.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“May I cut in?” A voice asked from behind you. You let out a small gasp. Jihoon?

Seungkwan’s hands left your back and he pressed a light kiss to your cheek, leaving you and Jihoon on the dance floor. You looked at Jihoon. He was wearing the tuxedo you picked out to match your dress and looked as handsome as ever. He approached you, gently placing his hands around your waist and you let your hands rest at the nape of his neck. Your fingers lightly brushed at the ends of his shaggy hair that you liked so much.

You danced a bit to the slow song that was on before you broke the tension between the two of you. “Why are you here, Jihoon?” you asked.

“Because I missed you. God, I missed you so much,” he blurted, pulling you closer to him. Your heart panged at his words. You missed him too and you knew that you didn’t want to pretend your feelings for him didn’t exist. 

“I missed you too,” you murmured.

“I’m so sorry about what happened with Jennie. I swear she tricked me but that’s not what matters. I like you, Y/N. I think I’ve always liked you, before everything got so messed up.” He was on a roll now, telling you all that was on his mind and everything he should have told you from the beginning when you both agreed to that stupid fake dating plan.

Your face broke out into a grin. “I like you, too.” Jihoon must have been holding his breath, because he let out a rush of air in relief at your response. “I asked Jennie why she did what she did and she told me she was doing us a favor. I guess in some way, she really did.”

Then Jihoon reached out a hand to cup your cheek, his eyes looking into yours before he leaned forward to press his lips against yours. There were no fireworks, but something much better as you kissed him back. Warmth. A warmth that radiated through your entire body and you couldn’t have imagined anything better. 

You broke away after a few minutes, becoming aware that several eyes were on the two of you. Specifically the eyes of Jennie, Johnny, Mark, Miyeon, and a few of the others. “Who are we making jealous now, Jihoon?” you laughed.

“Everyone,” was his response and he kissed you again, making everything around you disappear. 

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked.

“I have just the place in mind,” he answered, cheekily and the two of you left hand in hand.

After the dance, you came bursting through the gate to Jihoon’s backyard, giggling like you were little kids again. The only difference was now Jihoon kept pausing to kiss you every few minutes as he led you to the treehouse. He pulled you with him up the ladder and into the familiar house. Except that instead of just the pillows and the small table that you remember being there before, there were blankets and lit candles set out in the corners.

“Did you plan this?” you asked, suspicious.

“I had hoped?” he responded, innocently. 

You shook your head, “You’re lucky I like you.”

“I am very lucky.”

“If I knew you were going to be this cheesy-” He cut you off with another kiss and led you over to the blankets that were laid out in the middle of the wooden floor. He sat down, pulling you to sit with him. He initiated a make-out session that began innocently but was now starting to get heated. He leaned backward, laying back against the blankets and making you lay on top of him.

His kisses moved to your jaw and to your collarbone making you let out a gasp and thread your hands through his dark locks. All the pent-up feelings and chemistry that had built up between you was finally reaching a breaking point, in your childhood hangout no less. Your hands made work with his clothes, taking off his jacket and working on the buttons of his shirt. He pulled the straps of your dress down your shoulders when you finally managed to rid him of the annoying button-down.

To make it easier for him, you straightened your back so he could pull the entire thing up and over your head. You were left in just your underwear and Jihoon paused to look at you before taking off his dress pants. “You are gorgeous,” he whispered, pressing light kisses to your shoulders. You closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of being loved on by him.

Soon you both had been rid of all remaining garments, leaving you completely naked and hands roaming each other's bodies. Jihoon’s length pressed against your thighs, making you moan at the skin contact and buck against him. He hissed in pleasure and bit his lip, the action increasing the arousal at your core. He moved to grind his head against your sensitive nub and you let out a whine. 

After a few minutes of that, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You needed him inside you. “Jihoon…” you breathed out.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Please,” you whimpered.

He reached over to his discarded pants to get the little foil packet from the pocket. He opened it and slid the condom over his cock with a hiss. He steaded your hips and ran his length through your folds a few times before he slowly slid into you, letting you adjust to his size.

“Fuck,” he let out a groan as your heat engulfed him. He began moving slowly within you. Your sacred childhood treehouse was now filled with lewd slaps of skin against skin and moans filled with pleasure. You established a rhythm that had you both slowly chasing your highs together. Your moans had turned to mewls as the coil in the pit of your stomach was stretching to its limit. 

“I’m close, Ji,” you whimpered. The use of Jihoon’s nickname drove him to the edge as well and he pumped into you that much harder. The coil snapped and you orgasmed, hard enough that your thighs shook. Your walls contracting around him made Jihoon hit his high as well. His hips stilled and he let out a groan, emptying his seed into the condom.

He slowly pulled out of you and you both collapsed next to each other on the blankets with heaving breaths. After a few minutes and your breathing had returned to normal, Jihoon turned to look at you, his head resting on his shoulder. “So, frienemies?” he asked with a chuckle. 

You reached out and smacked him in the chest. “Jihoon!”

“Ouch, I’m kidding. I know we are more than that. So much more than that,” he said, tugging you closer to him and leaving a kiss on your forehead. 

“Yes, absolutely more than that,” you agreed. Jihoon drove you crazy, but you came to the conclusion that you didn’t want it any other way.

©️wooahaeproductions

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[kindersurprisebacterium]

Furlough (Soap/Reader)

CW: prisoner of war, canon-typical violence, description of medical procedures, near-death experiences, mild angst, established relationship, lots of crying, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, intimacy, mentions of pregnancy

Gender Neutral AFAB Reader

WC: 5.2k

Read on AO3

My skull felt like it was rattling. As if a sine wave ripped through my ears, leaving behind a constant ringing. My limbs felt heavy. Thick ropes bound my wrists and ankles, dragging my body down into the depths of semi-consciousness. My only hold on orientation was the throbbing ache of my crooked nose. Dank, coagulated blood filled my senses. The taste of copper and dirt coated my molars. 

My lungs burned, only growing hotter with every breath. My eyelids fluttered closed as I tried to clear the image of my ribcage, contorted and mangled, from my mind. Something ran down my cheeks, whether it was tears or blood, I couldn’t tell- nor did I care. I was too hot, too fidgety as I lay against the concrete.

Why was I here again? My mind flashed to the tattered embroidery on my worn clothes. Task force 141. Hastily scribbled mission plans flashed in my mind. Regret pooled in my rigid abdomen. 

I longed for a mattress, somewhere to lay my battered bones. The thin dormitory mattresses would feel like heaven under my bruised skin. A glass of scotch. Water. Anything to wet my dried lips. Some of Gaz’s home cooking. One of Price’s exaggerated stories of conquest and combat. 

Was this the end? A thankless death on the floor of a cellar? If I knew this is what would come of my efforts, I don’t know if I would’ve even bothered. 

Any remaining warmth evaporated through my skin. My vision, blurred but still intact, began to slowly darken. Desolate surroundings now disappeared into nothing but a figment. My breath, fragmented and shallow, drew softer. 

Perhaps my closest comrade in combat was McTavish. His voice echoed in my head, scolding me for being so careless. My lips curled into a smile as I imagined what sort of quick quips he’d come up with. My teeth chattered as I imagined him wrapping my battered limbs in dressings. Hands warm against my bare skin. Voice soft as he leaned in.

“We’re gonnae get you out of here-”

My brows furrowed, a growing sense of loneliness settling in my chest. I clung onto the fragmented memory of his voice. Gruff, with a thick accent. Clung onto the image of the crooked smile he flashed whenever he said something snide. And his laugh, deep and bellowing. He always threw his head back whenever he laughed, sometimes bumping his head into the drywall.

“Stay with me-”

His hands were calloused. I’d glance down at his hand, and the way it engulfed mine. It was a small action that could brighten up my mood. Of course, he’d only lace his fingers with mine under a table, behind his back, anywhere out of view. It’s strictly forbidden. He always repeated it with a forced pout, arms crossing over his chest. Strictly forbidden, he’d say before stealing a kiss from me when no one was looking. We never labeled things, but friends never act the way we did.

“I’m gonnae need a medic at exfil-”

I thought about the hoodie laid out on my dorm bed. It was too small, shrunk in the wash. I never told him I could see him searching up how to shrink cotton fabric. Never told him I could see the gleam in his eye whenever I wore it around the base. Never told him it stopped being about convenience when I’d wear it near constantly. I lied through my teeth when I told him my own hoodie was in the hamper. 

“Shit- BP is 78/56. Spike the bag for me stat!”

I can’t remember when Johnny himself became a replacement for the hoodie. Warm arms draping over me like a hand stitched quilt. Heartbeat lulling me to sleep as my head lay upon his chest. He told me to ignore the hushed voices that seemed to follow us everywhere. Faint memories of the two of us in a tent flickered in my mind before being snuffed out. Deer, deeper the ropes pulled me. 

“Get the AED, I doubt they’re gonna make it.”

A tingling sensation settled in my limbs. I could feel my being feathering into the cold air. My body melted, mixing with space itself. Static soaked into my skin, washing clean any remaining thoughts. 

-

My body ached. Every inch of my skin, was now engulfed in misery, enveloping me like tar. I furrowed my brows, clenching my jaw tight as I tried to push through. My limbs slowly moved through the honey, breaking free just enough-

My eyelids opened, only to flutter close again as a blinding beam of white flooded my vision. I drew in a sharp breath. The oxygen flowed through my lungs, stinging like fresh menthol. 

As my eyes adjusted to the light, I became acutely aware of all the faces surrounding me. Furrowed brows, parted lips, adorned in pale blue surgical masks. 

Glancing down, my eyes widened as I was met with the sight of my bare chest. Small, round stickers littered my chest. A mess of multicolored wires littered the bedside. My gaze raked down the rest of my body, down my tattered jeans, to the gloved hand on my ankle. 

