#Lance Sweets smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shelbgrey · 10 months

Note

Okay so two things/ideas

1. Sweets smut if you are up for it, the NSFW headcanons made me feel things okay. It was exactly what I was thinking too. Bit you don't have to if you don't want to.

2. Reading uou adorable piece of the squinterns babysitting made me think about what a pregnancy with Sweets as your partner/husband/boyfriend would be like. It doesn't necessarily need to be connected to the babysitting one shot you made, it was just a cute idea.

As always, have a great day and I hope this finds you well!

Caught in the act(Lance Sweets)

Paring: Lance Sweets x Hodgins!Reader

Summary: Booth calls you up to take care of your boyfriend after he got roughed up after an undercover thing. As your cleaning him up one thing leads to another.

Warrings: Smut! Female receiving, Sorta public sex (your in a closed office) desk sex. Lance has a couple of injuries(that's a warning in it's self, I'll fight anyone who hurts my boy). This is my first time writing smut, sorry if it sucks. Kinda edited.

A/n: sorry for the wait, I was battling on what plot to use. I'll be happy to do the other one too, but in till then here's the first one. This is my first time writing a full smut imagine instead of just headcanons so bear with me folks😂

MasterList

Lance was supposed to be at the jeffersonian an hour ago. I placed the skull back on the table and checked my watch, Temperance, the wife of my best friend looked at me confused. “what's the problem little Hodgins?” she asked as I looked at the time with concern.

I shrugged going back to work, Temperance wasn't having it though. “no, something is clearly bothering you, if you let it bother you for to long you might become distressed” she said.

“Lance was supposed to be by an hour ago so we could get dinner” I said, resuming the examination on the remains. it was normal for Lance to be late, especially if he was interrogating someone with Booth or he had a patient, but not this late. anxiety began swarm me as I woried for him.

The silence was cut short when my phone rang, hoping it was Lance I quickly awnsered it without looking.

“sweetheart?” I quickly asked, I was unfortunately wrong... Man I need to learn how to read caller ID.

“no, it's me Buddy” Seeley's voice said nervously. I set the humorous I was examining down and gave Seeley my undeviated attention.

“h-hey, how was the investigation... Where's Lance?” I asked walking out of the bone room.

There was a pause which made my heart pound. My conversation with Lance early this morning re-played in my head dozens of times, the last time we talked was early this morning and it was about the undercover case he'd be doing.

Simple case he said...

I let my minde run away with me as a tear ran down my cheek. “is Lance okay?”

“oh, Sweets is fine... Sortof” Seeley said, I raised an eyebrow when I head the background ruckus on Seeley's phone.

“do not tell her! I'm fine!” Lance's panicky, annoyed voice made me sigh with realef, at least I knew he was okay.

“Seeley Booth you better tell me what happened” I said using my 'mom' voice as he likes to say.

He sighed. “he just got banged up is all, couple of nicks that's all” he said, if voice was still nervous tell me he was lying. Dating a Shrink for as long as I have you pick up on signs in voices and body language.

I heared an annoyed sigh in the background. “I'm not going to the doctor” Lance said, I chuckled at Lance's small fear of the doctor's office.

Seeley sighed. “met us at his office so you can patch the crybaby up”

I rolled my eyes at his choice of words. “alright.. laters gators” i said before hanging up the phone.

