#all my steak n shake training coming out

[repulsiveliquidation]

Arsenal’s Number 6

Leah Williamson x Reader, Part 3 of Fore! (double update today, wow)

Part 1 | Part 2

Leah’s ACL has healed and it’s her first game back. (let us pretend she’s back, eh?)

word count : 2k

warnings : fluff with smut at the end.

“Leah you’re going to be late!”

“I know! Just can’t fucking find my fucking–oh there it is.”

You’re holding up her kit bag, having had to put it away yesterday since she dumped it at the front door and didn’t clean it. You had cleared out her smelly training kit and cleaned her shoes, dusting out the grass at the bottom and replenishing it with all her essentials. It was where it went; in the cupboard by the door but she refused to put it in there so she never knew where it was when you picked up after her.

“I don’t know what I’d do without ya, pretty girl.”

“You’d be a mess, baby. A hot, fucking, mess. Come on, I’ll drop you off.”

//

“Your missus coming to the game Sunday?” asked McCabe in the changing room. They were packing up to go home, Jonas had let the girls know that the trainers had cleared Leah for her first game back since her ACL on Sunday against Brighton. Screams and cheers filled the room, all the girls glad to have Leah back on the pitch. She hadn’t stopped smiling, glad to finally be back where she belongs. But Katie’s question makes her smile fall.

“She’s probably going to be busy. She has students.”

“Bullshit Leah, Y/N knows how much this means to you.”

“I’ll maybe only be playing a couple minutes, there’s no point.”

“Leah, what’s this about?”

“Can we just drop it, please?”

Everyone leaves her alone at her request, squeezing her shoulder as they filter out. She had been waiting for this day to come and now that it’s here she’s terrified. Doubt fills her mind as she fears that she will make mistakes and cost the team. She’s scared that once she’s back she won’t be the same as she was before. She’s scared that Arsenal won’t want her if she isn’t back to 100% fitness. She’s scared that you’ll be disappointed and leave. You can’t leave. It would kill her more than never playing football again. She starts to hyperventilate, the room spinning as she tries to catch her breath. She’s desperately clutching her chest when she feels familiar hands grab hers and pull her into a firm chest. She’s shaking, the smell of you filling her nostrils.

“Easy baby, it’s okay. You’re safe, Leah. It’s just me, I’ve got you.”

It takes a few more minutes for her breathing to regulate and for her to stop shaking. You wipe her tears away and hold her face. You smile softly and kiss her, which makes her melt into your touch. Fresh tears prickle at her eyes as you pull her to sit in your lap.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

She takes a while to answer you, trying her best to calm herself. You rub her back and don’t rush her, softly cooing at her as she is finally able to catch her breath.

“Please don’t leave me.” She says quietly, looking up at you with sad eyes. You cup her cheeks and look down at her, face full of concern.

“What’s given you that idea, darling?” you ask her, wiping her tears away. She’s puffy and has snot running down her face, yet you can’t find a flaw on her face.

“They cleared me to play on Sunday.”

“That’s great news, love. What’s making you upset then?”

“I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Oh Leah, even if you didn’t play I would be so proud of you.”

“You’re too important to me to be a disappointment.”

“I will be proud of you no matter what. That’s my job. Other than being the world’s best girlfriend. You’re my world in this equation, which makes me the best girlfriend. Who’s the real winner here?”

“Me, obviously.”

“There’s my cheeky girl, I’ve missed her.”

“I love you.”

It takes you by surprise, the love in her eyes is almost replaced with pain till you grab her face and kiss her searingly.

“I love you too, Leah.”

//

You’re making dinner, a sad, bland chicken burger for Leah (she drools which is unbelievable) and a nice steak for yourself. She asked for a couple bites of your steak which you feed her but politely decline a bite of her chicken burger (honestly, not even a little spice, Lee?) 

You’re both sharing a bottle of wine with an Arsenal game on the tv when Leah suddenly muted the tv. She never missed one moment of a game and it took you by surprise.

“You can say no.”

“You really need to stop saying that. Anything you want I will make happen baby.”

“I-I want you there on Sunday.”

“I was going to be.”

“No, not as another face in the crowd. As in like there in the family section with a family pass around your neck. With my name on your back.”

“Nothing would make me happier. Well, maybe marrying you could come close second, we’ll see.”

You laugh at your own joke and miss the look or pure adoration on Leah’s face. She wants to make that happen, she knew in that moment that she was marrying you one day.

//

“Subbing in for the first time since April, Arsenal’s Number 6, Leah Williamson!” you heard the announcer say. There was only 5 minutes left in the game but proud didn’t even begin to express how you were feeling. Seeing her waiting by the sidelines, she caught your eye as you were sat in the family section with Amanda. “I love you,” you mouthed as she did the same at the same time. You had tears in your eyes, watching her smiling, so happy to be back on the pitch. She’s getting a standing ovation, the gooners happy to have their beloved captain back.

It was just a little tester of her headspace, gauging her readiness to be back on the pitch. She played flawlessly; she was back to being a force to be reckoned with. When the final whistle blew, Arsenal walked away with a win (a/n MANIFESTING), the girls from both teams congratulating her on her return. She was positively buzzing, her cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

You were nervously waiting in the changing room for her, Amanda wanting to see her on the pitch instead. She finally walked in, still grinning as wide as she could. She ran over to you, hugging you and spinning you around.

“You did it baby!”

“All thanks to you, pretty girl.”

You kissed her hard, the whole room cheering and teasing the both of you. You didn’t care, the both of you in a world or your own. She took a shower and got changed before you walked out to her car, hand in hand swinging happily. The whole drive home was filled with comfortable silence; you held her hand that was in your lap and softly rubbed her arm. She leaned over and kissed you at traffic lights, hand rubbing your thigh teasingly. You knew what she was insinuating and gave into her.

“You did so well baby, I’m so proud of you.”

“You look so hot with my name on your back.”

“Mrs. Y/N Williamson does have a nice ring to it.”

“We’re making that happen one day, pretty girl. Right now, I want to ravish you.”

//

You stumbled into the house, hands pulling clothes off each other impatiently. Riley was confused but totally stole Leah’s training shirt to bite on. You didn’t care, all you could think about was Leah. She picked you up like you weighed nothing, walking to your bedroom and locking the door. She threw you onto the bed, eyes dark with desire. Her lips were on yours instantly, kissing you dizzying hard. She crawled onto the bed slowly, pinning your arms above your head as she sucked noisily at your neck. You whined, core aching for her touch.

She ripped your undergarments off, mouth latching onto your breast. She bit and sucked, a growl leaving the back of her throat. She switched breasts, hands kneading them hard. You cried out in pain and pleasure, her grunts becoming more and more impatient sounding. “Fuck, turn over.” You obey her, arching your back more as she spanks your ass. She straddles your thighs, biting all over your back and taking off the rest of her clothes. She hisses when her clit grazes your thigh, grabbing your ass and spreading it roughly. She groans, leaning in and eating you out. You squeal and whine, hand reaching back to cradle her head the best you can. She man-handles you to perch your ass up, burying her face between your legs to lick and suck at you the best she can. She growls into your folds, slurping your sweet nectar like a hungry bear. You can only cry out her name and grip the sheets, her mouth assaulting you exactly how you like.

She suddenly stops and lays back, legs opening for you. “Come here,” she says with authority and you swoon at her demanding tone. You make no protest, settling yourself between her legs and wait for further instruction. “Make me cum,” she says with that same force, you can only oblige and lean in to slurp at her soaking folds.

The tone of authority in her voice and that signature focused face was more than enough to make your pussy throb with a need like no other. You obediently slurp and suckle on her folds, her hands making a home in your hair as she practically rode your face. You whine and slip your tongue into her, alongside two fingers. She yelps and moans your name, begging you for release. It only makes you work harder, tongue-fucking her as your nose buries itself in her clit. She screams your name and cums, legs trembling so violently. She smiles dopily, pulling you up and kissing you hard. You taste each other on your lips, both moaning into each other’s mouths.

“Want the strap, pretty girl?”

“Fuck yes, Leah.”

“Tell me what you want, babygirl.”

“Want you to fuck me, Leah. Please.”

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? You gonna be a good girl for me, Y/N?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl.”

“On all fours.”

You listen, pulling yourself up into that position. She pulls out the strap and puts it on, lubing it up a little before getting back on the bed behind you. She lines herself up and pushes in slowly, feeling resistance she kisses down your back, spanking your ass a few times before thrusting shallowly. You open up for her, moaning her name loudly as she now begins to really pound into you. Her hands have an iron grip on your hips, pulling you back onto her cock. She moans like she can feel it, loving the look of your ass slapping against her hips.

“Fuck, r-right there Leah!”

“Yeah? You want my cock right there, darling?”

“Y-Yes! Fuck, please!”

She pounds into you harder, angling her hips up to hit your spot. She spanks your ass a few more times before you curse and beg for her to let you cum.

“Please Leah!”

“Come on my cock baby, there’s a good girl.”

You come hard, legs trembling and chest heaving. She fucks you through it, lips muttering profanities at you as you come down from your high. She pulls out and kisses you, taking off the strap and maneuvering you into her arms.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Thank you for coming out to watch me today.”

“I don’t think I’ll be missing a game anytime soon, Lee.”

#woso soccer #woso imagine #leah williamson #engwnt #leah williamson imagine #leahwilliamson x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader

[sturniologals]

Midnight Snack-C.S

Reader x Chris

-; Warnings- Smut, Dom!Chris, Unprotected P in V, Rough sex, Cursing.

Summary- you go into the kitchen for a midnight snack and your childhood crush, chris, gives you an early birthday present.

1.3k words

I stumble down the stairs, my bare feet cold against the wooden floors. I feel my teeth chatter against each other and i instantly regret my decision to not put anything on other than a t shirt that hangs just above my knees. But everyone except me is asleep. I mean, it is 2 in the morning and we all have to be up at 9.  

My best friend Nick is taking me out to my favorite steak house tomorrow and then we’re traveling to LA for my birthday so we all have had a pretty busy night full of planning so i’m not surprised everyone knocked out as soon as we got home but i’m wide awake with excitement about tomorrow. 

I open the fridge and find exactly what i was searching for.  A tub of mint chip ice cream.

 I sit criss cross in the floor in front of the open freezer, the dim light shining through the dark kitchen. My breathing hitches when I hear someone walking down the stairs. 

 I immediately shift my legs so that my panties aren’t showing. 

The shadow creeps into the light of the fridge and I relax when i see it’s chris. 

“You fucking creep! You scared the shit out of me!” I whisper shout at him in an attempt to not wake anyone else in the house up. 

“Woah woah woah ma what did i do? I just came down here to get my ice cream” He says gesturing at the half eaten tub of ice cream i’m cradling in my lap. 

I can’t help but to notice how good he looks in this lighting. His cheekbones accentuated perfectly and his flannel pajama pants hanging low on his waist, his white tank top hugging his body tight- “Hello?” Chris’s voice snaps me out of my trance. 

“Uhm …sorry? “ I say holding out the ice cream. 

I can’t help the crush that i’ve had on chris ever since we all became neighbors in the 5th grade. He’s always made me feel safe. Comfortable. Chris smirks at me, sending a shiver up my spine and comes down the my level on the floor, taking a seat next to me, his back against the kitchen island and his legs stretched out in front of me. “I’ll share?” i say with a nervous smile as i hold out the ice cream to him. He just nods his head and stares at me as if he’s waiting on me to do something. 

“no way” i say laughing nervously. 

He chuckles lowly “it’s the least you can do, i mean you did eat almost all of my ice cream” 

The way his dark eyes are scanning across my legs right now makes me want to just- nope. stop. “Don’t make it weird chris” I say knowing about all of the times he’s jokingly flirted with me before, even though i’m almost completely sure he knows i have a crush on him and i don’t find his “jokes” a bit funny.

 I give in and scoop a small bite of mint chip ice cream into my spoon and place into his mouth. The way his rosy, plump lips grow darker at the coldness of the ice cream makes me wet. His eyes trained on mine seductively as I place another bit of ice cream in his mouth. I can’t help but to bite my lip to keep from involuntarily making a noise. 

 “Oh my god” he groans out and leans his head back against the island.

“That’s so good” he says licking his lips. 

I’ve never seen someone look so appetizing. I squeeze my legs together to try and relieve some of the ache that’s growing between my legs but it does virtually nothing. What pisses me off is that he knows what he’s doing. He’s done this to me for years and i can’t take it anymore. “Chris you’re just being mean.” I say, standing up, not caring if my ass is out or not. 

My focus right now is to keep the tears at bay. 

Chris’s eyes immediately change from lust to concern and he quickly stands up and grabs my wrist before i can make it out of the fridges dim light. “Y/n, wait” I turn to face him and try to keep my voice from shaking as i speak. 

“what chris? you know what your doing. You always have. You know i’ve always loved you and you keep fucking teasing me with it.” He stops, his eyes go cold and i notice his hand is still holding onto my wrist. My breathing is shallow and loud as he steps closer to me. Impossibly closer. I can feel his breath on my face as his hands trail up my sides and stop at my waist. 

“You love me?” He says quietly, just for me to hear.

 “Chris you know i do” I say in a shaky voice. 

“y/n all the times i was flirting with you i wasn’t fucking joking or teasing you. I was trying to show you i like you but you never did anything back so i thought you didn’t like me like that.” 

He backs away and i instantly feel sad at the loss of contact. “Fuck, y/n. Do you know how frustrating it is to be around you? The things i would…” his voice trails off and he shakes his head. “Never mind. Go to sleep. we’ve gotta wake up early.” He starts to walk away but i grab his wrist and pull him back towards me. 

Before i can think, my lips hit his. I’m kissing chris. Shit, i’m kissing chris. it’s so surreal after knowing i’ve wanted this for years. Fuck we’ve both wanted it, i was just too stupid to notice it. 

His lips are soft and smooth, his hands trail up my sides and he breaks apart, his lips still inches away from mine. 

“think i can get my birthday present early?” i breathe out shallowly.

 “Fuck ma, yeah of course” he says breathlessly. 

Before i can say anything, his lips are back on mine, this kiss more rough and desperate. He picks me up and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist as he moves us towards the counter. My ass is cold against the marble and his hands slip under my shirt. 

“No bra?” He groans out as his hands trail up my legs and inner thighs.

 “Chris please, no teasing” i almost moan. He chuckles and grabs the side of my shirt. 

“can i take this off?” I nod quickly. 

“use your words ma” 

 “yes chris, yes.” I say quickly and help him to pull my big t shirt over my head. His mouth instantly takes one of my nipples and i groan loudly from the feeling.

 “gotta be quiet baby” he says before moving his head between my legs but i quickly grab his hair to notion for him to come back up.

 “No i want you. not your mouth.” I look down at the bulge in his pajamas. 

“You sure?” he says, his eyes staring into mine making me want more. more of him. “Yes. I want you. please” i say, squirming around the counter. 

My consent makes his eyes light up and he quickly pulls my panties to the side and lets his dick free. it’s tip red and leaking with pre cum as it hits his stomach. fuck it’s huge. he strokes it a few times and i grow irritated. “Chris” i remind him and he laughs a little before pushing into me without warning. 

“Fuck!” i yell out and his hand instantly covers my mouth. 

“so tight” he groans out, picking up pace. I grunt against his hand as he pushes into me so quickly i can’t think.

 “my god, ma” he whimpers out into my ear. 

“Chris- i’m gonna-“ i try to say, my words muffle by his hand. He finally pulls his hand away and picks up his pace. 

“come with me ma, i’m almost- fuck-“ he stops mid sentence as we both finish around each other. his thrusts slow down, riding out our high as we both shudder and our breath calms.

 “good birthday present?” he asks while cleaning the sides of my legs. I can do nothing but nod and smile.

#matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #nick sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

[saiidahyunie]

wherever u r

minatozaki sana x reader ; fluff 

synopsis: it's friday after work, but you thought it'd be fun to send sana on a wild goose chase.

wc: 1.5k

a/n: happy (proper) birthday to my main bias wrecker and one of my nine wives!

wherever u r by umi

—

sana walks out of her office with momo, answering texts from her parents and family friends who greeted a happy birthday despite working when she should’ve taken the day off. all that was left to do was be on her way home to finally see you.

a smile was plastered on her face only to be followed by a confounding expression at your text. 

y/n

don’t come home just yet 

i have something for you to do

*various attachments sent* 

sana bursts out in confusion at what you sent her as momo cocks her head at sana wondering what you sent her. 

“what happened sana?” 

“y/n is really giving me errands when i should be going home!” sana exclaims out loud, kneeling on the ground covering her head. 

momo giggles at sana’s distressed state as she hands the phone to her to see the different attachments that you sent her, realizing that this was something that you had been working on for the last two weeks or so. 

“i think y/n is asking you for something about these places she sent you, almost like a scavenger hunt.” 

“what?!” 

“i dunno, but this is pretty interesting coming from her so i think you should give it a try.” momo says, handing the phone back to her as she stood up from the ground, starting to walk momo to the train station. 

“what do you think this is momo?” sana asks, clicking on the different attachments on the message that shows different locations spread across the city.

“that’s for you to figure out, you’re the birthday girl after all.” momo quirks back as her and sana reach the entrance to the subway. 

sana could only pout at momo as she smiled back, “whatever y/n has for you, i like this idea so i’ll probably steal it for jihyo’s birthday soon.” 

“a scavenger hunt huh.” sana hums, pulling momo for a hug, “thank you for the meal earlier momo.” 

momo murmurs in response, “of course sana, anything for my work bestie. i’ll see you soon, okay?!” 

“get home safe mo!” sana waves off momo as she enters the subway, smiling as she looks back down on her phone again at the new messages. 

y/n

ready for your scavenger hunt? 

sana 

is this what you were planning for my bday???

y/n 

well…

this is just one part don’t worry 

anyways go to this location first 

you did say you liked walking :) 

sana sighed out with a bit of excitement in her breath, determined to uncover this mystery game you had laid out for her as she began to make her way to the first location you sent her. 

—

the first location turned out to be a restaurant that was about fifteen minutes away from sana’s workplace as she stood in front of it still perplexed as to why you made her walk to this place first. that was when she got the text message from you again.

y/n 

the first time we met, even though the steak that i ordered was a bit undercooked, it was still a great time.

you then send a picture of the small group that went out to eat dinner that included you, momo, sana, jihyo, and nayeon outside the restaurant. you were behind sana in the second row of the girls and little did sana know that you and her would be talking a lot more to each other after that night. 

sana smiles at the memory as she sees the second location you sent her, tilting her head at her phone from the address that you given her, shaking her head as she begins to start walking towards it’s direction. 

—

the second location happened to be the national museum that was in the middle of town. sana had to take the bus to get here since she lost her sense of direction for a cool seven minutes before realizing that she made a typo to the address in her maps app.

once she made her way into the museum, sana remembered how you had a fascination for modern art. what was more intriguing was the inventory of chairs from this one collector that turned his collection into an exhibition and you were taking a lot of pictures. sana smiles at the many art pieces scattered around the room as she feels her phone vibrate again.

y/n

of all the pieces that were in that exhibition, i was only focused on one certain artwork and that was you.

sana then sees the picture of herself looking up at one of the ceiling pieces that was inspired by michelangelo’s sistine chapel in italy and smiles at how you managed to get a candid picture of her in the museum. followed by another picture of you and sana sitting together, your face pressed against hers while eating some ice cream as it was one of the many sentimental dates that sana really enjoyed with you. 

as she walked out of the museum, sana gets one last message from you as she sat down on the steps to take a break. 

y/n 

they say the invisible red string tied to you will always bring you to the person you’re destined with

but what if that fateful person is waiting for you at home? 

sana reads that second message and immediately shoots back up standing, running to the nearest bus station, not having a care for her feet considering that she was running in two inch heels. that wouldn’t matter however since she knew the last location of this little scavenger hunt would end at. 

—

once sana jumbled the keys into the door, she runs inside the for a few moments, only to see that the lights were still on around the apartment, trying to catch her breath as she starts to discard her heels and handbag before letting herself fully relax into the couch before her phone buzzes for probably the final time tonight. 

“hello?” sana answers with a soft smile as she leans her head back to relax. 

“did you have fun with your little scavenger hunt baby?” you ask her, the enthusiasm in your voice giving sana an eagerness to know even after being together with you for four years.

sana perks her head back up again, “i did y/n, i loved the locations you sent me to.” 

“you probably might be wondering where i am, but don’t worry i just went out for a walk.” 

“figured.” sana sighed out as she took off the small cropped blazer from her body, letting it fall to the right side of her as she leaned back. “i have one more topic to talk about with you if that’s okay.” 

sana hums in disagreement, “i love when you have something to talk about with me, i get so reeled in with your words.” 

you softly chuckle into the phone before sana hears a few sounds of shuffling in the background before breathing in again to prepare yourself. 

“remember my text about the red string theory?” 

“mhm, remind me again about what it is.” 

“let me ask you this babe; do you believe our relationship was a blessing or fate?” 

sana pulls the phone away from her ear for a few seconds to think before answering your question. 

“i would say it can be both, but ultimately it was fate for us to be together.” 

“you think so?” 

“i have never met a person who could be so grounded with themselves. how they don’t let any hardships get in the way of their success. they constantly treat me so well with so much love and respect that sometimes i didn’t think i ever deserved to have. you have been the greatest blessing for me y/n, and maybe standing up to that blind date to meet you instead was fate in itself don’t you think?” 

silence filled up the call yet again as you were left speechless on the other end.

“that’s cute and beautifully put sana. i couldn’t have said it any better.” 

sana hears the door open and sees you walk in, standing up instantly as you hung up the call, wearing the happiest look on your face as sana sheds a small tear once you made your way closer to her. 

you’d been away from her a little too long for your liking so it only felt right to give her a meaningful hug as you two stayed like that for a bit, just taking time with the shared embrace of each other. 

“so i take you like my answer?” sana asks you as you break the hug momentarily to get something from the dining room, returning back with a bouquet of twenty seven roses for your longtime girlfriend. sana covers her face in shock with the tender gift you offered her while you stood there smiling. 

“i will be there wherever you are in the world, even if my feelings for you at times will make me weak or insignificant. i know one thing for sure, you are the fate that i cannot defy myself from.” 

sana steps forward to press her lips with yours, brushing against hers every passing second as you caress her cheek. never getting tired of how soft and loving her lips felt before pulling back away.

“happy birthday again my love, let’s enjoy your special day together.”

#sana day!!!!! #shacember #kpop x reader #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice sana #twice #minatozaki sana #sana x reader #minatozaki sana x reader #sana fluff #twice fluff #saiiidahyunee

[604to647]

Safest with You (Ch. 12 - The Workout)

7.2K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Din “work out” at Mando’s gym and you end up getting sick.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please), reader ogles Din like a piece🥩, smut, unprotected PiV sex, semi-public sex (car), new-ish established relationship, dirty talk, light degradation, light daddy kink, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, bunny, etc.), description of flu symptoms (it's gross y'all), reader is described as shorter than Din and he strokes her hair while she's sick.

A/N: Oo! This is a long one; it's just because The Workout and The Cold used to be two chapters and I ended up shmushing them together. There was an ask about Din taking care of reader while she's vulnerable; I hope this chapter fulfills that ask! 🥰 Thank you as always for reading!

Series Masterlist

“You know, you can come work out at Mando’s, if you want.”

“Really?  That won’t be weird?  Like, I’m moving in on your space?”

“I like you in my space.”

Din says it like a simple statement of fact, not even looking up from the cutting board where he’s slicing the steak he grilled for dinner.  You’re not big on working out, but once in a while you just like to go for a run or a row and zone out to some TV; it’s not a regular thing so you don’t have a membership anywhere, and your building has a gym on the third floor that you can use whenever the urge strikes you (not often).  But this morning when you went downstairs, ready to put in the hour you needed to catch-up on your favourite trashy reality show, you had found a temporary closure notice on the gym entrance.

It's not a bad idea.  The weather is getting a bit chillier so your walks with Al haven’t been as long as both of you would like; it might be nice to have another option to get a little bit of exercise, “It’s okay if I just use the cardio machines?  I won’t use any of the weight lifting equipment or anything.”

“You can use whatever you like.  I’ll even have Jimmy fetch you water and towels.”

“Noooooo,” you make a face and shake your head.

“Yessssss,” he mimics you, “You’re the boss’ girl, you should be treated special.”

“You treat me special enough, for you and Jimmy both, thanks,” you say, still scrunching up your nose, but you tell Din you’ll take him up on his kind offer.

---

The next weekend, you leave Al snoozing on the Din’s bed and head down to the gym with the intention of saying hi to Din while he works, but also to run off some of the stress from the work week.  Like the gym in your building, there are enough empty machines so you have your pick, but unlike your gym, the patrons all seem to know one another and are treating their workouts like a social event.  Din’s helping out with the training today; you give him a little wave when you walk by the ring so not to distract him, and pick a treadmill off to the side so you can still see him and also simultaneously do some innocent people watching while you run.  Headphones on, your phone jacked in to the console so you can stream your show, you pick the program you want the machine to run and start your work out.

Your plan is almost immediately derailed.  As the familiar title sequence of your show starts to play, your eyes drift up past the screen and lock onto Din’s figure in the ring.  He’s sparring with Chris today; having already gone a few rounds while you were upstairs, both men are sweaty and breathing heavily, chests and shoulders heaving as they circle each other.  Din has sweated through his t-shirt so that it’s now sticking against his body, making him look even more immense than usual, and you openly gawk at the strong lines of his back and arms visible through the darkened fabric.  As if he’s somehow reading your mind, Din puts a pause on the bout in order to remove his wet shirt; it’s not an easy task given his gloves, but he manages it with some grace and the use of his teeth to pull and hold the collar.  When he finally whips the shirt over his damp curls, you’re treated to the sight of his thick, hard chest, glistening and flexing as he stretches out his arms; you feel a heat pooling below your abdomen and a flush spread across your chest that has nothing to do with your lackluster exercise efforts.

Far from doing any people watching like you had planned, you’re now struggling to make sure that you yourself don’t become a spectacle by openly drooling while you watch a shirtless Din fight in the ring.  Every one of his punches is quick and agile, arms extending perfectly to show off his control and precision; his muscles prominent and flexed, the veins on his forearms protruding as his gloved fists clench, ready for impact.  He’s a mammoth force, a powerhouse, somehow both immovable and unstoppable, and he looks good enough to eat.

You haven’t watched single a minute of your show and it’s actually getting to the point where the voices coming through your headphones are an unwelcomed distraction from the actual show you’re engrossed in, so you take off your headphones and place them next to your water bottle.  Big mistake.  Now, you can very clearly hear Din’s groans and pants as he ducks and punches.  It’s like the thirst trap video you’ve been watching all of a sudden turned up its pornographic soundtrack.  Din’s low, throaty grunts as he exerts himself, coupled with the words of praise you hear him shout out in his deep, encouraging baritone, have your mind running wild.

When Chris lands a hard punch to Din’s shoulder and you hear him grunt out, “Fuck!”, you nearly trip over your own feet. 

You’re pounding back your water, throat parched and sweating profusely, and you’re barely 20 minutes into the preselected program; you’re not even going to lie to yourself, the flush of your skin and your shortness of breath have absolutely nothing to do with this treadmill.  You’re about to admit defeat and cut the run short, thinking you could definitely benefit from a cold shower, when you see Chris and Din touch gloves, seemingly done training for the moment.  Din ducks under the ropes and starts taking off his gloves; as he walks past you, he throws a towel around his neck and you a quick wink.  Where is he going? You watch as he heads to the front of the gym, disappearing around the partition wall that rests between the front door and the main gym.

Without even thinking, you stop your machine, grab your things, and try to quickly and discretely follow.  You find Din outside, having put on a dry shirt, standing behind his truck with the trunk door opened above him as he rifles through the box full of equipment he keeps in the trunk.  Wordlessly, you put your things down on the trunk bed next to the box, surprising Din at your sudden appearance, “Hey pretty bird, what are you doing here?  It’s cold, you sh-“.  Taking his hand, you lead him to step back before pressing the auto-close button on the trunk door; as it folds down; you open the door to the back seat of the truck, and gently push Din to get in, with you following directly. 

Din chuckles as you situate yourself on his lap, straddling his thighs, looking at him with a hunger in your eyes, “Baby, what’s all th-?”.  He’s cut short when you silence him by throwing your arms around his neck and attach your lips to his, hard and hurried.  You’re embarrassingly pent up from the last 20 minutes of watching the hottest man you’ve ever known show off his power and skill on what was basically a stage you had a front row seat to, and now you need to feel the strength of those muscles on you, under you, fucking up into you.

“Want you,” you mumble against his lips, “…so turned on. Watching you.”  You’re barely able to string together your thoughts, you’re so consumed with exploring the cavern of Din’s mouth with your tongue, but Din gets the idea.  Feeling incredibly needy, you start lightly grinding down on Din’s lap, and he encourages you by placing his hands on your waist and helping guide your movements; even this light friction feels overwhelmingly good against your aching clit, and you throw you head back and cry out, unabashed and loud enough for anyone walking by Din’s car to hear. 

“Fuck, daddy, need you.  Please, please…” your mouth back to messy kissing Din’s as your hands thread through his damp hair, tugging at the curls at the base of his neck and earning you a deep growl from the back of his throat.

“Look at my desperate, pretty girl,” groans Din, eyes greedy as you take off your t-shirt, then your sports bra, letting your tits bounce in his face, “…can’t even go a whole work out without riding her daddy’s dick.”

Unable to wait another minute, you peel your wet shorts and panties off in one go, now completely naked, sweaty and panting on top of a still fully clothed Din. “Not my fault, daddy,” you pout as you press yourself down on Din’s clothed cock, making a wet mess of his gym shorts.  “You looked so fucking good in that ring, then you were making all those grunting noises. Couldn’t think of anything else but you filling me with your cock.  Ahh-,“ you gasp out loud as Din takes one of your nipples in his mouth, nibbling and rolling the sensitive bud between his teeth before sucking down and flicking it with his tongue.  You whine and increase the intensity and tempo of your movements while he moves to do the same to your other nipple, hand palming and tweaking the now abandoned breast.  Din’s free hand snakes its way down to your core only to find you slick with want, a sticky mess already coating your inner thighs and soaking through his shorts, “Messy, messy slut.  You get this wet just from watching me spar?  Good thing you followed me out here, can’t have you leaking all over the gym floor like this.”  He brings up his fingers so you can both see how your wetness coats his fingers, even though he has yet to insert them into you.  When he pulls them apart, you watch the fluid web that connects his fingers stretch, proof that your pussy is positively leaking; you whimper at the filthy sight and bring Din’s hand to your mouth, popping his fingers into your mouth so you can suck off your own arousal.  Moaning at the taste of your own indecency, you grind down hard against Din’s groin, his hard-on straining painfully against his shorts. 