Bloodshot blue eyes locked onto me. As soon as I saw those sparking irises, my body moved on its own. I sat up, shifting onto my aching knees. The iv tubing tugged at my arm as I threw myself at the man. In that instant, the aching of my joints ceased, as if his touch was medicine. 

His chest heaved, broken sobs rising from his throat as he pulled me into his embrace. He pressed his face against my neck, leaving behind damp puddles, stained with tears. 

“Lay down, lay down.” He cooed, gently nudging me back. I grunted as I lowered myself back onto the stiff hospital bed. He reached out hesitantly, like a child to a plate of China. As if I’d break from a single stroke of a finger. His blue eyes flicked rapidly across my body. Across the bloodied dressings and fresh sutures. 

Drawing in a breath, he reached forward. His calloused palm cradled my cheek. His touch was feather light. I leaned into his hand, letting my eyelids flutter closed. Clatter rose from behind me as the group of medics slowly dispersed. Hushed voices spoke softly, softly enough to be indecipherable over the ever present tinnitus. 

With his other hand, he tugged a wool blanket over my bare body. It was warm, as if being freshly dried. His fingertips carded through my hair, gently cupping the back of my head. He leaned in enough for his heated breath to fan over my sticky skin. 

“You ripped your leads off.” He chuckled.

-

With the passing time, my aches dulled into a gentle reminder of my mistakes. Blood coagulated, flaked, and rinsed away. Bruises, once purple and black, faded to yellow. 

The first few nights, he wouldn’t leave my side. He slept with his knees tucked to his chest in the armchair beside my hospital bed. As I slowly regained my composure, pieced together my fragmented memories, I found myself reaching out to him. I shifted on the mattress, making space for him beside me. 

It’s too soon, too late, too intrusive, he’d say. Sighing, I’d nod, watching him flip through the pages of a book. The way his tongue swiped over his thumb before every turn of the page. He’d gently hum to himself as he read, soft voice lulling me asleep. By the time I woke up, he was gone. 

When I was allowed to sleep in my own dormitory, I thought things would’ve changed. Hoped they would. I opened the door to my room, holding my breath in case I found him inside. But I didn’t. I needed uninterrupted sleep, he’d explain. And to him, that meant sleeping alone. 

The rest of the task force continued working like nothing happened. Running drills, going out on missions. If I didn't know better, I would’ve thought I was a ghost, haunting the halls of the base. The lingering whispers that followed me through the halls only intensified, speculation growing as his blatant affection vanished. Was it something I did? If even Johnny wouldn’t look at me…

“Nobody’s blaming you,” Price explained, folding his hands in his lap. A neatly stapled packet of paper sat atop his mahogany desk. I pursed my lips in a meager attempt to bite back the tears welling in my eyes. My throat felt raw, ready to explode with rage. 

Four months of medical leave and the looming threat of medical discharge. My fingers toyed with the cool aluminum crutch in my grip. I didn’t deny that I wasn’t in a state to serve, I could barely take a piss without a nurse peeking in on me to make sure I didn’t end up on the floor. I grew incoherent with anger when I thought about being away from base, back in fucking Leeds. 

Drawing in a breath through flared nostrils, I balled my hands into fists. I pushed down the fear that rose in my chest. This was about serving my force. Not about the growing sense of longing. Right?

“Heal up and we’ll have you back.” Price tapped his palm against the desk with a sense of finality, grunting as he rose to his feet. Without another word, he left. My head dropped, gaze falling to the sling draped from my shoulder. I didn’t move when I heard a soft rap against the door frame. I knew who it was. 

“I think y’ could really use some rest. This is a good thing, yeah?” 

His words stroked a nerve in my chest. Biting back my tongue, I nodded. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the urge to burst out yelling. 

“Why do you treat me like a fucking freak?!” I wanted to yell. Whether from pity or disgust, he wouldn’t lay a finger on me. Backing away from kisses, or only offering a brief, detached peck on the lips. I could feel his gaze burning through me, and yet he couldn’t even look me in the eye. For the first time in months I was sleeping alone. Once again I was pulling his hoodie over my battered frame, this time as a replacement for his touch. Sighing, I stood, fingers tending around the crutches. 

-

My fingers brushed along the ridge of my nose. Narrowing my eyes, I studied my reflection. The swelling had gone down, leaving behind a crooked lump. I looked noticeably different, stained with wear like an old whiskey barrel. The static that settled in my limbs never really left. It stayed put, a constant nagging mosquito beneath my skin. Nerve damage, the doctor said, was one fickle bitch. 

Even the apartment I was in didn’t feel like my own. Sure, I paid the rent. My name was on the lease. Yet it functioned more as some sort of sick shrine to the past. A monument to better years. Would my family even recognize me? I glanced at my younger, naïve self in a framed photo. 

My phone hadn’t gone off once in the three weeks I’d been back home. To be fair, I hadn’t told anyone I was back in town. Even then, this utter void of communication was out of the norm for the task force. Usually there would be something. An incoherent meme, a drunken text, a chiding message from price. 

Sighing, I picked up the remote off my nightstand. My thumb dug into the little plus sign. In an instant the soft melody swept across my apartment. Droning bass drowned out the constant ringing in my ears. I stepped forward, knees brushing against my couch. 

A knock at my front door drew my attention. My brows knitted as my head turned toward the sound. I was nearly ten, the sun having long since set. The hardwood floors creaked beneath my feet as I stepped into the hallway. My fingertips brushed against the lock, sliding it out of place. Feeling my heart race, I glimpsed down at the doorknob before me. Swallowing down my anxieties, I turned the knob. 

He was dressed in a thick wool sweater. An olive beanie sat atop his brow. Tiny snowflakes clung to his lashes, threatening to melt in the heat of the indoors. He didn’t move an inch, only giving me a smile. At his side was a small carryon. I narrowed my eyes at him. I don’t think I could’ve expected anything like this given his attitude toward me. If the carryon meant what I think it meant, he had a lot of nerve looking for a place to stay after the way he’d been acting. 

“Your bruises have faded,” he rocked on his heels, eyes flicking to the living room behind me. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, kicking the door aside for him. He murmured a small gratitude before stepping inside. I pushed the door shut behind us, draping the two of us in darkness. His blue eyes fixated on me. As if about to speak, he parted his lips. Nothing but a short exhale escaped his mouth. Furrowing his brows, he pursed his lips. 

Giving only a huff from my nose, I turned toward the fridge. If I had to put up with this, I could at least break into the case of beer in my fridge. My finger slid underneath the tab, pushing it open with a soft crack. I let my eyes flutter closed as I took a sip of the drink. 

“You look good,” he finally spoke. I shot him a quick glance over my shoulder. 

“How long are you off for?” I asked, not knowing why. Maybe to make conversation, maybe to know what I was getting into. 

“A week,” he said with a grin. “I took time off so I could see you.”

I couldn’t help the smile that crept across my face. I stepped forward, leaning against the counter. Maybe it was just a fluke, a momentary spell. With those eyes on me, that smile, he’s got to be back to his old self. 

“I was about to watch a movie if you wanted to join,” I said, bringing the can to my lips. 

I sank down onto the couch, pulling a blanket over my body. Johnny poured himself a glass of scotch. It was a Christmas gift he’d given me a year ago. A bottle of the top shelf stuff to make up for all the “lousy” beer I’d been drinking. I thumbed through Netflix, settling on a horror movie. Johnny always said he liked them. The cushions shifted as he sat down. Looking over at him, my smile soon faded as the loud thudding of the intro boomed over the speakers. 

He sat at the other end of the couch, knees tucked to his chest. His shoulders stiffened as he brought the glass to his lips. My eyes screwed shut. He had to be fucking with me, it had to be a joke. Any minute he’d curl up by my side, slide under the blanket, hands over me like we’d done so many times-

Was something wrong with me? Was this…distorted visage of myself too overbearing? Was he being malicious? Was he playing the long game?

He laughed at an obscene joke made by one of the characters. He laughed. How could he be laughing, seeming so casual? There’s no way this wasn’t intentional. No way this wasn’t some sort of ploy to tug at my heartstrings. Sure, he could’ve done it at any point, but doing it at my lowest?

“No fuckin’ way-” he shook his head, grinning brightly. “Did you see tha-”

I could feel his gaze on me, and it only seemed to spur me on more. I clenched my jaw tightly, pursing my lips into a thin line. 

“Everything good?” He asked, waving his hand in my peripheral. Without warning, my lips moved before I could think of what to say, how to phrase it so I don’t come off as an asshole-

“Is there something wrong with me?” I blurted out. A scream echoed over the speaker, accompanied by the low rumble of a chainsaw. His blue eyes widened, thick brows raising. 

“I don’t-”

“You won’t touch me. You haven’t since that mission. You- Christ, you won’t even fucking sit next to me!” I gestured to his curled up form. He sputtered, lips parting in a vain attempt to speak. “You act like I’m some fucking monster- and- and I can’t tell if it’s some sick, twisted mind game, or because of my busted fucking nose- or-”

“Stop!” His glass clattered as he set it on the coffee table. I drew my attention back to him. Thick tears streamed down his cheeks, soaking into his sweater. “You- you almost died. I wouldn’t even let go of your hand when they did CPR. I wouldn’t-” he paused, exhaling a shaky breath. “Every bit of you was broken. I stayed awake three nights straight, praying to god ye’d see me first when waking up.”

He reached a shaky hand out, only to let it drop to his side.

“I can’t explain it. Any time I touch you…” he paused, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “I can’t stop thinking I’m going to hurt you.”

I could feel the tension leaving my body. My shoulders dropped, and in an instant my lungs expanded. My lips curled up into a crooked smile. 

“You’re fuckin’ stupid.” I laughed. “I’m sorry-” I clasped my hand over my mouth in a poor attempt to quell my laughter. “Please, just touch me. Hold me. You’re not going to break me, Johnny.” 