Before leaving the jeffersonian I quickly grabed the first aid kit I kept in my office before heading to the burow.

~~~~~~~~(3rd pov)~~~~~~~~

Y/n got to Lance's office before the Boys did, Lance had a key made for her a couple of years ago so she was able to get in and wait impatiently for them.

She was knocked out of your thoughts when the sound of Seeley's voice and keys jangling just outside the of the office. She quickly open door before either one had the chance to.

“Lance!” she sighed as she threw the door open, finding her boyfriend standing infront of Seeley, he stood behind Lance like he was ready to catch him if he fell. Lance smiled softly and held his arms out asking for some comfort, she pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his torso gently so she wouldn't hurt him.

“I'm alright baby..” he mumbled as his arms wrapped around her small body and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She pulled away, rubbing his jaw with concern. She looking up into his chocolate brown eyes. The curls in his hair was sorta tossed around, his forehead had a few cuts that touched his hair line, the left side of his jaw was bruised, and his knuckles were busted on his right hand. She heart swelled with both love and concern.

“what happened to you guys? I was worried” she asked as she noticed Seeley was roughed up too. Lance carefully moved to the couch and plopped down.

Y/n sat on the couch next to Lance, her eyes held nothing but sympathy as her two favorite boys looked like two kicked puppies thst won the fight.

“oh sweetheart” she mumbled, cradling his cheeks. Lance smiled and Seeley rolled his eyes. “it's not that bad” Lance reasured.

“yeah and what happened was-” Seeley started but y/n cut him off. “you know, I don't want to know... You guys are both back in once piece that's what matters”

Lance was about to opened his mouth to defend himself and Seeley, but y/n cut him off, “I'm gonna get you guys patched up”

Lance's lips tugged into an onry smirk as y/n terned her back to get her dented first-aid kit. Seeley saw and quickly clapped his hands together nervously, he didn't want to think of the guy he concerned a little brother in any none-innocent type of situation.

“ya know, Bone can take care of me... Just focus on your Shrink” Seeley said and left without saying goodbye. Y/n raised an eyebrow at her best friend's strange behavior as she pulled out the old first-aid kit.

The thing was well worn and dented up marvel pencil box, it was they type of box that kids cried for during back to school shopping. It was a red metel box and the picture of comic book heros were almost all gone.

The old kit set beside Lance on the couch while she stood between Lance’s legs, he watched her every move, not because he didn't trust her, quite the opposite... He was was just always fascinated with how much medical stuff she knew.

“this is gonna sting a bit” y/n mumbled as she cleaned one of the cuts on his forehead, he wincined a bit but it wasn't an awful pain. After all the cuts on his face was cleaned she put some oitment on her fingers and rubbed it on the deeper cuts so they won't get infected.

“is that better?” she asked, putting a bandeg on his forehead then kissing it. He smiled, lifting his head so he could meet her lips with his. “I'd say so”

She chucked and pulled away gently. As she got a new cotton ball soaked with alcohol she opened her mouth to ask about the case, but hesitated.

“how was the case?” she asked taking his hand so she could clean up the dry blood off his knuckles.

His chocolate eyes looked down to watch her work, he shrugged. “we got the murder, but obviously not without a fight” he said.

She frowned. “I hate what they've done to you” Lance smirked at her concern. She knew Lance was a tough guy, but that didn't make her protective of him...he's been hurt enough in his life.

“the other guy is way worse... Trust me Baby” he kissed her nose as she finished wrapping up his hand. As he pulled away she raised his hand a kissed the bandged knuckles.

“you'll live” she joked. Lance shrugged with a smile. “I don't know Doc, I could use another kiss... It's a good muscle relaxer”

“your such a dork” she joked as she leaned in.

“you love me for it” he lazily smiled.

Y/n rolled her eyes and placed a kiss on his lips. She didn't pull all the away back, just enough to where their noses brushed against each other. “is that better?”

“it's getting there...” he mumbled as his fingers reached behind her neck and pulled her closer.

“God, I love you” she murmured against his plush lips. He place one more kiss to her lips and he quickly stood up, pulling her tight against his chest, lips never leaving hers. She moaned softly and quickly reached for his neck to undo his tie. Her mouth moved quicker against his, his tongue brushing against yours.

his hand moved down to grip her ass as they tumbled around the small room. She moaned louder, this time into his mouth. She began to understand at the fire that was building up in his kisses, how much he need her. Lance gently pushed her into the wall as she pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders. They only pulled away from each other long enough for him to pull her shirt over her head.

Lance's hands fell and grabbed her ass, this time lifting her up. Her arms and legs wrapped around him. She gasped against his lips as her core rubbed against his.

She buried her head in the crook of his neck, pressing kisses and bites to his skin as he moved towrds his desk. She shivered as the cold wood bit into her skin. Lance pressed his lips to her's as his hands fell to her thighs, slowly inching upward. Lance pushed her legs further apart, quickly slotting himself in between her legs.

Y/n looked up as the man she loved stood over her, his chocolate eyes trailing from her rosey lips, to the swell of her breasts, she was perfection in his eyes. when his eyes met her again, they were filled with lust, like the predator finally found his pray.

“is this okay?” He asked softly as His fingers trailed up her thigh, even after years of dating he always asked concent and made sure she was comfortable.

She watched as he fell to his knees in front, his head disappeared under her skirt, kissing the inside of her thighs. She let out a whimper as his warm tongue slid up between her folds. A moan escaped her lips as her fingers threaded through his curls. Lance's hands came up grabbing her thighs pulling her body closer as he devoured her. One of his hands came up to her clit rubbing circles, his tongue moved quickly, bring her closer to her orgasm.

He stood up straight leaning over her body. “You tase so good” he said quietly. She grew wetter at the sight of the slick covering his lips. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was just as turned on as she was. Her fingers reached for the buttons of his shirt as their lips connected for a rough kiss.

Y/n quickly pushed his shirt off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. She couldn't held but let her eyes wonder, she had seen Lance naked countless times, but every time it got a reaction within her. the sight of his body made her cunt drip with want.

Lance smirked as his nuzzled his nose against hers. “you like was you see Baby?”

She reached up and kissed his lips lazily “Lance, i need you. please,” she begged. “i need you inside me”

he stood, towering over her with a smirk. Her eyes dropped to the outline of his cock in his jeans, she reached out and quickly unbuckled his belt, letting his pants fall to the ground. His head fell back with a groan as her hands brushed up against his hard erection.

Y/n ran her hands along his hardened chest before wrapping her arms around him and pulling him as close as possible. his hard dick brushed up against her soaked core, making the both of them groan in sync into the other’s mouth. Lance reached down to grab his dick, sliding the head through her entrance. he lined it up with her hole, pressing a kiss to her lips.

Y/n whimpered into his lips as Lance pushed his cock into her, pressing on her spot. She became lightheaded with pleasure as his lips fall onto her's again. the kisses were desperate and needy. hot and breathy.

“are you alright, Baby?” his eyes were concerned and searching for awnsers. She nodded, giving Lance the okay to start moving. he moved slowly, feeling apprehensive. Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, carding her fingers though his hair and tugging, encouraging him to move faster. He sped up, sheathing his cock in and out. Y/n's moans mixed with his.

groaning, Lance bit your neck. “God, your so tight” he whispered. everything he did brought her closer to her climax.

“fuck, you feel so good” the way he was fucking her felt like bliss, they're moans and whimpers bouncing of the walls.

Y/n opened her eyes meeting his brown ones. She felt that familiar knot build up again but faster this time as he hit the right spot over and over. He sat up pushing her legs open giving him more access, he looked. “Common Beautiful, cum for me.” His voice was smooth.

his thumb fell onto her clit, bringing her closer as her pussy tightened around him. It became too much, how deep he was and the pressure she felt on her clit.

“Lance” she moaned, bucking her hips to meet his while she cried out in pleasure. If they weren’t mindful, the people in the buro would hear them, but at this point they didn’t particularly care, the pleasure was too good. But as he worship her and kissed her, she prayed the other agents and staff were too busy with their own work and cases to hear her cries and pleas of pleasure.

“i'm gonna cum." Y/n whimpered weakly as she began to let herself go, her hips bucking through her orgasm, her cheeks flushing pink as she pressed her forehead to Lance's shoulder, his hand reached up to her jaw and lifted her face up. “look at me baby”

her cunt pulsing around him as he stared into his dark eyes. He tried to hold himself back and fuck her through her orgasm, and when she let out a loud whimper, he came, shooting thick ropes into her.

As if on queue, his office door flew open. “hey Sweets, I forgot to- oh God -sorry... Sorry!!” Seeley yelled, y/n's head snapping to look at the door “Seeley!” she yellep and tried to cover herself in her boyfriends chest. Lance's head dropped to her shoulder and squeezed her hips in pleasure as Seeley ran out of sweets' office, slamming the door shut, warmth still filling y/n as Lance let out a sigh.

“never ask me what I saw in there” Seeley said fermly as his eyes remained wide. Temperance gave him a strange look as her husband pulled her far away from Sweets office.

Y/n stared at Lance, her eyes wide as she watch him come down, he began to laugh as she looked at him in shock. “Lance, this isn't funny! That was our best friend” Y/n scolded, slapping his chest, causing him to laugh harder. “he shouda knocked” Lance shrugged, pulling his white shirt over his shoulders as he kissed her lips quickly.

“my best friend walked in on us having sex, your not the tiniest bit embarrassed?” Y/n asked in disbelief, Lance shrugged. “a little bit, but that felt too good to care” he said pulling his pants up, as y/n collected herself Lance grabed the rest of her clothes.

“Did you at least see his face? I was busy.” Lance smirked, earning another slap to his chest. Y/n nodded, laughing slightly. “he's probably scared for life now”

“definitely” Lance said placing a quick kiss on her lips. “for life” he added while kissing her cheek.

#Lance Sweets smut #Lance Sweets x reader #Lance Sweets imagines #Lance Sweets #john francis daley #Bones #Bones imagines #Bones smut #Jack Hodgins #Jack Hodgins x reader #Temperance Brennan

164 notes · View notes

byersbootyshorts · 1 year

Text

Missed Reservation (L.S.)

You and Lance get a little distracted before your Valentine’s Day dinner reservation, meaning you end up having to order takeout.

Word Count: 2,126

EXPLICIT CONTENT MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: sub!Lance, fem!dom!reader, smut, unprotected sex, eating (pizza, not the other thing you're thinking about you filthy whores), language

yes, I wrote this instead of finding myself a real Valentine's date

Lance knocked on your door as you were just finishing doing your hair. You swore under your breath as you looked at the time and saw that you were running slightly behind. It was your first Valentine’s Day as a couple and Lance was way too enthusiastic about it. He’d booked a reservation in a restaurant that you deemed way too expensive for either of you to afford. But, you thought it was cute that he’s made such an effort and you didn’t want to ruin it for him by being late. Wrapped in a black satin robe, you walked hastily to the door.

“Hey, sorry I’m running behind,” you sighed, inviting him in.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll still make it on time,” Lance replied optimistically.

��I just have to pull on my dress and we can go.” You gave him a quick kiss before rushing back to your bedroom. You already had your make up on and your hair was done. Pulling on a dress would only take a minute.

Absentmindedly, Lance followed you into the room. He took a seat on the edge of your bed and fiddled with his tie.

“You gonna watch me change, pervert?” you joked. You didn’t care if he saw you in your underwear for a minute. He’d seen you in a lot less before.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he said, shifting his position so that he was facing away from you.

You chuckled, walking over to him so he could see you once again. “I’m kidding, sweetheart,” you smiled down at him and began to untie the robe. You slowly pulled it off your shoulders, revealing a brand new bra you’d bought for the occasion. Lance ogled up at you, shamelessly eyeing the red laced garment. You let the robe drop to the floor and that’s when Lance noticed your panties, the same shade of red and pattern of lace as the bra.

“You know I was saving this for later,” you said, noticing his eyes flick between the two pieces of the matching set. “I guess we can call this a sneak peek.”

“You’re beautiful,” he said, involuntarily reaching for your waist.

“And you’re getting ahead of yourself,” you replied, intercepting his hand. You pulled it up to your mouth and kissed it. “But thank you,” you mumbled.

You turned away from Lance to face your wardrobe. You already knew which dress you were going to wear so it was only a matter of pulling it off the hanger, undoing the zip and pulling it onto your body. It was tight, but not in a bad way. It hugged your curves flatteringly, the scarlet colour bringing out your complexion.

The last thing you had to do was zip the dress back up. But it was proving to be more difficult than you anticipated. You didn’t struggle with it for long before you realised you had someone who could assist you.

“Lance, could you zip me up?” you asked, pulling your hair to the side and bringing your back into his view.

“Of course,” he said, practically jumping off your bed and moving towards you.

His warm hand skimmed your back as he reached for the delicate zipper. But, instead of hearing the sound of the zipper closing up the fabric, you heard Lance’s breath behind your ear. He exhaled, causing a shiver to shoot down your spine.

Then, his lips gently brushed the back of your neck, his hands abandoning their place on the zipper and landing on your hips. He moved to the right side of your neck and began kissing a trail up to your jaw. You craned your neck to accommodate him, shutting your eyes for a moment before coming to your senses.

“Lance, we don’t have time for this,” you said. But, despite your insistent tone, you didn’t pull away. You couldn’t pull away. And neither could he.

“We can be quick,” he mumbled into your neck, sending a second sensation of shivers through you.

“Dr Brennan pulled a lot of strings to get us a table at that restaurant.” You were trying to convince yourself as much as him to pull away.

“Like I said, we’ll be quick.”

You let out an exasperated sigh before turning around to face Lance. You smiled at his tie, It was pink with little red hearts on it. “That’s a stupid tie,” you smirked, grabbing it and pulling him closer to you. “I think you should take it off.”

“My underwear have little hearts on them as well. You want me to take them off too?” Lance said, looking down at your lips. You chuckled, shaking your head before you pulled his tie even closer towards you. Your lips connected hungrily. Lance wasted no time in pushing his tongue against your lips. You obliged, parting your lips and deepening the kiss. At the same time, you began to undo his tie, pulling it off and discarding it on the floor.

You didn’t break away as you began undressing each other. You started to unbutton Lance’s shirt while he slipped your (still unzipped) dress off your shoulders. You dropped your arms for a moment, allowing the dress to fall to the floor, leaving you standing in your underwear once again. When you brought your hands back up to continue with the buttons you found that Lance had finished them for you.

You slowly moved your lips from Lance’s lips to his jaw, sucking on it as you undid his belt. He moved his hands from your waist to his pants, unzipping them and pulling them down frantically, kicking off his shoes and socks at the same time.

Finally, you lifted you lips from his jaw and took a step back. His lips, some of his cheek, and his jaw were stained with your red lipstick. You liked that. It made him look like he was yours. Then, your eyes flicked down to his boxers.

“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” you laughed, noticing the little red hearts on his black underpants.

“Nope,” he said proudly. “Hey, look, we match.” Lance pointed at your underwear and then his. Sure enough, the red hearts on his boxer perfectly matched the shade of red of your laced lingerie.

“You know, it’s usually the woman that wears the fancy underwear on Valentine’s Day,” you explained.

“Yeah, well, I’ve decided not to conform to societies’ stereotypical social norms,” Lance replied, raising his brow.

“Oh yeah?” you grinned, slowly edging him towards the bed and pushing him down onto it. “Are there any more of societies’ stereotypical social norms that you’d like to eschew tonight, Dr Sweets?” you asked, towering over him.

“Hmm, I can think of a few,” he replied, grabbing your hips and pulling you down on top of himself.

Your lips connected again, both of you breathing heavily into each other’s mouth. Lance moaned as you began to move slowly back and forth on his crotch, rubbing the fabric of your underwear together. His hands moved from your back to his waistband, desperate to free his cock from the material. When you realised what he was trying to do you pulled away from him and straightened yourself up so you were sitting on his thighs.

“Want some help with that?” you asked, looking down at the bulge in his heart speckled boxers.

“Please,” he breathed.

You slowly looped your finger into the waistband. Your touch tickled his stomach and you felt it tense. Lance let out a long sigh when you pulled down his underwear, his dick springing up in the absence of the fabric. He then reached for your own underwear, pulling longingly on the delicate lace.

“Hey, I paid a lot money for these. And I bought them for your benefit,” you said, taking his hands from your panties and placing them on your thighs. “They stay on.”

Lance nodded in understanding. You felt his grip on your thighs tighten. He was getting impatient. You thought about whether you should leave him squirming for a while or give him relief. Then you remembered that you still had a dinner reservation to attend. So, you lifted yourself up, pulled the red panties to one side, and sat on Lance’s dick.

You both moaned from the initial friction. You gripped Lance’s shoulders, running your fingers along his scars. After a few seconds you began to fall into a rhythm, grinding slowly up and down. You noticed Lance shamelessly staring at your tits, enclosed in the dark red lace.

“You’re so hot,” he groaned, slowly sliding his hands up towards your chest.

“You could at least tell me that to my face,” you said, lifting his chin with your finger so his eyes locked onto yours. But you could still feel his fingers practically itching to touch your chest.

“You want to touch my tits,” you asked, still bouncing on his dick.

“Yes please,” he whined.

“Yes please, what?” you said sternly.

“Yes p-please, ma’am,” Lance stuttered.

You tried your best to keep your composure. You were a sucker for him calling you that. It made you feel like you were in charge. Which, of course, you were.

“Ok, then,” you said, grabbing his hands and placing them on your chest. “But remember, this stays on,” you indicated to the bra. Lance’s face fell slightly but a smile reformed on his lips when your threw your head back as he squeezed your tits.

You grinded harder onto his dick, a moan erupting from him with every thrust.

“We are going to be so late for dinner,” you said casually, moving your hands from Lance’s shoulders to his hands, grabbing them of your breasts and pinning them down on either side of his head.

“I don’t care,” Lance mumbled breathily.

“I thought you had everything all planned out,” you whispered in an attempt to supress your moans.

“I don’t care,” Lance repeated. “I just want you.”

You carried on riding him. The only sounds were your moans, blending together in the cramped room, and the occasional creak of your bed as it swayed back and forth.