“Fuck me,” you mumble, Din’s fingers still in your mouth.

“Let me make you come first, pretty bird,” Din pleads, always putting your pleasure first and wanting to lesson the sting of the first stretch of his cock within your tight walls.

“Can’t wait, daddy… please, I can take it, please.”

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” grits Din, as he pushes his shorts and boxers down; his leaking cock springing out and slapping against your stomach, coarse hair at the base tickling your clit and making you gasp in pleasure, “YES!  Please, daddy, need to bounce for you.”

You’ve never taken him without having come first, and if you weren’t so far gone, answering only to your lust, you would probably be worried; but as you line yourself up with Din, the shudder you get just from swiping his swollen head through you folds and tapping it on your clit makes it impossible to care about anything other than having him inside you right now.

Slowly, slowly you sink down on Din’s length, taking him a little at a time.  Din grips your waist tightly, eyes closed, forcing himself to breathe; you’re so incredibly tight this, warm cunt practically strangling him, he fights the urge to move and bury himself in you fully.  The stretch of Din’s fat cock is almost too much, your soft walls molding so tightly to him you can feel every ridge and vein as you slowly spear yourself downwards.  The pain doesn’t register so much as the overwhelming feeling of fullness, your body needing more time and space to accommodate Din’s thickness.  When he finally bottoms out, you just sit and sigh, sated from just warming his throbbing cock in your tight heat. 

Your lust driven frenzy quelled, you now rest serene in Din’s arms, drinking in his gentle kisses, soothing touches, and words of praise of how good you’re doing for him; Din worshipping you as you take his cock so perfectly, and you getting used to his size and relearning how to breathe.  Finally, finally, you look up at Din’s face to see his eyes filled with adoration, and your breathing evens, allowing you to kiss him with renewed passion.  Grinning against your lips, Din murmurs, “Thought you wanted to bounce, bunny?”

Pulling away slightly and grinning back, you nod and lift yourself up a little, then slowly push yourself down back down fully onto Din’s length again, eliciting a heady groan from you both.  You repeat the action, again and again, each time increasing the amount of Din’s length you work in and out of your pussy, until you’re panting and bouncing up and down on the full length of Din’s dick, “Feel so good, daddy.  So full.”

“So fucking pretty, bouncing on me like a whore, bunny,” groans Din, as he mouths at your tits.  You love his new pet name for you, the endearment spurring you to bounce harder and chase the high that’s been building since you saw him land a thundering cross punch to Chris’ jaw in the ring. 

“Love being your slutty bunny, daddy,” you cry, head thrown back in ecstasy, “wanna ride this cock until it’s all creamy.  Until it fills me up, ngh..ahhh-“

Din thinks he’s going to explode from your filthy words, then he knows he’s going to explode when he looks down at where the two of you are connected and sees a ring of white around the base of his cock, “Holy shit, baby.  Look at you already creaming around me.  My perfect bunny.  Doing so good riding this dick, taking me so well.  So fucking perfect.”

He presses one of his hands against your stomach, balls tightening when he swears he can feel some movement against his palm from the inside, and uses his thumb to draw his name on your swollen clit. 

It’s too much, too much.  The stretch and burning sting of having taken Din’s cock without much prep, his filthy words of praise, the lewdness of fucking in his car in broad daylight parked out in the open in front of his place of business, the tenderness of your new pet name, the delicious pressure on your clit – you come.  You come with a soundless scream, the stuttering of Din’s name punctuated by sharp gasps of air, you body shudders and shivers as you clench down hard on Din’s cock.  Hand threading, then fisting the hair at the base of your neck, Din fucks up into you as he praises you through your high.

“So fucking gorgeous when you come for me, pretty bird.”

“My little bunny did such a good job on daddy’s dick.”

“You feel so good, baby.  Made for me.”

You’re still so full, but now also so pliant and eager to please; with what remaining energy you have, you bounce down hard, meeting every one of Din’s upward thrusts so he bottoms out in you each time, the force of each drive has your ass jiggling as it slaps down on his thighs.  Din grunts and pants as he chases his own finish; you hug yourself around his neck, and babble, “Thank you for making your bunny come, daddy.  Felt so good to gush all over your dick.  Want to do the same for you, Din.  Please, please, fill me up.  Need your cum, please.”  Never one to deny you anything, Din comes with a roar, filling your pussy with rope after rope of his milky cum so you grow even fuller and continue to hum, “Thank you, thank you, daddy.”

Your post “workout” cooldown comprises of gentle strokes to the back, soft cradling of heads, and quiet words of devotion; tired and satisfied in Din’s embrace, you start to shiver, and this time not from pleasure.  Coming out into the cold air while sweating from a run, then getting naked in a colder car was probably not the smartest idea, but you hadn’t been really thinking about the well-being of your health at the time.  Din rubs his big hands over your arms to warm you up, “Pretty bird, let’s get you dressed.”  You find your gym clothes but the idea of putting on damp clothes is wholly unappealing, so Din reaches his long arms into the trunk and roots around for some spare clothes.  Stepping out of the truck in an oversized yellow Lakers t-shirt and Din’s sweatpants that you’ve rolled up multiple times, you realize it couldn’t be any more obvious what the two of you have been up to.

Getting your things from the trunk, you decide to go through the side entrance straight up to Din’s apartment to avoid any walk of shame embarrassment in the gym.  Giving him a parting kiss at the front door, you whisper, “Hope it’s okay we did that, Din.  Don’t want anyone to file a complaint against Mando’s.”  You look so cute, worried about the reputation of his business, Din can’t help but yank you against him via the waistband of his pants and give you a deep reassuring kiss, “Perk of being a Mando, pretty bird – no one can say shit to you,” before sending you upstairs with a spank.

---

You start to feel a tickle in your throat when you go to sleep on Sunday, and by the time you wake up for work on Monday, it’s a full-blown sore throat.  You trudge through a morning of meetings, trying to avoid the pounding of your head and attempt to soothe your throat with lozenges when your team gathers at the door to your office and point a makeshift cross made out of pens and rubber bands at you, telling you to go home.

You gather your computer and some files and tell them you’ll work from home until you’re better, but they insist you rest; you compromise and say you’ll be available by email before heading home.

Din is doing double duty again his week; although you haven’t voiced your concerns, you've noticed that Din’s been a little restless as of late, him and Paz meeting more frequently over an increasing number of border skirmishes and disputes that need to be handled.  You’re not sure if it’s anything serious, but you do know that the need to step up security has been weighing on Din – he himself stepping in and putting in more face time than he has since his retirement.  You call Din to let him know that you seem to have caught a cold, and you think it’s better if he doesn’t come over, in case he catches it too.  With him working long hours, you don’t want anything to risk him getting even less rest than he already is.  As expected, he protests, but you insist even though you will miss him.

The next morning you wake up feeling like hot garbage.  You slog through about two hours of work before making the executive decision to put your out-of-office on and reschedule you remaining meetings.  Your team tells you they don’t want to hear from you until next week but know you’re likely too stubborn to agree to that.  You take a bunch of drugs and wonder how you got sick.  You’re usually pretty healthy and while the weather is getting chillier, you’re not out much without being bundled up? 

Oh. 

Your drowsy brain flashes a vignette of sweaty bodies in the backseat of a car, windows fogging as the heat from illicit activities condense against windows cooled by the lower outside temperatures.   Of Din’s face buried into your neck, holding you close as you both calm down, your naked body cooling and shivering after your explosive highs.  So, this man really will be the death of me, you think, as you pass out.

You wake up groggy and with your throat on fire later in the afternoon.  Popping some more drugs, you reply to some work emails and the messages from your friends and Din checking in.  You know he’s doing another late night with the Mandos, so you downplay your symptoms a bit so he will acquiesce to your suggestion that he go straight home to rest again.  It’s easier to do over text; a phone call would have given away your loss of voice and sent him racing over.  With your friends, you can be more candid, I’m dying you tell them – they all immediately volunteer to come over but you tell them to stay away for their own sakes.  Going to bed early after taking Al out, you debate dinner but ultimately go without because you can’t handle swallowing any food.

Wednesday is… a blur.  You don’t even turn on your computer today or look at your phone.  You drag yourself out of bed, take Al out, feed Al, then curl up on the couch shivering.  Shit.  This is the flu.  Your muscles ache, your head is splitting open, and you can add a stuffed-up nose to your growing list of symptoms.  Using the energy you have left to grab more blankets, take some drugs and pull down the blinds, you’re guessing the fever is next. That or death.

It's dark when you finally wake up to your phone buzzing on the coffee table; you groggily look at the time, shoot, it’s 7 pm already? You don’t feel well rested at all.  You need to take Al out.  Ignoring the call and what you think are a bunch of missed notifications on your phone, you thrown on a jacket over your sweats and apologize profusely to Al while waiting for the elevator.  Once outside, you have to admit that the crisp cool air feels amazing against your hot skin, and you’re debating if you should risk taking Al for a short walk when your phone rings again.  You pick up when you see it’s Din, “Hubo?” you croak out, barely audible.

“Pretty bird… you sound terrible,” Din’s been worried about you all day.  He hasn’t liked the idea of you being alone and sick, but you were pretty insistent that it wasn’t anything to worry about while encouraging him to stay at his place.  He’s been feeling a bit off kilter being apart from you; even though he’s exhausted from pulling double duty with the Mandos, he misses at least seeing you and Al for your nightly walk.  Now he’s even more thrown when he realizes you’ve been downplaying the severity of your illness for whatever reason.

“Thanks,” you joke, but it doesn’t come out sounding jovial; in fact, it’s barely the sound of a scratch.

“Baby, I’m going to come over and-” Din starts to say when you interrupt, “No, no, you’ll get s-” before you’re stopped mid-sentence by a coughing fit.

Din’s already gathered his things and is getting in his truck by the time you’ve finished coughing, “I’m fin-” you’re saying when you’re cut out by the sound of a siren going by.

Din says your name.  He hardly ever says your name; it’s always pretty bird, or baby, or sweetheart, or some other endearment.  And he never says it in this low, warning tone, like he’s afraid of what he might say if he doesn’t say your name instead.  He repeats it, then, “Who is walking Al while you’re sick?”

Why do you feel like you’re in trouble whether you answer or not?  Your body clearly doesn’t want to get in trouble either because it figures the best thing to do is launch another coughing fit.

Din softens a little, “Pretty bird, get inside and get in bed, I’ll be over soon,” and he hangs up before you can attempt to argue.

When you and Al come in a few minutes later, you feed him and give him some fresh water, all while giving him as many fussings as you can muster as a continued apology for having ignored him all day.  You trudge over to the kitchen thinking you should eat something, clearly the lack of food has not been aiding your recovery, but as you peer in your fridge, the idea of having to prepare anything overwhelms you.  You pour yourself some orange juice and use it to wash down some more flu medication and then look through you phone at the messages you’ve missed while sleeping.  You’re mid-scroll when there’s a knock on your door; after opening the door, you quickly step back to let Din in and cover your mouth with your hand so you don’t breathe your germs all over him.

“None of that now, pretty bird,” Din says firmly, reaching for you and pulling you in close with one arm before planting a kiss on the top of your hot head. 

“You’ll get sick,” you murmur into his chest. 

“Then I’ll get sick,” he puts the bags he brought on the foyer table before gently shuffling you towards your bedroom.

When he sees that your made bed (when did you do that!?) does not look slept in, he tsks, “They say that doctors make the worst patients,” he lays you down after pulling the covers back, tucking you in after, “but I think it’s actually stubborn little girls that work in finance.”

His words are lighthearted but you know he’s worried about you, so you play along and whisper as loud as your painful throat will let you, “Sorry, daddy.”

Din kisses you on your forehead, “You’re burning up.  I wish you had let me come over sooner, baby.  Take care of you and Al.”

“Didn’t want to bother you, Din,” you murmur, snuggling down into your bed; just being in his very presence has relaxed you. That and the drugs kicking in, has you feeling pliant and snoozy.

“You never bother me, sweetheart.  Except maybe when you don’t tell me how sick you really are and you go out in the cold while you have a fever,” he says pointedly. 

You yawn and close your eyes, confessing, “You seem so stressed out with all the stuff that’s going on with the Mandos lately, Din.  Didn’t want to add to your load, make you feel like you have to come and see me and Al when you’ve already had a difficult day.”

“You ever think that maybe seeing you and Al is exactly what I need after a long hard day of seeing some bad shit go down?” says Din, quietly.

Your eyes open wide; you can’t believe you haven’t thought of it like that.  You know that anytime you’re having a bad day, it’s been made better the instant you see Din’s face, and even while you’ve been sick this week, you’ve longed for his soothing embrace.  Why didn’t you think it would be the same for him?  You sit up so fast you get dizzy, but throw your arms around Din’s shoulders and bury your face in his neck, “Oh baby, I’m so sorry.  You’re right, I shouldn’t have kept it from you.”

“It’s okay, pretty bird.  You were just trying to take care of me.  You need to let me take of you too, okay?  I like taking care of you.”

You nod into him and let Din gently lay you down again.  As you snuggle back into your covers, you pat the other side of the bed, “Come and sit with me and tell me about your day and all the shit that’s been going on until I fall asleep.”

Din climbs onto the bed and starts to pet your hair, “Sounds good.  But whenever you wake up next, I’m going to feed you some soup, okay?”  You nod, and feel the bed jostle some more as Al hops up on the bed to join in on the family time.  He lays down between you and Din, resting his head on Din’s lap so Din can pat his head as well.

When you’re all settled in, Din looking like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, starts to share.  First you learn some background: in addition to the Fett family, there other powerful syndicates in play - The Pykes, the Hutts, the Guavians, to name a few.  You make a face when you remember Gorga Hutt and his slimey cronies from Jimmy’s fight night and Din chuckles as if reading your mind.  Apparently, years ago, before Boba rose to power, the rival gangs ran unchecked, and violence in the streets was a common occurrence.  Gangs constantly fighting for territory or profits made for a lot of instability and it was an unsafe time for Din’s neighbourhood as well as many others in the city.  Once Boba had built up sufficient territory and muscle to be taken seriously, he had called the families together and brokered a peace treaty; physical borders and commercial limits were drawn that minimized conflict and overlap of business interests, ensuring prosperity and minimizing bloodshed for all.  Din recalls for you how many of his earlier years as Boba’s enforcer were spent strengthening and defending these borders and boundaries.  Happily, for the most part things have been stable for many years; nothing is ever truly peaceful but everyone has been co-existing without issue. 

However, in the past month or so, something had shifted; little problems and violations have been occurring with increasing frequency. 

“What kind of problems?” you ask, you’re fighting sleep to make sure you don’t miss any of what Din is telling you.  Din sighs, “Things that if they were to happen as a one-off, wouldn’t necessarily be concerning. Like vandalism of a business under one family’s protection, or minor altercations among lower ranking members from rival families in public places, or even the theft of known family members’ property.”  Din rubs his face in frustration. There’s nothing to prove it but Din doesn’t feel that these incidents are isolated; there must be something bigger at play.  For now, the Mandos are being dispatched to put out these figurative (and in one case, literal) fires, and to beef up security where future infractions are likely to take place, but Din thinks they need to investigate these events as a whole to see if there is something more sinister behind it all.  It’s really been stressing him out.

Holding Din’s hand and stroking it so that you’re the one now comforting him, “I think you should trust your experience with this type of unrest. Plus, you don’t have any reason not to listen to your gut.  What does Paz think?”

“He agrees with me, but he’s the leader now and his orders are to quell and prevent further disturbances.  Any investigation has got to be secondary.”

“I see.  What do you think is going on?” you nuzzle Din’s hand with your cheek, letting him know he can think out loud with you.

Din rubs his chin, “I don’t think it’s a new player, they seem almost too careful.  None of the incidents ever hit any big enough targets or players that would lead to full scale retaliation.  So it has to be an existing family in order to be in the know.  The problem is, I can’t see any of the families risking all out war… for what?  A couple of corners?  The cost of a few repairs?”

Your analytical brain is turning, “Are the other families run like the Fetts?  I mean, when you say it can’t be one of the families, what you really mean is you don’t think it’s a family sanctioned plan or attack, like it isn’t approved by leadership? But, are any of the families big enough or loosely run enough that people could go rogue?  Or get away with stuff without their leaders knowing?”

“Hmmmmm… good point, pretty bird.  None of the other families are like the Fetts, actually.  Boba’s power never came from numbers, but from solidarity… stronger together, is the family motto.  Everyone knows what everyone is doing and we stick together, no secrets.  As I understand it, that’s not how the other families are run – they’re bigger for one thing.  And there’s a lot of segregation so no one knows everything. Everything is need to know and people sort of stick to their own lanes – it’s so no one amasses enough power within the organization to overthrow anyone.”  Din shrugs, “I mean, seems like a weird way to run things to me. What you're suggesting would still be risky, and I don’t know why someone would take that risk, but it's definitely possible we should be looking for people who are doing things without proper family sanction.”  Din grins down at you, “Smart girl.”

You smile back, “Really?”

“Really.  I can think of a few people I want to look into right off the bat.  You’ve given me lots to think about, pretty bird.  Now go to sleep.”

Yawning a big yawn, you close your eyes and smile, murmuring, “I helped.”

---

When you wake up, it’s nearly midnight; you’re groggy and still feverish, but your stomach is growling and there’s a delicious smell coming in from the kitchen.

You pad out to living room to find Din working on his laptop, a pair of reading glasses perched on his adorable nose.  When he sees you, he sets everything down on the coffee table, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

Having decided that honesty is the best policy, you croak out, throat still scratchy, “Hungry.”

“Good!” Din guides you to the kitchen and gently helps you up onto a high top at the kitchen island. 

As Din takes out a bowl, you ask, “What’s that?”  Curious about the pot that’s simmering on the stove; you think it’s the source of the delicious aroma you woke to earlier. 

“Peli’s famous chicken noodle soup,” Din ladles some into a bowl. 

“You made this?”

“Yeah right.  No, Peli won’t share the recipe.  Says if we’re lucky she’ll will it to one of us when she dies.  Nah, she made this batch for you when she found out you were sick.”

“That’s so nice.  She didn’t need to do that.  I’ll have to bake her some cookies to thank her when I’m better.”

“She’ll like that, but she wanted to.  Pretty girl, don’t you get it?  You’re one of us now and we take care of each other.  You have more people than you know that have your back.”  He puts the steaming bowl of soup in front of you and tells you to wait.  Grabbing a blanket from the couch, he wraps it around you, tucking in your arms.  You manage a small laugh, “How am I supposed to eat my soup?”

“I’ll feed you,” he holds a hand up when he sees your expression, “you said you’d let me take care of you.”

You nod. It’s not in your nature to let people wait on you hand and foot, but you still feel bad for not telling Din how sick you were earlier so, you sit, bundled up on your chair, and let Din spoon the soup that he blows on to cool into you waiting mouth.  It’s incredible.  Even your stuffed up head can taste the explosion of flavours, the ginger clearing up your sinuses a bit, and the carrots, chicken and noodles all tender enough to be swallowed painlessly.  Din patiently feeds you the entire bowl, and you patiently let him; the look of relief and devotion that Din is giving you is enough to make you glad that you let him.  After you’ve brushed your teeth, Din sends you straight to bed, hardly needing any convincing to stay with you until you fall asleep.

The next day, Din calls out from work, both jobs.  He knows if he goes in, he’ll just be distracted by how you’re doing – plus, he’s making some headway in the investigative notes that he's making for Paz. He does all the walks with Al, and feeds you more soup.  He runs you a hot bath filled with eucalyptus bath salts and stays with you while you soak your achy muscles.  When he dries you, you try to give him a seductive look, but end up doubling over coughing and he tells you that while he still finds you very sexy even sick (Is that sarcasm?), you need to conserve your energy.  You make a face at him when he tucks you into bed.  You sleep.  By the late afternoon, you feel like you can sustain consciousness for more than an hour and you opt to lay on the couch and hangout with Din.  He puts on the comfort movie of your choice and massages your feet while you eat a yogurt.  You fall back asleep before the end of the movie, barely registering when Din turns it off and takes you back to bed.

It's past midnight when you wake up again and the first irrational thing you think is that you’ve somehow gone back in time and gotten sick again, but this time worse.  You feel disgusting.  Your nose is no longer stuffy, but that’s because the snot is now just free flowing out of your face.  You’re so snotty, in no time at all you’re surrounded by a ring of used tissues from having to blow your nose so much, and there’s no end in sight.  Your sore throat and dry cough, which had been clearing up, have been replaced with rattling phlegm which you can’t seem to clear no matter how hard you hack, but you try until your eyes water.  Ewwwwwwwwwwww. 

Din, appears in your doorway when he hears you, “Baby, you okay?”

You look up at him, squinting through your tears at his sleep tousled hair and the wrinkles on the pajamas he must have changed into.  You woke him.  And this is the thing that just breaks you and you start to cry for real.  He rushes over, scared, “Pretty bird, does something hurt?  Let me make it better.”  His obvious concern and caring tone of voice just make you cry harder, and now you’re snotting even more.  Great.  You hate that he’s seeing you like this.  You’re not the smart, pretty, funny girl he dates, you’re this weak thing, sick and tired and gross.  Totally unsexy.  Completely unhelpful.  Needy.  Putting so much on him.  He can’t even get a decent night’s sleep around you. 

You don’t realize you’ve said this all out loud until Din tuffs out a little laugh.  He climbs onto the bed and sits right across from you taking your hands in his, kissing them. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s okay.  I’m here.”

“No, it’s not,” you choke out between sobs, “You shouldn’t have to be here.”

Din sighs, but it’s not a sigh of exasperation, but of understanding; he tips your head up to meet his eyes, “I’m not here because I have to be, I’m here because I want to be.”

“Why?  I’m so gross.”

Smiling, Din patiently explains, “Why?  Because I love you, pretty bird, that’s why.”

Your eyes widen; your drowsy brain isn’t sure you heard him right, “You love me?”

He nods at you kindly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.  But to you, in your current state, you can’t comprehend it, “Like this?”

Din lets out a deep laugh, one that fills the room, and he strokes your hair and looks lovingly at you, “Yes.  I love you like this.  Like the sweetest woman I’ve ever met, one who never ceases to think of the welfare and comfort of others even when she’s in an obvious state of discomfort herself.  Like someone I truly love taking care of because it’s such an honour to take care of her.  She’s strong and capable, and she doesn’t really need me and never asks anything of me, but trusts me enough to let me be around her when she’s not feeling strong and capable even though she is definitely still all those things.  It’s an honour to be good enough to take care of you, pretty bird, because the only person that can do the job properly is you, and it’s an honour to come second to you for anything.”

“Yes, I love you like this.  And I love you when you’re playing with Al, when you’re sneaking the treats you bake to Jimmy when you think Greef isn’t looking, and when you’re happy just to keep me company while I work.  I love you when just the sight of you brings a peace into my life that I didn’t know was possible, and when you laugh, or call me ‘old man’ or when you listen to me talk about the Mandos and never judge.  I love you when I see your name pop up on my phone and when you hold my hand when we walk Al together.”

“I love you all the time, pretty bird.”

Now you’re crying for a different reason, though no longer hysterical; just silent tears running down your face as you come to the obvious but inescapable conclusion about your connection to this magnificent force of a man in front of you, “I love you, too, Din.”

And you do.  You do love him.  You love all that he is, all that he’s capable of, and all of who he chooses to be on a daily basis.  You love his kindness, his protectiveness, his compassion, his gentleness.  You love that he lives by a code that values loyalty, respectfulness, and helping others, and he practices this creed in every little thing he does.  You love his playfulness, and his sharp wit, and how being able to make him laugh feels like an incredible accomplishment and when you do it, you just immediately want to do it over and over again.  You love that he always makes you feel wanted and cherished, but never treats you like you’re breakable.  You love how he’s constantly pushing up his reading glasses, and thinks they make him look old but will blush when you tell him how attractive you find them.  You love him when he’s bringing you and your work team dinner and remembers that someone’s gluten free.  You love him when he places his hand on your thigh when he’s driving, and you love him when he pushes up your sleeves when they start to slip when you’re washing dishes even without you asking him to.  Yes, you love him all the time too.

You can’t tell him all that right now, though; you’re too sick and sleepy, but you think you’ll be able to tell tomorrow.  And the day after.  And the day after that.  For now, you love him by letting him love you, snot and all.  Clearing away all the tissues on your bed, you lay back down and scoot backwards towards of the middle of the bed, making a space for Din and hold your arms out, I need you.  Din’s smile spreads wide across his face, relieved and content, he climbs in and wraps you up in his arms.  Stroking your hair, your back, as your breathing evens.

Drifting off, you roll over so your back is pressed to Din’s chest, taking comfort in feeling him there, a physical and proverbial wall for you to lean on, “Good night, Din.  I love you.”

“I love you more, pretty bird.  Good night.”

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #modern!din djarin #modern au #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #no y/n

[mae-gi-writes]

Yūgen | Sunwoo (The Boyz)

Yugen (n.) a profound, mysterious sense of the beauty of the universe that triggers a deep, emotional response. 

Requested by anon! In which Sunwoo, the ace of the volleyball team, is curious about what you’re drawing all the time. Until one day, he stumbles upon a drawing of himself made from yours truly. 

Genre: fluff, volleyball player! Sunwoo and art student reader, shy love, softness, and inspired by haikyuu because I have been obssessed with the anime lately TT__TT  A/N: It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve posted here! Slowly but surely, I’m going through my inbox and replying to your requests. Thank you for your patience, stay safe loves, ily all xx 

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Sunwoo wasn't artistically inclined.

But that never stopped him from admiring those that were. He was always so curious as to how just a flick of fingers managed to create a shadow, or how just one glance at a subject made it through onto paper without so much as an effort to remember the details. It was like it was automatically recorded into one's brain, hands already registered to mimic the curves and the folds and the shadows that turned into nothing short of a miraculous piece. So when he caught sight of someone drawing, it always piqued his interest. He stumbled upon you one late afternoon after his volleyball practice, with sweat dotting his forehead and his training bag slung casually over his shoulder. He was about to direct his way to the parking lot upon exiting the gymnasium, only to spot a lone figure huddled upon the bleachers and curled into a ball that caused Sunwoo to frown. Slowly sidling up to the stranger in question and peeking over the railing to catch a glimpse of your face, his eyes are instantly driven to the sketchpad in your hands.