I pulled the blanket off of my body, making room for him beside me. With a small sniff, he moved closer. His palm skimmed across my bare calf. In an instant, he softened. His fingers skated up my thigh, over my hip. Exhaling a shaky breath, he wrapped his arms around my waist. I cradled his face in my hands. With the pad of my thumb I stroked away the tears on his blotchy cheeks. 

“I missed you.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. A soft noise rose from his chest as he trailed his lips over my jaw. His fingers flexed, gripping my sides tight. He hummed, pressing his face into the crook of my neck. He drew in a deep breath, undoubtedly taking in my shampoo, vanilla and cinnamon. 

He grunted, pushing my knee aside so he could settle between my legs. His “favorite spot” as he put it. Like reciting a script, my fingers ran up the back of his neck, carding through his messy Mohawk. Everything felt instinctual, exactly as it once was. 

He rested his cheek on my chest, gaze fixed forward on the TV. My longing was sated- somewhat. I felt my body sink into the couch below, any tension melting in his grasp. And yet one nagging thought swarmed around my brain like a buzzing mosquito. I wanted more. 

I yearned to relive the memory of his hands on my body. Sought it out like a moth to a flame. Glancing down at the man on my chest, I bit down on my lip.

“Your hearts racin’. S’it really that scary?” He tilted his head to look up at me. When his gaze settled on me, my expression, his eyes widened. Like a trained dog, he could tell in an instant what this meant. A single gaze could communicate even across the room- and it had many times.

“Johnny…” I spoke softly. 

“I really don’t think we should-” he shook his head. Turning down affection was out of character for sure, but turning down sex was almost more out of character. 

“It’s been almost two months, come on.” I whined. Two months since the mission, two months since we’d had sex. Two months since we last basked in each other’s touch, blissfully disregarding any established code of conduct. Two months since I’d even felt his bare skin. 

“I want to feel you,” I added, my grip on his hair tensing. Barely audible was the noise that fell from his tongue. His cerulean eyes darkened, turning his irises into deep navy pools. 

“I’ll eat you out, and nothing more.” He offered, voice stern and unyielding. My lips curled into a smile, a smug sign of victory. Quickly, I pursed my lips in a weak attempt to hide my assurance.

The cushions shifted as he moved, not between my legs, but onto his feet. Brows furrowing, I glanced up at him. 

“Our first time in two months isn’t gonnae be on a couch.”

He held his hand out for me. Staring at him through my lashes, I took his hand. His thick fingers laced with mine, tensing as he pulled me to stand. I leaned into his chest, pressing my lips to his in a slow kiss. I lingered on his lips, taking in every taste, every jagged bit of dried skin. Only then did I pull away. 

I trailed behind him as he stepped into my bedroom. I slid my palm across the wall, feeling for the plastic switch plate. With a click, the room lit up. I looped my finger into the collar of his sweater, tugging him behind me as I stood before the bed. The springs squeaked as I lowered myself onto the bed, scooting back just enough for my feet to just barely dangle off the bed. I curled one finger towards myself, urging him to step forward. 

“Just head, okay?” He stated again. I wonder if he too knew that was a boldfaced lie. John McTavish was not one to fuck his hand when he had me lying before him. 

“What’s head without some foreplay, huh?” I smirked, watching as the man moved to lie between my legs. Every move of mine from this point was calculated, from the way I crossed my ankles behind his back to the way I toyed with his shirt hem as I kissed him. His tongue ran across my bottom lip. With a soft moan I parted my lips for him. He groaned, licking into my mouth. 

I eased his shirt up over his abs, pushing higher and higher. Shifting his weight onto his knees, he pulled his sweater over his head, dropping it onto the floor. In an instant my hands were on his bare skin. His muscles tensed, shifting under his skin with every breath. 

“Come on, your turn.” His blue eyes skimmed across the faded screen printing on my shirt. A pang of anxiety struck in my chest. Every patch of scar tissue, every burn, every lingering bruise came back into my mind. Swallowing down my thoughts, I pulled the shirt from my body. 

I could feel his gaze raking across my scars, taking in the sight before him. Heat rushed to my cheeks as he looked back up at me. He leaned down, pressing his bare chest to mine. Beating heart against beating heart. His lips met mine, only this kiss was soaked in a softer feeling. 

He trailed his honey sweet kisses down my neck. I whined as his teeth grazed my skin, sinking in just enough to tease me. His tongue darted past his lips, laving over broken blood vessels and faint teeth marks. Down my collarbone his lips traveled. My back arched off of the bed when his lips wrapped around my nipple. His brows furrowed as he sucked, and then parted his lips to make way for his tongue. 

He kissed over my ribs, and down my stomach. I shuddered as he slipped his fingers underneath my shorts. He glanced up at me with a look laced with desperation, pupils drinking in every little reaction he pulled from me. I lifted my hips for him as he tugged my shorts down. 

I parted my legs for him, catching my bottom lip between my teeth. His pupils dilated as he took in my bare frame. 

“Missed you so much,” he mumbled softly as he slid his fingers up my core. “Such a pretty thing. So wet for me.”

Heat rushed to my face as I realized he wasn’t talking to me, but my cunt. His eyelids fluttered closed as he leaned in, dragging his tongue up my core. Instinctually, my hips jolted off of the bed. He groaned as I gripped his hair tight. 

I tossed my head back against the pillows as I melted into his touch. Every flick of his tongue, every brush of his facial hair against my skin had me coming undone. The tension, the pain, the self consciousness building over the past few weeks now lapped away by his tongue. 

He pressed open-mouthed kisses to my cunt, tongue sliding over my clit with fervor. Over his groans I could just barely hear the clinking of his belt. I watched as he took his cock in his hand, thick fingers wrapping around his shaft. 

He shook his head, attempting to push even closer to my twitching cunt. My chest rose and fell as I drew in ragged breaths. Every exhale I took was punctuated by desperate noises. 

My back arched painfully off of the bed, hips pushing further into his mouth. With a groan, he slid his palm up my body, reaching out to toy with my nipple. I felt myself falling deeper into sensation. A burning hot tension slowly built within my stomach, pulling tightly at my limbs. 

He wrapped his lips around my clit, sucking harshly. Tears welled in my eyes, only spurred on by the way his tongue moved against me. I could feel a growing desperation, bubbling like a geyser threatening to blow. 

I cried out his name, pulling tight on his curls. As if on their own, my hips began to rock against his face, begging for more stimulation. Anything to push me over the edge. Just a little more. 

The crescendo hit its peak with another harsh suck. The red hot spring in my stomach snapped. I clenched around nothing, cunt fluttering against his lips. My limbs contorted, muscles going taut as every one of my nerve endings ignited. It felt electric, jolting up the back of my spine and settling in my hips, a heavy pressure.

He pressed a chaste kiss to my clit before pulling away, blue eyes fixated on my heaving chest. I drew in heavy breaths, lungs burning with every bit of air. He pressed honeyed kisses to my thighs, hand still stroking up and down his length. 

“Johnny, please just fuck me.” I whined, twirling my finger around one of his loose curls. “I need to feel you.”

He bit down on his bottom lip, brows furrowing. His blue eyes flicked across my bare body, before settling back on my dripping cunt. The mattress squeaked as he shifted onto his knees. His warm fingers splayed over my knees as he tugged my legs over his hips. 

“Look what you do to me,” he said, voice laced with lust. He wrapped his fingers around his cock and slowly began rutting his leaking head against my clit. His jaw went slack, a soft noise falling from his tongue. He pulled back, lining his cock up with my entrance. With a nudge of his hips, he slowly pushed inside of me. 

“Fuck-” he sputtered, eyes fixated on my cunt as I swallowed him up. Every inch he gave me, I took, body craving his touch. “Takin’ me so well,” he groaned. 

His hips stilled as he bottomed out. With a soft moan, I looped my arms around the back of his neck, pulling him flush to my chest. His lips met mine in a tender kiss, swallowing up any noises that fell from my mouth.

He began to slowly roll his hips, groaning into my mouth. His cock dragged against my insides, sparking pleasure in my stomach. I missed this, missed being filled up by him. Missed all the little noises he’d make. 

His pace was slow, and he took his time feeling every inch of me. He savored my cunt, slowly rocking both of our bodies against the mattress. His fingers dug into my hips, groping my flesh tightly. 

“I’m not gonna last long,” he said, pulling away to look at me with those deep blue eyes. 

“That’s okay, just wanna feel you.” I cradled his cheeks in my hand, facial hair tickling my palms. The look he gave me was one of intoxication. He’d been drinking me in all night, and it was finally beginning to show. 

With every deep stroke, I could feel his cock head nuzzling against my cervix. He filled me up deliciously, gentle stretch burning in my loins. It felt natural, instinctual, the way he toyed with my body. 

“Take what you need, Johnny.” I spoke with half-lidded eyes. My words stirred something in him. His pace began to quicken as he lost himself in pleasure. Soft clapping echoed through the room as his hips met mine. 

He buried his face in the crook of my neck, pressing sloppy kisses against my skin. He left behind a trail of saliva and bruises that were sure to stay with me for a week. I’d wear them proudly as a mark of companionship. A mark that I made it through.

The tension in my core returned. Like a red hot steel spring slowly contracting. Tensing, squeezing my organs tight. My head fell back against the pillows, fingers firmly holding his hair. 

I took in shaky, shallow breaths, letting my eyelids flutter closed. His moans grew higher in pitch, more frequent, more unrestrained. My mouth fell open, a stream of incoherent babbles and praises falling off the tip of my tongue. His pace grew erratic, arrhythmic, and hastier as he reached his climax. Moaning against my skin, he thrusted into me, cock twitching as he came. 