“Shit,” Lance whimpered. His hands gripped yours tightly as he began to shake. You knew what that meant.

“It’s ok, baby,” you told him, feeling your stomach begin to tense as Lance’s dick twitched inside you. “Do it.”

Lance’s mouth fell open and he let out a loud moan as he came. You bit your lip, feeling him spill out inside you as you came as well.

“I love you,” Lance breathed, repeating it over and over again as you rode him until you were satisfied.

When you stopped grinding on him you leaned down slowly and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “I love you too,” you smiled.

You rolled off him and both of you lay in silence for a moment. When you finally caught your breath you said, “I think we definitely missed our reservation.”

“Well, I think I had more fun here than I would’ve had at some fancy restaurant I can hardly afford,” Lance smirked.

You shook your head and chuckled. “We still have to eat,” you reminded him.

“How about we just order pizza and eat it here,” he suggested.

“Yeah, ok,” you agreed. “But if you get any pizza sauce on my white sheets I will literally kill you.”

“Hmm, death threats. What a wonderful Valentine’s Day gift,” Lance joked, sitting up and grabbing his phone to order food.

When the food arrived you looked for a movie to watch while Lance went to the door. He returned with the box of pizza and sat down on the bed. You spread your legs and he stationed himself between your thighs, his head using your stomach as a pillow.

You decided upon a shitty romcom and ended up talking through most of it. You finished the pizza and applauded Lance for not staining your bed sheets.

“Did you really think I would,” he asked.

“Need I remind you of the time you spilled wine on my new couch?” you retorted.

Lance laughed shortly. “No you need not.”

You sat in silence for a while as the movie ended. When the credits began to roll you felt Lance’s arm begin to caress your leg. He kissed your inner thigh gently and you started to run your hands through his hair.

“You know, we didn’t order any dessert,” Lance said coyly, his tongue lightly brushing the skin of your thigh.

“What are you insinuating, Lance?” you smirked, pulling on his hair slightly.

“Can I?” he asked, turning around so his face was level with your red panties.

You nodded down at him, pulling aside the fabric as he desperately tucked into his dessert.

#lance sweets #dr sweets #sub!lance sweets #dom!reader #lance sweets smut #lance sweets x reader #lance sweets one shot #bones #bones tv show #smut #smut oneshot #smut fic #valentines day

325 notes · View notes

the-multifan-writer · 1 year

Text

First times

TW: zack being shy at first,oral (female receiving), riding, hair pulling, bitting, hickeys,

Parying: zack addy x fem reader

Tonight was the night me and Zack have been dating for four months now and I think it's time we did it. He texted me to let me know that he will be home around nine thirty, I bought some candles and loads of roses. I trailed rose petals to the bedroom and scattered them all over the floor, I go to the bathroom and put on the lingerie i bought and did my hair in curls and by the time i was done it was almost nine thirty I lit the candles then layed in the bed in a sexy side position and wait for him to enter.

“y/n i'm home” I hear him say “where are you” i hear him walking towards the bedroom “welcome home baby” I say sitting up so he could see the whole outfit “wow you look gorgeous babe what did i do to deserve this” “i think that it's time for us to take the next step in our relationship” Zack face gets beet red and i smile “nothing to be nervous about when it's just us everything is perfect” I whisper kissing down the side of his neck he lets out a breathy moan and starts unbuttoning his shirt and removing his pants. “You look so beautiful baby did you wear this just for me” I pull away and nod “I thought you would like it” “lay down baby this night is about your pleasure” he says and pushes me down on the bed. Zack bends down and kisses me deeply and passionately, he starts to slowly go down my body kissing and sucking, marking me as his with his hiskeys. When he reaches my thong he pulls it with his teeth and kisses up my right leg until he reaches my thigh and bites me hard. I groan but don't complain, Zack around my clit but completely ignoring it “don't tease this is my pleasure” I whine be patient” he mutters but i'm not patient so i grab his head and push him closer to my clit he gets the hint and starts licking and sucking causing pleasure to shoot up to my tits.

Zack moves away from my clit and moves to my pussy shoving his tongue in and moving it around I arch my back from the pleasure and pull my tits out of the bra and pull and pinch on my nipples “just like that baby of that feels so good” I moan out grinding on his face. He bring one of fingers to my clit and start rubbing in tight circular motions I close my eyes seeing stars and then I feel him spelling his name

Z A C K

My eyes roll back and i cum screaming his name and tightening my legs to keep him there to ride out my high. Once I come down from cloud nine Zack comes up and kisses me and I deepen it, tasting myself on his tongue and moaning. I tasted delicious on his tongue. I flip us over so that I'm on top now “I wanna ride you” “Then ride me baby” he whispers in my ear, I grab is cock and line it up with my pussy and slowly sink down his cock moaning at the stretch and him groaning from tightness. I grind my hips downward rubbing my clit against his pelvic we make eye contact and I smirk pulling to just his tip and slam down and grind down I repeat this a beast and then I spell out Z…A…C…K…S…H…O…R…E. Once I finish I throw my head back cumming allover his cock “fuck me Zack show me how owns this pussy” I moan out laying on the bead.

Zacks pulls me to the edge of the bed and rises my left legs lines is cock up and slams into me start a slow deep rhythm that had me seeing start “play with yourself Y/N” he gruff out and I slowly bring a hand down and toy with my clit pinching and circulating is tight fast circles. Zack speeds up and thrust harder having my eyes rolling back from the pleasure, I feel that coil tightening in stomach and fasten my fingers and use my other hand to pinch and pull my nipples, Zack gets a bit sloppy showing that he also is close to his release “just like that Zack im going to ooohhh-” I cut myself off squirting all over Zacks lower stomach and legs. Zach thrust a few more times and cums inside me slamming his hips towards me, I milk is cock for all his cum.

Zack slowly pulls and pushes some of the cum sleeping out inside. I whine but let him do it “you look so gorgeous with your tits out full of my cum “Y/N” he says and give him a lazy smile and sit up and kiss him.

#zack addy #zack addy smut #Bones TV #bonestvshow #smut #dr.brennan #seeley booth #lance sweets #angela montenegro #jack hodgins #cam saroyan #james aubrey #18+ only #+18 or +adult only #starightsmut

24 notes · View notes

ihopeinevergetsoberr · 10 months

Text

Who says I’m sharing that bath with you?

female anatomy for reader (no use of y/n, gender-neutral pronouns)

nsfw, fluffy smut basically word count: 1900~ english is not my first language. if you spot any mistakes (grammatical especially), any typos/misspelled words or if you have any advices for me in general: please let me know. reblogs and comments are highly appreciated.

art cr: @arcanescribbles

"Have some mercy on yourself," you mumble, wrapping an arm around his slender waist, and its thinness has you flabbergasted and somewhat concerned again. He doesn't hesitate. Allows you to place that weary head on his shoulder, to nuzzle into the crook of his neck – a pleasant relief in the guise of your heat, of the rhythmic breaths tickling his slimline skin.

"You can't work that much,” you remind him, trying to hide your evident worry behind a light-hearted chuckle.

“Have you ever heard of a proper greeting?” Viktor quirks an eyebrow, and his deft hand quickly grabs yours to do a thing that never fails to make your heart shrink; he has you melting at the feeling of his dry, warm lips on your knuckles yet again.

“Hug is a proper greeting,” you protest with a slightly offended scoff, burying your nose into the gorgeous mess of his hair —all unkempt strands and a sturdy scent of something pleasant, yet not exactly definable.

“Not when it comes with scolding,” Viktor releases your hand, the touch of his lips lingering on its skin, and he turns around, forcing you to break the embrace for a second — which you do reluctantly. But now you get to face him, and that certainly feels like a much bigger win.

A win and a one more reason to give him a lecture. Viktor initiates eye contact, runs a hand along the perfect curve of your hips, hoping that his gentle touch is a good enough distraction from his terribly deep eye-bags — so treacherously confirming your concerns about his sleep schedule (or the lack of such, to be precise).

"You've gotten thinner," you state with a sad frown, looking Viktor up and down. "And you need a nap," you continue, tangling two fingers into his hair. "And a bath.”

“I’ve missed you terribly, and that’s the first thing you mention when I finally have you in my arms?” Viktor cooed, staring at you with a guilty smile — your love-sick genius, always exhausted yet so unexplainably handsome in his own special way.

You scoff again. Wrap your arms around his neck, gently pressing him against the desk — a small gesture of care that allows his body a better support without the cane.

“Have you eaten today?” you carefully ask, watching his expression closely.

“Maybe,” he grudgingly answers, and his amber eyes are lancing right through you in the dull light of his lab — tired, attentive, pretty.

“I don’t like that answer,” your voice is a sweet purr against his skin, and he winces as you slide a hand down his chest, fixing his vest for him.

“You’re being incredibly annoying today,” he informs you, pressing a quick peck to your lips. A brief one, barely palpable, too fleeting to give you a proper taste. “Perhaps I should appease you.”

“If you want to appease me, a kiss like that won’t do.”

“Demanding, are we?” he quirked an eyebrow, casually sitting down at his desk, squeezing your waist in a playful attempt to pull you onto his lap. But you don’t move an inch. Not until he kisses you properly, at least.

He gets the hint. Gently grabs your chin, pressing your noses together, kissing the right way this time, deep and slow, with his tongue brushing your bottom lip before slipping into your open mouth — it’s almost lewd, actually, since this small motion stole a surprised moan from you. The kiss of a hungry, fervently missing his lover man. Your man.

“Better?” the question is rhetorical at this point. He knows he left you amazed and dizzy once again —your now out-of-rhythm breath is speaking for itself. But Viktor wouldn’t be Viktor if he hadn’t asked. The incorrigible tease at his best behaviour.

“Much better,” you give him the reassurance he’s been seeking, adding the missing touch to this affectionate gesture by nuzzling into your embrace, and he hums, satisfied with the solace you’ve so easily brought him purely with your presence.

“So.. is my darling appeased now?”

“Relatively,” you laugh, and a self-assured smirk plasters smugly across his face. “It won’t save you from having dinner with me tonight though.”

“Is that so? Well, I appreciate the effort, and the fact you came here just to visit your sick, touch-starved man, but I’m afraid I still have work to do—“

“I’m not here just to visit you,” you cut him off, as one of your hands slips off his neck straight to cup his sharp knee, “I’m here to collect you. I’m stealing you home with me.”

“Oh no,” he cracks an exaggeratedly offended expression, but judging from the still-present on his face grin — he’s actually rather pleased with your intentions. “Being abducted definitely doesn’t sound appealing to me at all.”

“That’s right,” you nod, gently nudging him. “I’ll even hold you hostage if that’s what it takes to bathe you and get you into bed.”

“But what a horrific torture!” he pulls away, slamming a hand to his chest with a low giggle — it lands on his sternum with a muffled slap, right where his thudding heart is. “How ever will I survive that?”

“I believe your fate is inevitable, so you better just accept it.”

“How unfortunate,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, and you gasp, allowing him to lay his cheek against your chest. “Can’t wait to end up in that bath with you,” he whispers, and you hitch in breath, your hand stops massaging his scalp.

“Who says I’m sharing that bath with you?” you tease light-heartedly, feeling his grip tighten around your waist.

“Me,” his response is firm and simple, yet still maddening enough for you to go weak in the knees. Apparently, his nap is being delayed again.

***

Bath with Viktor is a death sentence — a long and squirming one, of countless orgasms and moans loud enough to wake up the whole Piltover. You tried, you really did, to talk him out of it, to make him wait until at least after dinner, but he’s stubborn and knows damn well that you can’t resist him, so all your warnings about how he needs some rest first were muffled mercilessly by his tongue buried deep inside you. At this point, you’re not even sure whether he’s really that into devouring you, or if he’s just trying to prove you wrong, to show you that he’s never tired when it comes to eating you out.

He has you sitting on the edge of the bathtub, legs resting on his covered in crescent nail marks shoulders, and you tug, tug, tug on his hair as he tongue-fucks you through yet another insane release. If only he could smile right now, which was obviously impossible in his position, he would definitely give you the most provoking signature smirk. So you mentally thank his passion for giving head, since it’s the one to blame for his inability to destroy you even more with those grins and the witty dirty-talk right now. He has you right where he wants you: with your thighs wrapped tightly around his head, with your slick getting quite literally everywhere — on his tongue, on his chin, some on his chest even. And when you slam your head against the wall, light-headed and breathless, he knows it’s time to do a particularly vicious thing — to suck on your abused clit so hard he might as well just suck the damn soul out of you along with it.

Too much. Too overwhelming. And those sweat drops forming on his forehead, and the way he digs his wet fingers into the soft flesh of your legs, and the way he laps up so thoroughly-

“Gonna cum,” you gather the last strengths in your possession to mumble an illegible warning and the skillful bastard between your thighs only picks up pace, leaving you wondering how his tongue is still intact after all that frantic motions inside your cunt. But the technique is rather impressive. You stare at him, wide-eyed and with your lower lip bitten. His sinful gaze meets yours with a guttural rattle Viktor makes when you grip a strand of his dark hair so hard your knuckles turn white. You want to tell him how good his mouth feels, how indescribably hot he looks kneeling in the bathtub, how attractive his skin glistens right now, in the warm water. But the words are unnecessary. Your precious cussing as you come undone on his agile tongue is the best existing compliment to him.

So you deliver. He coaxes the third orgasm out of you. Leaves you throbbing, making one of your shaking legs slip off his slick shoulder into the water with a loud splash. He licks the remnants of you tauntingly-slow off his swollen lips, watching your every convulsion closely, and he’s proud, oh so proud of himself, that it almost re-turns you on all over again.

“Look at you,” his sultry whisper reminds you that his ability of being a smartass is back, now that his mouth is no longer full.

“Viktor,” you suffocate, grabbing his shoulder to hold on for dear life so you won’t fall out of the tub completely. He chuckles, carefully pulling you back into the water, thoughtful as always, like the gentleman he is. Well, if rearranging your guts with that tortuous tongue and thick cock could be considered something gentlemen do, of course.

He tastes like you now. His tongue is somewhat sour, much puffier in comparison to yours, and it’s not that animate anymore — he pushes it into your mouth rather lazily, evidently worn out by the intercourse.

“I thought the purpose of this bath was to get me cleaned, not dirty,” he whispers with a filthy giggle, wiping your slick off his chin. You roll your eyes, admitting that a single thing stopping you from biting him for that joke is a complete lack of energy. And the fact that he’d just one-upped every single man you'd slept with before. Once again.

“Oh fuck you,” you giggle back, snuggling into his chest, and it feels so gentle — the lust is gone and the only thing left between you is pure affection; divine, immaculate, expressed through the softness of your body and the sharpness of his.

“I would be a liar if I said it doesn’t sound tempting, but I don’t believe you’re in a state to do so, my love,” Viktor teases, but you don’t talk back. He left you witless. Too fucked out for your own liking and just perfect for his. “Do you think you can make it to the kitchen?” he asks, pointing at your wobbly legs.

“Yeah,” you hesitate for a second, reluctant to get out of the warm bath. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m not hungry,” Viktor shakes his head, and his response dramatically increases your urge to pinch him. That wasn’t the deal!

“No. Not a chance, you’re not skipping dinner again.”

“But I’ve already had dinner. Well. In a way,” he whispers, as the corners of his mouth curl into another insufferable smirk and it takes a good ten-second uncomfortable pause for you to understand the pun.

“Eating pussy is not an actual meal,” you frown, pulling away.

“And that’s so unfortunate, don’t you think? At least that way, I’d never skip them…”

“Viktor!”

#viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor arcane #viktor smut #i need to be spayed #no beta we die like men

1K notes · View notes

howyouloveyourdragon · 3 months

Text

dividers by hitobaby

͎𓇢𓆸 Lavender Haze ʚɞ Summary: 'Meet me at midnight...', The Realm's Delight has a secret, a secret that she delights in Fleabottom with unapproved company... ʚɞ Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Fem!Prostitute!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Brief sexual content

͎𓇢𓆸 Mastermind ʚɞ Summary: Rhaenyra, eldest child of Viserys Targaryen who is leader of one of the strongest businesses finds herself enraptured by a pretty reporter ʚɞ Pairing: Modern!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Journalist!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: None

𓇢𓆸 Pearls* ʚɞ Summary: Three women, two purses and one whirlwind affair behind your best friend's back. It was never supposed to go past your uni accommodation but suddenly a set of pearls look very appealing...will you bite the bait? ʚɞ Pairing: Modern!Sugar Mommy!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Sugar Baby!Reader x Modern!Sugar Mommy!Alicent Hightower ʚɞ Warnings: Smut (edging, mommy kink, cunnilingus, light bondage, strap-on)

🇼🇮🇵🇸 𓇢𓆸 A Sunset Seal ʚɞ Summary: Rhaenyra had never much liked the thought of being used like a pawn and especially not after she meets a mysterious man who also hates the chains that marriage embraces. When they both find themselves betrothed to people unknown they plan to run away together...they just do not know how very close they are to their own curse ʚɞ Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Male!Martell!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Betrothals

𓇢𓆸 Of Lances and Thorns ʚɞ Summary: Rhaenyra's world stopped spinning the day her father married her best friend but when her wallowing is interrupted by the chastised older Hightower, she finds that there may be some silver amidst her grey. ʚɞ Pairing: Princess!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Male!Hightower!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Betrothals, misogyny, smut

𓇢𓆸 Perfect* ʚɞ Summary: Rhaenyra has never been more bored than when on her tour for marital prospects...but then she met that sweet red haired girl with the most sweet doe eyes. What doesn't bore her are all the stirring images her mind curates at the sight of the innocent riña in her bed. ʚɞ Pairing: Princess!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Tully!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Smut

͎𓇢𓆸 Only Queen ʚɞ Summary: A Queen needs her loyal handmaiden...even when her heart and hope has been broken and torn from her without a further glance... ʚɞ Pairing: Queen!Alicent Hightower x Fem!Handmaiden!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: None

͎𓇢𓆸 Last Kiss ʚɞ Summary: 'I never thought we'd have a last kiss...' If Alicent had known that that would be your last kiss then she would have held you a lot tighter... ʚɞ Pairing: Queen!Alicent Hightower x Fem!Handmaiden!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Death

🇼🇮🇵🇸 𓇢𓆸 The Set Up ʚɞ Summary: Alicent is determined to find Rhaenyra a compelling match and Y/n is determined to gift his uncle a throne. When they mutually agree to convince the Velaryon's cousin to propose to the heir of Westeros, a young Queen and Lord find their intentions swaying in the worst way. They are falling in love. ʚɞ Pairing: Queen!Alicent Hightower x Male!Velaryon!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Betrothals, misogyny, tooth-aching fluff