You didn't notice him though, so absorbed in your own world with earphones blocking out reality that a tsunami could've gone unnoticed. So Sunwoo took advantage to climb over onto the opposite bleacher and, after ensuring that your back wouldn't turn to greet him, leaned over the separation to catch sight of a lone figure cartwheeling freely over the page. Woah. You were talented alright. There was nothing else to describe the fluidity of movement you caught with your pencil. It made Sunwoo's breath catch in his throat. He had the sudden urge to know exactly what kind of face hid behind the visual mastery manifesting before his very eyes. After all, there must be other things for them to see rather than the boring literal reality that most people settled for. What kind of imageries were they creating in their heads? What beautiful stories were they crafting? Worlds they got lost in? You moved then, causing Sunwoo to jolt back and scurry away with his heart beating out of his chest, deciding that it was enough spying for the day. After that day, he made sure to seek you out every time after practice although he noticed you never strayed too long in the same place, always moving about like a shadow lingering in the corner, invisible yet omniscient. Sometimes you would find a quiet spot in a patch of sunlight by the tennis courts. Sometimes you'd be found on the bleachers, alert eyes observing every pass, every move, every twist of a body like  camera taking everything in. Sunwoo never approached you. Not that he didn't want to, but he found it awkward to just come up to you and present himself as the guy who'd been stalking your drawings. So he admired you from afar instead, relished in the passion of your dark coffee coloured eyes and in the attentive focus dipping your eyebrows in a soft frown, lips paeted slightly in concentration. "Do you know her?" He'd asked one of his friends from the volleyball team once, during their lunch break as he saw you line up at the cafeteria. Changmin took a peek at your face before he shook his head, "she might be in one of my electives." "Which one?" "I think it's art." Sunwoo forced his face to remain in a mask of calmness as he grabbed a steak sandwich, no fries, "do you know her name?" "Nah. I don't think she's ever spoken in class," Changmin's eyebrows quirk up then, "why'd you ask?" "No reason." Changmin's pointed look defined anything but that.  Although he did have the decency to drop the subject as soon as the rest of the volleyball team joined the table. Sunwoo got his answer a few days later when he practically toppled over you and your drawing crayons. It was his mistake. He'd been leaning too far out from the top of the basketball bleachers, struggling to get even the smidgest glimpse of what amazing piece of art hiding under your jacket sleeve, only for his foot to slip. Down he went with a curse, crashing straight into your body and quickly scrabbling to wrap his arms around your head, a pathetic attempt to cushion your fall as you fell into a heap in front of the bleachers. "You--you okay?" He huffed out, breathless and heart beating like a time bomb. Pulling his arms away slowly, gently, he finally met your gaze straight on and --oh my, your eyes were not coffee coloured at all.  But more of a honey-brown, wide open and framed by soft lashes. Currently dilated in panic. "I'm fine! What--What about you? Oh gosh, I'm so sorry--" "No it was my fault," he made a grab for your sketchbook and scattered pens only for his orbs to register the face messily etched onto the paper. His breath caught. For a minute, he could do nothing but stare at the replica of his face made in charcoal. Those were his eyes, his slightly crooked nose. The scowl he wore during his soccer matches. That was him. The resemblance was akin to that of perfection. That was before your hands snatched away the sketchbook before you quickly slammed it closed, cheeks blazing red, "that's-- I swear I"m not a creep, I-- I just do that for practice--" "It's amazing." Your head-- which had been bowed this entire time for fear that anger would be his response -- shot up in surprise, "what?" "It's amazing," Sunwoo repeated. He wouldn't mind repeating it forever, he realized, if that meant he got to see that aforable blush of yours. He reached out with his hand, "can I look at it again?" So you allowed him after some slight hesitation, and if he noticed, he didn't comment. Fingers brushing against yours slightly, he handled the sketchbook with utmost care as he flipped through the pages with child-like awe. He'd seen your drawings, sure, but mere glimpses here and there, a sneak peek, always accompanied with the fear of being found. But now, he could take his time and actually relish in the soft tracings of your crayon, admire the gentle shadings that made up the tip of his nose. You had managed to capture that frown -- the one he used whenever he concentrated -- to perfection and for a minute he swore he'd fallen in love with himself. "You're really good," he murmured, though that definitely banalized the array of praises popping through his head, "you should keep doing them. I mean it." "So, you're not--" you paused, "mad?" "Well I think you'd have more reason to be mad if you knew I was stalking you from before." "What?" Oh Sunwoo, you idiot. Your eyes had tripled their size and you were looking at him like he'd just grown a second head. He lifted his hands as defence, "that sounded so much better in my head. I swear I'm not that creepy, or a stalker, I just--well you're always drawing and I got curious but I can't really come over and tell you to show me so I had to hide and peek and--" You burst out laughing in his face and despite the fact that he was the cause, he couldn't help joining in with a small chuckle, a grin spreading across his features at how alive you looked at this very moment. "You can ask me next time," your grin settled into a soft smile, "I don't bite." "Your words, not mine," he said, tone lighter and teasing. He helped you gather your belongings and as the pair of you started towards the school gates, he asked for your name. "Y/N," you answered, "and you?" "Sunwoo," he noticed the sky was darkening into purple, a sign that twilight was approaching. Usually, he'd be in a hurry to catch the last bus of the evening to avoid the pain of traffic after six. But it was like his body was slowing down on its own to join your pace, as if he was automatically tuning in to the rhythm of your steps. He found he didn't mind. "So why athletes? Any special reason why you like drawing them?" He asked as you reached the gates. "I just like watching the way they move. It's ...graceful," a hand went to rub the back of your neck, "and they come in handy for figure practice." "I mean, we're not that graceful when you're on the pitch ready to get blown away," he chuckled, "but thanks. At least we know we don't play like animals." "Oh god no. The volleyball team's pretty good. The rugby team on the other hand..." you sigh before you shake your head, "that team is nearly impossible to draw." His shoulders shook as he laughed, "well I don't think they aim for graceful. They look like a pack of wild dogs. Even I don't understand how they play." You had reached the said bus stop by then before you spotted your mother's car along the sidewalk, "oh, my mom's here," you turn to him, "where do you live? Maybe we can drop you--" Meeting your mom? On the first day of meeting you? Sunwoo's hands flew up, shaking them wildly in response, "oh no no, that's not necessary. I'll see you tomorrow!" Thank god for the bus that pulled up at the right time so that he didn't have to linger longer than he needed to. But he didn't miss the small wave of your hand as you watched him go, the smile on your face warming his heart even when it was one of the coldest winter days of the year. From that day onwards, Sunwoo made it a must to make his presence known whenever you were deep in your sketches, always observing, sometimes silently keeping you company and sometimes getting so wrapped up in conversation that your pens would lay forgotten by your bag as you bantered back and forth about subjects that would've made people throw you looks of concern. It became routine to have Sunwoo's head pop up from behind the bleachers or to see him walk up the path to your special hiding spot, right where your gaze would meet the tennis court. You sketched him more and more, folding your drawings into your bag so that he wouldn't see although the urge to catch his face on paper was a growing addiction you couldn't ignore. Even your friends had noticed his lingering presence, proceeding to prod you with questions reflecting their curiosity. "He's from the vòlleyball team isn't he?" Yeji asked one time during lunch, upon noticing the way the said young man's stare lingered over the back of your head before turning away just as quickly, "do you know him?" "We've spoken once or twice." "How do you know him?" Your other friend, Saeron, nudged you with a wriggle of her brows. You brushed her teasing away, "we bumped into each other and then he saw my drawings." "Oh right, you do sketch athletes," Yeji leaned forward, mouth full of bread, "did you sketch him?" "I did, actually." "Oh awkward," Saeron giggled, "he's handsome though, can't deny that. You gotta introduce us sometime." You mumbled out an agreement even though you sat with them just for the sake of having people around. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate them. You did. But they seemed to speak a language you couldn't quite grasp. You would rather sit in your own silence, enjoy your own company if that made sense. Maybe that was why it was so surprising, that you allowed Sunwoo to linger as long as he wanted to. There was something authentic about the way he reacted to your words, an unguarded expression that made you comfortable enough to speak up without fear of judgment. Spending time with Sunwoo was listening to water trickle down the river. Smooth and free. Peaceful. But Sunwoo seldom knew of your high regards, was not aware of the tiny sketch of his figure in mid-spike that was hidden in the pocket of your school skirt so that you could take a peek whenever you felt out of place or nervous. It calmed you down to admire his composure, even if his expression was a mere mimic that could not replace reality. "Do you have any material in particular that you like to use?" Sunwoo asked one cloudy afternoon, breaking the silence while huddling a little closer to peek at your newest sketch of Lee Juyeon; a basketball star player known for his quick reflexes and adept playing style. Not only was his skill on par with that of a Nationals team, but his looks had garnered him quite a fanbase from the get-go. Sunwoo would've liked to say that he wasn't jealous of the way your thumb gently applied shade to Juyeon's lower lip. But the spike in the middle of his chest proved him otherwise. "I like charcoal the most, it's the easiest to work with," pausing to admire your work, your eyes glanced over at him, "do you draw?" He scoffed, "like a five year old." "Wanna try?" "No way. I'll ruin it. I'm okay with admiring it from afar." You hummed an unknown tune as you pulled back your sketchbook, "how is practice?" "Alright. Could be better. We won a practice match last week so we're kind of taking it easy." "That's good though isn't it?" Your gaze met his. His eyes were various gradients of warm maroon and you wished-- at this very moment -- to paint his features into memory. That was when you realized how close you were. You shuffled slightly back and didn't notice the frown Sunwoo threw you in response, "it is. And I'm happy we get to rest. The team deserves it." "You're pursuing it in College?" Your eyes tried not to linger too much over his lips, "volleyball, I mean." "Depends," he smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, "if we make it to the Nationals." "You will." "Someone's confident," he chuckled. "Well I'm no pro but even I can tell you're talented, Sunwoo," you peeked at him from behind your fringe, glad that you could blame the cold for your red cheeks when just the intensity and closeness of his entity made you want to squirm, "so if there's anyone who can do it, it's you." It was impossible to keep eye contact after such a confession. You lowered your gaze, glad for your sketchbook that acted as a distraction. It was at that very moment that the paper tucked so neatly in your pocket slipped out, causing Sunwoo to quickly make a grab for it. You made a noise of protest before trying to snatch it back, but the boy only chuckled before unfolding the creased page so that there he was, depicted in all his glory. "Is that--" his voice was hoarse and you took this as your chance to steal it from his grasp, reddened cheeks burning and fingers shaking as you folded it back to its tiny square shape, "is that me?" "Y--yes." "You--you keep that with you?" "I--I do," you lifted your chin up defiantly, though you felt your limbs trembling. His eyes, they pierced your own, piecing together a coherence that caused your stomach to fill with butterflies. When he spoke next, his words were a mere murmur. "Why?" "I--I don't know," eyes darting towards the ground, you mumbled, "I just like watching you...play." A pause. Then, Sunwoo shifted a little bit closer. "You like watching me play? Or do you like," he cocked his head, "watching me?" If you were red before then you were probably the colour of a fire engine truck by now. Averting your eyes and turning your head away were instinctive responses due to the blood rushing through your face. "Stop flirting with me," came your mumble. Laughing softly in response, he scooted himself a little closer, so close that his shoulder brushed your back. He leaned over, head tilted to catch your expression. "Cute," his lips broke out in a crooked grin and you swore you felt your heart explode. Flustered, you shoved him away out of instinct but he wasn't having any of that. His hand grabbed your wrists and with a yelp, you were dragged even closer to his chest. "You like looking at me that much huh?" His tone was teasing while his eyes glimmered with playful mischief, "why is that,Y/N?" "You ask as if you don't know," you mumbled out through jumbled words and you were glad he actually understood you. But instead of laughing some more, his features softened into a smile instead as he proceeded to gaze down at you with an expression you couldn't quite place. It was in your normal behaviour to admire people. Not the other way around. And at this very moment, you felt way out of your comfort zone. "I don't know." Your orbs flew up to his in surprise and what you found in those coffee-coloured pupils made your breath stutter, heat coiling through your abdomen. "It...it calms me down," your whisper was barely louder than a breath but by the way Sunwoo's smile widens to reach his eyes, you could tell he heard you just fine. "I like watching you too," he replied. A strand of your hair caught in the wind and he raised his hand to curl it around the back of your ear, his touch ghosting with sparks wherever flesh bumped into flesh. You felt warm. He didn't pull away. Didn't bother hiding the slight dust of pink in his cheeks either, as he slowly allowed his palm to cradle the side of your face. Gently. As if he feared you might run away, recoil back. But you didn't. Even with your breaths going staccato, even if your heart felt like a wild animal. You calmed yourself down with the knowledge that he seemed just as nervous as you were and suddenly, out of a stroke of boldness, your hand went up to hold on to his, pressing it close to your cheek. His breath hitched. You shivered. The wind blew against your figures, a gentle reminder that the day was coming to an end. You weren't exactly sure what changed that day. There were no verbal agreements, nothing that suggested your relationship had changed. Yet, the subtle touches of his hand against your back, your shoulders, moving your hair from one shoulder to another, complemented by his gentle doe-eyed stare that made your toes curl, these changes were small, but significant. And you couldn't find it in your heart to say that you disliked it. What are we? The words lingered at the tip of your tongue, as bitter as the aftertaste of coffee as you stole small glances in his direction. You were sitting comfortably under a tree that overlooked the tennis court where Sunwoo had decided to join you. He'd fallen asleep halfway through your beginning sketch and was now leaning against the tree trunk, face relaxed and body leaned towards yours, close enough that you could admire his face. Countless hours you had spent tracing Sunwoo's features on paper. Countless times you had imagined tracing his lips with your thumb, wondered whether they were as soft as they looked. Maybe it was just curiosity or maybe you had let him walk into your heart so easily that you hadn't realized it yourself. But if there was one thing you could swear your heart upon it would be that you could no longer imagine every day without Sunwoo's presence at your side. As if on instinct, your fingers took a life of their own as they reached up to push a few strands away from his face. They gently carved a path down his cheek, landing at the corner of his jaw. Dangerously close to his open mouth. There was no denying it. Sunwoo was beautiful. Handsome. Had those features on par to that of a model's. You were so focused on edging your way to touch his lower lip that you didn't realize you had been staring, until you glanced up to see his brown orbs fixated on yours. You froze. Shit. "Like what you see?" He murmured. Then, before you could scramble back and probably run with your tail between your legs, his own hand grasped your own and he pushed himself off the trunk before his head angled towards yours, finding your lips. Soft. Sunwoo's lips were soft. You panicked. Not used to the closeness. The fire that sparked between your lids. But his other hand went to clasp your jaw, holding you close as he kissed your next protest away and unconsciously brushing his thumb against your cheek. Shivering in his touch, there was no running away from the way his mouth molded against yours so snugly, and you didn’t want to. You found yourself addicted to the sweet pressure of his upper lip meeting your lower ones and soon enough -- without realizing -- you melted into his touch. 

Sunwoo made a noise that sounded like a soft grunt, his other hand lacing around your waist to pull you closer so that you tumbled halfway into his lap. With embarrassment suddenly flooding through you, you let out a squeak that he answered with a chuckle of his own before distracting you once more with a series of kisses that left you gasping.

Your hands, initially balled into fists in your lap, went to rest against his chest and you didn’t realize that you were gripping onto his school shirt until you parted for air. Only were you aware of your compromising position, of the hard ridges of the young man’s thighs, of the firmness of his chest against your palms, of the way he seemed to be so much bigger than you even though he was a lean athlete, meant to be light and as speedy as the wind. 

Breaths coming out ragged, you tried to slow the beating of your heart. Though it seemed to be quite the challenge, given how lovingly, how intense, Sunwoo seemed to be in making love to your neck, nibbling on your pulse point and causing a soft whimper to fall from your lips. 

A whistle blew in the distance.

The soccer team. They’d be crawling up the hill any minute now.

“Sunwoo,” you breathed out, eyes hazy with mixed feelings of desire and embarrassment. You feebly tried pushing against his chest, to no avail. He merely groaned, head tilting upwards to catch your mouth into another kiss. 

“Sunwoo,” you groaned against his lips. But he held on for dear life, one hand clasping the back of your neck, tangled into your locks. The other around your waist, pressing you as close as he could possibly get you to be. 

“Just one more,” he mumbled in-between kisses, hooded eyes fluttering closed and head slanting to kiss you a little deeper, a little harder.

Your body was on fire. You weren’t used to this intimacy, nor all of the affection he was raining down upon you. 

But it felt good. It felt amazing. Eye-opening.

He finally relented after what seemed like an eternity and you quickly made a move to scramble out of his lap. Though he wasn’t having any of that, grip made of iron as he held on. You looked up to snap at him to let go before everyone saw but was faced with his pout instead, which was enough to bring down your defences. 

“Please,” his pout deepened and your heart practically vaulted through your chest. Cute. Cute. Cute. Stop. Burying his face into your neck, he whispered, “I just wanna hold you.” 

So he did. And thank god the team had decided to take a different route so that you would avoid their imploring, questioning gazes. Though Sunwoo admitted that he’d already known they would go up from the other side of the gymnasium, considering they did that every other week to train their stamina in the process. 

That earned him a light smack on the side of his head, making him whine, “What did I do to deserve this Y/N?” 

“You knew!” You wanted to throw him a glare, but it was impossible when you were busy fighting the grin spreading across your face. 

He grinned back at you, that crooked smile that always resulted in a burst of butterflies roaring through your abdomen. Just like now. 

“So, since you have a drawing of me that you keep staring at every day--” his words died into laughter when you tried smacking his arm, proceeding to cage your wrist with his hand before kissing your knuckles. You squirmed as he continued, “does that mean I can get a picture of you?”

You let out a noise of protest, “that depends,” you mumbled, unconsciously finding refuge in his neck.

Chuckling, Sunwoo grasped your chin lightly to pull you back so that his brown orbs gazed right into yours with a gentleness that had you weak at the knees, “on what?” 

“On what I get in return.” 

“What if I say I’ll take you on a date?” he said wickedly. 

You couldn’t help your smile. 

“I guess that could work.” 

#sunwoo #sunwoo imagine #the boyz sunwoo #tbz #the boyz #the boyz imagines #tbz sunwoo imagines #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo fanfiction #sunwoo au #sunwoo drabbles #the boyz scenarios #the boyz drabbles #the boyz au #tbz au #tbz scenarios #tbz drabble #tbz soft hours #deobi drabbles #tbzwritersnet #tbzwriters #theboyz senarios #theboyz fanfiction #theboyz fluff #tbz fluff #tbz fanfiction #kpop imagine #kpop fanfiction #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo x reader

[agustdakasuga]

Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 14

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

Going to Florida on vacation also seemed to be the perfect time to find out where the other boys came from and their pasts. 

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter warning(s): The boys share their pasts, which can be rough. Mentions of suicide, past abuse, PTSD. There’s also quite some drinking in this chapter.

“He’s fine. Just a little bit too much sun.” You chuckled in a whisper, tucking Jin under the blanket. With that, you exited the room with the 6 others. The oldest had felt a little faint after playing in the sun, which led to his current state.

“We should-”

RINGGGGGGG

“Ugh, one minute.” Jimin took his phone out of his pocket, walking away to answer his call. You and Jungkook looked at each other, shrugging. You headed to the living room, with you draping your legs over Hoseok to watch television, not that Hoseok minded.

“Jin hyung is asleep... That means his snacks are unguarded!” Jungkook shot up from the couch, running to the pantry.

“Nothing stand between him and food.” Taehyung raised an eyebrow. Namjoon shook his head and chuckled, bidding all of you goodbye before leaving with a book tucked under his arm.

“What’s for dinner?” Yoongi asked.

“I think steak and pasta.” Jungkook said, mouth stuffed to the brim with cookies. The staff that worked here had the same schedule as those back in Korea.

“What shall we do tonight?”

“I don’t know. We should stay in on our first night. To just... chill.” Hoseok shrugged and everyone nodded in agreement.

“Even when we put a vacation notice out, work doesn’t seem to stop coming.” Jimin stormed in, complaining. Taehyung raised an eyebrow at his best friend, shifting to let him sit on the couch.

“That’s what you get for opening a new place 2 weeks before the vacation. And a big place, with a lot of manpower needed.” Jungkook scoffed. Jimin sighed, full of regret. He had opened a new male host lounge for ladies 2 weeks ago and safe to say, the business was booming. His phone was ringing non-stop from wanting business partners.

“I’ll just leave it to the others to handle.” Jimin said.

“Yeah, put the phone away. You’re here to relax.” You put your hands behind your head.

“I’m guessing you did the same?” Yoongi faced you.

“My family knows I’m on vacation. There’s an emergency number if they really need to reach me, which I doubt they will. It’s my last vacation before I have to hear my mother start nagging me again.” You rolled your eyes.

“Nag you?” Taehyung tilted his head.

“My brother’s, her star child, is coming into town with my very pregnant sister-in-law for the birth of her second grandchild.” You explained and the boys all nodded, understanding. At the ball where they met your parents, there was a brief mention of your older brother.

“I was an only child. Never had siblings. Omma was worried that if she had another, he or she would come out sick like me.” Jimin forced a smile.

“I’m sorry, Chim.” You reached over to hold his hand.

“It’s okay. Fortunately, Yoongi hyung was there to break me out of the hospital.” He turned to the older, who was sitting on the adjacent couch, sipping from his red wine glass.

“You broke him out of a hospital?” Your eyes widened. Yoongi let out a long sigh, placing his glass on the table.

“Since she couldn’t figure out the reason why Jimin was always sick, Mrs Park thought the only way to provide Jimin the care he needed was to lock him in a hospital.” He explained. Jimin cleared his throat.

“I first met Yoongi hyung at a martial arts convention. Since I used to train in kendo, omma let me go but I couldn’t participate in the demonstration. When he found out that omma checked me into the hospital, he got me out and brought me to join the family. Even when I was sick, Yoongi hyung and Namjoon hyung took care of me.” Jimin gave a small smile.

“I mean, since we’re telling our family stories, my mother abandoned me when I was younger, at an amusement park. I joined an orphanage after.” Hoseok said.

“Yoongi hyung’s father adopted me to be hyung’s playmate but that was it. We could only see each other during playtime. Other than that, I stayed in the small hut in the backyard.” Hoseok continued.

“It was practically a tool shed with a mattress.” Yoongi said bitterly.

“Yoongi, so your father...”

“He was rich, powerful, as was Namjoon’s father. We had been friends for a long time since our fathers were friends. After our fathers died, we dissolved their associations and formed our own.” Yoongi explained.

“I see... I didn’t know both your fathers were also... in the same line of business.” You tried to speak.

“With the way my father treated Hoseok and my mother, we don’t bring him up. Same with Namjoon.” Yoongi said but there was a warning tone in his voice.

“I-Is it, my turn?” Jungkook lifted his head.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” You comforted. Jungkook took a deep breath, shaking his head. If anything, he trusted you and wanted you to know his background.

“I was quite a small kid, so I was generally quite quiet in school. I had one older brother. Mum and dad worked a lot so it was mostly my brother and me. At first, hyung was the best brother I could ever ask for. He took care of me, protected me, everything.” Jungkook gulped.

“Then one day, he started treating me like I was invisible, at school and at home. That progressed to him hitting me and bullying me, hurting me.” He said sadly.

“Jungkook...” Jimin said sadly.

“Namjoon hyung was passing by an alley when my brother almost beat me to death. He brought me to the hospital to get treated. Since then, I’ve been living with him.” Jungkook finished.

“Did your parents come find you?” You asked.

“They never believed me when I told them hyung hurt me. He must have told them I ran away or something since he thinks he left me for dead.” 

“But you’re stronger now.” Taehyung patted Jungkook’s head. Considering Taehyung didn’t start his background story, the others assumed that he already told you about him.

“Dinner is served.” The butler informed, breaking the thick tension in the air from all the heavy conversations. 

“I’ll get the others.” You said, going to head upstairs. The first person you checked on was Jin, he was still fast asleep, which you let him be. Namjoon was standing in the hallways, outside of Jin’s bedroom.

“I heard what the boys told you.” He said. You nodded your head in acknowledgement.

“(y/n), I think you know that with such backgrounds, it’s not all black and white for them. On top of always falling ill, Jimin lived with a fear of being a burden, like how his own mother treated him. Yoongi hyung lives with the guilt of how his father treated Hoseok. He feels the need to make it up to him with his life.” Namjoon started.

“Hoseok is afraid of abandonment. Taehyung dealt with meltdowns, panic attacks, so much trauma. You’ve seen it, he’s still not over what happened to him.”

“And Jungkook, I can’t tell you the number of times I had to stop him from taking his own life. He was afraid of being hurt by the one he loved, just like before.” Namjoon sighed.

“I know, Namjoon. It must have been a lot for you and Yoongi to face, along with your own fears. But look at who you saved. Where would they all be now if you and Yoongi didn’t help them?” You placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Everyone comes with their own battle scars. But that’s what makes us human and survivors, right?” You smiled.

“You always know what to say, doc.” Namjoon chuckled.

“Of course. I’m the best, am I not?” You nudged him, making him laugh even more. With that, the two of you headed downstairs to the dining room, where the others were seated around the table. Namjoon sat at the head of the table while you sat between Jungkook and Yoongi.

“Let’s eat.” Namjoon waved for the wait staff to bring in the trays of food and pour the drinks. Even if the dinner was quieter than usual, it wasn’t suffocating. You’ve reached a new level of understanding with the boys. 

“What shall we do tomorrow?” Jimin asked. 

“I wanna go look around the city. If possible. Maybe buy some things for myself.” You shrugged.

“Yes! Shopping! We’ll come too!” Taehyung and Jungkook cheered. You smiled, somehow knowing that it was going to be chaotic with the boys. Hoseok clapped his hands in excitement. 

“What if I wanna go on my own?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“No way! It’s not safe for you to be on your own.” Jungkook shook his head, putting his arms in a cross. 

“Are you saying I am not capable to defending myself?” You asked him with a smirk.

“Ooh, you’ve done it now, Kook.” 

“Yeah, even I don’t go there.” Yoongi decided to join in on the fun of teasing the maknae. Jungkook’s eyes widened when he realised what he did, immediately facing you and rubbing his hands together in an apologetic matter.

“I’m sorry! You are very much capable of defending yourself! Even better than me or anyone else because you’re a strong, independent woman! I would never doubt your strength! Please don’t kill me!” He rambled on. You threw your head back in laughter, reaching over to pat his head. Even the others just looked on in amusement. 

“Alright, let’s stop teasing, Koo.” You said. 

After dinner, everyone was gathered back in the living room, watching some show that was playing on the television. 

“The night is young! We should party!” Hoseok declared. 

"This is not going to end well.” Yoongi clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. It was obvious he had to deal with his drunk brothers multiple times before. 

“I brought drinks and snacks!” Jungkook brought two big trays out, one with different alcoholic drinks and the other filled with snacks, courtesy of Jin’s stash. You took a bottle of beer. Hoseok and Namjoon did the same, clinking bottles with you. Jungkook grabbed some soju.

“Hyung? You want one?” Jungkook offered a filled shot glass to Taehyung. Taehyung, who doesn’t usually drink, shrugged and accepted it. Yoongi stuck to his whiskey like always.

“Honestly didn’t think the drinking was gonna start on our first night here. But I’m not one to complain.” You shrugged. 

“We’re on vacation. It’s always drinking time.” Hoseok said. 

“I agree!” Jungkook grinned. You snorted in response. Jimin decided to have soju with the other two, taking an empty shot glass. Jungkook happily filled it up for him. 

“Hey...” Jin stood at the stairwell. 

“Hey, Jin. How are you feeling?” You asked as you stood up to head to him. Jin gave a small smile and a thumbs up. 

“Are those my snacks?!” His eyes widened as he marched over. 

“Shot?” Jungkook offered as a consolation. Jin glared at the maknae but took the tiny glass, glancing over at you. You shrugged, nodding your head in approval. Hoseok and Taehyung shifted to give Jin space to sit down. Everyone with their drinks, cheered to your first night on vacation, taking a swig. You leaned against Jimin’s side. 

“Do you want dinner, Jin?” 

“Nah, I’m fine with the snacks and drinks.” He waved you off. 

“Alright but if you feel dizzy again, stop and rest. And tomorrow, please remember to hydrate yourself when out.” You lectured. The boys all groaned, even if you were only directing your words at Jin. 

“Now you’re nagging.” Taehyung boxed his ears, whining. You rolled your eyes, reaching to smack him. 

That night, when all the boys retreated to their rooms, passed out drunk, you were in your room spending some alone time. There was a knock on your door and you stood up from your bed, shuffling over to see who it was. 

“Hobi?” You were shocked. 

“C-Can I come in?” He rubbed the back of his neck. You nodded your head, stepping aside for him to enter. 

“Can’t sleep?” You asked softly. 

“Just a lot on my mind.” He admitted with a soft sigh. You sat on your bed, legs dangling off the side. You patted the space beside you and Hoseok gladly accepted, sitting beside you as the moon shined in. 

“Bringing up the past isn’t easy. It opens a lot of scars you thought were healed, memories that you thought was locked away, feelings that you thoughts were gone. It’s okay, Hobi.” You whispered with a soft smile, wrapping an arm around him. Hoseok placed his head on your shoulder. 

“It’s okay.” You comforted. 

“She left me there, all alone. For strangers to take me. And I probably will never know the reason why until the day I die.” He said aimlessly.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Hobi.” You squeezed his hand. 

“Yoongi hyung still feels so guilty for what his father did when he adopted me. But I always think that even if he did treat me badly, I still got to leave the orphanage and meet Yoongi hyung.” 

“And then you met the rest of the boys. Look how inseparable you all are now.” You stroked his head. 

“I also got to meet you.” Hoseok added. 

“I’m just there to clean your cuts and take care of you when you’re sick.” You laughed. 

“That’s not true. You mean a lot to me and everyone else, more than you’d think, (y/n).” Now, it was Hoseok holding your hands, looking into your eyes, his full of honesty and sincerity. 

-

You woke up the next morning, rubbing your temples, feeling the slight effect of the alcohol from the night before. Hoseok was still passed out beside you, sleeping soundly. You got out of bed quietly, washing up before heading downstairs. The house was quiet, signalling that maybe no one else was awake, still sleeping the alcohol off. 

“You’re up?” You nearly jumped when Yoongi appeared, drinking a cup of iced coffee, his hair slightly damp and messy from his shower. 

“Yeah. I need a hangover cure and a coffee.” You went to the kitchen. The maid brought you a cup of water and the small bottle of hangover cure. You downed the bitter liquid following that with water.

“Here.” Yoongi fixed you an iced coffee of your own. 

“Thank you.” You sipped it.

“Hoseok... he’s with you?” Yoongi cleared his throat as he asked. You nodded your head with a hum. 

“Yeah. He came over to talk then we just fell asleep after.” You explained. Yoongi gave a nod, moving to sit out on the deck. You trailed behind him quietly, taking the seat across him. All you heard were the crashing of the waves and the strong wind rustling the trees. 

“I’m part of the reason he’s like that.” Yoongi spoke. 

“Why do you burden yourself with that?” You asked back. Yoongi blinked, seemingly surprised by your words. 

“You know it’s not true, you know that Hobi doesn’t think that, and yet you force yourself to live with the guilt. You know that you’re not like your father, whatever he did to Hobi was out of your control.” You said. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yoongi said with gritted teeth. 

“Exactly, I don’t. But what I see is you feeling sorry for yourself and Hobi being worried about showing his emotions because he doesn’t want you to start feeling guilty again.” 

“He said that?” 

“Not exactly. It’s pretty obvious to a bystander.” You shrugged. 

“Yoongi, I have better things to do than to stand here and taunt you. The only people there were you and Hobi. Will anyone ever understand what each of you went through? I don’t know. You and I both know that Hobi holds whatever happened close to him. But he sees the light, even in a dark situation. If he can do that, I don’t see why you can’t.” You said. 

“I know.” Was all he could reply. 

“I’m going to check on Jin, okay?” You stood up. But you were yanked back by your wrist. Yoongi wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his face into your middle. 

“I hate that you’re right.” He mumbled. You let out a soft hum, patting the top of his fluffy hair. When Yoongi released you, you looked down at him. 

“You saved so many of them, Yoongs. Give yourself more credit. They all look up to you for a reason.” You laughed. 

“Go check on Jin hyung.” He said, patting your hip. 

“Right on it, sir.” You saluted. That made Yoongi break out into a small smile as he watched you leave. You hummed a random tune as you headed upstairs to see how Jin was doing today. 

“Doc? You’re here.” He slowly opened his eyes, squinting to focus his vision on you. He gave you a sleepy smile. You smiled softly as you nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you placed your hand on his forehead. He wasn’t warm to the touch. 

“How are you feeling?” You whispered. 

“Okay. Sleepy... Hungover.” He chuckled, a little embarrassed. 

“I’d bet. You can come down later to get some hangover cure. Luckily I told the butler to stock the house when we arrived yesterday.” You patted his shoulder, making him laugh. 

“(y/n)!” When you exited Jin’s room, you saw a shirtless Jungkook barreling down the hallway, headed straight for you. You jumped back but he caught you.

“Good morning, Koo.” You said in amusement as he hugged you. He mumbled something in his sleepy stupor. 

“What are you saying? I can’t understand you.” 

“I went to your room to look for you but you weren’t there. I thought Hobi hyung was you but it wasn’t. Why is Hobi hyung in your bed? Where were you? Ugh... I have a headache and I’m hungry.” He rambled. 

“Alright, alright. Slow down. I went to get some coffee to help my hangover and was with Yoongi on the deck. Then I went to check on Jin. Hobi just stayed the night after we talked. I have alka seltzer to help your hangover and I think the chefs are cooking hangover soup for all of us. Would you also please put on a shirt?” You answered all his questions, ending with one of yours. 

“I’m sleepy.” 

“I thought you were hungry?”

“I don’t know! My head hurts.” He whined. You sighed, patting his back as you led him back to his room. 

“You stay here. I’ll bring you a hangover cure then you can see how you feel after that.” You instructed. He nodded his head like an obedient child. You went downstairs to get a small bottle and a glass of water.

“Thank you.” He received the two, drinking one after another, cringing slightly at the bitterness. 

“It should help your headache and funny stomach. I’ll go check on the others to see if they need help.” You told him, tucking him back into bed under the blanket. 

“Will you come back?” He held your hand. 

~~

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[amazingmaeve]

right where you left me ↠ f & g weasley

━ “i like you for you, you know that.”

summary ━ Y/N is heartbroken when Fred breaks up with her and leaves her at Hogsmeade and she feels like she’s frozen in time. Until someone snaps her out of it.

warnings ━ angst, fluff

a/n ━ no twincest. also no hate to angelina or fred. Loosely based on ‘right where you left me, by taylor swift. Also may make a part two if i’m up for it.

word count ━ 2.3k

tags ━ @risingtripletaurus @hey-there-angels @lindsaytriestowrite

Before the war everything was fine between Y/N and Fred. They were in a relationship ever since their 4th year. Fred Weasley and Y/N Y/L/N were hopelessly in love.