The searing hot coil snapped once more, igniting jolts of static in my sticky limbs. I held onto him tight, tight enough to feel his pounding heart against mine. Right where I wanted him. I seized around him, milking his orgasm and drawing a breathy whine from him. He pressed his lips to my neck, muffling his melodic moans. 

His cock softened inside me, cum spilling down my thighs. With a soft huff he pulled out, laying at my side. I felt my lips curling into a smile as I reached out, tugging a thick blanket over our bodies. He held my face in his hands, blue eyes taking in my expression. I leaned in, pressing my lips to his. 

-

“Well, your bloodwork and physical checks out.” Price said, thumbing through the packet of paperwork. Johnny stood behind me, resting his elbows on the back of my chair. I tapped my foot against the hardwood flooring, unable to quell the excitement bubbling in my gut. 

This meant I could be taken off leave, and finally be able to move back onto base. While this sabbatical was relaxing- and boring- to say the least, thinking of being back on the field stirred something in me. Excitement was one word to describe it, ‘home’ would be another. 

“Except one thing,” Price added, sliding a paper across the desk. My stomach dropped. Nausea swelled in my throat as I glanced at the paper. I was unable to make out any of the words. Positive. I knew what that meant. But what was- what was-

“You’re pregnant.”

Masterlist

[thebramblewood]

invading your inbox again, but do you have any tips for building up a simblr and finding a place in the community? If not that's okay I'm just a bit curious because you seem to have grown such a wonderful community and made ur mark of sorts on your simblr

You're so kind for saying this! It's hard to give concrete advice because it happened very gradually and organically. Most of the notes on my earliest posts were not acquired immediately but over time, and there were lots of moments when I was just starting out that left me feeling frustrated to have worked hard on something only for it to immediately got buried and forgotten.

Honestly, I came to Simblr because I very much lack a community in real life and was desperate to connect with similarly-minded people. It's probably not entirely healthy, but that desperation is what drove me at first to keep going even when it felt like no one noticed me. I'm on here every day. I force myself out of my comfort zone to comment on other people's posts. I tag people whose builds or CC I use or who inspire me. I reblog posts I love (and follow their creators if I'm not already). I try to boost new and small Simblrs whenever I can. I'm not afraid to reblog my own work and let people know how proud I am!

It can be hard, but try not to fixate on becoming friends with a certain "clique" or obsessing over "big name" interaction (even though, of course, I've had my internal moments of fangirling over getting noticed by my favorite blogs just like anyone else). Prioritize forming real connections with a smaller group of people. Make one or two friends, and it'll hopefully grow into a bigger circle over time. But be genuine about it and don't go in automatically expecting people to give everything you're giving them back to you.

Trust me, I'm so grateful to be even semi-popular on here. I was lucky to come in with a lot of writing and editing experience already under my belt. When I think about all the Simblrs who have probably given up because their posts weren't "aesthetic" enough to get noticed, I really feel for them. It's not easy to make yourself stand out. As tempting as it can be to hop on trends for quick notes, though, I think it's more important to be true to who you are and make things that only you could make. With any luck, other people who like those things will see them and want to share in the joy of them with you. 💕

[yuri-is-online]

(🐍) On of the main page dialogue scenes with Haku, he says: “Oh, finally here, huh? I'm not really ready for you yet though... Ha ha. Wait over there for me, would you? “ This is so weird to me, idk what to make of it honestly. It’s just so suspicious!

Hypothetically, if he’s outed as a spy, how much of his personality/persona is real? And who is he even reporting to? The Chancellor is the only person I could think of, unless it’s someone else entirely. Maybe the Janitor? I’m really itching to know what’s going on here. The next ep can’t come any sooner.

There are definitely lines that the characters have where they're talking to other people and not the MC, Tohma has one where he quotes a poem about sleeping to Jin basically to tell him to get his lazy ass out of bed but that line really does feel like it's from Haku to the MC. Another thing I noticed is I had a campus event where Subaru makes him some tea and while Haku compliments it and tells him not to be so formal, he also pretty much immediately leaves to go do something else, or be by himself I'll have to check.

I think he's probably a bit more violent that his dorm assignment might suggest, but that's just a feeling and I don't have concrete evidence for it. I don't think he's reporting to the Chancellor? We haven't seen enough of Cornelius to know for certain but I think we'll know if that's the case next Book. His connection to Tohma is interesting, as is his smoking. So far that makes three smokers: Jin, Tohma, and Haku, does that mean Haku knows Jin on some level too? Alan and Tohma were in Vagastrom at one point, which is said to be a dorm of delinquents so I could see the two of them having been in a gang at one point. Haku says his parents were probably "glad to be rid of him" when he went to Darkwick, so maybe he was part of that gang too and that's why he knows Tohma.

This might be semi unrelated but I feel like Haku might be based off a Kappa? But my thinking that is admittedly based off him being green and semi associated with water from how his flute seemed to work. I'd like to know more about his family's shrine and what his real feelings about it are. I don't have his SR so I can't really check but a lot of his campus events see him talking but not really saying much about his own opinion or feelings. The bit about liking cars is the closest we got to and that, if he is the spy, seems more like a jab at Tohma to let him know he's being watched. The one person who he does seem to express some... genuine feeling towards is MC and a lot of that, to me, seems like it's because he needs her to stay at Darkwick.

I wouldn't be surprised if he had been assigned by someone to watch her and make sure she doesn't get away.

[97keanu]

Premise: Part two of Vanquish: A Keanuverse Story. In this part, reader chooses to embrace one of her destinies, healing the past and becoming whole again. She uses her new found self to save someone who didn't even know he needed saving, but the path there is laid with pain and darkness. She becomes something she never thought she would, and she finds out if evil vampires can really be saved or not...

Tags/CW: DARKfic, horrorfic, vampire!John Wick, blood/violence, soul connections, past lives, reincarnation, ghosts, supernatural AU, witch!neo, slayer!Constantine, love triangle is concluded, blood drinking, virgin!reader, smut, p in v, enemies to lovers, dub/noncon, innocent/crybaby(ish) coded!reader, john is an evil vampire asshole, soon to be cock addicted!reader, semi "stockholm syndrome"!reader, reader who discovers her bad side, reader who gives into lust, hedonistic!reader, doggy, rough, aggressive, primal, oral (f receiving.), so many smutty scenes.

A/N: In this choice, you will have to give up a lot to find love, but is it worth it in the end?

Go back.

"I have always felt as if I were missing something." You say, and Neo looks at you with worry, but nods, listening.

"Neo, I need you to stop the barrier between me and Helen." You can't believe you're saying this, but you know it's what you want.

Neo doesn't say anything for a long time, and you worry he won't do this for you.

"Are you sure that's what you really want?" You can hear the sadness in his voice. "He won't stop hunting you if you do this."

"I know." You say plainly, but bite your lip anxiously. A part of you knows that this isn't the safe decision. But you also know you haven't stopped thinking about that night, the way John's body pinned you to the wall. Temptation continued to knock at your door.

"I just have this feeling about it, and I...I have to do this." You assure yourself, trying to will being right about this.

You're worried he won't understand, but Neo sighs and takes a cigarette from behind his ear, lighting it up and nodding.

"If that's what you really want, I'll do it. But there's no reversing it when it's done." Smoke seeps from his lips as he talks, finally billowing out with a long breath when he's done.

You think for a moment. Do you really want to give up everything to become whole with your past self? Is she even really you, or have you experienced things so differently that you've become two separate beings, still forced together by fate? And if so, why would fate keep cycling you together?

More importantly, you know this is just a way to get close to John in the end. You know he's no good, that there is so little light in him, but you want him all the same. You wonder if those feelings are even yours or Helen's, but in the end, it won't matter.

You decide that there's only one way to find out, and you look back into Neo's warm brown eyes and nod.

"I have to know. I can't go on being in this purgatory between myself and her." Neo says nothing and stands, pouring a cup of black coffee from a dirty little pot in the corner of his room.

"Alright, but it's going to be a long night," he takes a deep sip of the coffee. "And it's likely to hurt."

You take a breath, and calm yourself, readying for anything.

"Let's do it." You affirm, and your hands clench nervously.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Neo moves a dirty, dusty rug from the center of his room. The concrete beneath it has been used for many rituals, stains and etching here and there. He draws in the summoning circle, writing it there with chalk and herbs. He carefully transcribes sigils from his own spellbook, making sure to work carefully, but efficiently.

"I don't think Constantine will take the news well," he calls over his shoulder while he works, and you sit on a rickety little stool he scrounged up.

"I know," you hate thinking about it, so you try to push Constantine from your mind right now. "But he can't make my life choices for me."

And it's true. As much as you owe him for saving your life, and as much as you love him as a friend, maybe even something more at one time, you can't let his wants come before what you feel deep inside your heart.

You know the vampire John Wick is evil, years of grief can do that to anyone, but you also believe that there's a way to get past that. And you can't deny it any longer, the way he's touched you, body, mind and soul, is something you feel you've been waiting your whole life for. You feel the need to at least try, if not, at least maybe with your soul merged with Helen's once and for all, you feel complete for the first time.

You bite the inside of your cheek nervously as Neo continues to finish the first part of the ritual, and you close your eyes for a moment, trying to internally call out to Helen, if that's possible.

Minutes pass and all you hear is your own soft breath, and Neo's quiet muttering and movements on the concrete.

Then, something stirs in your chest, and you hear her.

"Please, save him if you can, I hate to see John suffering from being a man he would despise..."

You nod to yourself, feeling more affirmed in your decision.

You try to focus on calming breaths until Neo is ready for you.

Soon enough, you're sat on the dusty, cold floor of Neo's apartment, lines of chalk and fancy ritual symbols encompassing you. The smell of incense fills your lungs and Neo walks carefully over the chalk to anoit your forehead, eyes, and heart with an oil that tingles when it touches your skin. He finishes by lighting candles that encircle you, and he begins the ritual.