𓇢𓆸 My Breeze of Decay ʚɞ Summary: Falling in love comes easy to you, a love match unites you with a beauty of the Lands and once you are wed, you could not be more elated...until a horrible incident occurs and her fate is left with the gods. Can you travel the journey to her? ʚɞ Pairing: Eurydice!Alicent Hightower x Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Death

𓇢𓆸 Everybody Wants You ʚɞ Summary: You're tired of all the rumours; that your betrothed has found loyalties of the heart elsewhere, in Winterfell. ʚɞ Pairing: Heir!Jacaerys Velaryon x Betrothed!Fem!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Infidelity accusations, miscommunication, angst, eventual fluff

𓇢𓆸 Namesday ʚɞ Summary: You spend your namesday with you two favourite princes... ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader x Prince!Aemond Targaryen ʚɞ Warnings: Smut (piv, cunnilingus)

𓇢𓆸 The Heart Bestowed ʚɞ Summary: Jacaerys loves nothing more than a duty fulfilled. Y/n has other impressions. Ever since they were young, they presumed that they would some day find one another in the Sept amongst family and reciting practiced vows to one another. However, they could not be more different nor more infuriated in their joined presence. Neither of them have any greater desires than to quell the other...So why do they feel so disappointed when they are both betrothed to another? ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Tyrell!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Betrothals

𓇢𓆸 No Rest For The Dragons ʚɞ Summary: All is quiet but no sense of peace can be caught between your fingertips, not even at night and so it is difficult to find sleep. Not until you win the war and crown your prince victorious...Your betrothed, Jacaerys, seems to have other priorities. ʚɞ Pairing: Heir!Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Betrothed!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Talk of war

𓇢𓆸 The Softest Love ʚɞ Summary: Sometimes all you need is a gentle lover and a comforting hand, Jacaerys knows this all too well with you at his side and a crown at his temple ʚɞ Pairing: King!Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Wife!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Brief talk of war

🇼🇮🇵🇸

𓇢𓆸 Just a Little ʚɞ Summary: You cannot remember a day where your heart has ever swelled nor a day where your throat has caught so quickly than the night you met Cregan Stark with his broad arms and swoon-worthy stare. He is the epitome of the North, resembling a man stern, sensible and strong. You are sure that no man is more worthy of your love and attention. So you enlist the assistance of your childhood friend Jacaerys. You have never been wondrous in your attempts to charm suitors but the man to have a new love every travel? He surely must know what can romance your newest interest, you are also certain that your love trusts him above no other. They are practically brothers. But when Jacaerys agrees, willing to give you the sun if you so much as wish it, you start to feel a growing warmth in your gut, a curling ribbon squeezing your heart. Oh dear... ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Best-Friend!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Mild angst

𓇢𓆸 Lack of Lessons ʚɞ Summary: "Love comes later,, Your mother had told you - promised you - and yet you feel no love as the King's son rolls his eyes at your presence and begrudgingly takes your hand...Until a second prince catches your eye. You find yourself in lessons with his nephew as you both learn to navigate the new world you have been thrust into. ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Jacaerys Velaron x Fem!Highborn!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Rivals to lovers, betrothals

𓇢𓆸 Gold Rush ʚɞ Summary: 'I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush...' Aegon didn’t like most people but he liked you until it tore him from the inside out. You’re perfect, his gold and shimmering light. The problem? He’s not perfect. He’s not even a third of what you will one day amount to and everybody knows it…even him. ʚɞ Pairing: Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: angst, mentions & depictions of alcoholism, car crash, fluff

𓇢𓆸 Sweet Girl* ʚɞ Summary: Aegon and Aemond are less than impressed when they hear that their sweet girl has been betrothed to a man of House Blackwood. They decide she must be claimed in every way a dragon can be claimed and perhaps they may discover even more. ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Aegon II Targaryen x Niece!Reader x Prince!Aemond Targaryen ʚɞ Warnings: Smut (piv, oral (male & female receiving,light degradation, spit, praise, corruption, overstimulation, soft, rough, hickeys), possessiveness, incest

🇼🇮🇵🇸

𓇢𓆸 Prince of Rouge* ʚɞ Summary: Moulin Rouge AU - The year is 1899 when you enter your new city's most hailed night club and meet the mysterious Aegon. After a night of passion and lingering glances, you come to find that he has already been promised to another and a choice paints your mind. Fizzle your desires or dance in secret hallways. ʚɞ Pairing: Satine!Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Smut

𓇢𓆸 The Memories* ʚɞ Summary: Aegon hadn't touched his drinks in years but when he sees your face in his nightmares, he will do anything to forget that fateful night. ʚɞ Pairing: King!Aegon II Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Smut, Betrothals

𓇢𓆸 Eagerness* ʚɞ Summary: Aegon has never craved anything like he has craved the eagerness of your touch... ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Aegon II Targaryen x Greyjoy!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Smut

𓇢𓆸 Some Thread of Time ʚɞ Summary: It has been years since Aemond has seen his childhood companion, once attached to the hip and now mere strangers harbouring the same memories but no matter how long it's been, he can't seem to let go ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Highborn!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Angst

🇼🇮🇵🇸

𓇢𓆸 Some Seam of Regret ʚɞ Summary: Aemond's childhood love has finally returned to court after a less than standard herald calls for her...But she arrives with her husband. ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Married!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Angst, death

𓇢𓆸 Some Ghost of Time ʚɞ Summary: Before betrothals and schemes and untold plots; a prince loved a lady and a lady loved a prince. Never had a soul think such a pairing to be doomed but alas they do not know yet of this tale... ʚɞ Pairing: Young!Prince!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Married!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Angst, depiction of violence

𓇢𓆸 Crystals* ʚɞ Summary: You have been a travelling bard ever since you were young but after accidentally being left in Harrenhal, you are left at the mercy of a witch and her prince... ʚɞ Pairing: Dark!Alys Rivers x Bard!Reader x Dark!Prince Aemond Targaryen ʚɞ Warnings: Smut, obsession, possessiveness

𓇢𓆸 Maroon ʚɞ Summary: 'The lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon...' All will be well so long as Helaena is able to keep her precious handmaiden safe...if she is not? Well that is another question... ʚɞ Pairing: Queen!Helaena Targaryen x Fem!Handmaiden!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Angst, mention of suicide

🇼🇮🇵🇸

𓇢𓆸 I Think He did It ʚɞ Summary: Helaena has been your friend for a long time. She tells you everything, what she ate that morning, whether her spider, Dreamfyre, snuck out again or how the children are but most importantly where she suspects her husband to be spending his nights because it is most certainly not in her bed. So it is no surprise who you are suspicious of when she suddenly goes missing. ʚɞ Pairing: Modern!Helaena Targaryen x Fem!Best-Friend!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Murder, infidelity

𓇢𓆸 Remnants* ʚɞ Summary: They say that you never forget your first love but the vultures are prey to weakness and intend to infiltrate Daemon’s own desires to preserve his adere riñus (slippery girl). Some say the woman will forever remain in his conscience, guiding his bloodied sword and singing sweet lost lullabies to lay his rest. For it has been too long since the volatile dragon slept peaceful. A prince with more gold than he can keep. A prince who can demand whatever he wishes and command any army. And yet all he is left with…All he is left with are the remnants of her which he swore to cherish as religiously as he would an idol. ʚɞ Pairing: Prince!Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Lowborn!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Smut, derogatory language, prejudice, angst, disease, character death, fluff, infidelity, slowburn, classism

𓇢𓆸 The Moon ʚɞ Summary: History remembers names, not blood, he knows that all too well so why are you so important to The Sea Snake, the bastard of the Rogue Prince ʚɞ Pairing: Corlys Velaryon x Fem!Targaryen!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: None

🇼🇮🇵🇸

𓇢𓆸 The Study of Affection ʚɞ Summary: Cregan Stark cannot say that he is used to romance which is why it is so nerve-wracking when he realises the princess expects him to court her rather than negotiate an arrangement. The lord finds himself in need of help and your nephew is more than eager to provide. ʚɞ Pairing: Hand!Cregan x Fem!Targtower!Reader ʚɞ Warnings: Pining

#masterlist #house of the dragon masterlist #hotd masterlist #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #alicent hightower x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aegon ii x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #corlys velaryon x reader

350 notes · View notes

monzabee · 10 months

Text

kiss it better – ls18

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where a crazy idea turns out to be the best possible thing for you and Lance.

Pairing: lance stroll x reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: fluff, kissing and other than that none? might have a few curse words but otherwise very tame

Request: “okay so i’m obsessed with the lance stroll fake dating to lovers/friends to lovers but it’s always the reader asking. would you write lance asking reader to attend gala/wedding or something as his date and then the feels start to come up from both sides? smut, fluff, angst, wherever your imagination takes you x”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i did not expect to get this excited for a certain canadian man, but here we are!! now that i had the pleasure of writing about lance, i hope you guys know that more is to come, and thank you anon for the request!! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

You love slow afternoons, is what you realise as your fingers move out of their own volition on your keyboard as you try your best to finish your draft on time so that you can send it to your agent. Lance is on the couch next to you, his focus on his phone, rather than the show he has on your TV – which he ignores as he continuously texts with the person on the other end and lets out lengthy sighs every few seconds.

After what it must be the hundredth sigh of the evening, you give him a pointed look over the glasses resting on your face, “Okay, this is getting ridiculous.”

“What?” Lance asks, his shoulders rising in a half-hearted shrug. He glances up from his phone, his brows furrowing slightly as he registers your statement.

“You've been sighing and moping around for the past hour,” you say, your tone a mix of annoyance and concern. “What's going on? Is something wrong with the ‘Real Housewives of Beverly Hills’?”

Lance sighs again, louder this time, as if to emphasize his frustration. He puts his phone down on the coffee table and runs a hand through his hair, tousling it further. "It's nothing," he mutters, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance, “and the housewives are fine, not Kim, though. I think Lisa Rinna is about to break the wine glass, again.”

“You’ve watched the Amsterdam trip how many times, now?” You ask him as you get up from your place at the dinner table and grab your wine glass before making your way over to him on the couch and settle next to him. “Forget it, just tell me what’s wrong so that we can get your breathing back to normal.”

“Chloe is what’s wrong,” Lance mutters, turning his phone screen towards you to give you a better look at the messages between him and his sister, “she is bugging me to bring someone to the wedding.”

You tilt your head to the side, “I thought you were going to take Sandra.”

“It was Sarah.” He returns your look with a pointed one of his own, “We kind of broke up, but now she want me to find another date.”

“So? Just find someone, Lance.” You give him a funny look as you fix the way your glasses are situated on your face and read the texts between the two siblings as you slightly lean over your best friend sitting next to you.

He sneakily places his arm around your shoulder in almost a reflex kind of way, as he argues, “I can’t just bring someone to my sister’s wedding, Y/N, she’s going to have the pictures up on her wall for the rest of her life or something.” He swats your hand away with a weak slap as you try to coo over his response, claiming that he is too sweet for this world when he asks, “Who are you bringing to the wedding, anyway?”

“No one,” you shrug, earning yourself a look from the man sitting next to you, “I’m not a Stroll, Lance, I don’t need to bring a date – ergo, I won’t.”

His eyes narrow on the edge as his voice comes off doubtful, “So I have to find someone to bring to the wedding but you can choose not to?” The nod you give him makes him let out a loud groan, making you giggle as he adds, “Is it too late to ask your parents to adopt me?”

“How more dramatic can you be?” You laugh into the edge of your wine glass as you take a small sip, and then think for a moment as you roll your lips together. “Just ask someone you know to come with you, they’ll get a nice weekend out of it and you won’t disappoint Chloe.”

“You say as if it’s easy,” Lance sighs, but his eyes take on a mischievous glint as you realise he’s had one of his bright ideas and the next words prove that it’s, in fact, one of them. “Be my date.”

Your voice is squeaky as you get out, “Excuse me?”

“I need a date,” he point to himself, and then points the same finger to you, “you don’t have a date. I don’t want to take some random girl off my contacts list to my sister’s wedding, so it makes sense.”

“I- I can’t be your date, Lance!” You exclaim, jumping back slightly to shoot him a full on glare. “You’re my friend,” you emphasise the word, “my best friend.”

“Why not? It’s better than going with a random date.” He argues, “Plus, we’ll tell everyone that we’re trying to work things out and after the wedding we’ll tell them it didn’t work out – problem solved.”

“Problem not solved,” you contend. “I don’t want to lie to everyone, Lance, especially not to our families.”

“You’re not saying no.” He sings, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You give him a light shove as you mumble, “Shut up, I’m serious.”

“So am I, Y/N.” He sighs as he takes your free hand into his, which makes you involuntarily drag your index finger towards his palm, something you used to do to help him calm down when he was dealing with his wrists at the start of the season. It makes him smile softly at you when he realises it’s a thing that calms you down as much as it calms him down. “It’s not lying, it’s us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your voice is lower than before, but you can’t put your finger as to whether it’s because you’re confused or something about the nature of this whole arrangement is scary to you – you pray that it’s the first, but something in your gut tells you it’s the latter.

The smile he gives you in return to your question can only be described as ‘warm’ – it’s soft, and it makes his eyes crinkle, and it’s just so him. “It means that people won’t question how we ended up together, especially our families.”

What he’s saying and suggesting makes sense, you realise. He needs a date and you can help your friend out – plus, it would be good not to hear your mother complain about how you’re single in your twenties for a change. You try to think whether you’d even think about actually accepting to fake date someone if the person asking wasn’t your best friend in the whole world. But with Lance giving you an expectant look and looking so cosy on your couch, coupled with the two glasses of wine you’ve had as an incentive to write, you find yourself giving the man sitting beside you a nod of your approval.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but if this blows up all in our face, I’m blaming you and telling everyone you forced me.”

“Pfft,” he scoffs, pulling you into a side hug as the fighting noises from your TV blends into the background, “it’s going to be great, you just wait and see.”

Weddings are epitome of romance in every conceivable way. And Chloe Stroll’s wedding? It is safe to say that her wedding is the level of magical that fairy tales aspire to achieve. Ever since you’ve stepped foot in Italy, you’re captivated by the views and the atmosphere of having all the people there for such a special occasion. The wedding venue is a stunning villa nestled in the rolling hills of Tuscany, with lush gardens and a breathtaking view of the countryside. Soft music floats through the air as guests mingle and soak in the romantic ambiance. Turns out Lance was right, after all, and both of your parents are ecstatic that you showed up together – and no one bats an eye when he wraps his arm around you to help you onto the boat, or how his hand linger a bit longer on your hip.

Another thing people don’t seem to focus? How his eyes seem to focus on your every move as you dance with one of Scotty’s cousins, or is he one of his friends? Frankly, Lance doesn’t care about the specifics. He is more focused on the way the man you’re dancing with makes you throw your head back in laughter and the genuine smile that lights up your face. Lance watches from a distance, his heart swelling with a mixture of happiness because of how happy you look, and a touch of jealousy because it is not with him. But seeing you so carefree and radiant in someone else's arms stirs up emotions he can't quite ignore. But all of that is thrown right out the metaphorical window once you excuse yourself from your new friend, and find yourself back to him – basically throwing yourself into his arms and asking him to dance with you.

“I don’t know sweetheart, weren’t you just dancing with your new friend?” He asks, and though he immediately regrets the snarky words leaving his mouth, which reflect all his jealousy at the moment, you just smile up at him with the softest smile he’s ever seen.

Instead of lingering on his words, you let out a small giggle, “I can’t slow dance with him, Lance, he is not my date!”

“Oh,” he murmurs, “right.”

“So, will you dance with me?” You ask him again, your voice filled with more excitement than before. Your lips form a small pout as you add, “Please?”

His eyes linger on your expression for a moment, and he links his fingers through yours as he leads you onto the dance floor to join the couples who already started dancing. “Let’s go,” as soon as the words leave his mouth, a small smile is quick to overtake his face as you let out a small squeal and a giggle.

As the two of you find your place on the dance floor, Lance pulls you closer, his hand resting gently on your waist. The soft melody of a romantic song fills the air, setting the perfect mood for a slow dance. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace and suddenly you realise it’s much easier to focus on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat rather than the song which is playing on the background.

Lost in the moment, Lance whispers softly into your ear, "You look absolutely stunning tonight, you know that?" You can tell his words are filled with sincerity, and he makes you feel all the admiration he feels for you at that moment.

You give him a playful smile as you do the one thing Lance absolutely hates and answer his question with a question of your own, “Yeah? You like my dress?”

“You know I do,” he shakes his head, lips unable to stop themselves from forming a smile.

Sighing out a satisfied sound, you let fingers occupy themselves with the short strand of hairs on this nape. “Well good, Chloe said you’d appreciate the colour

– through jealousy is not a good colour on you.”

Lance chuckles, the sound rumbling against your cheek as you continue to sway together. "Chloe knows me too well," he replies, his voice filled with warmth, "I’ll just have to thank her for the dress."

“You better,” you scoff, your breath hitting his neck in the process, “it was an absolute pain to put it on.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” his fingers smooth over a crease near your hip, “I’ll help you get it off.”

You pause for a moment, the playful banter fading into a charged silence as his words hang in the air. The intensity of his gaze meets yours, and you can feel the shift in the atmosphere, a magnetic pull drawing you closer together. Your heart skips a beat, and you find yourself lost in the colour of his eyes. There's an undeniable chemistry between you, one that the two of you have been ignoring for a while, and one that has been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