Then the war came. Everything changed after that.

Y/N knew that Fred must be going through a tough time since a wall almost crushed him to death. She was there when he woke up screaming from a nightmare. She held him while he cried. Comforted him when he needed it.

She suggested a therapist where he can talk his problems out. Fred immediately declined not even thinking about it for a second.

They no longer went on dates where they could spend time together. Laugh and be in love. Fred put his focus on the shop which Y/N could understand since she worked there as well.

Before the war Fred would cheer Y/N up whenever she was sad, angry, frustrated or even when she had a bad day. Fred would there to cheer up, making her smile and laugh.

But now when she had a bad day Fred didn’t even know. Not even when she was sad or angry. It was like he was falling out of love with her.

Y/N would usually shake those thoughts out of her head not believing it.

Fred worked longer than she did and always came home late. Y/N assumed it was work getting to him. Also him not wanting to sleep because of the nightmares, which she completely understood.

She didn’t want to make Fred worry at all since the war so she tried doing her best with everything. Cooking, cleaning, doing laundry so he didn’t have to do it.

She assumed this was the normal. Y/N was happy for the moment. She was here with Fred and everything was okay. It would’ve been much worse if Fred had died she told herself.

She was content for the moment.

Everything was fine. Until it wasn’t.

Fred told Y/N that they would be going on a date tonight which made her really excited. It’s been awhile since He took her out.

She got dressed in her favorite dress and put on makeup to make her look presentable. When she was done finishing putting her earrings on she looked at herself in the mirror.

She smiled at herself. She felt so happy at the moment. Fred might be coming back to her and that was the best thing in the world.

Fred took her to this really nice restaurant where she ordered some salad while Fred ordered some steak. He was being very quiet which confused Y/N.

“What’s wrong Fred are you okay,” Y/N asked worriedly while she put her hand on his. It surprised her when jerked his hand away from her.

“We need to talk,” Fred says, not looking at her in the eyes, this makes her heart sink into the bottom of her stomach.

“About what,” Y/N asked as her voice wavered a bit out of nervousness. She dropped her hands to her lap and picked at her nail wondering what he was going to say.

“I think we need to break up,” Fred blurts out making her eyes widen.

Many emotions are running through Y/N. Confusion, sadness, a bit of anger. Her lip trembled when she met his beautiful eyes.

“Who is she,” Y/N sighed tears brimming her eyes as she looked down at her lap. She didn’t know if he cheated, she just wanted to know if she did. Fred let out a sigh.

“Angelina Johnson,” Fred answered. Y/N could feel the tears falling as the name slipped out of his mouth. Angelina has a crush on Fred in Hogwarts but Fred always reassured Y/N he never liked her.

“Of course,” Y/N scoffed, tears finally falling down her cheeks. He didn’t love her anymore. She thought they’d be together forever. The mascara must be wearing out from the few tears that came out which probably made her look like a freak show.

“Also I think you shouldn’t work at the shop anymore,” Fred says softly. It took everything for her not to cry. She was losing her boyfriend and her job in one day.

Y/N nodded not looking at him. Fred got up putting the money on the table and walked over to Y/N kissing her forehead. The contact made her flinch.

“I’ll come pick up my stuff tomorrow,” Fred softly says before leaving Y/N in the restaurant. She tries to finish her salad to get something in her stomach but she just couldn’t.

She finally got up wobbling on her legs. Putting a tip on the table before leaving the restaurant.

The cold air is a sensation that made her flinch as soon as she stepped out on the sidewalk. She walks home as tears slip out of her eyes as reality sinks in.

Fred doesn’t love her, he loved Angelina.

She puts her hand over her mouth to cover up the sobs so people don’t look at her weirdly. When she finally gets inside her flat she falls on the ground sobbing into her arms.

Y/N pulls her knees to her chest and rocks herself back in forth. What did she do wrong to make Fred not love her anymore? Did she not love him enough?

She got up after half an hour of crying and put her pajamas on. She looked inside her closet and saw Fred’s quidditch Jersey.

Y/N pulls it to her chests as more tears fall out of her eyes. Her heart feels like it cracked in half from the heartbreak.

“Why?” She whispers to no one. She starts to get angry. She did everything to help Fred, she comforted him when he had nightmares, suggested a therapist to help him and even offered to pay for it. Y/N did everything to help Fred but apparently Fred didn’t care anymore.

She crawled into bed as she let a few tears fall until the exhaustion finally hit her like a freight train. She fell asleep hating the fact that Fred would never love her again.

Y/N woke up early the next morning so she could pack up Fred’s stuff so he wouldn’t be there for long. She didn’t want to look at him if she didn’t she would break down in front of him and Y/N didn’t want to do that.

She got some boxes and threw all of his stuff and put it on the kitchen counter waiting for Fred to show up. Y/N thought about what job she could get since Fred fires her.

A knock on the door startled her. She sighed paddling towards the door and opened it reluctantly.

“Your stuffs on the counter,” Y/N walks him to the kitchen where she stares at her feet not wanting to look at him.

Fred nods and notes that she’s not looking at him. “Just so you know I will never stop caring about you,” He walks himself over as he holds the boxes.

Y/N scoffs, “Whatever.”

Fred sighs, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze to reassure her. She closes her eyes until she hears the door close and when she opens her eyes again tears start pooling again.

Y/N never wants to see Fred Weasley ever again.

For the next few weeks Y/N stays in bed wallowing in her own misery. She cries herself to sleep every night wondering what went wrong.

The only reason she gets out of bed is to go to eat, shower, and read the paper to see if there’s any jobs out there. She watches rom coms where they get the guys in the end and wishes it was her.

One particular time she’s sitting at the counter eating someone bangs on her door.

“Y/N open up, it's been weeks,” George yells, continuing to pound on the door. He’s been here everyday since the break up wanting her to get out of bed.

Y/N sighs angrily walking up to the door opening it letting George in. He walks in and turns around to look at Y/N.

“You look like hell,” George comments, putting his hands into his suit pocket.

“Thank you, you always know how to make a girl blush,” Y/N sarcastically replies rolling her eyes. “What are you doing here,” She says more seriously.

“I’m just worried about it,” George says worriedly. “You’ve been in bed for weeks, it's not healthy,” George states.

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore,” Y/N coldly replies.

“I will always worry about you, you are one of my best friends and Fred is an asshole for cheating on you,” George sternly says.

“I can’t even look at you without crying,” Y/N says looking at her feet on the hardwood floor. George pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not Fred,” George sighs.

“I know but you look exactly like him,” Y/N counters back.

“Well no Fred has that birthmark-,” Y/N interrupted him.

“Okay you can stop,” Y/N snaps holding her hand up.

“I’m just saying I’m not Fred and I want to be there for you,” George tried to reassure the girl.

“Why Fred’s your brother,” Y/N finally looks up at him with a confused look on his face. She doesn’t understand why he wants to be there for her.

“Yeah and he’s a prat for cheating on you and for firing you,” George scoffs. “But I still love him and that doesn’t stop me from not caring about you,” He explains.

“Fine if you want to see me be miserable,” Y/N accepts. George gives her a smile before walking in the flat further and following him.

For the next six months George kept coming to her flat everyday to see how she was doing. He stayed for dinner and if he couldn’t come he’d call her before.

George was being so nice to Y/N and she felt a crush forming on him. But she didn’t want that because Fred would probably accuse her of using George.

But she didn’t want George to think bad of her. Him thinking that she only likes him because he’s Fred’s twin is something she does not want.

Whenever she feels particularly down George drops everything to come and comfort her. No matter what.

Y/N doesn’t want to go to the shop because she’ll see Fred and she doesn’t want to run into him or Angelina. George understood knowing how bad it could hurt her.

They would sit on the couch watching shows and movies laughing and joking with each other. She felt so comfortable around him and she felt her heart race around him.

Y/N would never have thought she would have feelings for George Weasley since she was with Fred. But her feelings change when Fred doesn't want her anymore and now she sees George in a different night.

On one particular night she was cooking some lasagna and waiting for George to show up.

“I got breadsticks,” George yells as he walks in the door with a smile on his face.

“I knew you would,” Y/N giggles pointing her spatula at him. George sets the bag on the table and walks around the counter to go next to Y/N.

“You always make the best food,” George groans smelling the lasagna. “Fred moves in with Angelina today,” He blurts out.

Y/N nods biting her lip getting the food out of the stove and setting it on the table. George told her a few months ago that Fred might want to move in with Angelina.

“That’s great that means I can come over to your flat now,” Y/N teases, getting plates and setting the food out on it.

“I thought you’d be more upset about it,” George’s eyes furrow as he takes a bite of the food.

“I did too but I guess if he’s happy I’m happy,” Y/N sighs leaning against the counter poking at her. “You want some wine,” she asks, getting the glasses.

“Sure I love getting drunk,” George accepts with a smile. Y/N pours the wine and hands the glass to George and pours one for herself.

Only in a few hours George and Y/N are drunk. They’re making out on the couch and neither of them knew how this started. But at the moment they don’t care, they only care about getting their clothes.

Y/N rubs her eyes when she wakes up in the morning feeling the sunlight in her eyes. She feels someone pressed up against and she looks up to see George laying there sleeping.

“Oh my god,” Y/N whispers, getting up out of his arms to go and change into something more comfortable. She sits on her bed before walking out and shaking George awake.

“Give a guy a break Y/N,” George grumbles, rubbing his eyes as the sun peaks in through the blinds.

“We had sex last night,” Y/N snaps.

“Why are you so mad about it,” George asks sitting up.

“Because we’re friends,” Y/N states wondering what George is going to say about it.

“We’re more than friends and you know it,” George snaps at her getting his clothes and putting them on. “Are you telling me that you don’t have feelings for me,” He asks as he stands up.

“Maybe,” She whispers, crossing her arms over her chests. “But it’s be wrong you’re my ex boyfriend's twin. I don’t want you thinking I’m only doing this because you look like Fred,” She explains.

“Is that what this all about,” George asks, his eyes softening. He brings his hands to her cheeks and cups them.

“I like you for you, you know that,” She smiles at him, her arms wrapping around his neck.

“I know love.”

#fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #fred weasley series #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley smut #fred weasley headcanons #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x oc #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #george weasley series #george weasley smut #george weasley blurb #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #george weasley headcanon #george weasley imagine #george weasley x oc #george weasley x reader #george weasley #george weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #tw angst #tw anxiety #tw fluff

[kimnjss]

no right answer | knj

⤑  series: plot twist

⤑ pairing: rapper!namjoon x rich girl!reader

⤑ genre: angst... nd that’s pretty much it :/

⤑ rating: PG13

⤑ word count: 7.7K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: daddy jung makes an appearance... joon still doesn’t know how to communicate. yns feelings are hurt once again. they internally ramble a lot :/ and hoseok has a girlfriend. 

⤑ chapter song: meet me in amsterdam - RINI 

⤑ A/N: heyy! nothing much to say, sooo! enjoy nd let me know what you think x 

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 18:10

The fact that you've shown up on Hyungwon's arm sets your father off way before you're entering the hall. You can tell by the pulsing of the vein above his brow, the grit in his teeth when you pass him, Hyungwon making a show of wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you inside before your father can get a word in.

Although, you're sure he'll find his opportunity at some point tonight.

Just as expected, gossip blog journalists, reports, the regular old press are all lining the front hall, waiting patiently for a word from the man who made this night possible. At least, that's the premise they're hiding under – it was more than obvious that they were silently hoping to witness something, anything that could be a headliner in the morning.

You do as you've been told, smile brightly at everyone that approaches, introduce Hyungwon as a close friend, chat up the new artists that your father's company plan to release in the upcoming months. Words flowing from your lips effortlessly, trained to dodge every prying question, every backhanded compliment. The practiced smile doesn't falter once.

Not even when the demanding flick of the fingers comes from your father across just a few feet away, behind his back of course, out of view from the woman reporter he's chatting with. Summoning you over silently, his first choice nowhere in sight. With a huff, you're politely ending the meaningless babble of the tag on your dress.

Hand pressed lightly to Hyungwon's chest, his arm doesn't drop from around you as the two of you make your way over to your father. Only making it halfway before he's shooing Hyungwon away, with the same discreetness he used to call you over. “I'll meet you inside,” You're mumbling with a roll of your eyes, easily able to guess that he's started his bullshit early.

Hesitant at first, but he's soon releasing you, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head that has the cameras around flashing. Great. The apologetic look on his face washes the scowl from your features. His lips shifting into a sheepish smile while he reaches his hand up to ruffle your perfectly styled hair. That has questions flying from the crowd, demanding to know if the two of you were an item.

“I'll see you inside,” He says with a curt nod of his head, turning to finish his journey into the hall. On his way, he's swept up by a man with a million questions and a mic. No time to worry about that now, instead you take the place beside your father. 

And he pulls this surprised expression as if he didn't expect you to just show up. “Oh, there she is! We've been talking about your new position. Would you like to chime in?” You wouldn't have been asked to 'chime in' if the appropriate response hadn't been hammered into your head on the way over here.

Practiced smile. “It's an honor to work so closely with such great artists. Their work is promising and truly inspiring. We have a lot of plans for them in the future that I'm sure will be nothing short of impressive...” You begin to drown yourself out, thoughtlessly speaking as your eyes wander around the room. Seemingly on their own accord until your sight is fixing on someone.

Okay, not just someone. Namjoon. He looks nice. Although, you can tell he's wearing the same suit that he had worn to Jungkook's release. Did he only have one nice suit? You'd have to make a note of that for... quite literally shaking the thought from your head, you're turning back into the conversation. Laughing at something you don't even find funny. All while stealing glances across the room, not being able to keep yourself from wondering if he was stealing glances too.

He was. Like really bad too. From the moment Joon had stepped into the building, his eyes were finding you. Guided by the loud chatter around you, looking in time to catch the gentle pat of your boyfriend's hand on your head. The way you seemed to melt at the simple touch, he could do that. He was sure of it.

And then he can't tear his gaze off you. While you pull that fake smile of yours, only half-listening to the words that are being said to you. Laughing flatly and leaning into your dad, keeping up with the perfect father/daughter image that he had no idea was an act until he was meeting you. Talking to you. Now it was obvious. Even from across the room, he could tell that you were faking.

That you'd much rather be anywhere else.

“Ah! There's my little prodigy,” Your father speaks loud enough for everyone to hear, just in case they missed the dramatic cheers that echoed the moment he was stepping out of his car. Hoseok was here. A pretty redhead latched to his side, a sight that your father is surprised to see. He hated surprises.

Nevertheless, he's embracing your brother into a tight hug. Which to the press looks like an adorable father and son moment, but you know better. You've been on the receiving end of that hug before and judging from the frown that flashes over Hoseok's features, he's in trouble. But later, of course, there are millions of eyes watching right now – so the interview goes on with loud laughs and large smiles.

And for once, you're not the only one that's faking it.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 18:49

“Come sit, Yn. Dinner is about to be served,” He doesn't leave any room for argument with the tone that he uses and you find it funny that he thinks that you're not going to try. “No thanks, I'm going to sit with my date,” Hyungwon has found his place amongst the other artists of his status, chatting loosely with them as he waits for you.

A timed twitch of your father's brow, he'd usually rely on Hoseok's easy coaxing to get you to comply without making a scene. But that trick is out of commission. Sat close with his pretty girlfriend, flirting openly. Ooh, the look on your father's face when he was introducing her to reports as his girlfriend. Not an ounce of uncertainty in his voice. 'Her? She's my girlfriend. Ti-lee. Isn't she gorgeous?'.

Didn't even spare a glance in your dad's direction, heart-shaped eyes saved for his girl. Expertly ignoring the subtle glares he was being sent whenever there was a chance. Your brother might be your hero. Seriously.

He's not about to beg you to come sit at the family table with him and Hoseok, that could risk giving away there is a reason why you wouldn't want to sit there in the first place. So instead, he's pushing a tight-lipped smile onto his lips, nodding his head before turning around. Exactly.

Hyungwon stands as you approach, pulling your chair out like a true gentleman. Leaning over to press his lips to your cheek and drop his arm around your shoulders, easily tucking you into his side. “How'd it go? Who's that with your brother?”

“His girlfriend. Can you believe it? Hoseok brought someone that wasn't approved and cleared by our dad first,” The shock in your tone matches the look on his face, which quickly melts into a smile.

A soft chuckle falls from his lips, his head shaking from side to side. “This isn't gonna end well,” His shoulders shake with his laughter, hands reaching to lift his glass. You giggle beside him, knowing all too well how right he is. Whether it was now or later, this was going to explode into a big mess. You were just glad you were in the clear for once.

Dinner starts.

Hoseok is between bites of his Wagyu steak when he's being hit with the dry monotone voice of the man beside him. A tone that he's not at all used to when he's being addressed by his father. It's usually reserved for you. “Where'd you find this girl?” He doesn't even bother to whisper, Ti-lee no doubt hearing him.

“I met her,” He feels it would be a bad idea to say that he met her at a party. Much less a release party held at the company. He knew all too well how his father felt about you mixing work and pleasure, he wasn't going down that lane.

Thankfully, he's not so much interested in the where, but more so the why. Mind reeling with all the upsetting outcomes that can come from this. Some random girl slipping in could potentially ruin everything he carefully constructed for his son's life. He knew first hand how vicious women can be when money's involved. “What does she do?”

“She's a model,” Hoseok's sweating, fumbling for the right string of words that can help him paint Ti-lee in an admirable light. There was nothing wrong with her. She was a great girl, all of the things you'd want your girlfriend to be. But his father's expectations were high, there was no telling what would be a deal-breaker.

He scoffs, head bowed to bring attention back to his plate in front of him. “That's not a real job,” He laughs to himself, head shaking in disbelief. There was no way his son would be so stupid... to think he could be with a model? The field that aged quickly, chewed up and spit out money-grabbing woman chasing youth. Nope, not his son. “We'll talk about this later,”

Putting an end to the conversation before Hoseok can get another word in. He's back to his meal, acting as if he hadn't shaken up his son's entire world. 'We'll talk about this later,'. Never was a good sign. Always met with an ultimatum when it came to you. He tries to act cool, be mindful of the millions of eyes watching at all times. But it's hard to hide the twinge of annoyance souring his face.

It wasn't fair. He didn't even get the chance to introduce Ti-lee properly, give his dad a chance to get to know her. Then he'd understand how easy it is to fall for her, Hoseok stood no chance when it came to her. And he didn't even get to say that, to show him why he just had to bring her around. Present her as his girlfriend, because he was so proud. So proud and his dad didn't even care.

It was not fair.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 20:17

As the night moves on, Joon finds himself searching for you through the crowd. His eyes find you all throughout dinner, half-listening to the chatter from Taehyung and Yoongi and watching you. Even when you move to dance, hand resting delicately over Hyungwon's bicep, so very clearly showcasing who you're here with tonight. But he can't tear his eyes away.

Left standing as more and more people spread around the hall, busying themselves with light conversation as the musicians play louder for the many people who have decided to move on to the dance floor. You're at the center of them all, smiling prettily up at your boyfriend. Laughing, a very real laugh that he didn't realize he missed until now.

God, he missed you so much. And it was worse because you were right there. Right in front of him, laughing and smiling and being yourself. But he felt like now for some reason, he couldn't be apart of that. That you didn't want him to be because he couldn't get it together. Because he couldn't say what was on his mind.

So, now he was stuck watching you. Admiring you from afar and wishing that it was him in the place of the man you brought tonight. Exclusively. All he wanted was to be yours exclusively. He knew that wouldn't happen so easily... or at all.

“You're actually staring, dude. What's with you?” Hoseok's voice is breaking through his thoughts, two glasses of brown liquor in hand. Hand outstretching in offering, Joon thanks him with a smile and a nod of his head. 

Embarrassingly, pulling his gaze away. He knew he had been doing it but had no idea that it was that obvious. Had you noticed too? Caught him staring while he was so lost in his thoughts of you. Not likely. You hadn't looked his way at all tonight. He was sure of it. “She doesn't look so annoying, tonight.” His shoulders lift in a shrug, that has Hoseok's eyebrows raising.

The number of times he's complained to your brother about how much you bothered him.

Who would've thought this would be the outcome. At first, all he wanted was for you to leave him alone. Bottle up your crush and give him some space so he can concentrate on his work. On what was important and now... now he was dying for a chance to go back. Before things got complicated and he found it hard to say what was on his mind.

It used to be so easy to just tell you to leave him alone, to take part in the back and forth banter that he never really realized was just foreplay. Now, things were so strained and he was the cause of it. Because he had gotten in his own way, confused you and now you were pulling back. As you should.

What was he supposed to do, though? You were with someone, seemingly happy. The way you dealt with relationships and... love, was much different from what he was used to. And he was in no place to ask you to change that for him, just as he wouldn't want you to ask him to change for you.

So then what was left? Leaving each other alone, keeping his feelings bottled up because telling you would only make matters worse. At least, that's what he had thought at first. Thought it would be easy to just pick up and move on without a word, but after that night with you, he should've known there was no turning back. Being close to you like that, of course, he'd want more.

He's barely registering Hoseok's question beside him, between the sips of liquor. “What is she then?” You were a lot of things. Except his. Never realized how devastating that would be until recently. Until you weren't a constant anymore, because he messed up.

And seeing you tonight, in that dress. Legs peaking out with each bold step of your pretty heels. He's felt those legs, wrapped firmly around his waist and beneath his hands. Soft. And warm. A lot like you. How could he not look? When you were right there being everything he wanted, how could he not look?

“She's... kinda sexy.” Eyes widening at his own words, forgetting for a moment who he was talking to. “I don't know, it was just an observation,” He rushes out, a light tint taking over his cheeks.

Hoseok laughs, tilting his head to look up at the man beside him. It's funny, despite the height difference, Hoseok still maintains his intimidating aura. Could have anyone quivering with a single glance. Well, anyone would didn't know how sweet and gentle the guy really was. Still, he's got an image to upkeep. “Did you just call my sister sexy?”

Joon is amongst the select few that know the big and scary Jung Hoseok is not as big and scary as he likes to act. So he doesn't falter, much. “She is sexy. I mean, look at her.” He's gesturing to the dance floor, where you're being spun and dipped. “When did that happen? She's never...” Speaking mainly to himself, Joon's words trail off as he watches how good you look when you dance.

“Alright. I feel like I should tell you not to check out my sister right in front of me,” He had been joking at first, but the guy was basically drooling over you. Didn't know if he should provide a handkerchief or rip him a new one. 

Joon's letting out a soft laugh, lifting his glass to take a sip from it. Attention shifting back to his friend. “You're twins. It's like I'm checking you out.” 

This has Hoseok bursting into laughter, a look of disbelief taking over his features. “That does not make it any better!” Despite the warning, his eyes move to find you again. Only to find you're not where he had seen you last and your boyfriend was nowhere insight as you made your way over to where he stood.

A gasp is escaping from Joon's lips before he has a chance to mask it. “Oh God, shut up. She's walking over here,” His hand reaching to hit Hoseok's chest, signaling for him to straighten up as he does the same. “Quick. Pretend I said something funny,”

He's not granted the laughter that he expects, instead, a confused expression takes over Hoseok's features as his sister approaches. “Our father would like to speak with us upstairs,” You don't even spare a glance in Joon's direction.

“What for?” You shrug. Of course, you wouldn't know something like that. You never knew the reason behind random summoning, just grew accustomed to despising them. “We can go when Ti-Lee comes out of the bathroom,” He's really doubled down on this girlfriend thing, it seemed.

With a nod, you turn to walk away. The familiar sound of Joon's voice stopping you, “You look pretty, Yn.” You hate the way your heart instantly reacts to the compliment. The three words that you've been hearing all night because of course, you'd look pretty. But for some reason, it feels different coming from him.

But, you wouldn't allow yourself to be swooned by that. He's made it clear where he stands when it comes to you. “Thanks. My date thinks so too,” It's sad how you enjoy the annoyed expression that flashes over his features, quickly being masked by surprise.

“Oh. You brought a date?” As if he didn't know. As if he hadn't spent the majority of the night watching you. So obviously, too. Did he think you wouldn't pick up on it? Though, you'll play along. “Mhm. Hyungwon. He's over there,” You point him out with an outstretched arm, leaning against the bar with the task of getting you a drink. 

Most times, Namjoon was pretty good at keeping his thoughts from slipping. Screening them to make sure that he doesn't say anything compromising. Something that he finds harder to do with you involved. “Why'd you bring a date?” Why wouldn't you bring a date? Is on the tip of your tongue.

He's all but screamed that he wanted nothing deeper with you, what with his refusal to speak on things that are clearly bothering him. He was interested, but not as interested as someone would like. And too much of a coward to say so. What was he so afraid of? It's not like you were some pure inexperienced child, you've gone through one night stands before.

If that was all he wanted, he should've just said that. Instead of leaving you to come to the conclusion on your own. Putting together the pieces he so begrudgingly gave to you. Nevermind what Yoongi claims, what he's said to you in the past. That doesn't matter. What matters is how he acts on it and Namjoon hasn't acted at all.

And you certainly weren't going to be the only one out in the wind. “It's a ball? I need someone to dance with... who are you gonna dance with?” A subtle jab, as if you hadn't noticed that he showed up with nobody on his arm tonight.

“I don't really dance much,” His reply is sheepish and meek, you barely hear the words coming from his lips.

You're letting out a hummed sigh and a practiced smile, “That's too bad. Maybe, I'll let you twirl me a few times. It is a charity event after all,” With that you're walking away, promising that you'll follow your brother upstairs when he goes and not sparing another glance at Namjoon.

Hoseok manages to hold his laughter until you're out of earshot, bending forward as he clutches his side. Thick chuckles falling from his lips and filling the space. Joon stays stood beside him, a glare shadowing his features, knowing that he's laughing at him and not being able to be mad at it. The entire situation was laughable in the worst way.

“Oof,” He breaths out after calming, straightening, and letting out a deep breath. “You really pissed her off. What did you do?” He almost delves into all the issues in his head with your brother but holds back for the sake of not getting himself in trouble. Admitting that he actually slept with you to your brother... not a great idea.

Instead, he decides to go with someone he knows Hoseok already knows. “ think she's still pissed I called her superficial... and self-centered,” Not his brightest moment, he was upset, but that wasn't an excuse. It wasn't something he made up, the evidence was right there. But you weren't only that, he knew that.

And chose to ignore it.

“That'll do it.” Hoseok answers with a sure nod. “She hates when people tell her about herself. Especially if they're right,” Of course, he knew how his sister was. How you acted and treated the people around you. You were everything a superficial, self-centered person could be.

Only the people close to you, the people that you felt comfortable with knew that there was more to it. So keen on keeping everyone at an arm's length, you choose to allow the immediate assumption pass, to keep from getting too close. It was better that way. Not often did you meet someone you desired to get to know deeper, to know you.

It felt like that with Joon sometimes, a lot of the time. And you did try to get him to see that you weren't what everyone thought, but it didn't work as well as you had hoped. You were still the same to him.

He's letting out a huff, fingers pushing through his hair. Frustration creeping up the back of his neck. “I didn't think she'd take it to heart! It was just an observation, I didn't mean...” He didn't mean to hurt you, wouldn't imagine it. He wished he could just tell you everything.

How he felt about you, how badly he wanted to be with him – and wanted you to want to be with him. If only it would ruin everything. Although, everything was already ruined... right?

“Why do you feel bad about it now?” Hoseok is fully invested in this conversation now, picking up on the pieces he's missing in the story of you and Namjoon. “Is it because she looks pretty and she's with some guy?”

“No!” There was more to it than just jealousy. As much as he wanted to be in Hyungwon's place, there... was there? “I mean.. yeah?” No, there had to be more. He didn't just want you because he didn't have you. He wanted you because you were you and he didn't quite get it, but he felt it whenever he was with you. It had nothing to do with being jealous. “No! Because she's... she's, her, you know? And she's nice to me, right? So I shouldn't be mean to her?”

Much harder to put into words under your brother's expectant gaze. How was he supposed to explain his feelings when he didn't quite understand them himself. When he hasn't even told you about them properly.

Realizing, he's not going to be getting any more information out of the man, Hoseok is nodding. Eyes searching to find his girlfriend in the crowd, only now remembering that he was expected to meet with his father. “Look, if you think you should apologize, go for it. But don't fuck with her head,” A pointed finger follows his stern warning.

No room is left for Namjoon to respond, Hoseok offering a quick goodbye before he stalks off to wrap himself around the pretty redhead he first arrived with. Whispering something to her before leading her out of the hall and you're just a few steps behind them.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 21:09

You're told to leave the moment your father's eyes set on the woman wrapped around your brother's waist. Deciding that he'd much rather discuss a different matter tonight than what he had originally planned when he called the both of you away. You protest, of course, not wanting to leave him to get in trouble. Even though, he's never done the same for you.

The threats and ultimatums that you knew were coming, he wouldn't be able to handle it. Would more than likely bend at your father's will because he knew nothing else. Ready to do whatever to keep the peace, even if it was against what he wanted.

Hoseok is the one that asks you to leave, though. Shooing you away with a reassuring smile and while hesitant, you still leave. Offering a soft smile over to Ti-lee who looks as nervous as ever. 

The first person you lay eyes on when you're reentering the room is no other than Kim Namjoon. Stood in the same spot as before, now engaged in conversation with both Jungkook and Jimin. His eyes lift, just for a moment, before he's spotting you. Offering up the first smile he's shown you in the past few days.

And you hate how quickly your body reacts to the twitch of the lip. You should be focusing on moving on, forgetting everything that happened between the two of you. It was nothing. He surely thought so, no matter how many lousy smiles he flashes in your direction. It didn't change anything. He didn't want to be with you.

Ugh, but you wanted him to be.

More than ready to stamp your foot and ball your fists until you were getting what you want. Yet, you had an inkling that no matter the size of your objection – it still wouldn't change anything. Wouldn't change his mind or his heart. It was a fluke, it had to be. Why else would he have pulled back the way he had.

Which is the reason you can't fathom why he'd be making his way over to you right now. Slipping through the crowd of strangers until he's standing right in front of you, with that same smile on his face. “Can I dance with you, now?” His voice just above a whisper and you really wished he'd stop confusing you.

And you wish, you'd stop letting him. “Sure,” 

He takes you and leads you into the crowd of dancing bodies, hand placed lightly on the middle of the back as the two of you move to the music. His hand is so big in your hand, the feel of it reminding you of your first night together. Your first date. Hardly two weeks ago, but it felt like much longer.

You don't speak for a while, allow yourself to imagine that it is like this. Simple. That you're with him and he wants to be with you, despite whatever's holding him back. That he talks to you, instead of leaving you in the dark. That you're happy. As pathetic as it may seem, you were always happy with him.