"I want you to focus on the parts of you that are Helen, and I want you to welcome those parts into your own being." he pauses and looks you in the eye with an emotion you cannot place. "You may see things, hear things, feel things that you cannot explain, and it may be painful, but you will work through it. I believe in you."

Somehow, it helps that no matter what, Neo supports your choice and is on your side. You're grateful for his neutrality and assistance.

You let him know you're ready to begin, and Neo starts speaking in a language you're unfamiliar with.

You close your eyes and try to imagine what he said.

You think about your first meeting with John Wick, and how even though you were so fearful, his touch was something your body yearned for. How electric it felt, how those emotions might have been Helen calling out to him, but you're also sure that it was apart of you that desired him as well. You've been so chaste all your life, and you know that you've longed for someone to ignite that kind of passion inside of you.

You welcome that desire, that yearning, that want. And you feel your heart swell, as if there was so much weight inside of you, stirring and trying to get comfortable.

You hear Helen's voice once more.

"Come, I need to show you something."

You follow that voice with your mind and heart, and you feel yourself rising, the cold cement underneath you fading away, and your mind finding a light in the inky black darkness.

You reach out, and when your hand touches the cold metal of a candlestick, your breath hitches. You can feel the object, really feel it in this place. The candle's light flickers as you take it, and hold it close, the warmth from the small flame touching your cold cheeks and neck.

You walk, feeling as if you're walking on nothing at all, until the light begins to cast a hallway before you. It's still ever so dark, but as you move, you notice it becoming more and more solid, the scene becoming extremely real to you.

You hear the voice again.

"This way..."

You follow where you're being let, and a door opens. You see a woman who looks just like you, standing and turning to see you. She looks pleased, walking forward with a confident stride. You open your mouth to speak to her, but she gets closer, walking so close that she walks right through you.

And suddenly you're her, and you see what she walking towards.

John Wick stands in the door way, his eyes dark, no red to be seen. He smiles at you, and opens his arms as you come to embrace him. You can tell by his smile he is still a vampire, but the lust for blood is gone, the grief in his eyes is no longer masked with hate and anger. Instead, he is simply happy, kissing you everywhere he can get his lips on, and you're there in his arms, not frightened, but giggling with glee.

You watch as he turns you and holds you from behind, his mouth on your neck, kissing and sucking softly. He teases you, and you can feel the shivers of delight he gives with each kiss.

And suddenly, you understand why Helen has wanted to come back to this, these moments with John. You feel a small wave of doubt on if that's even possible, but you know you have to try.

You feel as if a breath of life has been blown into you, and when you close your eyes and lean into John, you know you've also leaned into Helen, and as you realize that your heart swells. It feels as if your chest may even burst from how much is being taken up in such a small space, but slowly the pain dulls, and you find yourself fading back into the darkness.

You open your eyes and see Neo standing over you, his eyebrows drawn in concern. You blink, letting the world come back into focus, and when you do, you notice how everything looks brighter, more vibrant.

You wonder how different things will be now that you look through your own and Helen's eyes, in unison now.

"You made it," Neo says, then looks around your form. "Your aura's evened out, but into a new color entirely. Do you feel any different?"

You stare up at him, not sure what to say, the whole world feeling much too big and large for you now.

"I..." You start, then swallow the lump in your throat as reality sets in. "I feel...complete."

A few tears fall down the creases in the corners of your eyes, wetting your hair along the way. Neo gives a soft smile, then offers a hand, letting you sit up.

You can sense him now. John is out there, and he knows what's happened. It's only a matter of time before he comes to claim you.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You decide to come to him. You part ways with Neo and go out into the darkness of the night. You leave the city, Neo's apartment close to a wooded area nearby. You don't want to be interrupted this time.

You know this is dangerous. That John is not that warm and loving man that Helen showed you in her vision to you. You know that man, if he still exists, must be hidden deep. You can no longer deny the pull to him, however, and your feet keep going forward no matter what fears stir in your belly.

You walk, crunching over orange leaves and fallen twigs. The full moon illuminates your path and you feel as if your skin is ignited, sensations you wouldn't have thought possible are being made clear to you. When a critter scurries away, or an owl flaps it's great wings above you, you almost know before the creatures even know their own next moves. That's why, when John steps out of the shadows behind you, you already know he's there.

"I've seen it." You speak to him without turning. "I've seen the man you used to be."

You hear nothing for a few moments, and your breath softly hangs in the cold October air.

"You have no idea if that man still exists inside me," he finally speaks, his voice deep and controlled. "And yet, my little slayer, I find you offering yourself to me so easily."

"Helen showed me, told me of the love that still burns in your heart for her." You didn't hear him move, but John is standing directly behind you now.

"So now you know," his breath moves the hair on the back of your head. "That I am intrigued by you for that sole purpose. Do you not worry I shall use you as a vessel to get to my true love?"

"No," you know it doesn't matter now that your souls are joined. The truth is, you've always been Helen, and that is a fate you could never escape.

"So you've joined your past then..." He thinks for a moment, a clawed hand slowly running itself up your arm, ever so lightly touching it.

"Does it not bother you that she was a vampire, slayer?" He tilts his head with curiosity while softly running his hand up your shoulder to your neck, gently feeling the pulse there.

"It's a part of me. I cannot deny the past or the parts of myself I do not like. It's what makes me whole..." You know it to be true, and you look up, blinking at the bright moon that watches the scene of hunter and hunted below it. You wonder which one the moon thinks you are.

"I have been waiting for you for a very, very long time." John's voice is soft now, surprisingly full of an ache you couldn't understand. You can sense how badly he wants you, he needs you, what he doesn't want to admit.

"And now here I am," you say, your voice quivering for a moment as you walk into such a different path of life. "Asking you to give me your heart once more."

The vampire laughs softly, his hand moving from your neck to play with a loose strand of your hair.

"You ask so much of me." he pauses for a moment, then whispers out. "And would you still give yourself to me knowing that I may never change my wicked ways?"

"I know the real John is in there. Not the killer you've become."

"You sound so sure of yourself. I do not wish to set you up for failure, slayer. Even though my fangs throb and my throat dries from how badly I want you so." He can't deny his bloodlust for you, and a shiver runs down your spine as he speaks, moving aside your hair and whispering this into your neck.

"You believe I should fear you, John Wick?" You feel a confidence building in your stomach despite how frightened you truly do feel.

"Oh," John laughs as he gently scraps his teeth on your delicate skin. "You should be terrified, my dear..."

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in suddenly. You cry out as he sinks his teeth into your flesh, and his hand moves to clutch your throat as he tastes you. You stand there, shaking in his grip, like a fearful deer in the wolf's mouth. Too startled and so quickly dominated by John to run, to fight back. The pain from his bite quickly turns to pleasure, building in your breast and following all the way down to between your thighs. You shudder from his touch, his mouth moving perfectly to carefully and slowly drink every drop of you he can. He's been waiting for this for so long, he couldn't have stopped himself if he wanted to, when you so freely trusted him and presented yourself to him.

A moan escapes your lips, and suddenly his free hand is groping your breast, feeling how tender the flesh is there and sending waves of pleasure through your body. His other hand grips your hip, pulling you into him and grinding your ass against his hardening cock. You have saved yourself for so long, but never knew you were saving yourself to be taken by such a predator. You hear John's soft growls as he bites you deeper now, taking more of your blood than he originally planned. You're just so sweet, so delicious, and fear mixes with your pleasure as you wonder if he will ever stop, or if he will drain you right here for being such a stupid little whore for him.

You reach up, your hands tangling in his mess of long, dark hair, and you can't help but need him in deeper, drinking you in just the right way that it sends waves of pleasure through your body. John growls become more animalistic, the need and the want overwhelming him. With the pleasure you're feeling, you find your mind foggy and dazed, the thought of letting John kill you somehow turning you on even though you know that's not what you should want.

You find yourself grinding your own hips into him, your legs parting, and John's hand on your hip slipping down, between your legs, beneath your skirt, and grabbing a handful of your wet pussy roughly. He grips your panties, pulling them up harshly so they slip in between your tender lips, finding the perfect spot to grind against your sensitive clit. He works you like that, fucking you with your own panties, and drinking deeper still until you think you may slip into the darkness of pleasure that coaxes you so sweetly. And you let him, a little lamb to the slaughter, looking up at him with big wet doe eyes that ask to be killed so gently.

Just as you think you've truly made a mistake, fear coiling in your stomach and making the pleasure you feel heightened to a degree you don't think you can handle, John pulls his fangs from your neck. He laps the wound there, and it slowly heals, but he's not done with you.

"You've made the mistake of trusting a monster." His voice is full of cruelness and lust. "And now I shall show you what happens when you do."

Your head is so light from the loss of blood, and you can barely fight back, your body so weak. Without warning he flings you into the ground of the forest, leaves and twigs scrapping your hands and knees. Your body falls without a fight, so easily manipulated at this point. You can hardly think of the reality of the consequences you've yet to face from doing such a thing.

John is at your hips once more, grabbing your ass and positioning so perfectly face down ass up. You look back at him, eyes glossy and dazed, tears you have no control of overflowing and dropping onto the dirty ground. Your cheek lays against the earth, dirt beginning to sully your perfect little face.

"It's so sweet you thought you could fix me." He laughs as he rips your underwear, the sound echoing into the quiet night.

Your bare ass faces him, the cold air teasing your extremely hot and wet cunt. He slaps your ass with a satisfying noise, grabbing it and digging his claws in just enough to hurt.

"You're going to regret giving yourself up to me so easily." His cock is now free from his pants, and he spits on your pussy, rubbing it in and mixing it with your already budding wetness, using the tip of his large cock to do so.