With a playful smile that eventually finds its way on your lips, you raise your head slightly to get a better look at him, “You’re drunk, Lance,” you announce.

Lance's grip on you tightens ever so slightly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your back. “What is it they say? Drunk words, sober thoughts.” Another squeal leaves your lips as he slowly dips you down, but you know he won’t let you fall.

As he pulls you up again and presses his forehead against yours, and as his nose nudge against yours which causes both of you to release breathy laughs, your voice is almost pleading, “Lance, I–”

“I know, sweetheart,” his voice is soft as he mumbles, and he repeats himself after dragging out a deep breath, “I know “I know but you deserve something better.”

But the question of what something better might be lingers in your mind.

It’s almost the morning when the wedding celebrations come to a pause, and you quickly find yourself on your way back to the hotel with Lance. Hand in hand, you walk along the dimly lit streets, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the night. The city is calm and peaceful, its beauty enhanced by the memories you've created during the wedding festivities. Lance steals occasional glances at you, a gentle smile playing on his lips, as if trying to etch this moment into his memory – you try to act as if you don’t notice, but the same gentle smile finds itself onto your lips every time you catch his eyes on you. As a true gentleman, he lets you lean against him in the elevator, knowing that you’re probably more tired than him because of your choice of shoes.

The soft hum of the elevator and the comforting embrace of Lance lull you into a sense of tranquillity. But all of that calmness is gone once the elevator stops at your floor and Lance pulls you closer as he walks you to your room. With each step, you become more aware of Lance's presence beside you. His warmth radiates, providing a comforting reassurance amidst the late-night stillness. The soft light from the hallway casts a warm glow on his face, highlighting the gentle curves and lines that make him uniquely him. You think the anticipation might actually kill you in the moment, but like a true gentleman, Lance takes out your room key and hands it to you – but even in that simple moment, you feel your entire body lighting up with something more for your best friend.

Your breath hitches once again that evening when Lance’s hands gently cup your face, but he lets you go once he presses his lips lightly on your forehead and gently rests your forehead against yours. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

You feel your heart drop as he pulls away from you, all the adrenaline you’ve been feeling slowly dissipates. A mix of emotions washes over you as Lance pulls away and leaves you standing there, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. The brief moment of intimacy between you leaves you longing for more, and you find yourself mumbling, “I thought I deserve ‘something better’.”

“Y/N,” Lance’s voice is soft, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“I- I just thought you might’ve been talking about yourself, you know?” You let out a nervous chuckle as you shake your head, “It doesn’t matter, it’s presumptuous – oh my god I am an egomaniac.” Taking a small step towards him, you give him the world’s most awkward hug, and slowly start to pull away.

Without you knowing behind his horrified look, Lance has the opportunity to put his quick decision-making skills to test. He knows that he can either let you go, which means the two of you will stay friends, or he can actually do what he wanted to do for a very long time – which has the potential to blow up in his face. So, this time he takes a step towards you, and manages to grab your wrist in time to pull you against himself. Pressing his lips onto yours in a haste kiss, he manages to take your breath away for the second time that night, and you realise what’s actually happening after a small brain malfunction. For a moment, you're both suspended in that kiss, your hearts pounding in sync. It's a moment of pure vulnerability and undeniable passion, a culmination of unspoken desires and the unravelling of emotions that have been building between you for far too long. But you can feel him smiling into the kiss as your lips start to move against his. He tries to pull away, but you chase his lips in what you can only describe as hunger, and both of you let out breathy chuckles as you manage to capture his lips in a kiss once again.

When you finally break apart, gasping for air, your eyes meet Lance's. His grip on your wrist tightens, as if he’s afraid to let you go, and in an attempt to calm his worries, you snake your hand into his and drag your index finger towards the center of his palm. “I meant what I said,” he says, breathily, “you deserve something better.”

“Lance,” you almost seem to grumble his name, “you are the ‘something better’.”

“Well I hoped you’d say that.” He nods his head, and throws you over his shoulder to walk towards his own hotel door.

A mixture of surprise and laughter escaping your lips, you playfully swat at his back as you try to urge him to put you down, but he just chuckles and continues on his mission. As the door to Lance's room closes behind you, the world outside fades away, and you find yourself enveloped in a bubble of anticipation and excitement. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Lance gently sets you down on your feet. The room is dimly lit, casting a romantic glow that accentuates the chemistry between you. The air is charged with unspoken desires and a magnetic pull that draws you closer together. Lance takes a step towards you, his gaze filled with longing and affection. Without a word, he reaches out to cup your face in his hands, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Your breath catches in your throat as he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender and passionate kiss.

In that moment, all doubts and uncertainties melt away, replaced by the overwhelming certainty that you've found something truly special. It's a love that has been quietly brewing beneath the surface, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal itself. As your lips move together in a dance of shared desire, time seems to stand still. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate and electrifying connection. Every touch, every caress, ignites a fire within you, and you find yourself getting lost in the depths of Lance's embrace.

When you finally break apart, your eyes lock, and a shared understanding passes between you. It's a silent promise, a mutual agreement to explore this newfound love and see where it leads. With a smile that speaks volumes, Lance intertwines his fingers with yours, pulling you closer as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “I promised you I’d take your dress off, didn’t I?”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lance stroll smut #lance stroll fluff

878 notes · View notes

byersbootyshorts · 1 year

Text

Bones Masterlist

Requests for this fandom are currently closed

Any of my works marked * contain explicit sexual content. Minors DNI

Zack Addy:

One shots:

The Breakfast Anomaly After a long week at work you decide to start your day off by making breakfast for Zack. But when he tries to help you it takes a disastrous turn.

Blurbs:

Comforting Zack when he’s upset

Lance Sweets:

One shots:

Missed Reservation You and Lance get a little distracted before your Valentine’s Day dinner reservation, meaning you end up having to order takeout.

#bones #bones tv #bones tv show #masterlist #temperance brennan #seeley booth #jack hodgins #angela montenegro #camille saroyan #lance sweets #zack addy #vincent nigel murray #wendell bray #x reader #smut #fluff #angst

111 notes · View notes

honeyhotteoks · 1 year

Text

this night together - chapter two (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter two: a different kind of heat

chapter summary: your heat gets worse, and the boys help you through

warnings: more smut (big surprise), all the abo/omegaverse warnings, but also, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, thigh riding, many many orgasms, rough sex, knotting, mmf threesome, consent discussions, anal play, double penetration, messy orgasms and cumshots, so much fucking praise

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 9.8K

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

“You do smell perfect, though,” Mingi groans into your ear, nuzzling the gland on your neck and sighing. He hasn’t knotted you yet, too content with making you come over and over on his fingers. You lay over his chest on the couch, body damp with sweat, but he doesn’t seem to care, he keeps pulling you closer and closer. Mingi sighs and drags your body up a little higher so he can kiss you, “Like honey,”

“Mm,” You sigh against his lips, “I smell sweet to you?”

“You are sweet to me,” He nips at your lip, running his hands along your body.

Your underwear is long discarded on the floor, but you’re still draped in Mingi’s oversized t-shirt, and you ease yourself down his body just enough so that his bare thigh is perfectly nestled between your legs. “Mingi,” You whine softly, feeling tense and over stimulated, “I need you,”

He tenses his thigh, smiling a little when he realizes how wet you are against him. He pushes his glasses up into his hair and reaches for you, locking a hand one each hip so he can direct your hips. “Very soon, I promise,”

You grind yourself into his thigh, pleasure rolling through your body at the sensation against your clit and you feel needy and messy, a breath away from begging.

“Come one more time,” He urges you, “then I’ll knot you, omega,”

You pant and whine, shaking against him, but you do just what he bids you. Rocking your hips, you plant your hands on his chest and use him for leverage to drag your slick core against him. A bubble builds inside you, threatening to burst already and you cant your hips faster, trying desperately to finish so you can have him inside you.

“Good girl,” Mingi cups your face, watching you with his lips parted in, “sweet girl,”

“Fuck,” Your hands clench on his t-shirt, skimming your nails over the bare skin of his chest and you feel him twitch beneath you, “again, again,”

“That’s it,” He nods, “good fucking girl,”

His words run a lance of hot need through you and you groan, “It’s not enough,”

“I’ll make you feel so good,” He soothes you, helping you drag your body back and forth on his thigh, “I’ll give you whatever you need, baby, you just have to come,”

“Yes,” You sob, your body aching, “alpha,”

Mingi tenses his thigh once again, and you collapse forwards onto him, your orgasm sudden and heady as you shake against him. “Perfect girl,” He yanks you up suddenly, crashing his mouth onto yours, “pretty little omega,”

He has your eyes rolling and you grip down on his shoulders, “Now, please, please, I can’t wait anymore,”

“Let’s go to bed,” Mingi pushes himself off the couch with ease, lifting you with him and keeping his hands locked under your thighs to take you back into the bedroom.

Yunho’s out, exhausted after the long night and his time with you earlier, rolled onto one side of the bed and sleeping soundly. Mingi makes it to the edge of the bed before he drops you, letting you fall back into the nest of bedding and he pulls off his shirt fast, kicking his boxers off with it.

Yunho makes a small sound next to you and you feel suddenly dizzy with both of them so close to you, your body throbbing and coursing with desperate need. “Ah,” You wince as a cramp passes through you, “Mingi, please, baby, I need you now,”

“I got you,” He pushes your legs open, not bothering that you’re bumping into Yunho. After hours of teasing, he needs you just as much as you need him.

You moan as his cock brushes through your soaked folds and you drag him down closer to you, hungry for his lips and every inch of his skin on yours. He loses control the minute he first presses inside you, and though he meant to take it slow, his latent need has him forcing his hips down hard and sinking his cock inside you fast.

Mingi collapses over your chest, curled over you and breathing heavily into your shoulder, and you run your hands through his thick mop of long sandy hair. Finally after all the teasing and the prep, he’s deep inside and stretching you deliciously wide.

Yunho shifts next to you, and you turn your head to the side, watching as his eyes open and he adjusts to the scene in front of him. You expect some kind of jealousy, some primal alpha-pheromone-claim-staking, but he just stretches and smiles next to you. “Hey,” He says simply.

Whatever you thought Yunho and Mingi’s relationship was doesn’t make sense now. Being comfortable with each other is one thing, but Yunho doesn’t seem startled in the least to be waking up next to Mingi with his cock inside someone mere inches away.

Before you can respond, Mingi rocks his hips, grinding his pubic bone into you and he leans back from your chest, “Better?”

“Mm,” You nod, flushed and shaky, “you feel so good,”

Mingi leans back further, dragging his hand down your body, and looks to Yunho. “Sorry,” Mingi shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face suddenly, “I didn’t mean to wake you like that,”

Yunho laughs, “It’s fine, take care of her,”

Your back arches and you press him closer, as if you could draw him even deeper inside your body even though his hips are fully flush with yours and you can feel him filling every inch of your cunt. Next to you, Yunho falls back onto his half of the bed, still waking up, and you’d be shocked at how unfazed he is except Mingi draws your face back to his and pumps his hips hard, just once to get your attention.

You gasp at the feeling, gripping down on his forearm and panting, “Mingi, oh my god,”

“Look at me,” He shakes his head, his thumb flicking over your bottom lip, “he can watch, but you look at me.”

Heat floods you and you nod, already feeling fucked out and he’s barely done anything. Mingi takes your hand where it grips his hip and interlaces your fingers, rocking you back and pressing your hand into the bedding by your head. His other hand reaches down, turning your hips up and folding your legs back into a press. Every shift has you growing wetter, more hungry and desperate, and when he moves you into the perfect spot and shifts his cock just enough, you realize why he put you here.

“You’re so fucking deep,” You moan, gripping down on his hand to steady you.

“Look,” he directs you, “look how well you take all of me,”

Following his instruction, you look down, your muscles clenching around him when you see where his cock disappears into you. Your legs are shaking already, you’re sure you’ll come fast after how overstimulated and raw you are, but you desperately need him to move. With a stammer you beg him, “Please, Mingi, please,”

He draws out of you slowly, almost completely, and the snaps his hips down to drive his cock in as deep as possible. Your head drops back into the sheets, and you sob, nodding and panting, “Like that,”

Mingi increases his pace, drawing out and snapping back in a steady rhythm and the press of his cock over your g-spot has you crumbling beneath him. Your body feels like a live wire, hot and cold at the same time, tight snaps of pleasure rippling up from your core.

“Ah, fuck omega,” Mingi groans, dropping a little further over your body with a shudder, “you’re so fucking tight,”

Your hips jerk in response despite your pinned position underneath him.

“Will my knot even fit, tiny?” He pants, teasing you, his pace never faltering.

Blush blooms up your chest and across your cheeks, your body aching under his and the idea of his knot spins you out of control, “Mingi, I’m,” you grip his hand harder, “I’m close,”

“Come,” He directs you, holding your gaze, “I know you can,”

It hangs in front of you, dangling but just out of reach and you grip down his arm and close your eyes tight, focused just on the sensation and the wet sound of him working you. You need him to say something, your omega desperate and needy, the feeling of him inside you not quite enough to soothe you. You’re whining, tight and pained, and you can hear him begging you to come, but you need something more. You shake your head, “Tell me I’m good for you,” you choke out, “please, alpha,”

Mingi groans, falling further forwards, his body nearly crushing you but the added weight makes you feel whole. Pushing your head to the side he slips close to your ear, pumping his hips deep as he does, “You’re my best girl,”

Your mind sings with even just the single note of his praise.

“You’re the only one who can take my knot,” He nips at your skin, “your pretty body all ripe and ready for my pups,”

Your body folds in on itself, your orgasm hitting you so hard your ears are ringing, no sensations making sense except for his cock inside you and his hot breath as it dances across your neck. He likes you, he said so. He needs you, you’re perfect. Your mind plays his words on a loop as your body quakes, more ready for a knot than ever before.

Mingi rocks back onto his knees, dragging your body with him, and holds you steady by the hips to use as his anchor so he can continue thrusting into you. Your head lolls to the side, your body pliant and open. You had forgotten Yunho was here, but when you open your eyes again and see him watching you both with his hard, weeping cock in his hand, you whimper. You reach for him, needing to please him, needing to help him come too.

Mingi’s hand on your face snaps your head back to center, shaking his head, his jaw locked tight. He can’t scold you, he’s too close, but you can see every word in his expression. In this moment, he’s your alpha. No one else. He pulls you down hard as his knot starts to form, slipping inside you quickly and grinding his hips as he cock spills inside your wet walls.

His knot is big, stretching you fast and you wince, gripping down on the sheets and pressing your eyes closed, breathing low and slow through your nose to deal with the sudden sensation.

Mingi’s hand leaves your hip, and you can hear that he’s still panting through his orgasm, his release still pumping inside you, but his thumb starts to gently roll over your clit. His aim is not to make you come again, just to help release the tension locking inside you and ease the sudden discomfort of his growing knot. His thumb slows as he watches you relax again, face smoothing out to a perfect calm now that you’re deliciously full.

With a sigh he stills, and your eyes flutter back open.

“Damn,” His hands squeeze your hips, “you’re fucking amazing,”

You hum, pleased and fully relaxed again, not yet able to form any coherent thoughts.

Mingi sweeps a hand through his sweaty hair and then reaches for your hands, “Let’s turn us over, okay?”

The predicament of this position, now that you’re finished and locked on his cock for an indeterminate amount of time, is how to get comfortable. With sure hands he holds you by the forearms and starts to lift you, but you can’t help the little whimper that passes through your lips at the feeling of him shifting inside you.

“Yunho,” Mingi’s eyes flick to the other alpha, “can you get her up?”

“Mhm,” Yunho’s deep warm hum comes from behind you and you relax further. He slips his hands underneath you, a hand on your upper and lower back to support your hips, and between both of them they lift you up until you can easily wrap your arms around Mingi’s neck.

“There we go,” Mingi presses a quick kiss to your lips, “now let’s lay down,”

Yunho’s hand stays steady in the center of your back should you need him, and Mingi moves smoothly, barely jostling you as he eases back onto his back against the pillows with you still nestled in his arms. You let out a heavy sigh once you’ve both settled, melting into the warm skin of his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under your cheek.

“How’s that, jagi?” Mingi pushes your hair back over your shoulder and cups your cheek.

“Good,” You nod, letting your eyes slip closed.

He’s much less tense than Yunho was, and you imagine that has something to do with the fact that he’s done this all before. For Yunho, it felt like the sudden onset of his emotion and his protective aggression had everything to do with the fact that it was his first time. Mingi holds you calmly, but steadily, one hand cupping your ass to keep your hips right where they are, and the other soothing and loving on your cheek.

Yunho’s hand leaves the center of your back and you feel the bed shift, “I’m going to go shower,” he murmurs, “do either of you need anything?”

You blink your eyes open, shifting up on Mingi’s chest, “No, wait,”

Yunho pauses, looking tense and he swallows, “Yeah?”

“Don’t go,”

Yunho looks torn, shifting in the bed and you see the outline of his erection under the sheet that is pulled up over his lap. Mingi smirks, immediately putting the pieces together, and Yunho says, “I won’t be long,”

“I can help,” You offer immediately, glancing down at Mingi to check to see if he’s opposed to the idea, but he looks nothing but smugly pleased. You nod towards Yunho’s lap, “Let me help you, Yunho,”

He shakes his head a little, “It’s fine, I don’t want to make you,”

“Yunho, stop,” You cut him off, “you’re both helping me through heat when you didn’t even plan to. I can help you too, I want to,”