Never even had to do much, he just knew how to bring a smile to your face. Whether it was catching the subtle blush on his cheeks when you teased him or when he was letting himself go around you, being bold. You liked it most when he threw caution to the wind, your heart did too.

And you had thought you'd be seeing much more of that. But maybe you were wrong...

The sound of him clearing his throat, pulls you from your thoughts, training your full attention on him. He looks nervous. “Did... Did I hurt your feelings when I said... those things?” How fragile did he think you were? Expected to have you curled up crying over being told something that you've known your whole life?

Yeah, right. Your feelings weren't hurt, but that didn't mean it was something that you'd like to hear from someone you thought was starting to see you differently. Someone that you thought liked you. It was annoying.

“No. I love being insulted,” Words dry, yet dripping with sarcasm.

He sighs, “I wasn't trying to insult you,”

The humorless laugh that leaves your lips is unexpected even to you, but you do little to suppress it once it slips. “You were trying to compliment me?” Bewildered, of course. If that was his idea of a compliment... well, maybe you had him pegged wrong.

“No. I just... I noticed, so I said it,” Namjoon is quickly realizing that's not the best answer in trying to mend things. Even though you tried to act as if you didn't care, it was obvious to him that his words held some gravity to you. That it bothered you to hear that from him, he could see through your entire act.

Calling you out on it would just lead to more mess, though. “I'm not saying you're not that, we both know you are. I just shouldn't have judged you on it. You're a lot more,” He had misjudged you when you first met, assumed that there weren't that many layers to you. But he was so wrong.

You were complicated and sensitive and extremely loving. And he enjoyed discovering every new aspect of you the closer he got to you. All things that had him so taken with you. He wanted to learn more, he wanted to try and figure things out. Hated how quickly the flame went out. He wanted that back.

“Yeah?” It's hard to mask the smile that fights its way onto your lips. “What am I?” Honestly, you don't want to sound as hopeful as you feel, but you can't help it. To hear, finally, what he really thinks of you... and maybe what else has been going on in his mind. What has been blocking him from you?

But Joon is terrible on the spot and is quickly clamming up under your gaze. The list he had created mere moments ago fleeting from his memory, only one word behind. And it's not the right one. “Pretty. I mean...” Desperately trying to search for the right words, but you're already rolling your eyes.

“Well, look who's superficial now.” You scoff, but you don't sound mad. Playful even. The teasing tone that he's grown used to in these past few weeks. It has him thinking, maybe he might still have a chance. “I know I'm pretty. And I know I'm spoiled and self-centered. But, I also know I'm intelligent. Outgoing. Kindhearted.” You tick each characteristic on your fingers. “You didn't care about any of that. Didn't even care to mention it,”

“I know. I'm sorry.” The two of you needed to talk, he's only now realizing how badly. There were so many things that he needed to tell you and in turn, so many things that he wanted to hear from you. If you weren't going to be together, at least you could clear the air. At least both of you could do without the confusion weighing over your hearts.

And it had to be now, no more of this waiting around bullshit. He's already lost two weeks of potentially being with you. He was done screwing around. “Should we go somewhere to talk?” 

You don't think there's been a time you were invited to 'go somewhere to talk' and actually talked about anything. It annoys you how easily the words crush your spirit, proving how little control you had over your emotions when it came to him. And to make matters worse, you wanted to go with him.

Whether you were actually talking to correct things or just fooling around as you suspected was his intention. No matter what it was, you wanted to go along with him and that was scared as fuck. Still, you were far from becoming a bobblehead yes-woman at the mere mention of being alone with him.

Keeping your composure was at the top of the list. So you play into it, fingers crawling up his shoulder, to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. “You want to sleep with me tonight, huh?” His eyes widen, obviously surprised that you've caught on.

Namjoon is shocked. How you'd get that from wanting to talk to you. Honestly, what went on in that head of yours, he'd love to know. But, while talking to you was at the utmost of importance... there was no way he could deny that being with you like that again would be nice. The moment held residence in his mind since that night and seeing you every day, looking the way you do did not help.

But, was this a test? Was he not supposed to want to sleep with you because your relationship... if it could even be called that, wasn't in the state to be even further complicated by doing such things. Were you testing him?

“What's the right answer to this?”

He loves the way you play with his hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp. “No right answer. It's just what you want,” You're voice is all hushed and sensual, staring up at him through the ridiculously long lashes you've glued on. Which he always finds pretty.

“Uhm. Yes?”

You don't even miss a beat. “Why?”

It had been a test. At least he thinks so, why else would you be asking him why he wanted to sleep with you. He's sure he fucked up, yet again. “No right answer?”

Shaking your head, you smile. And it's a real smile. “No right answer.” Maybe he was wrong? Maybe you just wanted to know?

Joon was hardly doing anything without thinking it through it thoroughly first. He'd overthink into oblivion if it was possible. And like he wanted to know why you liked him, a question that you had fumbled, thinking it was a joke – you wanted to know why he wanted to sleep with you. Didn't really care for the answer, it would change much.

You just wanted to know.

“I like the way you look in your dress,” He's confessing because it's the truth. “And your waist feels good in my hands... you smell so sweet, and...” And I miss you. He can't seem to get his lips to form the words, the ambiguity of our situation holding him back. He didn't want to be the only one out in the wind.

Curious, you prompt. “And?”

“And, I want you.” He figures that should suffice. Doesn't give way to anything deeper that might scare you off. You can want someone without longing for them, right? Although, he did, very much long for you.

That was a conversation to be had at another time, though, because you're grinning. Leaning up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek and he swears he feels his heart leap from his chest. And as quickly as you closed in on him, you're back away, with a mischievous look in your eye.

Fingers dipping into the cleavage of your dress and he's not ashamed to admit that amount of attention he pays to them until you're presenting a key from your breast, extending it out to him.

“My rooms on the top floor. I'll meet you up there,” First, you've got to say goodnight to Hyungwon. You try not to look so excited when you walk away, even though it's buzzing from your pores. It was weird. Feeling this hopeful by having a man up to your room, it certainly wast' the first time.

But, Namjoon wasn't any ordinary man. He was different in ways you could no describe. You liked him and there was something there. You knew it, you could feel it. And no matter how cool he tried to act. You're sure he could feel it too.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 22:11

You find Hyungwon just as he's leading a pretty girl to his car. The slight stumble in his step giving way to how many drinks he's had tonight. He grins when he sees you, leaning down to plant a kiss on your cheek that earns you a scowl from the girl beside him. Wait till she found out you were his girlfriend.

In no mood to spoil their night, you're quick with your goodbye. Letting him know that you'd be fine to find your own way home, which he quickly meets with his suspicions of you going back inside to meet Namjoon. A lady never tells, so he's whooping with excitement when you confirm it.

He's kissing you before slipping into the back seat of the car, the girl following behind him. The scowl not once leaving her features as she passes you. Lifting your hand to wave them off, because you can't help yourself. And you have every intention to go find Namjoon in your room, but you're being met with a sad looking Hoseok the moment you turn.

“I have to break up with Ti-Lee,” He's saying before you have the chance to ask him what's wrong. You're rushing to him, an arm wrapping around his shoulders. He looks so torn, on the verge of tears. You feel tears well at the brim of your eyes from the sight. “Why?” Asking, even though you already know the answer.

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips as he wiggles from your grip, the sad look on his face replaced with this hard expression that does not suit him at all. “She doesn't suit me. I should be with someone... else,” His words are so robotic, not even hiding that he's literally repeating exactly what your father has told him.

Now, if it were you, you'd laugh it off with a great big 'fuck you', but Hoseok wasn't like you. So, it wasn't going to be that easy to get him to see, that no he shouldn't. “Uhm. Do you want to be with someone else?”

He had been so excited to introduce Ti-Lee, not only to your family but to anyone who was willing to listen. Anyone with eyes could see how smitten the boy was with her and you knew your brother, it wasn't easy to grasp and keep his attention.

And he knew that too. Never has he met someone like his girlfriend. He had no idea it would end up like this when they first met, either. Had been prepared to sum it up to nothing more than a casual hook up, but then he was left wanting and wondering. Wondering what she was doing, how she was doing, if she was thinking about him, how she'd feel to know that he was thinking about her.

It was sudden, the way he fell for her. In the middle of his busy life, where he swore he didn't have time for anything else. And then she was stepping in and it was like he couldn't really enjoy anything else. “No.”

“Then what the fuck are you talking about!?”

You see the annoyance wash over his features, shifting into anger. No doubt replaying the conversation he must've just had. But just as soon as it appears, it's gone. “Dad said it would be in my best interest if-”

With a firm shake of your head, you're cutting him off. “He doesn't care about your best interest, Hoseok.” It was about time he flat out heard it. That man didn't care about anyone but himself and he had everyone, even his own son fooled. But not you. “What could be wrong with Ti-Lee?”

“She doesn't even have a real job,” He's saying, but he doesn't mean it. The words don't even sound like his, because you know for a fact your brother doesn't care about things like that. “That wasn't a problem to you before. What's wrong with Ti-Lee?”

He's offering up another recycled reason on your father's list of unsuitables. “She could be with me for my money,” You actually laugh at that one. The both of you knew how to sniff out money-hungry people trying to nuzzle into your lives. There's no way he'd let Ti-Lee get this close if he thought that was the case.

But, you point out for his sake. “She makes her own money. What's wrong with Ti-Lee?”

You're more than ready to poke holes through any of his bullshit reasons on why he shouldn't be with this girl. Reasons that you know he doesn't even believe himself. A loud groan leaves his lips, hands pushing through his hair.

“Nothing's wrong with her! She's perfect but... but, I have to break up with her, Yn. You wouldn't understand,” You're actually the only person in the entire world that would understand. And also the only person in the entire world that can honestly tell him that it wouldn't be worth it.

Back when you tried to earn your father's affection or even a few words of praise. Anything. You tried so hard, but every last one of your efforts were met with nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a second glance. It didn't take you long to put together that nothing really impressed your father, so might as well enjoy yourself if he was going to scowl at everything.

Hoseok has yet to realize this, but he'd never really be happy until he stopped being so compliant. “No, that's not fair. I won't let you do it.” Putting your foot down literally, which may look childish... but you mean business. “You like her! Like actually like her. You don't like anyone, Hoseok. That's not fair.”

“Come on, do you really think dad would have m do anything he didn't think was best?” Was he brainwashed? What parent would so deliberately stand in the way of their kid's happiness and claim that it's in their best interest? That wasn't parenthood. Like at all.

It was a fucking dictatorship. “Hobi,” You've gotta reach to grasp his shoulders as you speak, eyes trained on his. “Dad doesn't give a shit about you.” Speaking slowly in hopes that the words will penetrate through his rose-colored glasses.

He's knocking your hands off with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. “What? Now you're being ridiculous.” Right, how could he not give a shit about him? That was his favorite after all. Of course, all of his shits were given and served directly to him. Dumbass.

“I'm serious! He only gives a fuck because you fit into his perfect plan. Successful rapper, more than ready to take over. The second something doesn't fit, he's cutting it out. Regardless of how it makes you feel. Why weren't you able to start your clothing line?” He had spent weeks meeting up with designers and artists, creating the basis of the brand he'd name after his very first album.

And right when things were starting to take off, it was being decided that he was spending too much time on things of no value. That he should be more focused on making music rather than trying to appeal to his fans with flashy things. The fact that he was having the most fun didn't matter. Making music. Money for the company.

That. That was more important.

“Because it wasn't a good idea.” And Hoseok had himself convinced that it was his idea to quit. Didn't even fight it when things started tumbling down, just went along with it like he always did.

You had bugged him for weeks about it but gave up after you realized you weren't getting anywhere. He was fucking brainwashed. “No, because it wasn't apart of the plan. So he made sure it didn't happen. He's got you under his thumb, Hobi. Wake up!”

He's getting mad and you can see it. But he has no idea where to direct it. You make sense and he hates that you do. Yet, he can't bring himself to believe that his dad would be setting him up for anything but success. He was his prodigy. It's always been that way, so why now would it be any different?

You were wrong. “No. You don't know what you're talking about. It might be that way for you, Yn. But you're a fuck up. What do you expect? You can't clump us together.” His words cut deeper than he intends. And you find yourself stepping back from him, blinking through the heaviness behind your eyes.

“I'm not a fuck up,” You don't even sound like yourself, all weak and wounded.

His words are fast. “Yes, you are. Every chance you get, you fuck up. And just because you've been keeping your shit lately doesn't change anything. Does it?” He was mad at you and all you were trying to do was help him. 

All you ever did was try and help him. Because he was too stupid to see things as they were. Convinced that everything was perfect and you both had such a great dad.. all you needed to do was clean up your act. Be better and he'll treat you as well as he treats me. When that wasn't the case at all.

It's almost laughable, how little he knew about the man he idolized. “That's funny. The only reason why I've been 'keeping my shit' is because of you! Your fucking dad threatened me with you. Told me if I were to make another mistake he'd tank your album. Oh, but he cares about you, right? Why would he leave that in the hands of a fuck up?” 

The rejection is instant, dismissing your words with a shake of his head. “You're lying.” He concludes. Not seeing any other outcome to this. What you were saying couldn't be true. There's no way his own dad would gamble on his work. No way.

“I don't lie and you know that. Let's go ask him,” Voice sounding a bit too chipper for the circumstance, but this was a long time coming.

Reaching for his hand, you're tugging him back into the hall, leading him straight to the table where your father sits. Completely forgetting about Namjoon waiting for you upstairs.

— daughter of the ceo of the biggest record label, it’s obvious she’d get whatever and whoever she wants. but what happens when she’s meeting the one person that refuses to play into her spoiled brat act?

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#namjoon #namjoon angst #bts smut #🌬️ sm au #namjoon fic #namjoon sm au #namjoon imagine #namjoon fluff #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #jin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #bts #bts imagine #bts sm au #taeg #yoonmin #jikook

[mysticalrambling]

Love Conquers All(The Originals)

Part 4

Part 4/10

(Y/N) means your name and (Y/LN) means your last name.

Warnings: none.  Angst and fluff all the way.

Summary: Dad!Klaus. (Y/N) finds out that you are pregnant and runs away from Klaus. After five years of avoiding him, Freya discovers your secret and it will all be revealed in time. At last, love will conquer all.

._._._._._.

“You are not going anywhere with my daughter, (Y/N),” Klaus exclaimed when he saw your bags in the hallway. If you knew that he would drop by unannounced, you would have left yesterday night without all of your stuff.

“That is not your decision to make.”

“Well, if it concerns my daughter then it is my decision as well.” You sighed frustratedly in to your hands because these past few days were a little too much.

“Klaus, you are happy in your life and we are happy in ours.”

“You think I was happy?” Klaus asked incredulously as the last five years flashed through his mind. You were left speechless when you saw the sheer agony in his eyes. It was proof that you were not the only one who suffered and was incredibly lonely. “Anyway, I am taking Hope to meet my family today and it is not mandatory for you to attend.”

“Hope doesn’t even know you properly right now. She will be scared.”

“I will be there with her all the time.” Klaus pretended as these words didn’t hurt him but he was not going to back out.

“Fine. But she is not going anywhere without me.”

“I’ll pick you both at 7. Goodbye, love.” He walked out the door and you realised it was time to pick your daughter up from the daycare. You both had to get ready soon and you had already thought of an outfit for the two of you.

Applying a lipstick, you quickly glanced at the clock, quarter past seven. Klaus was never late but what you didn’t know was that he was pacing outside your apartment for the past twenty minutes. He knocked the door and his breath hitched when he saw you in a maroon dress with laced arms and reached till your knees. Hope peeked behind from you and she was wearing the same outfit as you. You both looked adorable.

“Welcome (Y/N). And who is this young lady?” You were shocked to see the noble Elijah Mikaelson kneeling down in front of a little girl. But the happiness in his eyes showed me that Klaus was not the only one ecstatic about the new found addition in their family.

“Elijah, you are scaring the poor girl.” Kol said as he came from behind with a glass of bourbon in his hand. “Hello darling, I am Kol Mikaelson. Come on in and I will show you some toys.”

“Are they going to be friends with Mr Fluffs?” she asked shyly while showing him her toy.

“Sure but you have to tell me your name first.”

“Hope.” The moment she uttered her name, she left your hand and skipped inside with Kol. You noticed how Kol did not even glance at you but you knew you deserve it.

“It’s going to be okay.” Klaus whispered in your ears as he pressed his hands on the small of your back. Sitting on the couch, Rebekah was sipping on her martini and she was looked pissed.

“Hi guys.” You called out to everyone in the room and Rebekah ignored you. Freya muttered a small hello and you noticed another brunette sitting on a loveseat who was busy in her phone.

“You know everyone here except Davina. She is Kol’s girlfriend and a witch. Not a very good one at that.” Klaus informed you when he saw you standing there awkwardly.

“Heard that.” Davina finally spoke as she trained her eyes on you.

“Dinner’s ready,” announcing it to the room, Elijah tried to break some of the tension in the room. All of you piled on to the dinning table, Hope insisting that you and Klaus on either side of her.

“So (Y/N), how are things going?” Elijah tried to start up a conversation as you cut Hope’s steak in to tiny pieces. Klaus piled on to her plate even more and you just gave him a look.

“Cut the pleasantries, Elijah. Why are we pretending that this girl just did not hide our blood from us. We have killed people for way less things. Let me do the honors.

“Rebekah, sit down because you are scaring Hope.” The murderous look in Klaus’s eyes forced her to sit back down. Hope’s grip on your arm tightened and the whole dining table started to shake violently. The chandelier fell suddenly and you both were whisked away in to the hallway.

“Hope, calm down.” You gently hugged her and she slowly stopped shaking. She rested her head gently on your shoulder and her tears seeped through your shirt.

“Is Mr Klaus my daddy?”

“Yes.” You whispered in to her ears but you knew that Klaus heard you clearly. Damn those vampire ears.

“We are leaving and thanks for the dinner. Rebekah, for once in your life, listen to me. I will deal with all of you later.” Saying that, he walked you out of the mansion and drove you both home as Hope slept peacefully in her booster seat.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!! Like, comment and reblog.

._._._._._.

Part 5 coming soon. Some of the truth will be revealed and the three of you spend some time together.

._._._._._.

#rachelleblodgettwrites #my writing #books & libraries #writer #short story #wattpad #my short story #short series #tumblog #reader #tv series #netflix #shows #the vampire diaries #the originals #Legacies #klaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson fluff #angst #family #childhood #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus x you #klaus x y/n #klaus x elijah #hope mikaelson #klaus x hope #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson

[thefanficmonster]

Sign From The Past

Andrew/Abraham (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Spoilers for Little Hope, Swearing, Blood and Injury, Bus Crash (Mentioned)

Genre: Romance, A bit of Angst

Summary: Following the bus crash and the group of students and their professor getting stranded in the eerie town of Little Hope, Y/N and Andrew come to find out a lot about and themselves as in their thoughts and feelings as well as about each other. It does take a little push from the past to pass the threshold though.

Requested by 💞 Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request, it was a real joy to write. Also thank you so much for your patience - I know the wait has been really long and I’m extremely sorry for that but I still hope you come across the fic and read it. If so, I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

Y/D/N - Your Double’s Name (Same first letter as your name)

Y/N stands behind John and observes as her professor is attempting to wake up the possibly concussed boy sitting on the ground with his back against the roof of the flipped bus they had all been safely seated in less than ten minutes ago. Her classmate and best friend Taylor’s struggling to fetch even the tiniest possible signal with her phone held up in the air, muttering curses under her breath. Two more classmates are unaccounted for at the moment but that’s not what’s bothering Y/N the most right now - maybe it’s messed up, but it’s true. 

The girls main attention and worry is focused on the boy who’s still unconscious. The boy she’s praying will wake up soon.

Being the only one with a med major, Y/N was quick to tend to any external wounds such as the cut on Andrew’s forehead which was rather deep but nothing to get too worked up about. There was not much she could do without a med-kit which made her feel utterly helpless and useless while John continuously reassured her Andrew and the rest of them would all be ok.

Come on, Andrew. Don’t scare us like this

As if overhearing her thoughts, Andrew’s eyes started fluttering open, causing Y/N’s heartbeat to pick up, her legs automatically carrying her closer to him, ducking down in front of him to get a good look at him.

She’s the first person his gaze lands upon before fluttering over to John. His eyebrow seems to raise ever so slightly before he looks at Y/N again, “Y/N, what happened? Who’s that?“

Her heart dropped and so did the smile that appeared on John’s face as a result of Andrew’s consciousness returning.

Overhearing Andrew’s question, Taylor quickly comes over as well, ducking down next to Y/N. “Rise and shine, Andy. We’re stuck in a ghost town, this is no time to be taking naps.”

Andrew scoffs, looking at Taylor, “Maybe you could run that back a bit cause I have no idea where I am or what on Earth happened.” His eyes shift back to you, “Any explanation would be nice, Y/N. Even a shitty one.”

Y/N sighs, “We were going on a fieldtrip and our bus crashed. This is our professor,” she points to John and then to Taylor, “And this is our classmate. Two others are with us but we don’t know where they are at the moment.”

The boy stays quiet for a moment, his gaze distancing and becoming unfocused to the point of scaring Y/N but then he starts talking, focusing again, “You’re a med major, so doc can you please tell me why the hell I remember none of what you just told me?“

Even though the girl is rather shocked by his memory of her and her major, she hurries to recompose herself and reply, “You’re just concussed, Andrew. Don’t worry, you’ll be perfectly fine soon, nothing to panic over. I promise.”

Taylor snorts from next to her, cutting the tension, “Wow Andy, you know Y/N AND her major but you can’t even remember our names. Just wow!”

“Not everyone leaves the same impression on a person, Taylor.“ John says, looking between Y/N and Andrew knowingly.

“You got that one right professor.“ Taylor agrees, nudging Y/N’s shoulder with her own, sending a wink her best friend’s way despite the other girl desperately avoiding her gaze.

All she can really do is sit in the intense heat of her blush and hope it’s not as apparent as her crush on Andrew seems to be.

It’s gonna be one hell of a night, she thinks to herself.

If only she knew how right she was...

                                                            *  *  *

“Feeling any better? Any fatigue or nausea?“ Y/N asks Andrew as the two continue down the road, walking ahead of everybody else. This is a routinely question she’s been asking him every thirty or so minutes while hoping she wasn’t annoying him too much with it.

Luckily, he never made her feel like she was, always replying in a friendly, light-hearted manner and even with a hint of a smile, “No, I’m good, don’t worry.”

Right, as if Y/N had a switch to flip to turn her worry off. She’s always been the nurturing type. The one who always over-cares and is always over-kind. She’s been like that with everyone since forever. But with Andrew, though she refuses to admit it, it’s obviously a bit different and more intense.

Seeing as how she’s the only one he remembers, he’s been sticking by her side and gravitating towards her the whole night - much like she’s been doing as well. Little do they both know that even back on campus, in the gardens and the hallways of their college they’d somehow always end up finding one another and walking together to or from class. There are invisible magnetic forces between them, pulling them towards one another so subtly neither of them have noticed. Not yet, at least.

“Hey look! An old train station.“ Y/N points out, looking first to Andrew then turning around in search of the rest of their group members. Her heart drops when all her gaze lands upon is the thick fog that’s been following them everywhere they’ve gone so far and doesn’t seem to show any sign of thinning anytime soon.

Having noticed her mild distress at the absence of their professor and classmates, Andrew hurries to approach her, subconsciously resting a hand on her shoulder, “Hey, they’re probably right behind us, don’t freak out, ok?” His eyes stare into hers so convincingly that all she can do is nod. When she does so, he continues, “Ok, good. Let’s go into the station, see if we can find anything or anyone.” She nods again, praying the blush that’s appeared on her cheeks as a result of the physical contact isn’t visible in the faint light of the streetlight.

As the two turn to venture onward, Y/N nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels Andrew’s hand slide down her arm to take a hold of hers as if afraid he’d lose her in the dark. She tries not to pay too much mind to it and not read into it, biting her lip to suppress the involuntary smile that’s creeping up on her face.

Seeing this moment with the two so at peace and relaxed, the horrors felt mocked apparently and felt the need to intervene.

Just as the two students are about to pass the threshold into the station, a hand covered in cracked ashy skin takes hold of Andrew’s forearm, pulling him in the station.

And simultaneously into the past.

When him and Y/N come to they are shocked at the sight that greets them: themselves. The two of them are standing next to a horse carriage, wearing attire from centuries ago and speaking in hushed tones and whispers but loud enough to be understood at the distance they were at. Y/N and Andrew decide to stay quiet and avoid being spotted by them.

“Never have I thought I’d have to send you off such a way and for such a reason, Y/D/N.” The man who looks exactly like Andrew says, his head hanging low with disappointment, regret and sorrow.

“Abraham, listen to me, this is no fault of yours. You are doing what you think will keep me from harm and I’m grateful with all my heart. I just worry the Reverend will find out you had something to do with me...“

“I’d regret not a single thing even if he did find out.“ The man, Abraham apparently, cuts the girl - Y/D/N - off, his eyes coming up to meet hers again, his hand taking hold of hers. The girl looks around nervously as if to make sure she’s got permission to hold the hand of the man she clearly loves, but then just nods in gratitude.

“I’m forever in your debt, Abraham, thank you.“ She says, bowing her head now too.

“Do not thank me, Y/D/N, and do not speak such nonsense as debt. I would rather die seen as a betrayer of God than see you burnt at the steak or hanged. My lover is no witch and won’t be treated like one till the day I draw my last breath.“

With that Abraham and Y/D/N share one final hug before he helps her up on the carriage which takes off in a direction where Y/N and Andrew see nothing but darkness.

And just like that, the two present versions of those people, are put back where they belong - in the present, surrounded by fog and darkness as previously. The surroundings that previously gave them an uneasy feeling now make them feel comfort because of their familiarity.

“You ok?“ Y/N jumps when Andrew’s hand’s hold on her tightens ever so slightly as if to free her from the web of confusion and fear.

She nods then shakes her head but manages to let out an affirmative hum to reassure him. “You?”

Andrew repeats the same motion she did - a nod followed by a shake of the head, “Yes and no, if I’m being honest. And on the topic of honesty: I haven’t been at the peak of mine as of recent.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean?“

The boy lets out a heavy sigh that is meant to prepare him for what he’s about to say. What he’s about to confess to. “There’s plenty of things I haven’t told you. Things I refused to tell myself too...”

“Andrew, sorry but, I’ve had it with puzzles and riddles all night long. Can you please be straight-forward, I promise I won’t freak out or anything.“

Despite still being hesitant on the matter, Andrew decides to listen to Y/N’s advice - or rather request - and nods before continuing, “You’re one of my best friends, Y/N, I hope you know that and I trust you and I care for you and...and I just tonight came to understanding that it was always something...more than a friend. More than a best friend. I’m sorry if this makes you feel weird or awkward or if you don’t feel the same way please don’t cushion the rejection or pity me. I just...” As he’s talking he makes the mistake of looking her in the eyes which are giving him the most unimpressed look which gets him to shut up asap.

“If you didn’t already have a head injury I’d smack you.“ She says, eyes narrowed, “Andrew, I’m sorry, but you have to be one of the densest and most oblivious guys I’ve ever met. Like, you’re up there at Daniel’s level when he refused to believe Taylor liked him back. That’s how high up you’re on the scale.“

Her words confuse him, leaving him to process all that she’s said until some type of realization hit him. Only one is turning up and he refused to believe it cause it seems so impossible to him.

“I like you too, you dumbass.“ She says, a smile on her face hiding the tons of exhaustion he’d been seeing on it for the past few hours.

“FUCKING FINALLY!“ The familiar voice of no one but Taylor arises from somewhere behind the couple who have now found themselves at a closer proximity than before, arms automatically reaching for the other to take them in their embrace.

Fucking finally indeed, Taylor.

#the dark pictures man of medan #the dark pictures #the dark pictures house of ashes #the dark pictures anthology #the dark pictures little hope #dark pictures anthology #dark pictures little hope #little hope #little hope andrew x reader #little hope andrew #little hope abraham #little hope john #little hope taylor #little hope angela #little hope daniel #little hope reverend #reverend carver #andrew x reader #man of medan #until dawn #supermassive games #supermassive #video game #video game fanfic #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #romance #request

[scriptaed]

his side, her side finale | 00:00

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut; 

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 4.6k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

No matter how infinite the pages could write itself, in the way that he catches her stealing glances from across the room or the scalding spark imprinted on her hand by the touch of his own, there really are only three versions to every story: his side, her side, and the truth’s side; and in your unsolicited albeit self-justified defense, the truth is, what was once seemingly perpetual is now merely trivial. The imagery that once had you kicking and screaming into your sheets at night, the fleeting moments that were shared by both but valued by one, and the inevitably incessant burden of jealousy brought upon by a fervent want that could never be had could only have been falsified by a break—spatially, temporally, and heartfully. The mind can only tug so much at one’s strings; and yet, to be bent, only time could prove possible.

...and that time is exactly what is needed by all.

her side;

“Are you joining us for dinner tonight, Y/N?” 

“Huh? What?” your ears perk at the sound of your friend’s call. 

“Oh, there she goes again,” your other friend interjects with the roll of her eyes. You almost collapse when she swings a hand over your shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to get your ears checked?”

“No, but I might have to get my eyes checked,” you joke, despite pulling in all the performance points you could win with a disdainful scan up and down her less than professional attire. Thankfully, your act is gleefully extended by her cheesy gawk of an expression. Putting up a merciful pair of hands in the air, you laugh, “hey, in all seriousness, it’s not my fault you guys keep drooling over boys.”

“Uhuh, so you’re trying to tell us that boy talk is what’s putting you to sleep?” your friend’s accomplice crosses her arms, raising an accusatory pair of brows. 

“Yeah,” you say much too seriously so you throw in an airy laugh, “I mean, there’s more to life than boys, y’know?”

“Right, like…?”

“Like…” your voice trails off because, for some reason, your mind goes blank as you attempt to recall your lifestyle from your previous hometown. “Like… hanging out with friends! With you guys!”

“Gah! You’re only able to say that because you have dozens of boys chasing you around the office. Us, on the other hand, time just… it just keeps ticking…” the two of them sigh in synchronization and you feel the heat of her arms retract as she shakes the hand of her one and only sympathizer. 

“Psh,” you can’t help but grin throughout the frown elicited by their vivacious performance, “you guys have plenty of time. Just enjoy life for now and I’m sure you’ll find someone along the way.” 

“Wait, but seriously,” her voice suddenly rises from her previously sullen state, as does her head on her friend’s shoulder. She looks you dead in the eye, and, honestly, you almost feel as though your privacy had just been invaded. “You really haven’t ever liked anyone before?” 