He pauses and watches you as you look up at him so innocently, lip quivering, tears falling, too dazed from blood loss to fight him. And then, just when you think he won't go through with it, he plunges all of his long, girthy cock into you in one harsh blow. You've never been fucked before, so the pain reels in your mind and you cry out, hands gripping the earth. For a moment, you try to crawl away from his cock, using most the energy you have left to do so. John laughs, reaching forward with one hand to grab your hips and thrust himself back deeper inside of you, using the other to grab a handful of your hair, pulling you from the earth painfully. Leaves fall off your cheek where they stuck, and you can only look up at the stars and the crimson eyes of the man who's taking everything from you.

"After this, you will no longer be able to deny me. You will no longer be able to go back to being an innocent little slayer." he thrusts into you once more, your mouth opening for a silent scream as you are filled up more and more by his cock, beyond what you ever thought you could take.

"You will be my pretty little whore, a slave to my cock, and a slut that loves to let me drain her." The worst part was, you knew it was true.

Even now, barely able to keep your eyes open from being drunken so deeply, you craved the pleasure those fangs gave you. You hate how your body betrays you, the way it feels so good to be dominated and fucked by John right now. Your legs quiver and shake on the dirty ground from how badly you want to cum. If only your sensitive little clit had attention right now.

"I want you to say it." John says, looking into your eyes as he fucks you and wrenches your hair. "I want you to say that you're mine, and I might just let you cum."

You bite your lip, trying to focus on the pain there instead of how good John's cock is, not wanting to give in. His free hand slaps your ass once more, taking a few hits out on it and leaving handprints that slowly redden. You hate how good it feels to be so degraded by him, for your body to have the sole purpose of being used up by a much more powerful being such as him. It's twisting your mind, rewriting all the training you had as a slayer and making you the perfect little whore.

Your mouth opens and cries out as John pull you up off the ground further by your hair, til your finger tips can barely touch the earth. He reaches around and grabs a handful of your breast, which he slips his hand under your blouse to do so. He quickly gets to your bare skin there, and plays with your nipple, twisting and pulling just the right way. It drives you mad, and you can barely breath as you're overcome with the sensation of that and John thrusting deeper and deeper inside of you.

"Give it up, slayer...You know how badly you crave this. Just admit you're my little toy from here on out and I'll be nice for once." His voice is now in your head, wrapping and twisting around in there, your ability to fight back dwindling more and more.

You can feel John's cock begin to swell, wanting so badly to finish you off. You grit your teeth and try to ignore how badly you want this, and how desperate you are to cum under any circumstance.

"You should decide quick, or else I'm going to use your sweet little cunt as my cumdump and be done with you." John growls, twisting your nipple so hard you cry out into the night.

"I-I'm...!" You try to fight it, try to not let him win, but your body aches, and you need this release so badly.

"You'll have to do better than that, my little pet." He snarls and thrusts in harder and deeper a few times just to break you down further.

"I'm..." Your mouth can barely whisper it out, and your eyes flutter, so tired and wanting to shut. "I'm yours..."

John grins and his hand snakes between your legs, finding your clit and stroking everywhere but it.

"That's it. Tell me what you are to me." He commands, teasing your clit. You feel shivers run along your body and you twitch, trying to move so his fingers will brush over your clit properly.

"I'm, I'm..." Your mind is blank, mouth moving and saying whatever it can form. "I'm your little whore..."

He flicks his fingers over your clit, and you jump from the attention, but moan out from how good it feels. Then you whine when he stops.

"And what else?" You hate how he teases you, and whine harder like the little brat you are when you don't get your way.

"I'm your slut..." You barely know what you're saying at this point, you know anything will come out of your mouth right now if it means you get to cum.

"Yes, good girl..." He whispers into your ear, rubbing your clit properly once more, a bit longer now, then stopping again.

"P-please!" You whimper out, your breath coming so hard and quick now as you get closer, but are denied once more.

"Keep going, tell me how beneath me you are." You feel humiliated from how easy it is now for him to take you and make you do whatever he says. You truly are but a puppet in his hands now.

"I'm your dirty little slut...your bitch..." You blink, trying to cum up with more, but every time you say one, he plays with your sweet spot, then denies you when you stop, making it so hard to think.

"Keep going."

"I'm your cumdumpster...a hole to fuck...your pretty little blood doll to drain when you get thirsty." you have no idea where all this is coming from, but you'll say anything right now as long as John keeps his cock pounding you and his hand sending waves of pleasure through your body while he pets your cunt.

"I'm a mindless little slut for your cock and I had no idea that's what I was meant for before you fucked me into submission..." You whisper out, feeling completely degraded and knowing John's working on those emotions in your mind to help make such horrible words come out of your mouth.

"That's right. And now, I'm going to claim you as mine and keep you forever until I get tired of you." Your body shudders from the thought of being so entrapped by this monster, being so completely used up and broken by such an enemy, and so easily tricked into doing so.

You feel your clit aching from the teasing touches, and your cunt is starting to get sore from how it's being used. You feel John pull you up so he can get to your neck, your back against his torso, his hard abs cool against your hot skin. He uses his hands to keep you steady, his cock still finding a way to keep you stimulated, and his hand working on your clit. He waits til you're shaking, legs ready to give out, and cunt clenching so hard and tight around his cock you think you might break. Then, just as you're spilling over the edge, those waves of sweet pleasure starting in your legs and moving out, he sinks his fangs into you once more.

Your pleasure is mixed with the pain of being bitten again, then quickly moves to heighten your cum. John's cock can handle it no more, finally, spilling his cum so deeply inside of you, throbbing and in need of making sure every last drop gets inside. You feel yourself continuing to cum, much longer than you ever could have thought possible, and darkness beginning to take you as well. You fade into an abyss filled with pleasure and nothingness, and for the first time in your life you feel bliss from being so perfectly taken.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You awake on deep burgandy sheets of silk, twisted up in your legs. You kick out, the silk slippery and expensive feeling, and your foggy mind tries to make sense of what you're seeing around you. You blink, and try to use your hands to rub your eyes and make the scene make sense. It takes a moment, but you begin to see in the dimly lit room.

It's opulent, dark red and deep browns filling your vision. It's a room that looks older, but the items inside are still so prestine despite looking Victorian or earlier. You look about the bed, it's huge, and you feel as if you're on a boat in the middle of the sea. You look up and see the bed posts extend upward, red velvet curtains adorning it and creating a little enclave.

You peek from the bed to see more of the room, body moving slowly, stiff and sore. You realize as you move, someone has dressed you in a light, white and airy, nightgown. As you look from your body back to the room, one of the doors to the room opens.

John walks in, a golden tray in his hand, covered. He says nothing, but he is extremely dominant just from how he walks up to you.

He sees you recoil from him slightly, and your blood starts to pound a bit faster now. His face is stoic and let's no emotions come through.

"Here." He says, not exactly gently.

He sets the tray on the bedside table, and waits for you to move first.

Your mind is hazy, but you remember much of what happened between the two of you. You feel more naked now than when he was fucking you relentlessly. More shy, afraid of being so normal in front of him.

He watches you, a hand gesturing to the tray slightly, waiting for you. You move slowly, not taking your eyes off of him, unsure of if this is a game or a test. You slowly grab the cold metal of the cover of the tray, and pull it off with measured movements.

You glance away from him finally, to see what he's brought you.

On the tray, a delicious looking breakfast. All of your favorite foods of this meal are present on a few different sized plates, complete with a steaming hot cup of tea. You look back up at him, and your eyes narrow for a second, wondering how he would know to make such a perfect breakfast for you.

"It was her favorite too." He says simply, the slowly, as if waiting for you to say now, sits on the bed.

The bed has more than enough room, so you sit near the edge and by the table, and he at the end of your feet. He watches what you will do next.

Despite yourself, your stomach growls from the smell of the wonderful meal, and you can't take it any longer.

You begin to eat, slowly, and to your surprise once more, it tastes as amazing as it looks. You didn't know a vampire could cook so well, but you're not questioning it now.

John watches you with curiosity, and soon you get so into your meal, you forget that you should be afraid of the man at the end of the bed. You pause halfway through, your stomach getting fuller faster than you would have thought. You softly move, positioning yourself so you can look directly at John and drink your tea.

This time, you wait for him to make the first move.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions..." He finally says, and you look at him, not giving anything away either.

The truth was, somehow, you had less questions than you thought. You know what's happened, and you feel less like two entities in one body every passing second. In fact, now you feel as if you've moved into a singular being, and with Helen's knowledge of John lingering in the back of your mind, you know how he will treat you here.

"Or maybe not..." He says with a smirk, clearly reading your mind so easily.

"I still think you're in there, the real John." You take a sip of tea, and you know the hope has not been taken from you entirely.

"Oh really?" John says with a smirk, clearly intrigued. "After what I've done to you, you still think there could be good inside of me?"

You laugh, and John looks genuinely taken back, for only an instant.

"Oh yes," you are now the one smirking. "Just because you're a good fuck, doesn't mean you can't be a good man either."

Your voice is a tad cocky, coyly acting as if the events of him taking you that night were actually your idea. And for a moment, you think that maybe it was...

"I'm hardly a man, you know that, slayer." He says and this time he laughs.

"And I'm hardly a slayer, anymore." You raise your eyebrows and take another sip of the spiced and sweet tea.

John nods, saying nothing, obviously thinking over what you've said. You wonder if you truly could stump the feared John Wick with such ease.

John stands, and walks to the second door in the room. He opens it, and from your view on the bed, you get a peek into a bright white and gold accented bathroom, much larger than any you've seen before.

"The bathrooms here, if you need it." John walks back over to you, leaving the bathroom door open.

He gathers the tray, but leaves you with your tea.

"If you need me, call out. I will hear you."

And with that, he walks out the door he came in, and you hear the particular sound of a lock being engaged. You think on what he said, the implication being not only will he hear you if you call for him, but hear anything else as well. You understand that despite the more kind aspect of feeding you today, and giving you such a gilded cage to stay in, you are still his prisoner.