He hesitates, but you can see how much he wants to say yes. His eyes flick to Mingi and you watch the silent conversation between them. Finally, Mingi shrugs and nods, “Wouldn’t be the first time,”

Yunho sighs, relieved, and you make a mental note to ask about that later if the moment presents itself. Your understanding of them is shifting with every passing hour in their company, and you know now that men you know from the studio are so much different than the assumptions that you made.

“Come right here,” You gesture him over, unable to move, still locked to Mingi.

Yunho nods, dropping the sheet again and coming up onto his knees, shuffling across the bed until he’s tucked close to Mingi’s shoulder and in the perfect spot for you to tip just forward enough that you can take him in your mouth.

“Are you,” He starts to say, but you sink your mouth forwards and take him as far back as you can in this position. He groans, his words dying in his throat.

You pull off him for just a moment to murmur up to him, “Yunho, just shut up,”

“Got it,” He shudders, and you take his thick length back over your tongue once again.

The position is uncomfortable though, still locked on Mingi’s cock and doing your best to brace yourself on his chest. You feel unbalanced and dizzy, but you don’t stop. When you push forward further, taking him deep down your throat far enough that your nose brushes his pubic bone, you shift against Mingi far enough that his knot pulls. It’s not painful, but it’s not pleasant, and you drop back with an annoyed sound.

“Here,” Mingi murmurs, and you feel his legs change position, feet flat on the bed now so that his thighs are raised to hold you better. He places one broad hand on your waist and one underneath your breast, spread wide on your ribs so that he can hold you perfectly steady, “there you go,”

The pressure in your lower back dissipates, the pull of his knot gone completely, and Yunho takes the hint to move just a little closer. Now things are easy. Yunho’s hands gather your hair until his hands rest at the back of your head, not changing your pace at all but just resting there, moving steadily with every bob of your head.

“Fuck,” Yunho groans as you sink down further, intentionally dragging the flat of your tongue down the underside of his shaft firmly, “more,”

You murmur a soft sound of recognition, and start to bob your head faster, doing your best to breathe steady through your nose and not let the way the head of his cock bumping your throat makes your gag reflex jump. Yunho’s fingers tighten on your scalp and you hollow out your cheeks, and you brace your hand on his thigh to keep steady and keep moving.

“God,” Yunho’s voice sounds tight and breathless, “you’re so fucking perfect,”

You moan softly around his cock, and feel Mingi grip you a little more firmly, his still hard length twitching inside you at the sound. Your muscles flutter around him, a little ebbing lap of warm pleasure up your body and Mingi’s thumb on your belly drags back and forth in a comforting pattern.

“Our omega likes to hear how good she is,” Mingi smiles, “isn’t that right, jagi?”

“Mm,” Your response is muffled but understood, and Yunho sighs above you.

“Fuck,” Yunho feels shaky now, his hard length twitching in your mouth, “fuck, baby, u-use your hand,”

You pull off him immediately, letting Mingi’s grip support you as you take Yunho’s shaft in your hand. You’re gasping a little, a headrush at the sudden swell of oxygen, but you can’t slow down now. With quick motions you pump his cock, dragging your hand up and down the slick length and teasing the tip with your tongue. Beads of precum pearl up at the tip and you lap them away, again and again, eyes up to watch Yunho’s head fall back with a groan.

“Alpha,” You whine, intentionally moaning as you drag your tongue over him again, “please come for me,”

“Don’t stop,” He begs you, his eyes still shut tight.

“Never,” Your hand pumps harder, just a little more applied pressure to coax him to the edge.

Mingi curses under his breath, mouth open and eyes locked on you.

“Where?” You manage, ignoring the ache in your arm as you work him over.

“I’m,” Yunho stutters, “fuck, I’m close,”

“Come for me,” You beg him, “come on, baby,”

Yunho shudders and then shifts forwards, knocking your hand away and pumping his cock hard and fast at the pace he needs. With his hand locked in your hair he pulls your head back and comes hot over your chest, streaks of his release from your neck down to your breasts. You brace yourself on his thigh, watching as he recovers, breathing heavily and shaking as he looks down at you.

“Yunho,” You breathe, but he drops low and pulls your lips to his, crushing you into a kiss. You moan softly against his lips, and inside you finally feel Mingi’s knot start to release so he can slip himself out of you.

“That was,” Yunho shakes his head against yours, “god,”

“The hottest thing I’ve ever seen?” Mingi offers and you break away from Yunho with a laugh.

“Mingi,” You ease back up into a better position now that you’re not locked down on him, straddling him and just resting on top of his thighs, trying to regain your breath.

“I’m just being honest,” Mingi says with ease.

Yunho’s hands slip off you, and sits down with a heavy sigh. His distant, dreamy look fills you with warmth and caught between two alphas who continue to praise you and care for you, you’re finding parts of yourself to unlock that you never thought you’d tap into.

“Good?” You murmur as Yunho meets your eyes.

His tongue darts out and wets his lips as his eyes flick over you, “So good,” he says, “but let me clean you up,”

You’re so much more attuned to them now, after spending almost a full day sharing your bodies together, and you can’t miss the way that Yunho runs a hand along Mingi’s upper arm and gives it a squeeze before he rolls off his side of the bed to get a damp washcloth.

Yunho moves into the bathroom and flips on the tap, and you take the moment to look back down at Mingi, “Was that too much?”

Mingi’s brows knit together and he shakes his head, “What do you mean?”

“Us together?” You gesture between the two of you and then towards the bathroom where you hear the tap flick off.

He grins, amused, and smooths his broad hands up and down your thighs, “We’ve done this before,”

“Oh,” Your head snaps to Yunho as he re-enters the room.

“What?” His eyes dart between the two of you.

“y/n was worried we crossed a line,” Mingi teases, but Yunho hasn’t picked up on the joke.

“How?” He looks concerned, suddenly anxious that you are the uncomfortable one.

You shake your head, reaching for the damp cloth to clean yourself up, “Not like that,” you tell him, nudging Mingi with your leg, “I just know we didn’t talk about doing things as a group. We kind of fell into that, I didn’t want to,”

“Oh,” Yunho interrupts, and then looks to Mingi, “oh, I see what you mean,”

A light ripple of a fresh cramp pulses through you and Mingi feels you tense up above him, watching as you breathe low through your nose. “Already?” He checks.

“No,” You relax as the pain passes, “not yet,”

“Do you want a shower or something? Before we keep going?” Yunho’s ears run red and you realize just how much you like watching him blushing and nervous.

“Yeah,” You nod, “that would be nice,”

Mingi sits up then, manhandling you easily to your feet so he can stand and stretch, “Let’s all go,”

He tugs you forward into the bathroom, giving you no real choice in the matter and Yunho follows too. Mingi starts the water and waits for it to warm up, while Yunho leans against the edge of the sink. “You don’t have to be worried about anything being awkward,” Yunho clarifies for you after a moment, “between Mingi and me, that is,”

“You’re sure?” You ease back on the counter next to him.

“Mhm,” Yunho smooths a hand down your bare back and looks at his friend, “we’ve done this a few times. Not with someone in heat, but you know, we’ve shared partners before.”

“It’s been a while,” Mingi shrugs, checking the temperature, “a couple of years maybe, but yeah,”

“That makes me feel so much better,” You sigh, leaning into Yunho’s side, “I didn’t want to get in the middle of things or make it weird,”

Yunho smiles, a quiet laugh on his lips and Mingi shakes his head, “I’ve been with him since middle school,” he says, “we’ve done basically everything together. There’s not really anything you could do to get in the middle or make it weird,”

Yunho rolls his eyes and wraps a lazy arm around your shoulders, “Following me around since middle school, more like.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mingi laughs, “you love me,”

You watch as Mingi steps into the shower behind the curtain, and Yunho shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. “Now that that’s cleared up,” He kisses your hair, “let’s just relax while we can. You’re feeling okay?”

In truth, you’re feeling the bubbling need flooding back faster, and you’re already aching in places you shouldn’t be aching in, but you nod, “I’m good,”

He gives you one last squeeze, and then follows Mingi into the shower. With them out of your eye line you suddenly feel a little panicked, a tight feeling inside you like a cord is pulling taut suddenly, and you know you’re getting closer to the harder hours of your heat.

You shake off the feeling as best you can and head for the shower.

“Guys?” Your voice is a little weaker than you wanted, and you clear your throat to try and tamp down the sudden strange wave of emotion.

Mingi appears suddenly in the space between the curtain and the shower wall, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” You shake your head, pushing back the curtain a little so you can climb in.

Mingi secures a hand under your arm to steady you, and once you’re in the warm spray of the water between them, you start to feel the sudden anxious waves fade.

Yunho tucks close to your back and wraps his arms around you, “Your emotions are all over the place,” he observes, passing his thumb over the gland in your neck once again to calm you, “what’s going on all of a sudden?”

“It really is nothing,” You sigh, sinking back into his arms, “I just started to feel a little panicky, but I’m fine now,”

Mingi studies your face for a moment, “It’s okay,” he says, knowing exactly what you were feeling and why, “we’ll stay close now,”

Yunho nods, giving you a comforting squeeze. After a few moments he separates from you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and he reaches for the shampoo.

It’s been hours, from the time you woke in the early morning hours to now and you have no concept if it’s even light or dark outside. You drop your head back into the water to wet your hair and sigh, “I don’t even know what time it is,”

“Same,” Mingi laughs.

“It’s like seven,” Yunho says, “shockingly,”

“At night?” Your eyes widen.

“Mhm,” He says, eyes closed and head back, in the middle of lathering the shampoo into his hair, suds dripping down his shoulders and over the firm plane of his chest.

A throb flutters through your core again, and you pull your eyes away to focus on something else like the tile or the way the water is hitting the shower curtain. Anything that will keep your mind off their bodies and what they can do with them.

“Wait,” You look up, this time just holding their eyes as a thought occurs to you, “what are you going to do about work?”

“What do you mean?” Mingi asks.

“It’s Sunday,” You point out, “but my heat won’t be over by tomorrow,”

“We’re taking heat leave,” Yunho says, “all of us.”

Your mouth drops, “Everyone will know,” you can’t believe they wouldn’t care about this, especially Yunho, “if we’re all on leave at the same time it will be so obvious you’re with me,”

Mingi grins, wolfish and cheeky, “What’s the matter omega? You don’t want anyone to know we’re your alphas for the week?”

A shiver runs up your spine and you take a step back, trying to keep a clear head, but any time he uses your designations something deep inside you bends and responds. You shake your head, “I just meant it might look like favoritism or something inappropriate,” you look at Yunho, “I mean you’re kind of my boss,”

“I am not your boss,” His nose crinkles, completely disturbed by the idea that he might have to manage anyone.

“Well, no,” You roll your eyes, “I guess not, but you are the most respected person there. You call the shots, Yunho,”

He considers your words, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth as he thinks before nodding once, “You be on heat leave, we’ll just be sick separately. We’ll come back on different days.”

“Doesn’t that still look suspicious?” You chew your lip.

“I mean,” Yunho sighs, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, “I could work Monday and Tuesday, and then Mingi could swap off and take Wednesday, Thursday, if it lasts that long?”

The idea of being without either one of them makes your heart beat faster.

Yunho watches your face fall, eyes tunnel-visioning and he waves his hands, “Or not, it was just an idea, but we won’t do that. We’ll both stay,”

“Sorry,” You shake your head, “I don’t, I’m sorry I don’t mean to make this more difficult,”

“You aren’t,” Mingi interrupts, “we’ll figure it out.”

“The safest thing is for the two of us to be sick, and for you to be on leave,” Yunho says, “and if anyone guesses, we’ll just keep this to ourselves. No one has to know.”

He’s right, you know it, and you have to trust them, “Okay,”

Mingi dips back into the water to rinse out his hair, and though it’s a tight fit in their shower, you all move together with ease as if you’ve all done this a million times before. You’re flushed again, face lighting up with blush, and despite the water already breaking out in a fine sweat, but you’re not sure if it’s the heat of the shower or your heat. You do your best to ignore it, and reach past Mingi for the bottle of body wash.

“Can I have,” Stretching a little too far, a pain lances up your abdomen and you retract your arm with a whine, doubling over. Not the heat of the shower, then.

“Hey,” Yunho twists, catching you, “you okay?”

“Mhm,” You answer him, teeth clenched.

“y/n,” Yunho tries to straighten you up with him but your body is cramping too much.

“No, no, please,” You grip down on his arm and he freezes.

“It’s okay,” Mingi soothes you, “let’s finish up and get you back to bed,”

Hot, radiating pain is twisting in your gut and you nod, but you can’t move. Despite the comforting way that Yunho strokes your back, you can’t feel anything but intense arousal, every touch of his skin on yours making your cunt throb and wet with slick.

“We should hurry,” Yunho can feel the way you’re trembling, how heavy your weight is in his hands as you try to support yourself.

“Yunho,” You moan, your hand bracing on the tile wall, “please stop moving your hand.”

“W-what?” He stills.

“It’s distracting,” You breathe.

“You need to go now, don’t you?” Mingi crouches so that your eyes can meet his.

All you can do is nod.

“Alright,” Mingi reaches for the shower knob, “hold her,”

“Got her,”

Mingi cranks the shower off, the water cutting off abruptly, and he reaches outside the curtain to drag in a fluffy gray towel. He shakes it out and moves closer to you, “Nice and easy,” he murmurs.

“I need to lay down,” You manage, but it sounds like a sob, “please, Mingi, please,”

“I know,” He says, wrapping the towel around your shaking body, “that’s where we’re going.”

The towel feels like little needles to your hypersensitive skin and you can’t help the hot, fat tears that roll down your cheeks. The way you’re rocketed back into this headspace of needing to be knotted is so much faster than before, which means you’re entering the peak of your heat. It will probably be like this for a while, you know that, but right now rational thoughts are bleeding away and all you can think about is them.

Soft hands on your cheeks bring you out of your haze and you feel Mingi brushing away your tears, “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs softly, “you’re alright,”

You grimace, “This sucks,”

He smiles, wide and genuine and nods, “I know,”

“I’m,” Your voice is caught in your throat and you shift painfully, curling onto your side, “fuck, I’m really glad you’re here,”

Mingi nods again, “Here, and not going anywhere,”

You need them, and you wriggle out of your towel so all you can feel is the softness of the sheets, “Can somebody touch me, please?”

“Mhm,” Mingi runs a hand across your bare shoulders and gives you a gentle squeeze, “tell me what you need, babe,”

A shiver runs through you, and you sniffle, trying to answer but finding it hard to do.

“Are you cold?” Yunho murmurs, dropping to your eye line as he kneels by the side of the bed you’re turned towards.

“Like a fever,” Mingi’s hand rests over your forehead, “she’s got chills,”

You hold Yunho’s eyes, and he softens, “Can I come in?”

You reach for him, nodding and blinking back the sudden flood of tears.

“Okay,” He says as he shifts onto the bed, dragging his blanket over you both, “let me warm you up,”

You snap to his chest like a magnet, snuggling up close and feeling like your body might never stop shaking.

“Mingi,” Yunho murmurs low as he strokes your hair, “get in here,”

“Yep,” The bed shifts behind you and then suddenly you’re enveloped in warmth.

Mingi presses behind you, the length of your back fitted neatly against the broad, firm plane of his chest. He runs hot, hotter than Yunho by a degree or two and the combination of them both on either side of you has you cocooned in steadying heat. The blanket shifts over you and before you know it, you’re snuggled tightly between the two of them.

“Better?” Mingi checks in with you, his fingertips grazing your cheek as he pushes back your hair.

“Mm,” You shudder, teeth chattering, “but I’m just s-so cold,”

“Shh,” Yunho soothes, shifting slightly so that he can drop his lips to your shoulder. He exhales heavily, a slow stream of warm air across your skin, “it’s okay, omega,”

Mingi’s mouth connects with your back and he follows suit, another jet of warm air fluttering down your spine.

A little whine breaks through your lips, and Mingi’s mouth turns to deliver kisses between every puff of hot air, your body melting now in their arms.

“Don’t cry,” Yunho pulls you closer, “we’ll take such good care of you, sweetheart, that’s what your alphas are here for,”

You nod against him, “It’s getting worse,”

Yunho shifts back to look at you again, “What can we do?”

“Just be here,” You slip your leg in between his, tangling you both tighter together as Mingi scoots forward, “it’s just happening so fast,”

“Off meds it can be like this,” Mingi assures you, “don’t be scared,”

“I feel dizzy,” You admit, “foggy,”

“Is this helping at all?” Yunho asks, his brows drawn together in a nervous expression.

“Mhm,” You manage.

“Foggy, how?” Mingi asks, trying to get a good look at you.

You think a moment, wetting your lips and taking a slow breath, “Disconnected,”

“Mm,” He nods, “I think you’re peaking faster than you expected,”

“What does that mean?” Yunho glances up at Mingi, “Should we do something differently?”

“You tell me if I’m wrong,” Mingi says, kissing your shoulder, “but basically it means less time between drops. Things get hazy, more instinctual. For my ex, sometimes she didn’t remember everything we did or things she said,”

“I don’t like that,” Yunho says quietly.

“That’s why we talked this morning,” You pause, thinking it through as best you can through the ache, “yesterday? That’s why… I mean, this is what I,” Words come slowly and your first tightens as you search for the right thing to say.

“Easy,” Mingi soothes you, “relax, okay? The details don’t matter right now,”

“Right,” You sigh.

“I just,” Yunho’s hand tightens on your lower back, “you were going to go home and deal with this alone? There’s no way, and with an unmated alpha home,”

Panic lances through you, “Don’t be angry with me, please,”

“I’m not angry,” He clarifies immediately, “not at all, y/n,”

“You sound upset,” You admit.

“I’m not,” He soothes you, “I’m just thankful you’re here, that you’re safe,”

“There wasn’t a chance in hell I was letting her go home,” Mingi says calmly, “you just offered so quick,”

“I don’t know,” Yunho murmurs, “I just needed to,”

“I get it,” Mingi nods.

You feel a little like you could fall asleep, except for the fact that every minute shift of their bodies against yours feels like a lick of hot fire, and you know you’re close to the bubbling need resurfacing in your belly. You tighten your legs together, hips shifting back at the pulse of your core, and forward as you try to find a comfortable position. A cramp ripples through your abdomen and you feel the telltale gush of slick preparing you for another knotting. Yunho’s eyes blow wide and you know he can feel your body shifting and changing, and you’re sure Mingi can too.

“I got you,” Yunho breathes, pulling his hand under the covers and navigating to find the juncture of your thighs.

You adjust your tangled legs so that you can open up to him, naturally shifting back against Mingi’s chest in the process, “Please,”

His fingers slide through your folds with ease and he sighs, “You’re so wet, omega,”

“Mm,” You shake, stretching your legs open wider, and Mingi slips a hand down to cup your thigh and hold you open.

“I won’t keep you waiting,” Yunho assures you, dipping forward to capture your lips. He kisses you with a warm, slow intensity, sighing against your mouth as his tongue flicks along the underside of yours. When his fingers sink home inside you, you moan into his open mouth, your eyes pressing shut tightly and hips jerking against Mingi.