“Uh…” you scatter through the disarrayed files that were your buried memories, eyes squinting at the sun that peeks through the clearing sky after a day full of rainfall. “Elementary and middle school don’t really count… too busy studying in high school… college was full of fuck boys I couldn’t care less for… and at work…”

The more that you hear yourself ramble, the more the reality of your lonesome future settles into the already burdened shoulders of yours.

“At work? You mean here? Or do you mean your last job?”

“Well,” you frown, trying to recall every male colleague that had piqued even the tiniest of interest in you; and as the two of your friends lean in, you start to lean back, despite the charging light bulb that flickers from the unlocked recollection of two years ago. “There was a guy who liked me and told everyone at work that he liked me, which I thought was really weird… nice guy, kind of a nerd, but I didn’t like him that way. Who else? Uh, hm—”

—bzzz. 

The vibration against your back pocket pulls the plug from your train of thought. 

“Aw man,” you hear your friends curse in the background, “just when we were finally getting her to spill something.” 

The name on your screen has your heart skipping with delight.

 Yezi [5:20 PM] Hey, I know you’re gonna forget, so you before you do, we’re having dinner together tonight :) 

“It’s okay,” your friend pats the back of the other, “there’ll be some cute enough boys for her at tonight’s barbeque, I’m sure.”

“Ah shit,” you curse under your breath, hastily typing a response before peering up at your friends like a deer caught in the headlights, “actually, guys, turns out I already made plans with my friend from home. I’m sooo sorry.”

“Oh, really?” the two of them gasp. “Isn’t that a two hour train ride from here?” 

“Yeah, so I really got to go now,” your phone tumbles into your bag as you begin to widen your strides like a woman on a mission. 

They shake their heads in unison, “no, no, it’s okay!”

“I’m seriously so sorry guys,” you say as you pant, the distance between you and your friends widening by the second and forcing you to whirl around as you pace backwards. “I’ll make it up to you next time and do whatever you guys want, okay?”

“Really? Anything?”

“Yeah,” your hands draw a wide, inclusive circle into the air, “anything.” 

“Even a blind date?” 

“You know what? Why the hell not?” you chime, whirling back around with your back on them and a smile hidden away. Skipping off into the opposite direction toward the train station, you exclaim nonchalantly, “new year, new me!”

Lately, either through a stroke of luck or a reset of a life in a new town, there’s been something spectacularly whimsical about tonight’s air; and when a zephyr passes by, lifting you to the tip of your toes to an invincible high and relaying the confuzzled whispers of your friends—

“—wait, it’s not a new year, it’s already April—”

—you finally acquire a two year long-sought sensation: golden.

-

“I can’t believe you almost forgot about our plans!” 

“Hey, I had a reminder set on my phone just ten minutes after your reminder” you quip with pursed lips, “and I still made it on time, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Yezi prims with a stern look plastered across her face, gesturing, “with your hair and clothes damp in rain and your face smiling like a wagging, clueless beagle.”

“Well… beagles are cute, so I’ll take that as a compliment?” 

She frowns, ignoring your remark, “did you not check the weather forecast?”

“I did.”

“So why didn’t you bring an umbrella?”

“I forgot.”

“Ugh, you forget everything these days,” she plants a palm to her forehead before returning to her plate, “well, I’m glad that at least you’re so carefree nowadays. You’ve finally settled into your new workplace, huh? You look so happy now.”

“You talk—” it’s difficult to speak with food being stuffed into your mouth “—as if I lost a loved one.”

“Well,” she grits her teeth, as if biting her tongue, and proceeds to slice the slab of steak, “I wouldn’t say that’s too farfetched.” 

Frowning, your words come out muffled through puffed cheeks, “whaddya mean by dat?”

“You can’t tell me you forgot about what happened last time you were in town.”

“Uh…?” you furrow your brows, tracing into a forgotten yet familiar field you had long neglected for your own wellbeing. Last time you were in town, last time you were working here, last time you went out on a company party, last time you walked through this town’s treacherously embracing frosty breeze, last time you were dining here, last time you got wasted, not just here but anywhere, last time you shed tears… all the last times of this town shared only one similarity, a similarity you had subconsciously left behind at some point in your transition between the past and the now. 

“Do I really have to say it myself?” she leans in, concerned. “I don’t want you bawling your eyes out again…”

Did she possibly mean… him?

“Jeon Jungkook,” she blurts, “there! I said it!”

Her utensils clatter onto her plate as she tosses her hands in the air in mercy, almost as if bracing herself for the storm after the calm, observing you intently but warily; that supposed storm, however and ever so fortunately, never arrives. 

“Oh,” you utter, words slipping from your lips like sand through a palm, “I’m not crying.”

“You’re not crying,” she confirms, astonished. 

“It doesn’t… hurt anymore?” you almost ask yourself. 

“It doesn’t?”

“It doesn’t,” you utter, shaking your head. Just as she’s caught off guard, you lurch across the table to pinch her cheeks, “but that doesn’t mean I appreciate you bringing him up during a perfectly lovely night!” 

“Sho—” she furrows her brows in combination to her squished cheeks “—he doesh make you shad shtill?”

“Well, he doesn’t make me elated,” you finally release her from your wrath, returning to stare downward at your food, “but I guess it makes me reflect fondly on the past. It’s kind of like a scar. I know how much it once hurt but I can’t feel it to the same magnitude anymore. Actually, instead, the happy, jittery moments are more vivid to me than the tears that were shed. Is that… odd?”

“Like… like what? Examples?” 

Like when his arm bumped into yours for the first time on the walk after work, like when he discretely went out of his way to ensure your safety across the bridge home, like when he enamored over the ‘ripped abs’ of a fully nude female character design of an upcoming project whilst you stood awkwardly with a set of breasts in full display for the two of you, like when the two of you escaped to become the aloof, static noise of an unbefitting party, or like when he held you in his hands and kissed you at the stroke of midnight, the butterflies live on—even today—to shield you from the dampened blows struck by dull weapons of jealousy, insecurity, and remorse. 

With time, the silver lining finally showed itself like a sun shining through after a stormy night. You’ve finally accepted the truths behind every weapon. She was pretty. They were pretty. She never wronged you. They never wronged you. They deserved his love. His heart belonged to whomever he desired. 

He never badmouthed his peers and, as blunt of a man as he was, he never pointed out your flaws, even if that meant you would later return home only to find mascara flakes on your cheeks. He treated women like a gentleman, as contradictory as it may seem from his appetite demeanor; and while you fell for him for that, you also cursed him for that very reason. He didn’t owe you anything… up to a certain point until the lines were too blurred to decipher between the truth, the deserved, and the faulty. Be it Ji-eun or Jennie, you’ve come to terms with his relationships. 

As much as your relations with him seemed to run on a fragile thread of fate, your time had run out and the window of opportunity had been shut—but hey, at least you had fun.

“Are you… smiling?”

“Hm?” you look up to find her staring at you in concern. Blinking blankly, you quickly clear your throat and retract the smile you had subconsciously adorned. “I am?”

“I… don’t know if I should be worried or not,” Yezi downs another glass of iced water and you’re about to follow suit until she almost chokes on her water, “hey—isn’t that Jennie over there?” 

“Jennie?”

You almost curse at Yezi for teasing you over bygones that should’ve been left as just that, but she really wasn’t lying. You can’t believe your eyes when you whirl your head around to look through the darkened tint of the restaurant’s window panes. You might have never really spoken to Jennie, but that figure is undeniably Jennie. 

“What is she doing?” you squint, struggling to grasp a clear vision of her silhouette under the dim, orange street light beside her. You could only catch a hint of her side profile but those cheeks and unique sense of fashion definitely belonged to her; on the other hand, the constant stumbling and the hand to her head, almost as if she’s about to collapse at any second, did not resemble her. “Oh, oh, hold on, wait, whoa—we should help her!” 

You scramble to your feet and bolt out the door whilst Yezi takes care of your abrupt leave with the restaurant staff. A freezing blast of wind welcomes you as soon as you step into the sidewalk but you waste no time. Abandoning the cold behind you along with the past, your mind is set on aiding the collapsed woman on the streets. 

“Hey! Jennie, hey!” you call out to her as you sprint to her side, dropping to the floor without caring to notice the shards of glass that consequently cut your knees as you carefully roll her limp body onto its back and away from the sharp hazards. The pain has you wincing and seething under your breath, but the conditions of the person lying before you has you even more concerned. Her skin is even paler than usual. Her chest rises and falls rapidly in an evident struggle. Your taps against her shoulder gradually become frantic shakes until all you can hear is your voice and the whispering commotion of bystanders behind you. “Jennie! Can you hear me?!” 

“Y/N!” you turn around to find Yezi peering down at you from above. “What happened?”

“I don’t know but something’s definitely not right,” you say as calmly as you could, “call 911. I’ll call her family.”

“Got it,” Yezi nods, immediately dialing the numbers on her phone but pausing in the midst of the ring to face you, “wait, do you know anyone from her family?”

Gritting your teeth, you frown as you dig into your memories, “...no, I know she might have had a boyfriend back then, so he might know, but I don’t know if they’re still together and I don’t even know his number…”

“Do you know anyone who might know her boyfriend then?” 

“Well…” 

The ending trails of your voice are whisked away into the returning wind of that fateful night. Hands gripping at your phone and eyes staring at the stranger yet familiarity of a name that glares off the screen, it’s an inevitable force that has you stupefied yet marveled at the revival of a tugging string that ties you to him through the strangest, most meandering paths. 

-

his side;

It was almost like a fever dream. Her name plastered across his screen and his eyes squinting through the glaring light that illuminates his room. It had been two years since he had any contact nor mention of her; and now, out of the blue, in the midst of a nap after gym session, she calls him for help. He couldn’t believe his ears when he first heard her voice, believing it all to be another one of those numerous dreams that had him regretting his past or questioning his choices. He shot straight up in bed, phone grasped and glued to his ears that blocked out the computer fan that ran in the background. 

Even now, after throwing on a sweater and jacket and bolting out the door in a state of rescue, he can’t quite believe his eyes; because there she sits on the hospital bench, in the signature slumped boyish manner and the confused blank stare off into the distance that still has him quirking a smile in remembrance every once in a while. In her favorite white blouse and her only slack of black dress pants, it’s almost as if nothing had changed, almost as if she had never left. 

It’s almost like time had bent to his incessantly subconscious pleas and reversed its works; but the almost will always be an almost, for as long as those hallmark vivacious eyes and those rekindled mien of ambition lives. As far as Jungkook knew, she left with a dreary heart and returned with a fiery purpose. 

Despite all that, he can’t help but notice the way she fidgets in her seat, nearly sinking and avoiding all contact the second his presence had been noticed. Instead of the sheepish flickering stolen glances of the past, he finds himself at odds with the way she fights to return the locked gaze of his eyes. She fought so hard that she might have forgotten how to speak, rendering a soft chuckle from his lips because the girl he endlessly dreamt of might still live after all; and for the first time in a long while, Jungkook has to put forth the effort to fill in the silence. 

“Why did you call me?” he asks plainly as he stands before her.

“Well, I didn’t know any of her friends except you…” he watches as she fidgets with her hands, gaze falling to the floor before returning to him, “are you going to visit her? I think the doctor should be okay with it if you’re her close friend.”

“No, Kai will be here soon,” he explains, finally bending down and placing the bottle of rubbing alcohol beside her on the bench. “I have other shit to attend to.”

“Oh, right,” she mumbles. The evident surge in annoyance amuses him that he just can’t quite wipe the smirk off his face. Turning her head, she continues, “you must’ve had plans with Ji-eun tonight. Sorry for the trouble.”

This is it. This is the moment that replayed on repeat like a broken tape in his dreams. This is his chance to mend the wounds he had inflicted upon the confessing girl who cried her eyes out on the cab home that one, indelible night. 

An uncomfortable silence fills the air with the exception of the unscrewing of a plastic bottle and the gentle return of the bottle against the metallic bench, which is then followed by another staggering silence. 

“We’re not that close and I’m not dating Ji-eun now.” 

The girl turns with the quirk of a brow, especially when she spots him kneeling before her with a soaked cotton ball. “W-Wait what? Wait, shit, ow.”

“I don’t talk to Jennie as much as you think,” he states as a-matter-of-factly and continues to gently pat the cotton against the wounds on her knees. After hesitantly placing a band aid over the wound—something he had never done for anyone else nor for himself who just “sucked it up”—he finally lifts his gaze to interlock with hers, observing intently as if to soak the reality of it all in now before the inevitable tape begins to replay for the near future. “I broke up with Ji-eun before you left.” 

“And...” she utters slowly, “why are you telling me this?” 

Just like in the pool on that one night, her challenging eyes never budge and neither do his.

“I thought the past you would’ve liked to know,” he states. Head tilting to the side as if to get a better look, he remarks, “shit, you don’t look away anymore, huh?”

“Why would I?” she quips, snorting and finally breaking contact to stare off to the side. “It didn’t matter if I knew or not. It’s not like we were a thing.”

“Really?” Jungkook hums, gathering the scraps of cotton and paper before standing to his feet with a genuine soft sigh. It’s hard to brush off the two year old sinking sensation in his chest for something so nonchalant, but he manages to do it like he always does with that stoic look on his unreadable face. “Cause I thought we were.” 

“What?” she gapes and he only gazes firmly back at her. “Why? It’s not like I… liked you.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker up at the ceiling for a brief second, lips pursing as he concludes the cards on the table: the unapologetic albeit risky truth or the defensive albeit purposeless self-deception. Unbeknownst to her, Jungkook had all the cards in his hands. 

“Yeah,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze and shrugging, “and it’s not like you liked me.” 

Peering down at her from above, the boy’s crooked grin gradually settles into the silence along with the usual unreadable mien that he wears on the daily. “How would you know?”

Finally turning to return his gaze, she raises a brow at him before uncrossing her arms and standing to her feet. One step, two steps until she stands before him as close as she could recall on that night, she utters the one mutual truth of the night. 

“Because you never told me.”

The brief silence filled with tension seems to last an eternity, yet neither of the two could take their eyes off the other. A rush of thrill intermixed with panic floods his blood. His fight or flight system screams at him to obey the very laws he had followed all these years but his mind warns him that change is a necessity for this euphoric heat that radiates from this very moment. He’s never quite felt like this before: throat knotting and heart leaping nearly out of his chest. 

“Let’s—”

“—I need to catch the last train home,” she blurts, quickly taking a step back to distance themselves. 

Like a magnetic force that she is to him, her retraction almost pulls the breath from his lungs along with it.

“What?” he frowns, trying to steady his breath. “It’s 10 right now. My last ride is at midnight.” 

“Yeah, well mine is at 11 and I still have to walk there,” she shrugs indifferently to the entire ordeal—something that Jungkook takes to the heart. 

“What?” he mutters, “the station is right next to this hospital.” 

“What can I say? I’m a slow walker,” she prims, bowing her head and waving her hand to bid farewell. “Thanks for the band aid and all the help today. It was nice catching up. See y—I mean, take care.” 

He stands there in silence, too stunned by the constant turn of events. Distracted by the crestfallen weight in his chest elicited by his shattered hopes, Jungkook raises a hand in response to her pressed, upcurved lips. He can only mumble a seemingly indifferent, “...see ya.”

There she goes—as gracefully as she had reentered his life and as fleeting as she had left for a second time. All this time he knew his side of the story: growingly regretful, discovering a yearning he never knew was within his capabilities, and helplessly pondering over a past he could not change and wondering if she did the same. At some point in time, those feelings became a fragment in time and that person he wished she knew became a version of his present self. He moved on, he forgot the magnitude of the pain, but he never quite came to terms with what it all could have been. 

And all at once, the very moment he stands before her, the past him whomst he had perceived to be temporary comes flooding back into reality—flesh, fervent, and feelings of an immensity he could never have been prepared for—and if he were to be honest, he thought it would have been the same for her. 

He never really knew her side, after all; but at the very least, he desires to hear it from her, herself. She never missed him, she never thought of him from time to time, she never woke up from a dream of him so vivid that it felt so real that she was left with a melancholic loneliness in the air—those words would close the gap in his chest. 

If there’s one thing Jungkook had absolute control over at this very moment, it’s the last chapter of their shared novel in time and this is not the conclusion he imagined. 

Before he knew it, Jungkook finds himself sprinting down the train station. Across the coldly lit hallways, up and down the stairs instead of the ‘shitty, slow escalators,’ and cutting through the nearing midnight breeze of the platforms until the breeze finally brought him to the last unvisited area, his daunting final destination. 

Checking his watch, Jungkook’s chest heaves as he holds his hands to his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. It’s well past 11 now, nearing midnight, and he’s standing at the platform in the opposite direction of her new hometown. To the mere bystander, this platform really didn’t make any sense; but to Jungkook and his inkling, perhaps by a disheveled and desperate state, every twist and turn of the wind brought him right where he believes he belongs. 

Puffs of his breath mark the airy night as he watches his last ride pass by the rails before him. Every cart, every seat, he scans them all. No one. His heart sinks with each check, each flicker of the eyes, and he begins to curse himself for his state of delusion until the last cart of the train flashes by to reveal his finale. 

And as if by some sort of invisible string, life had somehow led him to her once again.

Because there she sits, across the wide yet surely crossable gap of the railway, legs crossed and hands folded in her lap, as if she had been waiting for him all this time. 

Jungkook stands there, stupefied by the works of fate, “why are you—”

“—hey, Jungkook!” she calls out to him, voice echoing across the vast, empty station. “What were you going to tell me back at the hospital?” 

Taken aback by her question, Jungkook chuckles to himself in utter amusement; and as if by the magic sifting through the night, the nearby tower bells ring across the remaining distance between the two at the precise stroke of midnight.

“Let’s date!”

The boy’s zestful holler resembles more like that of a cheerful proclamation, for the way he holds his hands to his lips before throwing them freely into the air garners a giggle from his spectator. His voice projection accompanies the bells, perhaps too softly and thereby physically undetected, but she could hear him nonetheless. 

“I liked you and I still like you so damn much, you dumbass!” 

After witnessing the boy’s courageous display, the words she’s been waiting for but never knew she needed until their paths crossed once again for a limitless nth time slips from her like second nature, almost as if she’s practiced it in her dreams all this time. Her loud proclamation, however, slips beneath the bells like an accompaniment to a ceremonious work of fate. 

The two of them stand on opposite sides of the platform, their confessions are far and wide and perhaps inaudible, but the dorky smiles adorning their lips as they gaze across at their inevitable final chapters serve to prove an undeniable fact. 

Whether by sheer will or by this invisible string, whether by his side or her side, the truth is: their eternities will be forever tied, forever golden.

#bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #bts scenarios #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts x y/n #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #scriptaed #bts scenario #jungkook scenario

[thefact0rygirl]

BEHAVE | 3/3

{part one} {part two} {masterlist}

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Boba Feet x Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: consensual somnophilia, oral sex (m and f receiving), 69, anal sex, anal play (ass/mouth, fingering), creampie, softdom!boba, pet names (like a lot of them), implied age gap (reader is of age), just filth. pure filth. 

A/N: ass, ass, ass, ass. That’s it. That’s the chapter. I know anal sex is not everyone’s cup of tea, so you may want to skip this if that’s not your thing. 

Cross-posted on ao3

It wasn’t often that you woke up in time for the sunrise. Not that you were looking to make a habit of it, but the constant pelting of sand against the windows prevented you from sleeping.

A sandstorm was coming. 

The winds had been gathering all night, and now Tatooine was puffing out hurling blasts of sand and wind, making the Palace shake. You had been drifting in and out of sleep for the past hour, but it was no use. It sounded like nature was on the edge of a full-blown assault. 

Boba was passed out to your left, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing outside. He laid on his back with one arm thrown over his eyes as a makeshift eye mask while the other rested against chest. 

You opted not to wake him…yet. Sighing, you undid your cocoon of blankets and stood up on your pillow. Standing on the tips of your toes, you gripped the ledge of one of the rectangular windows that lined the upper half of the walls. Might as well see what in seven hells was happening outside. 

Despite the rising twin suns, the sky was incredibly dull. The first rays of sunlight barely pierced through the thick dust. You could barley see Slave I in hanger below. Tatooine sandstorms were no joke, and it looked like this one wouldn’t show mercy. 

No one was going anywhere until the storm passed. 

You couldn’t help but smile as you glanced down to the sleeping man. Boba had plans to travel off-world that day, something to do with his criminal empire. He wouldn’t be back for at least 6 rotations, but given the brewing storm, his trip wouldn’t be starting that day. 

Returning to your original spot, you turned to face Boba. He was gone to the world, chest falling in even breaths as soft snores escaped his mouth. The light blanket situated on his chest was the only thing stopping you from seeing his naked body. You both were naked, actually, too exhausted to bother dressing after yesterday.

Yesterday. 

Subconsciously, your breathing slowed to match Boba’s slow pace as you lost yourself in your memories. You let the memories from the hallway and the ‘fresher play on a continuous loop, brushing away the last bit of drowsiness from you. 

Your mind was fully awake and you became more aware of your body. Your knees felt significantly better, so much so that you didn’t even remember the scrapes until the image him kneeled in front of you flashed in your head. 

“Behave and I promise to fill your other holes.”

“I’m a man of my word. Stop pouting.”

“You just need to be patient.”

“You’re my little slut, right? Only for me.”

His words floated through you, swirling between your legs and igniting the nerves throughout your body. Boba was a man of honor. He didn’t throw around the word “promise.” If Boba promised you something, he would deliver. Didn’t matter what it was.

Your lower half grew heavy at the prospect of Boba fucking your ass. You had never taken anyone back there before. But for Boba you would try. Frankly, you would try a lot of things for him, with him.  

Because now matter how rough he was, he never felt like an intrusion. As you two grew closer and your relationship extended past sex, it felt like he was a part of you every time he pushed into you. You knew anal would hurt, but the thought of Boba fucking your most intimate spot... That made your thighs clench in excitement.

You told him months ago that you would let him. It was right after he killed Bib Fortuna. Boba was splayed out across his newly claimed throne as you bounced on his cock. You were turned away from him, you could see the frayed ends of Boba’s robe under the dais, when he brushed a finger along your other hole. 

“You ever let someone fuck your ass, princess?” 

“N-no.”

“Would you let me?”

“Yes.” 

“So good, so dirty for your new king.”

Since then, Boba began paying a bit more attention to your backside, using his fingers and mouth to tease you. Your anticipation grew into excitement when he bought you a plug after a trip to the Mid Rim. 

But despite the encouragement, Boba made you wait. He dangled the fantasy in front of you like it was fresh bantha steak and you were a starving stray. 

But now. Now was different. 

Boba promised and he always kept his promises. 

That’s when you noticed the growing tent under the blanket. 

You couldn’t wait, growing more and more eager as the fantasy seemed so completely tangible. In a moment of desire and courage, you slid down next to his body, slowly spreading his legs so you could crouch between them. 

Boba loved waking up to your mouth around him, especially when it was a surprise. He had long ago given you the green light to wake him up with oral. Maybe you both could indulge in your fantasies that morning.

Pulling the blanket down his body, you watched him, making sure that your movements hadn’t disturbed his sleep. When his breathing remained steady, you looked down to see his cock resting heavy against his stomach.

Gently, you wrapped your hand around him. He grumbled lightly at the movement, but didn’t wake. You started pumping him in your hand, giving the tip of his cock a light squeeze before sliding back to down to the base.

Boba looked so serene, almost harmless as you worked him up. But you knew better than to underestimate a slumbering beast. 

You looked down at his cock, mouth watering as you watched the first droplet of precum leak out. Lowering your head, you licked up the creamy substance, letting its salty taste flood your tastebuds.

You licked him again, and again, until his entire length was coated in your saliva. You could feel the blood pumping through his member, now rock hard in your hand. Boba shuffled to the side, causing you to halt your actions. Your tongue was still flat against the underside of his cock. You held your breath waiting for his next movement…

Nothing. Still asleep. 

Giving him a final lick, you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Sucking lightly, you began lowering your mouth, letting the familiar weight settle against your tongue until his tip nudged the back of your throat. 

With your cheeks sucked in, you bobbed your head up and down, ears trained to pick up any sound of him waking up. Just when you thought you could make him cum before he woke, you felt a hand tangle itself in your hair. 

“Needy girl.”

Boba’s voice was deeper and raspier than normal, his vocal cords still stiff from sleep. You moaned around his member in response continuing your ministrations. 

“What are you doing?” He moaned as you pulled him out of your mouth. His mind was still hazy, and with his blood rushing south, it took him a moment to regain his sense of self. What time was it and what the fuck was that banging?

Moving his arm away from his eyes, Boba blinked as he adjusted to the dim lighting before sitting up on his elbows. He groaned when he saw your hand smeared with your drool as you pumped his cock. 

You offered him a coy smile, “Waking you up.”

“Careful, little one.” His hand tightened its hold in your hair. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

“Who says I can’t?”

“I’m leaving this morning.”

“Nuh-uh. Sandstorm,” Your eyes shot up to the windows above. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Well that explained the banging. Boba’s steady breathing began to fragment into shaky puffs as you pulled him back into your mouth.

“It’s too early to do anything.” Not that he really meant it. He would never complain to you waking him up like this, even if it was at the ass-crack of dawn. But there was a reason why you (jokingly) referred to him as a grumpy old, man.

“Then don’t do anything.” You sighed, letting him drop down against his stomach. Picking yourself up, you swung your legs around him until you were facing away from him. Your pussy pulsed against his chest as you scooted back until you were right in front of him.

You threw him a seamless smile, “Just watch me get wet for you.”

Boba fell back down, his head hitting his pillow with a soft thump. Fuck, you were on full display for him. He could stick his tongue out and lick your essence from your folds. 

Leaning down, you lapped up a bead of precum from his swollen cock. You smiled to yourself when you felt Boba twitch against your tongue before taking him back into your mouth. Running your tongue in sloppy circles around the head, you sucked in your cheeks as his thickness filled your mouth. You would never get tired of Boba cutting off your air supply. 

Your throat constricted around his imposing length as you took him deeper until he nudged the back of your throat. You held your head in place for a few moments, letting him feel your tight mouth around his thick length. 

Just as you settled into a steady rhythm of worship on his member, his hands settled on your backside, letting his nails dig crescent moons into your flesh. The steady rhythm granted him the moment of clarity he needed to focus on the sight in front of him. 

You were a feast, the best breakfast in bed he could want.

Lifting his head, he took his first lick, snaking his tongue from your clit all the way up to your ass. You moaned around his cock, letting the vibrations ring out around his cock. You opened your legs a little wider, trembling as Boba’s tongue ran up you again.

“Such a pretty pussy,” He soughed, his breath scorching your pussy. “So pretty like the rest of you.” 

He never missed an opportunity to shower you in praise, especially the lewd kind. Those were his specialty.

Boba pressed his wide, open mouth against your throbbing core, letting no space get between his tongue and your pussy. He lapped at your outer lips, slipping his tongue inside of you just enough to feel your muscles clench before pulling out. Your hips shuffled back to push against his face when his tongue nudged your clit, teasing it out from under its hood to suck on it.  

Flooding you with desire, he let you drip into his mouth, bathe his tongue in your sweet taste, before brining a hand down to your dripping entrance. He dragged a finger along your labia. You were already so open, so puffy for him. You moaned his name when he pumped his fingers inside of you. 

“Let me hear you, pretty girl.”

“Say my name.”

“Who makes you this wet?”

He kept your impending climax at a simmer as he committed that morning to his memory. The sight on you on top of him, your taste, your smell, the feelings you were pulling from him. He wanted to remember it all before his trip.

Arousal was running through your veins, pooling at the junction of your thighs as Boba worked you closer to climax. Dropping a hand between his legs, you massaged the sensitive skin of his balls. You moved your head faster on him, wanting to feel his cum shoot down your throat. Too consumed with coaxing an orgasm out of Boba, you had almost forgotten your original plan.

Almost. 

That was until he pulled his fingers from your pussy, the loud squelching sound made the tips of your ears burn. 

Boba traced his two sickened fingers down to brush against your clit before he gripped each globe of your ass, spreading you so both your entrances were on full display to him. 

“What’s made you so needy this morning?” 

Boba knew exactly what you wanted. He wasn’t dumb, he knew his spoiled princess better than you gave him credit for. But he wanted to hear you say it. He wanted to hear those words mix with your airy moans. 

“You, Boba,” You gasped, pulling him from your mouth. “Fill me like you promised."

“You have me.” His honeyed voice made you groan. He was taunting you. His fingers crawled down close to the middle of your backside. He knew exactly what you wanted.

You closed your eyes as your hand pumped him when Boba swirled a wet finger around your tight entrance. You jumped at the sensation, “Boba!”

You hand moved faster against him. You could feel him twitch around your fingers. He was close to his own release.

“Last night wasn’t enough?” He crooned his neck up to spit on your ass. Spreading his saliva around your puckered hole, he let the excess drop down to your pussy. 

“Is someone getting greedy?”

“My ass, Boba…” You whispered, shutting your eyes as you let the new sensation consume your being. 

“What was that?” That nerf herder.

“Fuck my ass!” You demanded and that didn’t sit well with Boba. He returned your sass with a hard slap on your ass. 

You yelped as the shape of his handprint bloomed an angry shade of red. 

“Ungrateful brat,” His voice dropped to a threat, “Try that again.”

“Please,” You squeaked, moving your hand faster around him to sweeten your words. “Fuck my ass. It’s yours.”

“Yeah? Think I can fit in this tight little hole?”

“Fuck— please, yes. I want you there.”

His reply came when his lips latched around your ass. His tongue darted out, licking and flicking over the tight hole. With each lick, his tongue pushed a little harder against you, testing your resistance. 

Sliding a finger into your pussy, he used your juices as lubricant before tentatively attempting to push his finger inside your ass. You wiggled your bottom to magnify the sensation of his finger inside you, your hole flexing around his finger. 

“If you want me to fuck this hole, you have to behave.” Boba instructed, unsurprised by the extra opposition to his finger. “And relax. Can you do that?”

You croaked out a “yes”, which he was enough for Boba. He was awestruck at the sight of your hole clenching around his finger. He couldn’t tell if his cock was throbbing from your ministrations or the thought of sliding inside your ass. But he couldn’t wait anymore.

Pulling away from you, he slapped your thigh before ordering, “I’ll fuck you deep, princess. On your hands and knees.”

You gave his cock one last pump before moving off of him. Boba rose from the bed, walking over to the chest of drawers to retrieve a bottle of lube. 

Following his instructions, you moved into position, spreading your legs wide before scooting back until your feet hung off the edge of the bed. Boba tossed the lube next to you as he settled in between your legs. 

Leaning his weight over you, he covered your back with his belly and chest. His arms slithered up your front to grab your chest, thumbs dragging across your nipples as his cock pressed against your pussy. 