You decide to get out of bed, your long nightgown flowing with your movements, and your bare feet pad across dark wooden floors. You look into the bathroom closer now, and see all the grandeur of it. The room is large, with a huge marbled bathtub in one corner, big enough to fit 5 or more with comfortably. The side closest to the door holds a sink and counter, behind them a long and tall mirror that makes the room seem even bigger. Across from the sink is a vanity area.

You walk over and inspect it, seeing it is complete with any make up item you may want, of course namebrand only. You spy a few perfumes as well on a tiny golden tray, and you test them. You surely will not like all of the scents, but to your surprise, it's the each smells you'd love to wear most. He really has thought much of this out.

You decide to undress, and as you do, you see your body in the mirror. Bruises on your knees and arms are deep purple, your ass still spotting some red marks and violet as well. Your muscles are sore as you take the dress off and all it combined reminds you of what happened before you came here.

You aren't really sure how to feel about it. You know, if you detailed what happened to any of your friends, or god forbid Constantine, they would immediately think the worst has happened. But somehow, despite the social pressure to deny how much you liked it, you know that when you walked into that forest, in search of John Wick, it was a possibility that he would fuck you so savagely. And the deeper part of you had hoped for it to happen. You look away from the remnants of his touch on your body, and move towards the bathtub.

You sit on the edge while the tub fills with steamy water, looking at the stained glass windows across from the tub. Moonlight pours through them, leaving a red stain across the room from the depictions of roses and such within the glass.

You finally are able to sink deeply into the tub, and you're able to float on your back in there, simply letting your mind and body rest in the heat of the water that envelopes you.

You wonder what happens now.

You've set out to heal your soul bond to Helen, which you've done. But now, a different bond tugs on your heartstrings.

You know that the reason you've come here, given yourself up to John, is because he is connected to you in ways you can't begin to untangle. Not now, after you've chosen to go down this path.

You can tell he wants to use you, in whatever evil way he desires, but you wonder if it could be called 'being used' when the pit in your stomach yearns so deeply for it.

You know you were raised to be a slayer. That it runs in your blood to kill monsters, like John especially. But you never really felt like that was meant for you. You were never as good at it as Constantine. You always lacked something and never even progressed past killing low level monsters. How were you supposed to ever be a great slayer when the odds were so stacked against you?

You sigh, the steam rising from the tub and the mirrors of the bathroom fogging over. You sit up, and reach for expensive looking soaps and haircare on the side of the tub, and begin to gently wash up.

The act of taking care of yourself in such a way soothes you, and you love the scents that have been chosen for you. In a weird way, this is much more calming than any of your years as a slayer. You wonder what else is in store for you, if there's something that will make you regret this so greatly, but apart of you is ready to face anything if you can see the one your heart hungers for on the other side.

You wonder if this is how hedonists feel. Giving into lust, yearning, want, and letting yourself have whatever it is that your body desires, uncaring for if that choice is bad for you.

You wash your body in thought, and as you do, you begin thinking of John's cock again. Maybe that was all it took. Being held down and fucked like an animal, and now you feel so empty without him inside of you. That's what he said right? That you would be a slave to his cock?

You let your hands wander your body in the bath, and you softly touch yourself. Small moans escape your mouth as you keep going, echoing in the large bathroom. You think of John fucking you again, and soon enough you're body is hot with desire. And by the sounds of footsteps entering the bathroom, yours isn't the only one.

You don't need to stop, or move, to know who it is. With your connection strengthening, you know John has stepped into the room. You were hoping what when he said he could hear anything, he would hear you in here touching yourself.

You've become such a naughty girl since you let go.

John approaches the tub, and right now, your back is to him. You have no idea if he came in this way, or quickly undressed, but soon enough, he is entering the warm water with you. He swims carefully behind you, and his hands, still cold, softly caress your back.

You shiver and turn to him, seeing him now, fully naked and immersed in the water as you are.

"Couldn't even finish your bath?" He teases you, voice so soft.

"Mhm..." You simply respond, and now that you're both so exposed to each other, you come in closer.

"You're so easily tamed. Don't you feel like such a whore for giving into me like that?" He chides and smirks, and all you can do is laugh.

If only he knew that you do feel like a whore, but it's not because of how badly you crave his cock. It's something you're slowly starting to choose, and each time you give into such a desire, the more freedom you really feel.

You reach for him, and feel his chest, slowly warming in the hot water. You let your hands run down it, and to your surprise, John let's you do as you please. He watches you with intrigue, and you remember how many more years of experience he has over you. You wonder if there's anything you could do to surprise him.

"You already have." He says, reading your mind once again.

"It's not fair you have access to all of my thoughts, and I have none of yours." You pout, and keep letting your hands explore his body more, slowly.

"You need but ask, Сладкая..." He speaks something in his foreign tongue and through your connection you don't have to ask to know it's for endearment.

"Why do you think you can't be saved?" You ask, and are worried to look into John's eyes.

A long moment passes, and finally you do. John looks down at you from where he's relaxed against the side of the bath, and seems to be thinking.

"I don't think someone who's killed as much as I have, taken as many lives as I do, has much to be saved left." He says this, and you can tell it's sincere.

You nod, listening, and you don't know what to say. It's true. You know after Helen died, he became the assassin he is, killing vampires, humans, and other supernaturals alike. In a way, you think, he's more of a slayer than you are.

"You're probably right." He laughs, and you blush as you realize once more he's overheard.

"If you don't like doing it, you could quit being an assassin." You say softly, running a hand upward and letting it play with the ends of his hair, still not wet from the tub yet.

"It's the only think I could do. After I lost you the first time, I couldn't do anything to make myself feel. Killing changed that." You're surprised he's confiding in you so.

"It won't change much, telling you how I feel. Knowing my feelings doesn't absolve me from the wickedness in my heart." He says, looking deep into your eyes, his now a red so dark you can scarcely tell it's true color.

"I will want you again. And I will take you however and how much I like." He says this extremely plainly, as if there's no other way. "I will not kill you, but you are mine now."

He looks at you for response, and you show him nothing.

"Do you really think a man who will use you for your body and blood, who cannot give you anything in return from a heart so shrivelled as mine is, is the correct choice?" You sense how much he believes this to be true.

You place a hand over where his heart should be. You feel only the faintest and dullest of beats.

"Perhaps, with enough of my blood beating in there, you will feel the love I still have for you, after all these years of waiting." When you speak like this, you know it's more of Helen coming out of you, but you can see from how you use such words, John's eyes seem to soften ever so slightly.

"That is a kind thing to wish for..." He takes your hand in his, and pulls you to him. He kisses your hand, and you let it open like a flower for him.

He kisses your palm, still wet from the bath, and he kisses further, reaching your beating wrist. His eyes flash up to you, the red brightening as his hunger shows.

"You let such a monster as me have free reign over you?" He whispers into your wrist, breath tickling you there. "Oh what a silly little slayer you are..."

"I'm not sure if I was ever cut out to be a slayer..." You can't believe you're saying it out loud, but it's true. You always felt you had to be, that it was what was destined for you, but it never fulfilled you the way it did others.

"Ah, so you've come to use me for your rebellious phase then...?" He jokes and laughs into your wrist before gently nipping at it with his teeth.

"You could say that..." You joke back, but in reality, your breath is caught as you imagine his fangs sinking into you there.

Your thighs squish together in the water as you try to hide your want to feel the pleasure that those teeth bring.

"Don't think I forgot what brought me in here..." John teases you, and you bite your lip as you try not to whine for him. The temptation grows.

"I know how badly you must want me to drink of you again..." John swallows, obviously hungry himself. "But I cannot, you haven't fully recovered from last time."

You can't help it, the whine escapes your lips as he says this and then licks against your pulse, pulling you into his lap as he does so.

"Would an evil vampire care so much for letting me recover?" You whisper out, confronting him despite yourself.

"One that wants to use every last drop of their blood doll does..." He chuckles and let's his teeth run up your arm, until he finds your neck, moving wet hair out of the way.

He kisses there, at that perfect spot on your neck until your moans are filling the room. He let's his hands steady you, and take your body in, exploring every curve, your waist, your back, your breasts.

Oh, how you wish he would touch between your thighs, though...

He smirks and looks you in the eyes.

"Should I be nice for once and let you have what you want?" You don't know if he's serious or not, but from the flash in his eyes you suspect something devious.

He turns, lifting you up and setting you onto the edge of the bathtub with ease. There's more than enough room for you to sit, and John looks up hungrily from between your legs.

He takes in the sight of your body and grins.

"Tonight, I shall taste of you in a different manner..."

He pulls you to the edge and opens your legs without asking, you cry out from how aggressive he is. You can see that primal look in his eyes once again, and you know there's no stopping him now. You also know, you wouldn't allow him to stop anyways. Your breath catches as his head dips between your legs, breath on your most sensitive area already, and before he can ease you into it, he's lapping at your wet cunt.

You squirm and his hands dig into your thighs, pulling you in and capturing you there. You feel caught in the wolf's mouth, not daring to move lest he bite down too hard.

You feel your pleasure ramping up as his tongue continues to tease you, alternating between too much stimulation then not enough, John waiting for you to whine before he gives you more.

Your hands move to tangle in his hair and he grabs them, moving them back. He's not letting you have even an ounce of power right now.

You begin moaning more and more as he focuses his mouth directly on your clit, sucking until you think you'll go mad.

"Say my name." He commands, and you try to think straight as he goes back to licking.

"J-john..." You whisper out, and he grabs your thighs harder, growling.

"Louder."

You bite back giving him what he wants and instead hold your breath as you try to edge yourself closer to the edge.

"Not until I hear you scream my name." John looks up at you with those red eyes, no longer stimulating you, waiting.

Fuck. He's got you right where he wants you, once again.

He laps slowly, teasing his tongue through your folds but not giving enough for you to finish, just enough to prolong your need.