“Yunho,” You shiver, “yes, please, yes,”

He keeps his mouth on your skin as he draws his hand back, dragging his two fingers almost completely out of your throbbing channel. He nips gently at your lower lip and then suddenly he’s forcing you open again, pushing three fingers in as deeply as his knuckles will allow, pulsating them gently in and out.

“Mm-fuck,” You whine, “so good,”

“That’s it,” Yunho speeds up just a little, enough to drag his fingertips over your spongy g-spot, “right there?”

You groan a response.

“Is that your sweet spot?” Yunho nips at your lip again, “Did I find it, jagi? Does that feel good?”

Every flick of his middle finger inside you, the push of his knuckles against your swollen clit, his hot eyes studying your face, every piece of it has you sinking further into Mingi’s chest and close to coming apart at the seams. Yunho makes a small noise to prompt your answer and you nod, hazy.

“There,” You work your hips down against him, “deeper,”

“Deeper,” He smirks, pushing his hand forwards fast and hard, leaving you groaning.

“Fuck,” Mingi breathes behind you, his hand slipping away from your thigh and you feel his cock starting to stiffen against your ass.

You’re writhing between them, trying to find purchase on the sheets below you so you can rock your hips down and fuck yourself open on Yunho’s fingers, chasing the stretching feeling, blush erupting across your chest and cheeks as you pant.

“So sexy,” Mingi growls gently in your ear, kissing your throat before his hand slides over your hip and cups one plush cheek in his wide hand, “you feel that?” He juts his hips up, dragging his hard cock over your skin.

“Oh, god,” You moan sharply.

“Come here,” Mingi slides his hand under, sweeping through your wet slick and over Yunho’s fingers, and you’re not sure exactly what he’s planning until he draws his hand back and dips his digits between your cheeks.

You gasp sharply as his middle finger finds the tight ring of muscle of your ass, pressing against it without pushing inside, just spreading your slick up and around to prepare you for whatever he has planned next. At your sharp inhale, Yunho looks up at Mingi and tries to gauge what’s happening, realization dawning on him when you moan sharply and grip down on his arm.

“Does that feel good?” Mingi curls over you as he proceeds slowly, pushing the tip of his finger inside your untouched hole, “Come on, pretty omega, tell me,”

“I don’t,” You stutter, holding onto Yunho’s shoulders as you shift and try to get used to the sensation, moaning as he pushes in a little deeper, “oh, my fuck,”

“Good?” Yunho checks.

“G-good, please don’t stop,” You choke out.

“That’s our girl,” Mingi chuckles softly, and you feel them adjust their hands and sync their pace.

You feel full, touched, tortured, and aching, their combined fingers matching pace perfectly to sink in and out of your body at a deliciously brutal pace. Where a moment ago you were riding Yunho’s fingers, chasing your orgasm with shaking need, now all you can do is hold on and let them take you. Taut pressure drops in your belly and you moan sharply, legs trembling, “I’m - oh god,”

“Come for us,” Yunho kisses you hard and fast, fingers curling into your hair to hold you steady as he fucks you with his other hand, “come on our fingers, baby,”

“S-shit,” You scramble in their hold, sweat dripping down your front.

“I know,” Yunho croons softly, holding your gaze, “you’re so close, omega, I can feel it,”

“I’m gonna come,” Your voice is mumbled, caught in a moan.

“Take it,” Yunho pants, the muscles in his arm jumping as he flexes and adjusts. He sinks forward, pressing his forehead against yours and he nods, “come on, come on, baby,”

You whine and jerk, hot pleasure churning in your gut and building to the perfect precipice.

Mingi’s free hand grips your shoulder and suddenly his lips are at your ear as his finger fucks into you faster and faster, “You need more?”

“Yes, fuck, yes,”

A second finger stretches you open and you choke out a strangled moan, “Mingi!”

He growls against you, pushing his cock against your skin for some friction as he continues to match Yunho’s pace, “I bet you wish you were taking both our cocks, don’t you?”

The image of it flashes in your mind, your body sheathing both of them, feeling stretched and full. Their hips working in time, breaking you apart piece by precious piece in their hands, lips everywhere, hands everywhere. Your muscles clench hard on their fingers and you moan.

“Oh, you do,” He teases, hand tight on your shoulder, “what a good girl,”

“I’m c-coming,” You choke, body twisting up and locking into pleasure.

“There,” Yunho grips your hair harder, his mouth hanging open as he watches you fall apart, “there she is,”

“Oh god, oh god,” You whine, the crest of your orgasm only building in intensity, “I c-can’t, I can’t stop,”

“Holy fuck,” Mingi’s fingers slide out and his hand curls around your hip to hold you steady.

Yunho follows suit, but then suddenly he moves, hands leaving you and lips traveling down your body until he slips under the blanket entirely.

“Yunho,” Your voice dies with a squeak when his hands push your thighs open wide and his tongue flicks over your clit. Your hips jerk back on a reflex, legs moving to close, your body feeling overstimulated and tight, but he won’t let you go.

He wrenches your legs back open with ease, hooking them up over his shoulders and sinking his tongue back inside you, a groan on his lips as he laps at your wet slit, “You taste so sweet, jagiya,”

“Honey,” Mingi sighs, “and sweet chamomile, just for us,”

Your brain feels like it’s firing all at once, an overwhelming torrent of sensations that you can’t quite single out, just a din of feeling collapsing over you as your orgasm starts to build again, barely a moment of respite, “God,”

Mingi’s hips press forwards, his cock nestled against your ass and you reach back for him, finding his hip and cupping him close. He rocks twice, dragging against you for some dry friction and then he stops himself with a taut sound.

You lean back against his shoulder and shake your head, “Don’t stop,”

“Shh,” Mingi hushes you, “just focus on,”

“D-don’t tell me what to do,” You grip down on Mingi’s hip, dragging him closer, “use me, don’t stop if you need it,”

He holds your eyes a moment, hesitating, but Yunho sucks at your aching clit and you arch back against Mingi, trapping his cock against your plush ass again and you watch him crumble.

“Fuck it,” He crushes you to his chest, pumping his hips steadily, his hand on your hip sliding forward and closing over your stomach to press you back and tighten the feeling of his cock trapped between your bodies.

“Yes, yes,” You whine as Yunho finds a good rhythm, tongue flicking over you again and again, and your nails dig into Mingi’s arm over your chest.

“Come here,” Mingi curses in your ear, reaching suddenly for the blanket and tossing it to the side.

Cool air wafts over you and makes you shiver, and you look down at Yunho between your legs, moaning at the sight of him buried against your cunt, eating at you with a reckless eagerness you’ve never seen in him. He’s messy, hair mussed and still damp from the shower, face glistening with your slick and he smiles as he readjusts and dives back in.

“I want to watch,” Mingi nips at your ear, still thrusting against your backside, “look at you,”

Trapped between them, you’re a breath away from another orgasm, and you open your mouth to say something, anything, when Mingi’s hand over your belly shifts lower to rest on the soft place just above your pubic bone.

“Make a mess,” Mingi pants, “come on Yunho’s face, baby,”

Mingi presses the heel of his hand down just as Yunho sucks sharply on your clit and it hits you harder than before, ripping a desperate cry from your lips and locking your body up in desperate rocking pleasure.

“No, no,” Mingi yanks you back as you curl away from him into your release, holding you steady so that he can grind himself hard along your skin, his voice breathy and tight, “just a little,” he manages and then you feel him jerk hard, warm wetness across your back as his hips slow and his muscles melt.

Your brain floats a moment and then clicks back into place and you register Yunho slowly lapping at your folds, bringing you down back to earth until he knows you’re through it. With slow movements he eases out from between your legs, kissing you gently as he does, stretching your legs out to rest on the bed instead of his shoulders.

“Hey,” His voice is quiet and soft, fingers on your cheek, “you okay in there?”

Your eyes flutter open and he’s close, brown eyes easy on yours and his face still shiny with your arousal. You swallow hard and unfurl from your position on Mingi’s shoulder, “I’m perfect,”

You must be a picture, slick with sweat and cum, Mingi attached to your back like a koala as he drops in and out of sated sleep. Yunho smiles down at you, “I’m just going to step in the bathroom a second, but I’ll be back,”

“Okay,” You sigh, “I’m good,”

It’s not even a lie, you do feel okay, but you still find yourself tracking his movements as he shifts around the opposite side of the bed and slips into the bathroom. He leaves the door open and the light on so you can still see him as he washes his hands and locates a hand towel in the little linen cupboard.

Mingi makes a sleepy noise behind you, and you squeeze his fingers.

“Hmm?” He jumps at the sensation, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” You assure him, “everything’s fine, get some rest,”

Yunho comes back and Mingi drags himself up into a sitting position, scrubbing the orgasmic haze from his eyes, “No, no I’m up,”

“Here,” Yunho murmurs, tossing the hand towel to Mingi, and you now see that it’s damp and meant to clean you up.

“Thanks,” Mingi catches it deftly and eases the warm cloth down over your skin, wiping away any evidence of the night so far, “y/n,” he catches your attention, “how are you feeling?”

“Sore,” You admit, “but better for the moment,”

“Alright,” He throws the towel towards the open hamper, “can you stay with Yunho a while? I need to get some food together,”

A nervous flutter lights up in your stomach but you take a steadying breath and nod, “Yeah,”

“If you’re peaking this quick I want you to eat some more,” He explains, “while we still can,”

“Thank you,” You murmur, this time letting him take care of you instead of fighting it.

“If you need to sleep,” Mingi offers, “don’t fight it, I can always keep a plate warm for you.”

“Okay,”

“If you need anything,” Mingi says, not to you, but to Yunho, “just shout.”

“Yep,” Yunho returns to your line of sight, dressed in a pair of oversized gray sweats and black cut off t-shirt. With a smile to ease your nerves he climbs back into the bed, righting the covers over you both and offering an arm, “you want to cuddle, or do you need some space?”

You shift into his arms without hesitation, the tense knot inside you releasing once again now that you’re in his arms. Mingi murmurs that he’ll be back, and you listen carefully to the sound of him moving through the apartment, the sounds of the kitchen, the low hum of the building around you.

“Are you really feeling okay?” Yunho asks softly, running a hand down the tensed muscle of your arm.

“Better,” You pull your eyes back to his, “I just don’t know how long it’ll last,”

“I’m sorry this hurts so much,” He murmurs, “I wish I knew about your suppressants,”

“Yunho,” You shake your head, “I already told you,”

“No, no, I know why you didn’t say anything,” He interrupts, “I don’t mean that. I’m just sorry you have to feel like this,”

“It’s better being here,” You tell him quietly, “with you,”

“Better than being alone?” He asks.

“Yes,” You nod, “but better than being with anyone else too,”

“Oh,” His voice is soft, his eyes widening just a little.

“I’ve been with other alphas,” You tell him, shifting a little closer in his arms, “but it’s never like this,”

“I’m,” He considers his words a moment, jaw tightening as he contemplates. “Am I doing things right?”

“Knotting’s pretty self explanatory,” You smile, teasing him just a little.

He sighs and rolls his eyes, “So, you are feeling better,”

“Sorry,” You brush your hand down his chest, “I’m sorry, no, you are, you’re doing everything right,”

“Good,” He exhales in relief, “it all feels right in the moment, but I didn’t want that to be one sided,”

“No,” You assure him, “go with your gut,”

There’s a clatter in the kitchen and you turn slightly towards the noise. Yunho’s hands tighten and then relax on you and he nudges you gently, “Still okay?”

“Mhm,” You clear your throat, “my chest feels a little tight,”

“Without Mingi?” He questions, stroking the gland in your throat to help calm you down.

“Yeah,” You give him a soft smile, “are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Helped an omega through heat?” He asks, still stroking your throat, “I’m sure,”

“I’m surprised,” You confess.

“Mm,” He shrugs, “I mean, I’ve been with omegas, but they’ve all been on suppressants and I guess… I don’t know, I just never found the right person,”

Your brows draw together, “What do you mean?”

“I’ve dated plenty,” He shrugs, a little sheepishly, “I just haven’t found the right person to stay with, and heat always seemed like something you’d share with, you know, the right person,”

“You’re a romantic,” You chuckle softly, “heat’s always been a thing to get through for me,”

“I can see why,” He nods, “and I don’t know, maybe I am?”

You tuck yourself further under the blanket with him and adjust so that you can talk better eye to eye, “Do you want kids?”

“Someday,” He answers without hesitation or discomfort, not like so many of the men you had dated or slept with who panic backstep from that question like you’re telling them you were already pregnant.

“Family’s important to you,” You surmise.

“Very much so,” He smiles, “I’m really close with my parents and my brother,”

“That’s nice,” You tell him softly, and you find yourself loving the way his eyes light up when he talks about them.

“Do you?” He asks suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Do I, what?”

“Want kids,”

Your gut twists at the words, your biology responding to the idea of an alpha talking about babies, but you sigh and tell the truth, “I don’t know yet,”

“Really?” He quirks a brow.

“Yes, really,” A flare of annoyance flutters through you, at the idea of yet another alpha dismissing your opinion on children, but his next words disarm you entirely.

“That’s good,” He says with ease, “it’s honest. Not everyone knows, especially at our age.”

“Exactly,”

“If you ever do,” He offers with a smile, his hand stroking your spine slowly, “I think you’d make a good parent. You’re always taking care of everyone at the studio and checking up on them, and I know you’re working like crazy but you don’t let the stress show,”

“Oh,”

“If,” He clarifies immediately, misreading your lack of response for some kind of reproach, “I just mean, you’re a good person, and you take good care of your friends, that’s all,”

“Thank you,” You reach for him, bringing him back from his word vomit attempt at a back pedal apology, “that’s probably one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me,”

His mouth slips shut, the rest of his words dying in the negative space between you and he sighs in relief.

Another sound erupts in the kitchen and you hear Mingi curse quietly, and you dip your face into Yunho’s chest to bury your laugh.

“He’s fine,” Yunho laughs with you, “he has a habit of burning things,”

“I thought he was the cook,” You smile.

“Oh, he is,” Yunho snuggles closer to you, “I have about three things in my rotation before I start producing hazardous waste,”

“Cute,” You murmur.

He holds you a little longer and you keep listening to the sound of Mingi in the kitchen. With Yunho’s arms around you, you start to wonder who that perfect person would be, the girl who would have taken his heart and drawn him in enough for more than a few dates.

“Yunho,” You murmur up to him.

“Hmm?”

“If sharing heat is so special,” You find yourself asking, “why did you ask me to come home with you?”

“I don’t know,” He answers honestly, “but I saw you there and something in my brain clicked, I knew I needed to keep you safe,”

“Have you ever seen an omega in heat before?” You ask.

“No,” He admits, “not an unmated omega at least,”

“The biology is intense,” You comment, feeling a subtle twinge in your back that makes you shift your hips.

“No kidding,”

“Is it alright that I’m here?” You murmur, words quiet. You know there’s no way you can take him telling you no, not at this point in your heat, but you also have to ask.

“More than alright,” He brushes off your anxiety with ease and holds you close, “don’t think like that,”

Another ache in your back lights up and you shift positions again.

“Are you hurting?” His hand slips over your hip.

“Yeah,” You sigh honestly, “Mingi’s right, I’m peaking fast,”

“We’ll take care of you,” He soothes, “don’t worry,”

“I know,”

“Hey,” Mingi’s voice makes you jump and you turn to see him re-enter the room, a tray of food in his hands, “you’re still awake,”

The tight cord wrapped around your chest releases immediately at the sight of him and Yunho smiles as he feels the rest of your tightly locked muscles relax in his hands.

“I’m starving,” Yunho shifts up in the bed and brings you with him so that you’re both in a sitting position.

“There’s plenty,” Mingi smiles, plopping the tray down on Yunho’s lap before climbing back over you both to take up his post on your left side.

“Can you eat?” Yunho drags the tray over both your thighs.

“A little,” You nod, “and then maybe some sleep?”

“You want to try to nap?” Mingi brushes your hair with his fingers.

“I don’t know what’s better,” You admit, reaching for a dish of rice, “that might make it worse,”

“Napping never makes anything worse,” Mingi shakes his head, “tuck in and then we’ll try and get as much sleep as your body will let us,”

You agree, even though at first you’re not sure if you can settle down enough to sleep. It isn’t until your second bowl of rice and warm broth that your eyes start to feel heavy, your brain sluggish and slow. You know you’re starting to peak properly now, heading into the thick of the fog where anything your body wants you’ll beg to get, but that conscious thought starts to fade away. Despite the throb between your thighs, you’re mostly sated for the moment, full of food and surrounded by them. You blink slowly, trying to make sense of Mingi’s words as he takes the tray of food off your lap and shifts it to the side.

Your body feels like it’s floating a little as Yunho eases you down into the bedding.

The warm glow from the bedside table lamps disappears.

You melt into the mattress beneath you, the taste of chocolate on the tip of your tongue.

For now, you sleep.

#honeyhotteoks fics #ateez fics #ateez ff #ateez series #this night together fic #yunho x reader #yunho #jeong yunho #yunho smut #yunho fic #mingi x reader #mingi #song mingi #mingi smut #mingi fic #yungi x reader #yungi fic #yungi smut

1K notes · View notes

tropes-and-tales · 1 year

Text

A Hundred and One Nights

Characters: Yautja/Predator x f!reader

CW: Talk of injuries and illness; talk of death; yearning. No smut.

Word Count: 4819

Other Pieces: There is a part two here.

The Yautja aren’t above making mistakes. When they kidnap a number of elite soldiers and killers from Earth to hunt, you somehow get swept up too.

You, a high school English teacher. The only things you’ve ever killed are centipedes and a squirrel once that ran under your tires as you drove down the street.

You were not a killer.

It doesn’t stop the Yautja from making the mistake, which is why you wake up suddenly. Falling. Free-falling through a blue sky.

You’re in a parachute, and it engages just a beat too late. You crash through the tree cover and land in the underbrush, hard. You snap your ankle, and the pain that lances through you is so sharp, so urgent, that you finally realize that you aren’t dreaming at all.

-----

There’s others. They find you.

They leave you.

“She’d only slow us down,” says the one man. He turns away without a second glance.

“We’ll come back for you,” promises the woman, but she doesn’t meet your eye when she says it.

You wait until they are out of earshot to start crying. You’re scared and hurt and you have no idea where you are.

But once you’re done, you swipe away your tears and try to come up with a plan.

-----

You were a Girl Scout, so you know basic first aid. Bush first aid. You had the badge to prove it.

You snap a few sticks, tear off the bottom hem of your shirt. You create a rough splint for your ankle, and then you find another, sturdier stick that is forked at the end: a rough crutch.

It hurts so badly, and progress is slow. You hobble through the jungle and every step is fraught. The ground is uneven.

In the distance, you hear screams, snarls. You hear a high-pitched whistle.

You have no idea where you are, but some primal part of your brain is activated: you are in danger, and every cell in your body knows it.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.

The first night, you make it to the edge of the jungle just as darkness falls. The stars are in configurations that you’ve never seen before, and your first thought is that you’re in the southern hemisphere.

Moments later, the moon appears over the ridge.