His head was right next to yours, and you turned to the side to press your eager lips to his open mouth. The angle caused your bottom lip to catch between his own lips and his tongue ran along your lip. 

You melted into his embrace, letting you taste yourself from his mouth, before Boba pulled away, kissing your temple before pulling himself up. 

His smoky voice called out your name, “Look at me.”

Bending around, you turned so you could fully see him. Standing behind you, his big frame dwarfed you. He stood tall, chest puffed out, his eyes blown and narrowed as you looked at you. As he spoke, his voice only only added to his brawny presence. He wasn’t playing. 

“You need to behave. I’m serious, be a good girl. It’ll feel good, but it might hurt at first. So you need to listen. No bratty behavior or it’ll hurt worse. Okay?”

You nodded, taking in the seriousness of his tone. Everything about him reminded you of last night in the ‘fresher.  His brash display of affection. His scolding and harsh words masking the fact that he hated seeing you in pain. 

Boba Fett, your protector.

“I promise it’ll feel good. I wanna enjoy you, not destroy you.”

His eyes never left you, watching as you slowly nodded your head. 

“And if you need to stop, you fucking say so. Push me off. Slap me. Something, but you let me know. Okay?”

“I need to hear it, little one,” He pressed, brows raised as he tilted his chin down. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Boba.”

Accepting your answer, he leaned down to seal your agreement with a rough kiss. You bit back a whine as he moved away too quickly, concentration taking over Boba as he grabbed the bottle of lube. 

Pulling your cheek to the side, he dripped a small stream of lube down on your crack. Gathering the lube before it dripped down to your pussy, he massaged it around the tight ring of muscle. You pushed back towards him in anticipation, only to gasp when he smacked your ass, holding you in place.

“No. You take what I give you.”

“Sorry,” You sunk the rest of your concentration into staying still, you were skating on thin ice with your little demand from earlier. When he took a step back to smear the lube onto his length, reality set in. This was really happening. 

There was some truth in his earlier taunting. Boba was big and thicker thicker than anyone you had before and you did struggle to take him in the beginning.  And now as he lined himself up behind you, you wondered if he would even fit.

Behind you, Boba took a deep breath as he guided himself to your hole. Your bodies were still, poised around the fact that the tip of his cock was nestled against your asshole.

“Relax.” Boba instructed, although you couldn’t tell if it was for you or him. He was turned on, but he never wanted to hurt you and this would hurt. 

His cock was thick and hard, aching with intensity of his pleasure. He hadn’t been this rigid for a long while, ever since he the night you and he christened his new throne.

You current position on all fours for him didn’t help stop the throbbing. Seeing you in such a depraved position for him made his knees buckle. Especially in that moment. Even in such a sinful position, you still looked crystalline pure. 

He was spellbound at the tiny movements of your flesh as you became aware of his presence back there. With a bit more force, he watched the head of his cock disappear inside of you.

He stopped for a second when you hissed. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” You replied, your breathing started to edge into labored. “More, Boba.”

With your approval, he pushed in with all the patience he could muster. This was the biggest test of self-control for him to not just thrust balls deep inside of you. 

He struggled to keep his eyes from rolling back. Your ass was tight. Tighter than any hand, more than any cunt, he had ever experienced.

“That’s it, good girl.”

“You’re doing so well.”

“Taking my big cock in your tight, little hole."

After a certain point, it felt like your hole was sucking Boba inside. The ragging winds outside faded into white noise as you took every inch until he was fully situated inside of you.

Boba looked down, fascinated to see himself entirely gone. His flesh merged with yours, completely hidden from sight. You had consumed him, in every sense of the word. 

“That’s it, little one. All inside.”

Your hole stung from the stretch before fading into pleasure. You felt different — twisted up inside, as if something about you was warped — but in the best way possible. You had never felt this full before. He had reached different peaks, different zones that you didn’t even know existed. It was like you were exploring a new part of yourself. 

Groaning at his announcement, you babbled his name, “B-Boba, stars. You’re filling me.”

“Yeah, I am,” He chuckled, running a soothing hand over your lower back. “Breathe, little one.”

“Move, Boba.” You instructed, mouth open feeling him 

“Manners, girl. Please Boba.”

You gritted your teeth at his jeering, “Please, Boba. Move, I want it. Please.”

“Good girl.” 

Leaning down to press himself against your back, he grabbed your neck to turn you towards him. He found your mouth already open and waiting for him. He kissed you carefully as he started moving.

You were so incredibly tight. Boba could feel your heartbeat around his cock. Or maybe it was his, he couldn’t tell. You felt amazing, slick warmth wrapped around his cock, your hole flexing at the intrusion.

Gripped within you, he kissed you as he pulled out again, this time pulling out slightly more and pushing back in slowly. After a while, you couldn’t tell if the discomfort was from his slow movements or him just being inside you.

He was gentle, too gentle. It was out of character. You knotted your fists into the sheets as you pushed your mouth against him harder.

“Boba,” You whined when he pulled away. “Faster! Please! I can take it.”

“Yeah? You like my fat cock in your ass?” He asked as he slipped his hand to your front to rub your clit. 

“Yes, Boba, please…Fuck me hard!” You moaned as he rubbed your sensitive nub, fanning away the last remaining discomfort. 

“Such a needy little slut,” He panted in your ear before using his other hand to push between your shoulder blades. 

“Face down. Keep your ass up.”

With your head buried in the bed, Boba grabbed your hips and started moving. Slow and steady was long gone, shot dead and buried in some unmarked grave. He fucked you hard, his cock pulling half out before plunging in deeper. And deeper. 

His rough thrusts made him feel bigger than normal. You cried out his name between low moans as his fingers worked against your clit.

“F—fuck, Bobaa…Take it. It’s yours. I-I’m yours.”

You both began racing to your releases. Boba’s thrusts became sloppier as he moved faster, teetering closer to the edge of orgasmic bliss. The coil of your own orgasm tightened at the base of your spine as he spoke dirty words to you.

“Good girl, letting me fuck her vir—rr—gin ass.”

“Taking me so well.”

“My filthy little slut."

You wailed, feeling your lower half pulse at the thought of him releasing inside of you. The thought of him dripping from you made your rising pleasure vibrate through every cell. 

“So close, B-Boba…”

“Fill me. I—I can take it.

“Cum deep…Ahh, cum inside me.”

The pressure on your clit and a harsh thrust from behind had you surging forward, ecstasy bursting all around your body. You moaned as you let your arousal flood your system, the world flashed blinding white as your eyes fell behind your eyelids. 

Somewhere in the explosion, you heard Boba reach his own end. With two final shudders, he emptied inside of you. 

“M—my good girl…Take every last drop…”

Boba’s arms wrapped around your middle, as he stayed inside you, riding out his orgasm to the feeling of you clamping him in place. His head fell to his chest, watching your hole constrict around his base as he pumped you full with his seed. 

Tides of euphoria rolled through your bodies, drowning every cell in pleasure, before calming to a gentle wave. Your bodies remained locked in silence as the smell of sex permeated in the room. 

“I’m gonna pull out now.” Boba muttered, breaking the silence. 

The feeling of emptiness made your legs give out and you collapsed on the bed as soon as Boba left you. You were shaking, your backside sore from the pounding. 

“Turn around, pretty girl,” Boba murmured, hands wrapping around your middle to help you turn onto your back. He moved your legs off the edge of the bed so you were now laying with your legs spread out in front of you, your head resting on his pillow. 

Boba crouched in front of you, mimicking the position he had found you in that morning. His hands rested on your shins, watching your chest shin from the dewy sweat covered you like silk. 

“Can I see?” 

You knew what he was referring to and you spread your legs as wide as you could, too exhausted to verbally answer him. Although, you weren’t sure it there was anything for him to see.

It felt different than when Boba came in your pussy. Normally, you could feel him drip out of you. But this time you didn’t. You felt the heavy feeling of his seed pooled inside your ass, but your tight hole, no longer open, plugged you.

Boba’s hand ghosted over the sensitive hole, eyes blown at the fact that not. single drop of his seed had spilled out. 

“You took me so deep, little one. Can you feel it?”

“Yes,” You replied softly as exhaustion settle into your muscles. If you weren’t so tired, you would have sworn you heard Boba whimper.

“Can you push it out for me? Let me see my cum leak out of you.”

Abiding by his request, you flexed and constricted your bottom half until you felt his warm seed trickle out. 

“Oh, pretty girl,” He sounded like a wounded animal. “You’re gonna make a mess.”

Boba watched his white cream fall down your ass and pool on the bed until you couldn’t push anymore. Boba’s eyes held adoration for you and only you. You had chosen Boba to give you this. Not someone else, but him. Boba Fett.

“Thank you.” Boba whispered, moving down next to you, wrapping his arms around your sleepy frame. 

You held each other, arms and legs contorted that it was difficult to tell where you ended and he started. A long moment passed, and then several more, until you needed to use the ‘fresher. 

Boba watched you as you stumbled to the ‘fresher and for the first time in a very long time, he smiled. Not smirked, not snarled, but smiled. A genuine smile. A tender one, that made his eyes crinkled at the edges, and his body warm as if a small sun had replaced his heart. It was one of growing happiness, growing content, and maybe even hope. 

For a moment, Boba could revel in the idea that the universe that condemned him to a world of misdeed had extended an olive branch. Because if someone like you could have chosen him, of all people, to share yourself with, then maybe there was chance for him. 

taglist: @thundersheild​ @itsjammin @justanotherblonde23​

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[shoutogepi]

Orange Lamborghini

Bakugou Katsuki

word count : 6.3k 

[ ✘ (nsfw!) ]  

themes : lil toucha ass play, car sex, baku being a damn tease

bio : You keep telling yourself you’re done with Bakugou, but the last time is never really the last time, is it?

author’s note : i know i said i was gonna post a tamaki fic but it’s a certain violent blonde’s birthday tomorrow!! (happy 4/20 ayy) so here you go ;) … also this is a part two to my other baku fic, “fuck you i just might”, but you don’t have to read that one before this if you don’t wanna!

side note : Y/H/N is your hero name, and reader is a pro hero working at the same agency as Bakugou. ALSO he smells like caramel bc of his quirk, dont fight me on this >:(

also available on AO3 here

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

“🅂taying late again?” Reo, the owner of the coffee cart stationed in the lobby of the hero agency, quizzes as he throws you an accusatory look.

You stand before him, hand awkwardly looped around your elbow and a small, bashful smile on your lips. He totally knows. But you appreciate that he never outright says anything, and you know for a fact that he would never peep even a whisper to anyone. You are probably his most loyal customer, and you’d like to think he considers you a friend after all this time— not to mention, all the coffee you’ve purchased from him.

Reo gauges your meek expression, and he only smiles as he pours the creamer into the dark brown liquid. “They must be working you hard… I’ve never seen a top hero work such long hours, staying even after everyone else has left. Well, almost everyone, that is.”

Yeah, he most certainly knows.

“What can I say?” You blabber, perhaps answering him a bit too quickly. “Work is my whole life. I don’t have time for anything else, I guess.” The sentiment is a little awkward but full of candor, and when the words leave your lips you’re surprised to hear them carry such a solemn tone.

The man nods in understanding, handing you your cup of coffee before he grabs a cookie from the glass display case and offers it to you as well. “On the house,” he states and you share a long showdown of a gaze with him before you reluctantly pluck the treat from his outreached tongs.

“Thanks Reo, you have a good night now.” Bowing slightly to the elder, you turn and take your leave, quiet steps echoing in the otherwise empty foyer.

Just as the elevator doors open to take you back up into the higher levels of the building, Reo calls out to you. “You know, you should find someone that’s just as hardworking as you. Maybe they’re closer than you think.”

Flustered by the old man’s advice, you only nod and bow again, jamming your thumb into the button. A sigh of relief escapes you as the doors conceal you from his prying eyes. That man has a sixth sense, you swear.

The elevator doors open and you briskly walk through them, along the corridor and around the corner before you finally reach the conference room. Taking a deep breath, you slip through the doorway, eyes trained on the table half-covered in paperwork. Bakugou is sitting behind the spread out files, his red eyes jumping up to regard your approaching form. Placing the cookie wrapped in napkin on the table, you nod at him as you turn and open a cabinet, fingers pinching a fresh manilla folder and shutting the door with a bump from your hip.

“Working late, huh?” His rough voice splits the silence hanging in the air, and when you turn to look at the blonde, he’s lounged back, corded bicep hung carelessly over the back of the chair and a cocky look on his face. But his eyes hold another emotion as they give you a once-over, one that makes your insides stir in both memory and apprehension.

You nod again, a coy smile gracing your lips as you take a sip of your coffee, your own gaze lingering on the muscles that poke out from the hem of his tight tank top. “You too?” You ask, even though the answer is obvious.

Bakugou’s hand twirls the pen he was previously using in rapid, effortless circles, and his knee bounces slowly underneath the table. “You gonna eat that?” He answers your question with his own, slanted eyes flicking towards the cookie resting on the tabletop just an arm’s length away from him.

“You want it?” You can’t help but be surprised— you always expected Bakugou to be an uppity-ass, no-junk-food kind of guy.

“It’s Reo’s, right?” The blonde replies gruffly, thick fingers reaching out to grab the confection. “Shit tastes like heaven.”

Your eyes widen as you connect the dots. Why, that sly little…

“Don’t work yourself too hard,” you chirp out as you turn on your heel, ready to retreat back to the safety of your office.

Bakugou’s scarlet eyes return back to your departing figure, a thin brow raised and a snarl of a smirk splitting his lips. “Aw, ‘ya worrying ‘bout me now, Princess?”

“Fuck you,” it flows from your mouth, years of foul-mouthing built up into a knee-jerk reaction. Your eyes widen as his turn to slits, that stupid smirk morphing into a gleaming grin.

“Don’t tempt me.”

A wave of heat washes over you from head to toe before settling between your legs. You don’t bother to stick around, your feet carrying you out of the conference room as Bakugou’s harsh laughter trails behind you, echoing down the hallway.

Closing the door to your office behind you, you lean your back against it as you slide toward the floor, shutting your eyes tight as the memory washes over you. He’d taken you— right there on the desk you’re supposed to be working at— and ugh, it was fucking good. Shit, he was good. Dropping the folder on the floor your fingers fly to your temple, rubbing your skull in a useless attempt to push the memory away.

Alright, if you’re being honest… that was just the first time. There were, well, a handful of times following the initial incident, much to your now chagrin. There was that time in his office on the other side of the building that had a perfect view of the ocean, which you had become very familiar with while your face was pressed up against the glass and he ravaged you from behind. There was also that time when it was around this time of night and he had thrown all your paperwork off of the conference table and taken you right there, pounding into you like no tomorrow. Yeah, there were a few times you’d found yourself naked before him, pussy gripping his thick cock as your lips clashed with his.

But last time was the last time. You can’t just keep fucking him like this, all over the agency in such scandalous secrecy… the two of you hiding this gruesomely passionate beast you co-own, feeding it only once the the coast is clear and, oh, he feeds it so well… every meal a juicy, fat steak dripping with desire and euphoria, encasing your senses in a silky smooth film as his calloused hands glide all over your—  No!

You shake your head abruptly, derailing your sinful train of thought. You agreed that last time was it, fin. And… the time before that, too… and maybe the one before then as well— well, it doesn’t matter because last time was actually the last time. Pulling yourself together, you make your way toward your desk and begrudgingly begin your work.

By the time the folder is full, the clock indicates that tomorrow has begun and thus, it’s time for you to go home. Without a glance towards the conference room, you make your way toward the elevator, letting out a long sigh as the weight of the day slips from your shoulders. Jabbing your thumb into the button, you lean against the railing and check your phone out of habit. Two new messages from Jirou pique your interest, and you eagerly open the chat log to see what she’d sent.

Jiji 🎸: Girls meeting at the usual tmrw night!! Hope you can make it :)

Jiji 🎸: We all miss ya girly, you’ve been working too much lately ❤️

A part of you feels bad for misleading your friends. It’s not that you aren’t working late these days… it’s that your workload is not the only thing you’re doing when you stay after hours at the agency. Your friends had started to notice all the late nights you’d been spending at your job, and they’d begun to pout when you would bail on their bar-nights. They understood that you were working, and you hoped that they didn’t harbor any further suspicions. You had not told a single soul about your rendezvous with Bakugou Katsuki— the only person who seemed to have an inkling of your relationship, if you could call it that, was Reo.

Sliding your phone into your bag, you decide to try to make it tomorrow night. The last time had been the last time with Bakugou, so you would definitely be free tomorrow night, especially after finishing up the paperwork you had just completed minutes prior. With a wave of determination washing over you, a small smile appears on your lips as you fiddle with your staff key-card absentmindedly, wondering what you should wear when tomorrow night comes around.

When the elevator dings and opens its doors, your feet take you out of the steel chamber and into the cement confines of the parking garage. At this time of night, the only way in and out of the building is through the parking garage gate, seeing as the custodians lock up the front doors long before midnight. But you don’t mind, because the night air is fresh and cool on your face, and the subway is only a three minute walk from the garage exit. Just before you can reach out to tap your key against the automatic gate, an ear-splitting screech roars behind you and you jump, shooting straight up into the air.

Whipping around, headlights nearly blind you as they point right into your eyes. Squinting at the obnoxious light, your vision widens again when you recognize the outline of a sleek and shiny Lamborghini. An orange Lamborghini, to be precise. And a license plate with “G-ZER0” unmistakably tacked onto the front bumper, which sits almost flush against the smooth cement floor.

“Oi, Y/H/N,” a blonde head pokes out from the driver’s window, narrowed red eyes glaring at you. But his lips are curled into a smirk, clearly enjoying your frightened-animal-like reaction to the startling revv of his engine. “You’re blockin’ the way.”

Your hands indignantly turn into fists at your hips, a frown and a furrowed brow marring your expression as you turn around. Smacking the key card against the scanner you strut directly in the middle of the pavement for as long as you can before the road widens. Once the car can easily fit on either side of you, you move over to the sidewalk, arms crossed over your chest as the low car matches your pace, engine purring loudly.

The window next to you rolls down soundlessly, and the blonde leans slightly over his console to crane his face up in order to see yours. “Where are you goin’?” Bakugou inquires, and you can feel his intense gaze on the side of your face but you do not turn to acknowledge him.

“Subway.” You reply shortly, eyes trained straight ahead of you. Three minutes until you reach the subway station, exactly two corners and two blocks away.

The car roars as the angry blonde hits the pedals again, exhaust crackling with a ferocity similar to a big cat’s. The sound is deafening but you don’t waver, feet placing calmly in front of one another. “At this hour?” He pauses for a moment, long enough for you to let your guard down and chance a look at him. Which is a mistake, because goddamn he looks sexy as hell sitting in that exorbitant car, one hand thrown atop the wheel with his bicep on display, the other arm perched atop the console between the seats and those vermillion eyes blazing into you. It’s only a mere second that you give him, but he knows your resolve flutters as you look away quickly, your pace increasing to make him press on the gas just a hair harder to keep up with you.

Your breath catches in your throat when he speaks again, your heart pummeling your ribcage with vigor and a claminess lining your palms.

“Get in.”

It’s neither a question nor a statement— it’s a demand. One that has heat rising between your legs, the embers that had been so surely extinguished suddenly igniting furiously with but a scrap of sustenance. You grit your teeth and keep walking, determined not to get in the car. If you get in that car… you don’t know where you’ll end up. Or, you do know where you might end up, and that would be very bad. It takes a lot of your willpower to spit out a simple, “No thanks.”

Bakugou grumbles at your stubbornness, the vehicle screeching again as he demonstrates his displeasure and the unnecessary horsepower underneath his hood. “Come on, Y/N. Just get in,” he presses, his voice not as harsh as it was just a moment ago.

But you hold your own, flipping a stray lock of hair over your shoulder. “Aw,” you smirk, humoring him for a millisecond as your eyes flick over to him, “‘ya worrying ‘bout me now, Boom-Boy?” Your lips curl into a satisfied smirk as he visibly bristles in the corner of your eye.

“Damn it, I’m trying ‘ta— tch,” Bakugou grumbles and cuts himself off before he apparently decides he’s not going to play the familiar game of cat and mouse with you, “Fuck this.” Tires squealing on the rubble, the sleek car leaves you in the dust, sharply turning the corner ahead of you before disappearing into the night, the noise of the thundering engine echoing through the tall cityscape.

You glare at the corner ahead of you, unimpressed. He was trying to— to what, put you in a pissy mood? Hell of a job he did, if that was the case. Frown sinking into your cheeks deeper than before, you continue your way to the subway station while you pull your phone out to distract you from your miffed thoughts. Turning around the very same corner the orange sports car had rounded just a minute ago, you nearly drop your belongings when a pair of rough hands grip your biceps.

Relief washes over you for a moment when you meet Bakugou's irritated expression, before horror spreads through your limbs as he shoves you into his open passenger door. Without much of a fight you’re inside the vehicle, fruitlessly yanking the door handle only to find it’s locked shut. Sliding back into the luxurious leather seat, you scowl at the hero as he slams his door closed and snags the black seatbelt over his torso. “The fuck, Bakugou?” You hiss, attempting the door again to no avail.

“Hey, easy with that!” He growls, a thick finger flicking the pedal shifter into drive and slapping his boot against the gas. His eyes meet yours as a wicked grin lifts his lips. “Buckle up, Princess.”

Your head smacks against the back of the seat as the car lurches into a velocity that no doubt exceeds the speed-limit. Your hands scramble over your shoulder and you frantically grab the metal clip, unceremoniously shoving the belt across your lap to find its destination. Once the joint clicks into place, your eyes fly to the man beside you, pure rage boiling underneath your skin. “You asshole! I’m gonna rip your dick off!” You yell, the slightly ajar windows letting air zip into the cabin and howl in your ears, your hair flying around your face.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he quips dryly, voice deep but holding an infuriatingly potent tone of amusement.

You shut up at that, heat rising to your cheeks as you look out the window defiantly, away from him. Your eyes trail over the interior of the car, curiosity winning you over as you your fingers trace the smooth features lining the inside of the door. There’s a soft underlighting beneath the seats, glowing an acidic green to compliment the orange of the exterior in a display that screams man with an enormous ego. You roll your eyes, adjusting your legs to point away from him as much as possible.

“I didn’t know you had a Lamborghini. This how you get into your slutty fangirls’ pants? Take ‘em for a ride in the Baku-bile?” You ask, shooting daggers into his sharp jawline. The premise of him fucking faceless girls in the very seat you’re in makes you want to throw up in disgust.

Bakugou snorts at the name, scarlet eyes snapping toward you before settling back on the road. “Don’t need to show ‘em my car to take ‘em for a ride,” he answers snidely, a sharp canine gleaming at you from his smirk.

You don’t acknowledge his reply, one arm crossed over your chest and the other gripping the side of the door harshly as the city flies by outside the windows. You wonder where he’s taking you, because he never asked for your address, but you sure as hell aren’t going to start up a conversation again with that dickwad, so you just simmer in your displeasure instead.

The ride is surprisingly smooth and you would never admit it, but the feeling of him stepping on the acceleration makes your heart thud, adrenaline coursing through your veins and washing over you. You try your best to hide your excitement with every boost of speed, but you don’t catch Bakugou’s eyes lingering on your tiny smile every time he accelerates. You almost whine when the car slows and you pull into an empty parking lot, apprehension settling in your chest as the engine cuts and you’re left in silence, with him. A public park stretches before the lot, empty swings and monkey-bars twirling leisurely in the wind.

He doesn’t say a word, so after an incredibly long and awkward minute you break the ice. “Bakugou… what are we doing here?” You turn to him expectantly, lips melting back into a frown as you give him a once-over. He’s still in that tank top, which you curse for being a part of his hero costume. Why the hell did he have to choose something so flattering?

The blonde casts a side glance at you, leaning back slightly in his seat. “Wanted to have a chat with ‘ya,” he says, turning to look at you fully. The car seems like it is not big enough, for he’s only a short distance away from you and looking handsome as ever. The park before the windshield is illuminated by only the moon and starlight, casting a soft glow onto his smooth skin. The stubble on his jaw scatters tiny shadows across his chin, and those scarlet eyes peer into yours deeply. The moment is full of unrestrained tension, until he speaks again. “Coulda done this in the garage but your stubborn ass wouldn’t gimme the time of day,” he grumbles, effectively releasing you from his trance.

You blink and look away before returning your attention to him, a sour expression on your face. “Okay, dipshit, what did you wanna talk about?” You huff, arms crossing over your chest defensively. So you might have gotten yourself into this, but only a tiny bit.

You’re left hanging, expectantly eyeing him with a measured gaze. His eyes are locked with yours, but his mouth doesn’t move, not a semblance of a word on his lips. You give him that ‘eyes widening and head jutting forward, I’m waiting for you to talk’ look, but still he’s quiet. Tossing your hair over your shoulder impatiently, you let out a frustrated sigh as you close your eyes. “Look,” you start, turning back to him ready to flame his ass, “I don’t—”

Bakugou’s lips are on yours, his hands clutching your jaw and pushing your mouth into his while he leans forward over the console between the seats. A moan tears from your lungs, the familiar scent of caramel crashing over you as he fills up your senses, fingertips weaving into the hair behind your ears. His tongue thrusts into your mouth, greeting yours like a lover desperate to hold his beloved, caressing and rolling and dancing.

Suddenly your hands are on him, one around his back and pressing him toward you while the other threads through his silky soft tresses. A groan rumbles out of him as you pull against his scalp, one of his hands slipping down the back of your head to hold where your neck meets your shoulders, squeezing the sides of your throat gently. An embarrassing mewl floats out of you at that, a string of saliva connecting your mouths as you both gasp for breath.

His red eyes twinkle at you mockingly, a sultry snarl on his lips. But Bakugou doesn’t dare say a word, instead claiming your lips again with his own, sucking in your bottom lip and biting gently with his pointy canines. The hand on your neck remains strong, while his other hand slithers down your chest, groping your breast with enthusiasm and his thumb roving over your already-hard nipple, which he can feel through the fabric of your skin-tight hero costume and bra. He moans at the discovery, fingers eagerly flying to your side and unraveling the zipper there, watching as the skin of your exposed chest becomes illuminated in a mixture of moonlight and the green glow emanating from beneath the seats. Tugging the wire to rest atop your tits, he nearly growls at the sight of them, diving face-first toward you and wrapping his mouth around a nipple. You buck into him, falling back uncomfortably onto the door, but he just crawls onto his seat and leans further into you, red eyes darting up to catch your wanton expression.

Desperately gripping at the shreds of your sanity, a tiny part of you screams out at the wrongness of the situation. “We shouldn't… fuck, Bakug— ohhh,” you whimper as he nibbles at you, your heart rate skyrocketing in desire as you close your eyes, trapping your trembling lip between your teeth. The rationale is pushed away, the only thing you can pay attention to being the way Bakugou’s mouth feels latched onto you, and the hand traveling down your torso to tease between your legs. His rough fingers prod at your cunt through your leotard, expertly locating your clit through the cloth and focusing extra attention there. Simmering tendrils of heat burst through you and you cry out, legs weakly drawing his wide frame closer to you.

After a moment Bakugou sits back in his seat, pulling you with him. It’s a little rocky, not a perfect transition, but you make your way to sit on his lap nonetheless. His large hands palm your tits roughly, pinching your nipples as his tongue wrestles with yours, your moans leaking into his mouth. His body jerks in surprise as your hips begin to roll against his, and you can feel just how bad he wants this too, rubbing into you against your thigh. It only makes him touch you harder, leaning down slightly and becoming lost in the heated kiss. A hand trails down your waist to grab a handful of your ass, cupping the flesh before he slaps it harshly, then holding it in his palm again as his fingers dig into your skin. He drinks up every noise you release, like a starved man receiving his first meal in forever. He pulls away to kiss down your neck, tongue licking a stripe down your throat before his warm mouth lands on your skin, nipping and lathering and sucking.

“This is,” you gasp, coming up for air and that scrap of sanity surfacing in your mind again, “We shouldn’t be doing this, we— we said that last time was the, ahuh-ahh, last… last time.”

Bakugou sucks harder against your neck, his hands on either ass cheek and pulling your bottom against him. The friction of his cock against your core, even with your clothes separating you, makes your head spin and your voice die out. “You want me to stop, hah?” He grumbles against your throat, slick with his saliva. He rolls your hips against his particularly hard, and your hand reaches out to latch onto his shoulder as your pussy twinges in your panties.

You cannot reply, only a high-pitched whimper tumbles out of you because suddenly he’s pushing aside your leotard and panties, digits dipping into your humiliatingly wet entrance. His fingers easily glide up and down your slit, thumb flicking cruelly against your clit as you double over, nails breaching the skin on his shoulders.

“Doesn’t seem like you know what you want,” he comments, voice gravelly and timbre. His other hand rests on your hip, keeping you from grinding against him. He’s looking up at you, eyes darkened with lust and that haughty grin splitting his lips.

You glare at him, eyebrow twitching at his torment, mouth wavering as his fingers continue to tease along your sopping folds. After being with him so many times, you know what he’s waiting for, but you’re absolutely torn; a moth drawn to the flame yet wary of being burnt. “Please, Bakugou,” you murmur, eyes begging him to give you more.

Bakugou’s brow quirks upright, a single knuckle pushing into you and rubbing against your velvet walls. “Please, what, Princess?” He drawls out, almost purring at having you in his favorite position. That being, you, desperate for his touch.

You groan, throwing your head back as another knuckle slides inside, two wide fingertips stretching your cunt so infuriatingly shallowly. You try to move your hips but his grip is iron on your waist, and a long whine falls out of your mouth. “Just— Pleaseee Katsuki,” you beg, not wanting to say the words he truly wants, but not giving him nothing as his name leaves your lips so seductively.

His nostrils flare as he exhales, shifting underneath you as you feel his cock twitch against your leg. “I thought you wanted me to stop?” He growls, tone low enough you can feel his words shake his lungs. They shake something within you, too.

“No,” you breathe out, placing your lips softly against his before pulling away, your eyes boring into his, “I want this, I want you so bad.”

Bakugou groans as he drives his fingers into you knuckle-deep, curling his fingertips and rubbing against your insides. You moan like a whore at the sensation, his thumb still working on your clit clumsily as he pumps his fingers into you. His lips capture yours again, the hand on your hip jumping up to grab onto your neck again and push your lips harder onto his.

A searing heat ebbs through your body as his digits dutifully work within you, and you can’t help but begin to drop your hips against his hand, grinding onto his fingers without restraint. Bakugou clearly appreciates that, a loud moan ripping out of his lungs at the novelty and his fingers press harder into you, colliding into that spongy spot deep inside. You sob at the intensity, pleasure wracking through you as the angle only makes it easier for him to hit that spot— again, and again, and again— until white shapes flash before your eyes and you’re clutching onto him, screaming out as ecstasy thrums through your entire being.