"Fuck..." You whisper out, trying to buck your hips into his mouth, but he holds you down with his steel grip.

You can't take it anymore, your breathing is ragged and sharp, and your body needs release.

"John..." You whisper once more, looking down and seeing that same glare as before, knowing you aren't nearly loud enough.

"God, John!" You moan out again this time getting louder, and every time after building.

He lets you scream his name until he's satisfied, finally flicking his tongue perfectly, sucking and licking just right until you're shaking. He let's you twitch into him, your need to grind against his face given freely as long as you keep his name perched on your lips.

You finish, and he slows down his tongue in time with your breath, easing you down from your high.

He smirks at you once more from between your thighs and pulls you back down into the steamy water.

He says nothing, but slowly runs his hands on your silky, slick body. You feel content in his soft touches, and for a moment you think you might even fall asleep as he does so. He leans you back into the water, wetting your hair then applying shampoo, the smell sweet and lovely. He washes your hair with precise fingers, the feeling on your scalp sending tingles down your back. You look up to keep soap from getting in your eyes, and glance at him. He seems as relaxed as you right now.

"Why are you being so kind to me now?" You shouldn't ruin the moment by asking, but you have to.

"Just because I am capable of good doesn't mean that I am good." He whispers back. "Besides, I like to take care of my things..."

You let him finish washing you, then he helps you from the steamy bathwater, offer a hand as you step out. He hands you a fluffy white bath towel, and a smaller one for your hair. You've never felt so cared for, even though the man doing so is supposed to be such a monster. You know he's wrong. He can't hide how much he cares for you for long.

He gets you a new nightgown and helps you back to bed, your body still overly tired and weak. Another set of tea is already out and prepared, you wonder by whom, but you don't care.

You drink the liquids left out for you with fervor, your body thirsty after sweating in the steam of the bath. John walks over to a fireplace in the room, and begins to light it, toying with the flaming wood until its to his liking.

"You don't have to worry here, you know..." He says softly, still looking at the fire.

"No?" You reply.

"No...I will have your every need taken care of, but I have conditions."

"Which are?" You look at his back, his eyes still glued to the flame.

"You may not leave here. I will not allow you to see your friends. And your body is for me to consume as much or as little as I like." He says the conditions so plainly, and you wonder if you'll be able to adhere.

You say nothing and he stands, turning to leave not looking at you.

He pauses at the door, only half moving his head in your direction.

"Goodnight." He whispers, then closes the door and locks it once more.

You crawl under the covers, and the warmth from the fire keeps the cold at bay. You wonder where your life with John will lead.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You lay there, head full of dreams that whisk away reality, softly breathing. The balcony doors to the room shutter against the cold of the wind. November is near now, and the weather has started to dip into a frosty tendency. You are grateful for the warmth of the room as the wind continues its wickedness outside. You sleep somewhat peacefully despite your situation.

That is, until the knocks came.

You thought perhaps a branch or some other bit of nature had summoned itself against the glass, but the intensity of the knocking grew louder. Your eyelids flutter open and you blink away sleep, trying to see what it is that has disturbed you.

A shadow cast across the room, a long, dark shadow that is human in form. You feel fear slide down your spine as you quickly look at the window to see the source, and your heart sinks.

It's him.

Constantine.

You fling yourself from the bed at once, feet slapping against the cold wooden floor. When you come to the glass doors of the balcony, you pause, wondering if you should really open it. You glance up at Constantine's face, and the love you once held for him is still a dull ache in your heart.

You open the doors.

He immediately embraces you, his warmth shining through despite the cold.

"You have no idea how long I've been looking for you..." He whispers into your hair.

You've never seen him so tender.

Your absence must have been harder on him than you thought it would be. You had only known him barely a year before you met John, but there was an undeniable bond between you two. There still is.

You pull yourself away from him.

"What are you doing here?" Is all you can say, and Constantine's face drops.

"I'm here to rescue you? What the fuck do you think I'm here for?" The gruffness and mean tone of voice you're used to is back.

"I never said I needed to be rescued." You fold your arms across your chest, stopping some of the billowing of your nightgown in the wind that blows in from the open doors.

"Why else would you be here with a vampire? I don't believe that you have come here on your own accord, you're a slayer, we don't do that..." He says this slowly, watching your reaction, looking at you as if you were a foreign object he must inspect.

"I..." You begin to speak, then close your mouth, unsure of what to say.

"Don't tell me you actually decided to come here on your own..." Something inside his words, beyond the cruel exterior, was almost pleading you to say no.

You say nothing.

Before Constantine can open his mouth to speak once more, the doors to your bedchamber open with sleek vigor.

John stands there, staring Constantine down.

Before you can stop them, they're already at each other, Constantine going to grab a stake off of his back, and John going for his throat.

"Stop!" You call out, and you realize you cannot bear to lose either of them. Your heart beats wildly and you try to think of a way to end this.

To your surprise, Constantine is able to get John pinned, his stake aimed and John's hand holding his arm to stop him from drilling it into his heart.

"Please! Don't!" You scream out, and Constantine looks at you.

"Tell me you want me to go and I will." He says, grunting with effort to keep the upper hand while distracted.

"Tell me you choose him and I will never bother you again." His voice caught, rough and pleading with you.

You have no idea how you're supposed to choose so suddenly. You open your mouth but cannot muster words to come out.

"Fine." Constantine says and soon allows John to break free from him.

As John goes in for the kill, Constantine jumps from the balcony, giving you one final look, that you know means you won't see the last of him.

You rush to the edge of the balcony, to see where he's gone.

When you check the ground, so far down you don't think you could ever make such a jump, he's already gone. The only evidence being boot prints in the wet grass and the anger on John's face.

"John...I--" before you can speak grabs you and flings you into the bedroom.

He shuts and now locks the balcony door, your one salvation to the outside world these past few weeks.

He glares at you, his red eyes full of emotions you don't think you could ever feel so intensely. His eyes lock with yours, and you can see the pain there hidden behind a sardonic grin.

"Seems you're still tethered to the past, my dear. I think it's time you make a choice."

With that, he leaves you there, tears welling up in your eyes as your heart hurts from both of them.

The door to your bedchamber clicks and you're all alone once more...

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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[jaywalkers]

hi róisín, since ur in med, i was wondering : is aftg v medically accurate ?

hihi! i'll preface with that i'm not a med student, i'm a final year paramedic student, but i think my scope and areas of practice fit the antics the foxes get into in aftg enough to comment on it!

i won't talk on aftg's take on medications, antipsychotics or otherwise, because a lot of other lovely people who are far more educated on the topic have written about it! when it comes to aftg's treatment of injuries, though, i do have some things to say.

i'm going to tee up a couple of examples of frontline medical treatment in aftg and make some comments on them! granted they're very messy, but i hope they're understandable enough.

from the best, to the worst:

kevin's hand

i don't think it's unfeasible that kevin was back to playing capacity two years after his injury happened — while i think that his hand was probably severely fractured, and there was likely different fingers involved too, with good surgical intervention (which he was likely able to access) hand fractures, even complex ones, can be healed enough in 4-6 months.

the ligament injuries would be the more pertinent, and i think those would be the more pressing concern for him outside of the healed bones, considering ligament injuries can cause chronic issues not limited to pain. i would be surprised if abby was the sole medical provider for the foxes, because while she does appear to be a well-rounded sports nurse, kevin probably would have needed to work with a dedicated physiotherapist and/or a hand specialist to get the use of his hand semi-back to normal.

other questions abt kevin's medical problems? please observe here

2. neil's wounds post baltimore

when it comes to how these wounds are treated by medical staff, i have no concerns. the hospital neil is brought to by the FBI seems to have treated the wounds well and left him to sleep off any negative follow-on effects from the chloroform. the only thing i have qualms with is the implication from the hotel scene that the hospital has put an adhesive dressing over neil's burn on his cheek, which is a big no in wound-dressing — burned skin is very delicate, and adhesives can damage or rip it away with removal. it's why we use glad-wrap in the prehsopital setting for burns, because it's sterile and not sticky!

abby, when she gets her hands on neil, changes the bandages so the wounds can be visualised and aired out, cleans them again, and then re-dresses them cleanly. i have no issues here.

when it comes to how these wounds are treated by andrew, i have only this text from my brother when he first read the series a couple of years ago

throughout the series, including post-nest, andrew is constantly getting his grubby little mitts in neils fresh wounds. he should not be doing that. in particular in the hotel scene he peels away the adhesive dressing over a burn which is just a recipe for tissue-loss, severe pain, and increased risk of infection. i don't know how abby didn't scream because i would have.

just andrew. in general. yikes, my dude. don't do that.

3. jean

jean. he is the kicked dog of this series and i genuinely don't know how he was alive at the start of the book series, let alone at the end. at the start of the series, he has (according to the EC) experienced not only numerous fractures to various bones, but has had two incidences where he 'bashed his head open on the concrete', and needed 266 stitches total. also ten incidences of waterboarding.

if we break this down: that's two major head injuries, multiple incidences of significant amounts of blood loss, and ten incidences of asphyxial peri-arrest events.

it's further implied by both the novels and the extra content that jean was not given time to heal from these injuries, and instead had to play games. add to that the hours of the nest and the living conditions, and i actually cannot fathom how jean was not yet dead, by either a single incident or the culmination of many. exy is a contact sport. those head injuries, plus an accidental shoulder-check into the plexiglass could have, and should have killed him.

i'm glad he didn't. i think it's important that he didn't. but it is a miracle of biology and the sanctity of his cerebral blood vessels that he stays alive to the end of the books.

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anyway i hope this all makes a bit of sense! im writing this half-mad with eight hours until my last exam for my 2nd to last semester so i'm running on energy drinks and way too much memorisation work of how benzos work. thank you for the question! and as always, please field more my way i LOVE this stuff.