After a minute of your pussy fluttering around him, Bakugou’s fingers pull out of you, and you finally open your eyes to see him looking at you like you’re the hottest person on the planet. “Fuck,” he snarls, lip twitching as he lifts his hips, tugging down his black pants and briefs half-way down his thighs. His heavy cock smacks against his abdomen, looking pale and pretty in the low lighting, glistening with a bead of pre rolling down the side of his length.

You lick your lips at the sight, the desire to shove him into your mouth overcoming you. Bakugou catches your reaction, a low chuckle reverberating his chest and making you glance at him. “I wanna suck you off,” you say quietly, looking over to the passenger seat and wondering if you could do it from that position, because you certainly can’t do it from where you are now.

“Thas’kay Princess,” he mumbles, grabbing your chin and forcing your lips to meet his once again. His tongue glides over your lip slowly, his other hand smacking your ass roughly before he grabs the inside of your thigh, spreading you above him. “That can wait. Need you right now.”

His words send a different kind of shiver down your spine— the kind that was the whole reason why you’d told yourself you needed to stop fucking him in the first place. But right now, in this moment, there is no way you’re not going to fuck him. You’d already come this far, you might as well just indulge yourself in him.

So you do, and you both let out a breath of satisfaction as you rub your dripping cunt against the underside of his length. You lather him up, slickening his member in your arousal from back to front before you press your lips onto his, soft but passionate, and you welcome him inside with ease.

Bakugou’s head falls back onto the headrest as his hands lay slack on your hips. He’s reclined, but his red eyes jump between your face, your tits, and your cunt that sucks him up so greedily as you begin to bounce above him. His mouth hangs open slightly as you find your rhythm, your hands ripping up the bottom of his tank top to lay your palms on his chest and his abs, a thumb scratching through his kept and dark happy trail. “Hah— fuck, Y/NNN,” he moans, closing his eyes to succumb to the pleasure for a moment before he forces them back open, refusing to miss out on such a dreamy sight. Memorizing your body, willing himself to remember each moan and blissful expression you give, storing it away so he can burn them into his spank bank.

Once he’s had his fill of the wondrous sight, he sits up, mouth sucking in your nipple as his hands still your hips, grabbing the flesh there and wiggling to adjust himself underneath you. Ecstasy shoots through you as he takes the lead, thrusting up harshly to prod deep inside your womb, stretching you out and rubbing so deliciously against your g-spot. “Oh, god, Katsuki,” you wheeze as he just goes faster, thick and muscular thighs providing enough means to continue like this for who knows how long. Just as you begin to feel your orgasm build once again, his pace slows, and you’re about to complain before a long finger is thrust into your mouth.

Bakugou groans as your tongue coats the digit in spit, not needing instruction. “You gonna be a good girl for me, Princess?” He questions before he takes the finger out.

Your arms fold around his neck as you nod and kiss him again, drunk on his lips and his touch. He welcomes the tender moment, a hand planting on your ass and spreading you again before his wet finger meets your asshole, making you jump into him with wide eyes. “Ka—”

His lips pull you back in, silencing your hesitance as he begins to thrust his cock up into you again, pace measured and slow. The roll of his hips provides a new type of pleasure as his cock drags against your inner walls, your clit rolling on his pelvis. You quiver on top of him, hole puckering as his finger rubs around your rim. You whimper when he pushes inside, the small stretch foreign and stinging. But he doesn’t push it any further, just continues to lazily grind up inside of you, his tongue playing with yours. He only breaks away to whisper praise to you that makes your pussy shiver around him, “Good girl, you’re sucha good girl Y/N.”

Before long the digit is up to the second knuckle, and you’re a moaning mess above him. The feeling of his finger in your ass, with his cock stretching and pushing in and out of you— it has your eyes crossing in pleasure. The thin wall separating his cock and his finger continues to rub exquisitely on both sides, sending waves of fuzzy bliss coursing through your limbs.

The extra penetration seems to also be affecting Bakugou, for his thrusts begin to pick up as he starts slapping up into you with renewed ferocity. The stimulation from your pussy and your clit already have you clenching, but then he starts to push his finger in and out of your ass slowly, and you’re holding onto him for dear life, your head on his shoulder as you mewl into his neck. You can feel your orgasm approaching, and so can Bakugou, who nuzzles your face a bit before he kisses you again. Your lips dance sloppily, your body jostling as he pounds into you from below, and you begin to whimper as your cunt tightens around his cock.

“Still want me to stop?” He hisses, rough palm clapping across your ass cheek.

“Fuck no,” you pant, planting your knees on the seat beside his thighs and bucking up and down in tune with his pace.

Bakugou groans at your initiative, knuckle sliding deeper inside of you and gauging your reaction as your shudder against him in pleasure. “You like a finger in the ass, hah? Fucking slut,” he snarls as he rubs the digit inside of you, eliciting a low moan from the depths of your lungs.

You’re bouncing on his lap as best as you can, your head skimming the top of the car’s interior while you claw at his shoulders. “God, Katsuki, mphhh—” The added pressure of you sinking down as he ruts up is almost enough for you to cum, and Bakugou knows exactly how close to the finish line you are, grabbing your jaw and tugging your face to hang directly in front of his.

You brow furrows and your heartbeat hastens at the intimacy, passion crackling between the pair of you as his vermillion orbs burn into you. You don’t want to let him see such a vulnerable part of you, but he starts to slam into that spot deep inside of you mercilessly, determined to show you how good he can make you feel. Your orgasm tears through you and an overwhelming heat blasts into your body like wildfire through dry grass. A broken shriek releases from you as your eyes slam shut, limbs shaking, nails diving into his traps, and toes curling in your shoes.

Bakugou gasps as you constrict around him, moving his hands to clasp onto your hips tightly, throwing your body down to meet his as he pistons into you. Skull falling backwards limply, your tongue lolls out like a bitch in heat, his actions dragging out your mind-numbing climax delightfully long. He launches at the exposed skin of your neck, teeth sinking into your throat hard enough to leave dark bruises there, moaning shamelessly into your flesh as his thrusts become quicker, needier. “S-Shit, where should I— ‘m gonna—”

Your fingers rush to his hair, snapping his head backwards and his eyes widen in surprise, but you smother his open mouth with yours immediately, your tongue plunging into his wet cavern and claiming him as your own. Your hips hurl onto his with finality and the blonde stiffens beneath you, trembling fingers pressing into your skin. A loud groan rattles both of your bodies as his load spills into you, coating your womb in his sticky release as you continue to drop onto his searing cock slowly. When he comes down from his high he squeezes your waist gently to signal you to stop, sitting back with his jaw hung open slightly, laboured and choppy breaths making his sculpted chest rise and fall sharply.

You let him pull you into his embrace, his large biceps caging you against his chest as he tries to catch his breath. It’s peaceful laying in his arms, the post-orgasm bliss thriving and filling the entire cabin of the vehicle in a hot and sweet scent. Or maybe that was just Bakugou— you subtly sniff his skin and smile, the caramel-like aroma from his exertion wafting off of him. He’s warm, and somehow even though his muscles are rock-hard beneath you, his embrace is soft. You nuzzle into his neck as his fingers glide over your moist back, arms locked around your waist.

Neither of you say a word, two heartbeats thumping rapidly against each other as you enjoy each other’s presence. The both of you desperately cling to this moment of serenity, knowing that soon enough you’ll have to go back to normal, and this will have just been another “last time.”  

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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no one asked for this but i did it anyway 🤪🤪 happy birthday blasty 💥💚🧡

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#mhmm ive been thinking about this for awhile #hope it was alright!! i know nothing about cars nor car sex LMAO #especially not lamborghinis lol #bakugou fic #bakugo fic #mha fic #bnha fic #bakugou katsuki fic #bakugo katsuki fic #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #mha smut #bnha smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my fics #my fics katsuki

[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part IV

Word Count: 1,925 Warnings: PTSD. Drug use. Ben Affleck. Panic attacks. Bullet wounds. Smut (not explicit but it's there). A/N: Your kind words mean literally everything to me and I have been sobbing between the warmth shown to me over this series and also how much I love Francisco Morales and want the absolute best for him.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

Gif by: @uuuhshiny

Luna hasn’t stopped wailing since Sunday, the one and only day Frankie said he wouldn’t be able to call.

It’s Thursday and both their lungs are close to giving out.

One Morales woman hyperventilating herself into fitful sleeps, the other only sobbing through held breaths in stolen lonely moments of peace and quiet.

Kristyn had taken up residence in the spare room, making sure Leah slept and ate. She was the one who cashed in Leah’s sick days with the school, forging a bullshit sick note when she went into work.

Leah is currently distraught because her husband might be dead in South America, we don’t know.

That’s what the first one said, dashed out on the keyboard in a petty moment of frustration. She might be the only one of Leah’s sisters who didn't want to lob his fucking head off every time she shed a tear but it didn’t mean she never wanted to do it.

Patient is suffering from a prolonged migraine and intensive nausea. Follow up appointment scheduled for next Thursday at 9am.

That should fucking do it but she’ll have to start checking off the vacation days soon. Dip into family leave for Luna.

Alexa held her on that first Monday, talking her through the panic in a puddle of spilled coffee. The paper cup splashing across their knees in the hallway as concern emanated from the AP Lit room at their backs.

Somewhere at the base of the Andes, her husband was being pried out of a crashed helicopter by the only other men she’d ever truly loved. William was shot, Benny was reckless. She felt it all in her body as she was driven home, helped into the shower, held in her bed but not by the arms she craved.

“He's coming home,” Deana brought dinner that night, her big sister cutting into her steak like she was a child at risk of choking again, “he will do anything he can to make sure of that.”

“What if he doesn’t, D?” Leah’s taken on the stare, everything and nothing all at once, “what if he doesn’t come home this time?”

“I promise you, Lee, okay?” She reaches out to push aside hair damp with tears, “I've never seen a man so in love.”

“Yeah…” she’s quiet, “he promised me too.”

And she told him to stop making promises because he doesn’t keep them.

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

The tears well over her eyes, spilling onto already salt stained cheeks.

He made love to her like it was the last time he would ever see her, the last chance he would ever get. He poured his entire being into her, drunk off the feel of their bodies together. She could feel him in the hollow of her ribs, an aching that called out for the comfort of his beating heart against hers again.

Would that be so bad?

She sobbed out, startling Luna’s own ragged cries again, afraid that she would never know warmth against her cold hands again.

—————

“Hey,” they're huddled against the onslaught beneath a barely-there cliff, labored breathing in tandem, “you still with me?”

Frankie’s panic attack came on slowly, a rolling storm in the distance the moment the helo crashed in the valley.

Bad landing.

His fight or flight response has his lungs in a vice grip but he still manages a laugh, “I think I should be the one asking you that.”

“You know it’s gonna take a lot more than a stray bullet to fuck me off,” he’s smiling but Frankie knows how much blood he’s lost, how long it takes for a wound like that to clot without medical intervention.

It’s true, it’ll take a lot more than a stray bullet to take William Miller but that was before, when they had back up. Out here, though? Surrounded by his brothers in arms? Having done what he just did?

Francisco Morales has never felt more alone.

“Fish,” William hits his knee against his, “where are you?”

His eyes refocus on the tepid water pounding all around him, the world coming back as he takes a deep breath, “are you afraid, Will?”

“You gotta be more specific, Frank, I’m terrified of everything.”

He’s quiet when he speaks, “me too,” barely above the downpour.

He sees Will nod in his peripheral, “I know.”

“Will, I’m afraid I’ll never see them again,” and when he chokes, he realizes he’s been crying.

“No, you can’t think like that.”

“I know, but I can’t stop it either, like…” trailing off, he lifts his face to the pressure of the water; it’s the sweetest thing he’s felt in days, “what if this is the last shower I ever take?”

“Fish…” Will reaches for him but he’s cut short.

“No, listen to me. If anything happens to me out he—“

“Nothing is going to fucking hap—"

“Shut up and let me finish,” his rage and sadness is burning hot through him, it takes everything within his being not to choke on air as he speaks again. “If anything happens to me out here, Will, take care of my girls. Please.”

The blond nods his head, heavy with exhaustion and pain, “until the very end of my life, Frankie.”

The relief that spreads through his body is better than any drug he ever tried, he feels himself slipping into an upright sleep, his heart at peace for the first time since he left his bed.

“But,” Will’s voice catches him on the edge of consciousness, “I would also face down the end of my life to make sure you see them again, do you understand me? If the only thing standing between you and a bullet is me, don’t fight. Leave me there and run like hell. You’re going back to your family.”

“But if I don’t make it…”

“Fish,” Will's laugh is drenched in the space between them, “are you saying it’s your last will and testament for me to marry your wife?”

“Fuck off,” his words are clipped, strained, “and don’t call me Fish.”

—————

They still, eyes up to the screen of the baby monitor as they hold their breath for another sound from Luna’s room. The baby settles back into silence, her small chest rising and falling on the grainy feed.

He remembers Leah opening the military grade surveillance equipment at the baby shower, the shake of her laughter as she held onto Benny’s shoulder to anchor herself to the chair.

“Should we check on her?” It’s small, a rushed question of a concerned mother.

“I said a baby monitor, Benjamin, not a prison security camera.”

“Absolutely not,” Ben grabs her hand, “This is better than any of that shit you’ll find at Target. Video means there’s no wondering either, you can just look up and assess the situation, more rest. That’s important, you’ll need to savor the little that you get.”

He pushes a lock of hair from her face, damp with the tears of the day and the sweat of the night, “no, baby, we don’t want to disturb her.”

“Yeah,” Will chimes in, his beer bottle held loosely in his hands, “Frankie should’ve been training you on sleep deprivation this whole time, you’re spec ops yourself now.”

“But what if she wakes up?”

“Well…” the corner of his mouth lifts to close the fan at the corner of his eyes, “it’s a good thing she can’t see us through that thing, right?”

“Francisc—“ the irritation of his name is finished in a heady moan lured from her body by another slow drag of his hips.

The crook of his nose slots against hers as he finds her lips again, the warmth of the room around them is nothing compared to their mouths on each other. Bathing in shared heat, her fingers entwine into the curls at the crown of his head, the other hand palm up to his chest. And as the beating of his heart races towards her burning touch, he submerges himself once again.

His firm grip holds the hinge in her leg, fingers digging into the sensitive skin that fills her lungs with fits of laughter and light. He braces himself against the bed, the aching in his forearm dulled by the soft, breathless whimpers intoxicating his entire being.

His voice is washed out when he finds it, “mi sol,” lips dragging across her own, “mis estrellas.”

Her eyes find his, heavy with admiration and trust. “Francisco,” she is drunk and drowning in the love of this man, “finish me.”

He shifts to cradle her jaw and as he trails his other hand up her thigh, he sinks within her once more. Finding his release against her own, he is convinced they’ll never be able to fully untangle again.

He presses a kiss to her nose.

My sun.

Her forehead.

My stars.

Her lips.

My whole sky.

—————

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

He snaps back to reality, Santi and Tom’s voices echoing all around them.

His head is hot, he’s pushing past Will with concern set so deeply in his eyes he fears he’ll break right there.

Would that be so bad?

“Fucking bullshit!” Tom’s face is red, Santi having finally said what all of them are thinking.

He feels the weight of Leah in every fiber of his being, slotted perfectly against his body.

“We're all on the hook for this, are we not?”

I should’ve said no.

“God damn this fucking horse! Stop it!”

All those years blinded by loyalty to authority, Frankie never talked back to his leader but the man in front of him isn’t a leader. He’s a whiny child who’s lost his toys and Frankie hates him.

Biting back what he wants to say, he holds his hand up in a show of camaraderie, “Relax.” His finger quirks up as if he’s scolding a tantrum, “Relax. We’re not picking at the fucking scab right now, okay?”

Tom stares him down, like he’s weighing an argument against him too but Frankie’s done. He meets the taller man’s gaze, this man he would’ve died for.

“One foot in front of the other. Come on.”

This man he almost has died for.

“Let's go. Jesus fucking Christ.”

His true allegiances don’t lie to this man anymore or the gun at his hip. Not the money or the mules. He left that splintered fantasy about twenty feet back.

He’d throw this man over if it meant going home right now.

The money too.

None of it is worth a goddamn thing to him if it means he’ll never see the way that the light bounces off the gold in Leah Morales’ eyes ever again.

The same honeyed flakes in the brown of his daughter’s bright gaze.

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

He made love to her like it was the last time he would ever see her, the last chance he would ever get. He wanted to pour his entire being into that woman, ensure that he would live on if lost to the Colombian jungle off a narco's bullet.

Would that be so bad?

He was scared but, truly, would it be so bad?

But it would be because he could truly leave her with nothing. No money, no husband, no father to her babies.

He lost count of the days he hadn’t called.

He makes his way up the mountain, following Tom’s bitching, wishing it was Leah leading him home instead.

TAG LIST: @justanotherblonde23 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @icanbeyourjedi | @princess76179 | @bbuckysbeardd | @notcookiebelle | @knivesareout | @empress-palpat1ne​

#i believe in francisco morales supremacy #frankie morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #francisco morales #triple frontier #fanfic #fanfiction #santiago 'pope' garcia #santiago garcia #william 'ironhead' miller #benny miller #pedro pascal #ofc #oc #original female character #original character

[zevlors-tail]

Febuwhump Day 8 - “Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep!”

A/N: I can’t believe I just wrote this in one sitting. I know I’m super behind on Febuwhump, yikes...but I think this turned out pretty well! This got longer than I meant it to be, but then, so did most of the prompts in my drafts that I have for this month. This is actually my first time purposefully writing whump so I hope this was okay! Unedited btw, i’ll read it over in the morning.

TW: Burning building, explosions, second degree burns, mentions/descriptions of burn wounds, life or death situation, building collapse, concussed reader.

***

The first thing Hawks notices when he comes to is the foul taste in his mouth. It causes him to gag and cough with his eyes still closed, though that doesn’t help his situation much if at all. The smell of something burning sears the inside of his nostrils and clogs his lungs, and he finds it incredibly hard to breathe as he rolls over onto his side, eyes finally fluttering open.

The second thing he becomes acutely aware of is how hot he is. No...how hot the floor is. Speaking of which, he couldn’t seem to recall what he was doing down there anyways. If only that incessantly annoying ringing in his ears would stop-

Wait. Wait a minute...

An image of you flashes behind his eyelids as he blinks them shut harshly to block out the billowing cloud of smoke filling the room, and it all comes back to him in a whirlwind.

There were villains. High class villains. Not your every day run of the mill villains, but villains who could really pack a punch when fighting back. They had been occupying a small skyscraper at the time as their headquarters, and you and Hawks had partnered up to take them down after months of steak outs and observation. But something had gone wrong...very wrong. Those details were still a bit blurry, but Hawks remembers something akin to an explosion- a loud noise, the building shaking, and a blast that knocked him unconscious.

All of the sudden he’s hyper aware of what’s going on- and he realizes he needs to move fast if he’s going to get out of here alive. He’s at least twenty stories up in the air on unstable structures, his feathers and hair are singed, and his head is foggy after inhaling too much smoke. Luckily he can still move, and it doesn’t look like he’s been burned too severely, at least not yet. But the flames licking at the bottom of the closed door in front of him cause alarm bells to scream out in his head, and he knows he doesn’t have much time to think. He needs to find you so he can grab you and-

Ohhh, shit.

As he rolls over onto his other side, he can make out the outline of a figure lying on the floor, and he’s almost certain it’s you. None of the villains stuck around after blowing the place up anyways, and he can just barely see the dulled colors of your hero suit behind the thick screen of smoke.

“Fuck! Oh god, Y/N.”

You’re lying too still for your own good, and Hawks thinks he can see the beginning of what he can only assume to be fire slowly eating at the wall next to you. He wastes no time and flattens himself on his stomach, army crawling in your general direction to avoid the worst of the putrid air. It doesn’t help much, but it’s better than nothing. He ignores the uncomfortable heat of his body and pushes onward, his movements still a little sluggish from getting knocked out cold. He’s not entirely sure if he can even use his feathers right now while they’re this singed, and furthermore, he hopes his wings aren’t completely out of commission; he’s going to need those if the both of you are going to make it out of this alive.

“Y/N!” he tries to shout, though it ends in a horrible sounding cough that comes from deep in his chest. As he draws nearer, he hears what sounds like creaking coming from above the two of you, and to his utter horror, the support beams under floor above you have burnt to a crisp and look like they’re ready to collapse any second. It had to have been a sheer miracle that the two of you weren’t already engulfed in flames yourselves. “Y/N! Come on, kid, you gotta get up! Move!”

Even as he tries to urgently get your attention his body seems to move on it’s own accord, and before he can stop himself, he sends a few feathers your way out of habit and concern that you might be crushed any second if he doesn’t move you somehow. It hurts like hell, and he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding. This is by far the worst he’s felt when using his feathers, but it does pay off, and you’re lucky that he made the split decision to move you- no sooner had he scrambled back with you had the ceiling collapsed into the floor.

He turns to you while staying low to the ground, shaking you desperately and firmly smacking the side of your face with his hand in hopes of interrupting your forced slumber. It works but just barely, and Hawks watches as you try to take a deep breath but end up choking just as he had. He gives you a once-over while you struggle to breathe, eyes flitting over your form to assess any damage you may have taken- and to his dismay, there seems to be a good amount of it. The entire left side of your hero outfit is singed, bits of the fabric even burnt into your skin in certain places where the heat must have been too strong. You hadn’t been able to move away or protect yourself in your sleep, and the burns on your arm and leg can definitely attest to that. They’re second degree, at least; some of the fire must have actually made contact with your skin.

“Oh, fuck- Hey, look at me. Y/N, focus here!”

He leans over you to look at your eyes, and he doesn’t have to shine a light in them or have you follow his finger to know that you hit your head a little too hard. They’re glossy and unfocused, and you can’t find a single place on his face to fixate on. You just keep looking all over, and Hawks can clearly tell your concussed. 

Fucking great. He’s got to get you both out, and now.

“Hey, kid. Can you hear me?” He nervously awaits an answer with eyes trained on you, and the second you start to talk he lets out a small breath of short-lived relief.

“Hawks...? Wha...” You look so out of it and dazed.

“So that’s a yes, thank god...” Before you try to ask anything else, he stops you in your tracks and shakes his head at you. “Whoa, whoa, whoa- take it easy, alright? No questions, I just need you to listen and keep talking to me. Doesn’t matter what it’s about, I just need to know you’re awake and alive-” He pauses briefly to look around for something, anything he can do to escape.

There’s the door you both came from, the one that’s barely holding back the raging heat behind it- that’s a no-go. No way in hell is he trying to brave that. His wings won’t last five seconds in that, and you don’t have the means to protect yourself while you’re concussed. Another option is to try and escape through the hole in the floor that the ceiling caused...but that’s way too risky for the both of you as is, and it looks like flames are starting to creep in from that way, too. If he is going to take that route, he needs to do it soon. Maybe he can get to a staircase, or find a-

The sound of you moaning in pain cuts through his thoughts and his head whips back in your direction to find you grimacing and trying to move. “Ah ah- Don’t do that. Just keep talking, come on. I know it hurts, but you gotta keep talkin’ to me. I’m gonna get us out of this mess, somehow...”

Panic starts to set in as he realizes his options are limited. Terror grips him in it’s icy stone-cold jaws as he comes to the conclusion that his odds of survival are even worse.

“Hawks...it hur’s...” All you can do is roll your head back and forth and try to move, but your body just won’t cooperate with your mind.

“Fuck. Fuck! I know, I know...” His teeth grit together as he thinks, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. Adrenaline is starting to kick in, and he’s desperate for anything at this point.

He still has no plan in mind when he makes another split second decision to move you from where you’re currently laying. The fire is only spreading up onto the carpeted floor the two of you are on, and the smoke is getting worse by the second; this room is a hot box with no ventilation at this point. He carefully picks you up and cradles you to his chest, his wings wrapping around the both of you to both support your frame and shield you from the onslaught of unbearable heat. It forces him to take a few steps back, and he does his best to navigate through a screen of black without bumping into any furniture. He almost trips several times, but eventually he hits the opposite wall. Or, rather...

A window. Bingo.

“S’ tired...” you mumble. Your eyes are already fluttering, rolling to the back of your head as your limbs grow heavy in his arms.

“Hey, hey, this is no time to sleep! Y/N!? Come on, stay awake!”

“C’n we go...home now?”

He doesn’t like how ragged your breathing sounds.

He almost chuckles at the absurdity of the situation, but his lungs are already full of tainted air to laugh, let alone breathe properly, so he scoffs instead- and instantly regrets it. Between fits of coughs, he presses his shoulder to the glass behind you both to test the temperature, and it’s much hotter than it should be. Part of the glass is already blown out to his right, but there’s not enough space to crawl out without the jagged edges of it tearing up his flesh and wings. But if he could somehow break it...

His feathers. He’ll have to use up more of them, but if he uses the bare minimum necessary to break the glass and saves the majority, he may be able to make it out the window and fly you both to safety. 

“We can’t go home yet,” he chokes out in response to you, finally. “I’m gonna get you out of here, and then you’re on your way to the hospital, yeah? You’re gonna be fine.” 

He knows that to be true, so long as he can actually manage this. He backs up as far as he can go without subjecting either of you to the hot flames now openly invading the room, the entryway having burnt to a crisp already. From where he stands now, he hopes there’s enough distance to create the amount of force needed to shatter that damn glass. After a quick estimate of how many feathers he can get away with using, he readies them, and it all boils down this moment. If he can’t do this, you’ll both die. Both of your lives are at stake, resting on his weary shoulders. He can do this.

He has to.

“Wanna go home...wanna go...” You’re just murmuring to yourself, and it really puts Hawks on edge.

He hears the glass shatter before he sees it. He stumbles forward, wings still securely wrapped around you, and all but falls out of the edge of the window right before the rest of the floor collapses in on itself. He hears the devastation behind him, feels sparks on his back where the holes of his shirt meet the beginnings of his wings. He knows if he had hesitated or stayed any longer, neither of you would be alive right now.

Replacing his hold on you with his arms, he lets his wings drift open and prays he didn’t overdo it with the feathers, begs whatever gods may be listening that the two of you can at least slow the fall somehow. And to his pure joy and bliss, his wings, though bleeding and burnt and painful, are still very much holding up and allowing him to fly.

Now if he can manage to get you to a hospital...you’ll be just fine.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday8 #febuwhump2021 #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #whump #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks #keigo takami #keigo

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine...Working Out With Dean

Summary: The reader suspects Dean is starting to feel left out when she works out with Sam and decides to change that...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Square: Trying Something New

Word Count: 857

Warnings: language

A/N: Written for @spndeanbingo​​​

_____

“So what was all that noise I heard earlier?” asked Dean when you walked into the bedroom. You took off your sweaty shirt and tossed it in the laundry basket.

“Working out with Sam is all. He had me doing some weights to get some strength back,” you said.

“I thought you shoulder was still hurting after that werewolf hunt,” said Dean.

“It was but not moving it wasn’t helping. I’m honestly feeling better,” you said. “I’m gonna hop in the shower and then you want to go out for our date?”

“Sure,” he said. You hummed and found some fresh clothes before you headed out to the bathroom to clean up.

Two Hours Later

“You feeling alright?” you asked when Dean decided to skip dessert and asked for the check. 

“Yeah, just not hungry,” he said.

“You ordered salad instead of onion rings, chicken instead of steak and now you’re skipping pie at your favorite restaurant in town,” you said.

“What’s wrong with changing it up?” he asked.

“Nothing. I just wasn’t expecting it when you’ve literally been saying you were looking forward to that pie all day,” you said.

“Well maybe I don’t need the pie. I’m not twenty anymore. I gotta watch what I eat,” he said.

“Alright,” you said, holding up your hands. You saw your waiter walk by and you smiled. “Hi. Can we get a slice of blueberry pie to go?”

“Of course. It should only be a minute,” he said. Dean stared but you simply shrugged.

“If you change your mind later on,” you said.

“Whatever.”

The Next Day

Dean’s pie was untouched in the fridge when you grabbed a water bottle to bring to the home gym with you. You poked your head out to the war room, Dean sitting at the table with his laptop open, watching some cooking video.

“Dean, I’m gonna go workout,” you said. He grunted and you threw your head back. “Maybe you want to come help me?”

“Help you with what?” he asked.

“Sam’s out on a run. I need a spotter,” you said. “Please?”

“Fine,” he grumbled. Ten minutes later he was in the gym with you in a pair of sweats and a black tee, watching you take a seat on the bench. You lay down and Dean walked behind you, looking down at you. “Is that what you’re really gonna lift?”

“Yeah,” you said, wrapping your hands around the bar.

“You’re gonna lift 200 pounds?” he asked. 

“Uh…” you said, Dean crossing his arms. “Okay, maybe the using the bar stuff I’m not up to yet.”

“Ya think? I’m going back to-”

“Come on, stay? Please?”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to,” you said. You went over to the mat on the ground and got down to your knees. He walked away and you sighed. You got into a plank, left arm shaking not too long into it. You shut your eyes, the ache starting to spread across your shoulder blade. A pair of hands rested on it and you sunk down to your knees, sitting back on your heels. Turning your head, Dean was knelt beside you, rubbing your shoulder.

“You should be working your core,” he said. “It makes your back stronger. Or at the internet says that.”

“Huh?”

“Your shoulder blade got hurt. You should strengthen your back first and then try pushing it,” he said. 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” you said. He nodded and sat down cross legged. “Do you know how to do that?”

“A saw a couple youtube videos,” he said. 

“Can you show me?” you asked.

“Yeah. I don’t know how to do that stuff. I only ever lift weights,” he said.

“You want to do it with me?” you asked. You put a hand on your shoulder and he smiled softly. 

“Let me go get my phone and see if I can find it again.”

One Month Later

“Look at you two,” said Sam, peeking into the gym as you and Dean did a few floor exercises. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Really good actually. The stuff we’ve been doing has gotten a lot of mobility back into it,” you said. “Dean’s a good training buddy.”

“I’ll let you get back to it,” he said before wandering off. Dean pulled you back down to the floor with him, smirking as you propped your head up on your hand.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing. I like getting to see another side to you is all. The cute sports bras are a welcome addition,” he chuckled.

“How about we save the cardio for after our date tonight,” you said, kissing the tip of his nose. “I’m dying for a steak.”

“I’m dying for pie,” he said.

“That’s my boy,” you laughed.

“Yes I am,” he said. “I am all yours too.”

_________

#spndeanbingo #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean x reader #spn fic #supernatural #dean #dean x you #dean winchester x you #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean fanfiction #dean imagine #imagine