Then a second moon, and later that night, a third.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.

You can do without food for quite a while, but water becomes a problem. The planet is hot and humid and you sweat so much, and your mouth takes on a desperately dry, sticky quality.

You hobble onward. You pass another human, a corpse that looks like it’s been there a while. You’d throw up but your stomach is empty, so it only cramps painfully until you get away from the smell.

You pass giant metal containers with deflated, tangled parachutes. Other things have been dropped here—big things that required cages.

You find a river and you nearly cry. You manage to clumsily kneel in the mud and you drink and drink and drink until you throw it all up. Then you drink some more.

-----

You find an outcropping of rock. You manage to tear up some saplings to lay across the rock face, giving you some scant camouflage.

You still haven’t eaten. Your stomach has stopped growling, but you hallucinate food. You swear you can smell smoke, and underneath it you catch the phantom scent of barbeque, of smoked meats, of charred vegetables with a balsamic glaze, of rich red wines and crisp white ones, of heavy cakes that lie sweet and rich on the tongue, washed down with coffee so dark it makes your toes curl…

You jolt awake with a start. It’s night and you’ve fallen asleep but there’s flickering orange over the nearest ridge. Something is on fire.

-----

When you startle awake again, it’s because of an explosion in the sky—a spaceship exploding into a fireball.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.

You catch sight of parachutes in the sky, but you can’t worry about them. You know you are going to die on this planet, so far from home, but you wonder if any of the creatures being dropped are going to be the ones to kill you.

Maybe. Maybe not. The fever might kill you first.

It’s your ankle with the nub of broken bone sticking out of your skin, a sight so distressing that you can’t look at it without getting faint.

It’s any of the handful of cuts all over your body. You have no way to disinfect them. You do your best to clean your wounds in the river, but infection sets in and you grow feverish, sluggish, crazed with heat.

-----

You wake up to a strange clicking sound. A chittering sound, like an insect might make….if insects were huge. The air in front of you shimmers and you think it’s the heat of the day, but then there’s a couple of beeps, and it comes into startling, terrifying view.

The thing. The alien, though on this world, you suppose you are the alien.

The thing hunting you.

You had put it together piece by piece over the past days (weeks?). The giant planet that seems to be empty save for the creatures dropped in via parachutes. The humans you dropped in with—all of them elite fighters, from the looks, save the one smaller white guy.

When you were young, your father and his brothers used to quail hunt. They’d buy a crate of half-tame birds and then loose them into the grounds around their hunting camp, then pick them off one by one. This seemed to be the exact same thing.

You’re not upset it (he?) found you. You’re sick and exhausted and hungry and thirsty, and the infection raging through your body will kill you if he doesn’t. A bullet to the brain will be quicker and less painful than wasting away.

“S’okay,” you tell him, holding out your empty hands to him in supplication. “At least…least I got to see another planet. D-different stars. Better than…other ways to d-die.”

He tilts his head at you. Says nothing. Does nothing. You lick your cracked lips and try to sit up straighter, but you cry out at the grinding pain of your ankle.

He doesn’t move—he only watches.

“Figured it out,” you continue. “Figured out what this is. Game preserve, right?” You chuckle, wince against the throb of pain in your head. “Can’t be much of a trophy for you though, huh? B-broke my ankle straight away. W-weak.”

He’s so still that you’d think he was a statue, but the dread-like things on his head sway in the breeze.

“Like the short story, y’know? The Most Dangerous Game. I tell it to my honors students sometimes. General Zaroff and his hunting hounds, Ship-Trap Island, all the rest….” You trail off, not sure why you’re babbling at this creature who is only staring at you.

You’re also not sure why he just doesn’t get it over with. Just kill you already.

“It’s okay,” you tell him. You shut your eyes, nod your head. “I’m ready. You can do it.”

You keep your eyes shut, and each moment that passes, your courage fails you a little more. You’re sick and already dying, but you want another day, another night, another moment to feel the breeze or see these strange stars or remember all the books you’ve read and loved and mourn those you never got to read, all the movies—

“Tell. Story.” You open your eyes at the sound of your own voice, see the creature fiddling with some computer strapped to his arm. It’s your own words. Your words, recorded and played back to you.

“Tell. Rest. Story,” he repeats, using your words to communicate with you.

“You…you want me to tell you the story? The Most Dangerous Game?” You blink and shake your head slightly, sure this is the fever causing you to hallucinate the entire thing.

He nods his head. Curt. A single nod.

The fever roars to life in you. A million emotions: relief at earning another moment or two of life, disappointment for it to not be over. Your head feels heavy and light as air at the same time, and your vision starts to waver again, but he’s still standing in front of you, impassive.

“I think—” you start to say, but darkness descends swiftly, and you aren’t aware of much beyond a handful of sensations: a stabbing, needling pain in your thigh, a rough hand on your face, and your entire body being lifted and carried.

*****

He’s not sure why he saves you.

It wouldn’t be honorable to kill you and consider it an good hunt, but it would be merciful to kill you. Be’kan can smell you from a distance, the sickly-sweet smell of illness. You will die soon. You are a filthy creature when he finds you, slick with sweat and shivering and coated in dirt, but you hold out your hands to show you have no weapons.

And then you fix him with your bright gaze—the fever giving you a crazed look—and you speak to him.

It’s the promise of a story. Yautja live for the Hunt, but they live for stories nearly as much. They hunt, then they gather and tell each other stories. It’s half of why they record their hunts through their masks: to learn from their prey, but also to glory in the retelling.

The promise of your story. A story of a hunter. Be’kan kneels beside your unconscious form and jabs you with needle to kill some of your pain. Then he lifts you up, throws you over his shoulder, and takes you back to camp.

-----

His brothers tease him. They share a sire but Be’kan is the eldest, and the younger ones torment him.

“This ooman is already dead, brother.”

“The ooman-di certainly smells dead.”

“Our brother has found a pet to nurse back to health.”

It earns them all a cuff to their heads, a snarled warning, but they chuckle and leave him to it. Leave him to you.

-----

The needle he gave could heal small wounds, but the fever that burns through you requires something more.

He gives you a second needle’s worth of painkiller, and then he does the only thing that can heal you: he gives you his blood. Just a little. Just enough.

First, though, he has to reset your broken bone. His blood will course through you fast and hot, and it’ll heal anything in its path. The bone needs to be set or else it will heal wrong.

You wake up when he hauls your leg into his lap. You sit up, fold yourself upward towards him, and you try to pull away, not understanding what he’s doing.

“Be still,” he barks, and you freeze—long enough for him to wrap a paw around your leg, the other around your foot, and wrench the broken bones back together.

The shriek you let loose hurts his head, sets a roosting flock of birds alight over the nearby trees. You’re in so much sudden pain that you grasp his upper arm, you bury your face against his shoulder before you go slack against him, and if love is an especially rare thing for a Yautja, then this is perhaps the moment it enters his bloodstream and starts to infect him, very, very slowly.

*****

You wake to find that you feel better than you have in years: fever broken, ankle healed. Your cuts and bruises have all disappeared.

There are three other…things. Aliens. Whatever they are, they are tall and broad. They are packed with muscles and claws, and they have an entire arsenal of weapons on them.

The one who saved you—it doesn’t take long before you think of him as yours. He is fascinating to look at, certainly ugly by human standards, but he’s fascinating. Grey-blue in color, dull grey metal mask with a mark etched into it. Ornaments woven into the dread-like things that sprout from his head: polished stones and rings of metal and little pieces of bone.

He seems older than the others, though they don’t have any discernable markings of age. No grey hair, no wrinkles. He only seems older because he moves slower, more ponderous. Where the others click and chitter at each other, he makes less noise—but when he does, the others still and listen.

-----

You figure it out—he keeps you alive for your stories.

The first story is the Most Dangerous Game, and he doesn’t seem to listen. He makes you sit near the fire while he painstakingly polishes and sharpens his bladed weapons. He makes you tell the story, and he doesn’t seem to listen, but when you trail off halfway through, he cocks his head and makes an irritated clicking at you. So you finish.

He keeps you alive. He feeds you, brings you water. He gives you a wide fur to curl up in while you sleep, and he keeps himself between you and the dark night on the planet. He keeps you from anything that may try to come out of the darkness and hurt you.

I have become Scheherazade, you think to yourself as you watch him where he lies near you. I have to tell him stories to save my own life.

*****

Be’kan hunts with his kin, then he listens to your stories at night. His kin may tease him, but he catches them listening on the sly, eavesdropping as you tell your stories and weave your tales with your words. You get more and more comfortable each night; you seem to fear him less.

It is odd that you’re such a good storyteller. He never thought of oomans as such. They are a clever, sneaky species, but he never knew they had such stories. And you seem to know them all.

It is good that you are a good storyteller, because you are otherwise unimpressive. You’re weak and small, a soft thing. A ridiculous thing. Up close, he can see how fragile oomans are: the hide that tears so easily, the soft claws that cannot slash anything. Bones too easily snapped. He learned that lesson when he healed you—he had been too rough and hurt you. He’d felt a sting of shame—a strange emotion for a Yautja—and vowed to be gentler with you.

Not that he will touch you if he can help it. You are ugly like all oomans are. You have no markings. You have dull teeth and a strange fleshy mouth and wide eyes that leak water. You are the same as all of your species.

So it’s good that you tell your stories, because otherwise he’d be quit of you: he’d tear your spine out, and then he’d never again have to tuck you into his furs each night to keep your frail ooman body warm.

*****

It takes a while to calibrate which stories he wants, which…of course he wants stories about hunters and killers and fierce battles.

Which means you run through the standard fare pretty early on. You tell him the Tale of John McClane, the Tale of Kevin McAllister, the numerous Tales of James Bond. You turn Indiana Jones into a Nazi hunter instead of an archeologist. The Lord of the Rings becomes a fellowship intent on hunting down and killing Sauron. Luke Skywalker is a man out to kill an entire litany of Storm Troopers before he kills his father. You have him kill the Ewoks too, just for fun.

Your creature….you wonder if sexism exists in his species, so you tell him the Tale of Sarah Connors to see how he reacts to a woman protagonist. By now, he sits in rapt attention, takes a deep squat near the fire and stares at you as you tell how Sarah Connors starts as the hunted, then ends up the hunter.

He seems to enjoy the story. He gives a slow nod at the end, as if he’s satisfied.

-----

You try more varied fare. You tell him the story of Jane Eyre.

He takes the wrong message from it.

He also speaks to you, more than he ever has before. He usually just gives you one or two word commands in his rough English, but hearing about Jane Eyre?

“No,” he barks, and he shakes his head angrily when you get the part where Jane flees to the moors.

“Well, the story isn’t done—”

“Jane is unworthy,” he spits out. “A worthy mate would not flee.”

You catch the way his hands flex, the sharp claws that tip his fingers. The warning growl he makes.

“You have to listen to the rest of the story,” you say carefully, and for the first time in the history of gothic romance novels, Jane Eyre regroups on the moors, and then stalks back to Thornfield Hall to kill Bertha Mason and prove herself a worthy mate to Mr. Rochester.

The next night, you decide to not test your luck.

“To survive a war, you gotta become war,” you tell him as you settle by the fire. “Let me tell you a story about a man named John Rambo.”

-----

How many stories do you tell? Fifty? A hundred? It’s hard to tell. Sometimes you stretch out a story across nights, a tactic that seems to infuriate him—he snarls, he roars behind his mask, he stalks away—but then he seems more eager the next night, more eager to sit by you and listen.

And he is more willing to answer your questions, so you learn too.

His kind are called Yautja. He is called Be’kan, a name that comes out of his mouth like a bark. In his language of clicks and trills, it means Thundering Blade, which maybe explains why he enjoys stories with swords so much.

You tell him your name. You tell him, as best you can, what you did on Earth. He seems to interpret it as you being a storyteller of great fame, which makes you laugh—you barely made enough to live on your teaching salary, and your student loans would follow you into your dotage.

One night, he reaches up and undoes the grey metal mask he wears. He removes it and shows you his real face: an ugly thing by human standards, but just as fascinating as the rest of him. Small, close-set eyes so yellow they look like molten gold. Two pairs of tusks set around his mouth.

He doesn’t say anything and neither do you, but you get the very real sense that this is a moment of intimacy between the two of you. That he’s showing you a part of himself that many don’t get to see outside of his own kind.

*****

Be’kan can’t account for what he feels for you.

Yautja don’t love. Their breeding is a violent, painful thing. The females—larger, stronger—fight the males, kill the males to ensure they only breed with the strongest and most worthy. It is the same with the raising of their young: there’s no sentiment or cuddling once a pup is no longer a suckling.

You are a soft, small thing. Ugly and weak. And yet you’ve cracked open some hard part of him that makes him hurt when he thinks of parting from you.

And yet…he knows he has to.

He’s reviewed the data around the sweep that took you from your planet. It was a mistake, unthinkable yet real. You had crossed paths with a man that day—a certain man who had killed many in one of your kind’s wars. A man who had returned from war and kept killing.

You lived in the same building. You had no way of knowing.

The Yautja meant to take that man, that killer, but they took you.

Be’kan knows he has to take you back. His honor will allow him nothing else: you are no killer, you are not worthy prey. You are an exalted storyteller, a worthy position in his own society, so you must be returned to your own.

And yet, in that cracked-open place, he wants to forget his honor and keep you with him. He wants to tuck you into his furs each night and lie nearby, keeping guard over you. He wants to listen to your stories and answer your questions about his kind.

He wants you to fix him with that bright gaze of yours with those too-wide eyes that sometimes get watery. You see him and you don’t recoil though he is surely as ugly to you as you are to him.

He plans with his kin: they will return home in their ship, and he will take you back to Earth in his own before he joins them. It isn’t a long journey.

Then he tells you, and you don’t react the way he thought you might.

You frown. Then you go quiet.

That night, when he settles near you at the fire, you don’t tell him a story. And when he asks, you turn away from him.

“I don’t have any more stories,” you tell him. Then you curl up on your side, your knees to your chest, and Be’kan realizes he knows nothing at all about the ooman-di who has cracked open a part of him and left him aching and empty.

*****

Life back on Earth doesn’t resume quite so smoothly. Turns out, when you are missing for months and then suddenly resurface, people have questions.

The government has questions. Countless men and women in dark suits interrogate you, and since you can’t think of a single plausible reason other than the truth, you tell them the truth: that you were on an alien planet being hunted by aliens.

They don’t seem shocked, which shocks you.

-----

The U.S. government relocates you to a different part of the country as a fresh start. You keep your own name, and you still teach, but the government gives you a nice little house set back near the edge of a forest and a nice little monthly stipend to keep your mouth shut about your alien abduction.

Your new life is the same as your old. You teach, you go home at night. You make dinner and you read or watch a movie, then you go to bed.

Repeat day after day.

-----

You find that you miss him. It makes no sense. Maybe it’s Stockholm Syndrome, but it felt right to be there. On Earth, you always felt a step out of sync with other humans. You understood jokes a beat too late to laugh; you didn’t find joy in a lot of the things others did. You struggled to date, struggled to make friends. You had been alone for much of your life.

It was a simpler life, those few months.

Sleep curled up in warm furs, tell stories to keep your place with him. Look up at the night sky to see strange stars and create your own constellations with their own stories. Learn the hand signals he and his brothers give each other, learn what their different trills and clicks mean.

Then he took you on his ship and brought you back to Earth.

The night before you arrived back on Earth, he had opened a chamber on his ship. He stepped into it and gestured for you to join him, held his big paw of a hand out to you and you had taken it, tried to ignore how it felt when he closed his hand around yours, as gentle as if he were cupping a bird.

Then he placed his other hand on your back, just a gentle. Pulled you into the room and turned you to look at the display along the wall.

It was covered in skulls. Polished and mounted, so many different types that you gasped.

It had the same charged feel as when he had removed his mask. It was an intimacy that you guessed was rare.

You studied each skull closely, except for the one that was obviously human. You reached out and touched the sharp teeth and tusks of each, murmured at how dangerous each hunt must have been, how good a hunter he was.

You knew enough of Yautja sounds by then to know that the deep purring he made was pride.

-----

When you curl up in your bed each night, you miss the soft furs and the foreign stars in the sky over you.

You think of when he landed on Earth and left you. How he had reached out a hand to grasp your face, gently. How he had pressed the tip of one claw carefully to your lower lip as if he were testing how it felt.

-----

You spend one weekend building a fire pit in your backyard. You dig out a shallow bowl in the earth, line it with flat stones. You create a ring around the bowl with rocks. You spend a few hours in the woods behind your home, dragging large branches back, cutting them up with a bow saw.

You build a fire that night. You wrap yourself in a blanket and stare into the flickering orange flames while your muscles ache from the hard work.

It’s not the same but you try. “Let me tell you about a woman we’ll call the Bride, who went on a journey of revenge with a magical sword,” you murmur to the flames, and it’s easy to pretend that he’s just at the edge of the firelight, crouched down and listening in his still, intent way.

*****

Be’kan is not a Young Blood anymore, so he’s surprised to find that he is still capable of having the inner turmoil, the unsettled emotions of a much younger Yautja.

He had recorded many of your stories through his mask, but it’s not the same. The stories become flat and lifeless in the recordings. They don’t capture the magic you wove each night when you told them. And they don’t capture after the stories, when you’d curl up by the fire and when he’d lie a distance away, near enough to hear your deep breathing and the pitiful whimpers you sometimes made when you twitched and kicked in your sleep as you dreamed.

You belong with your own kind. You are a master; you teach the younglings of your kind with your stories. He knows this, yet he thinks of other oomans—their sly, sneaky ways, their treachery. How quickly your kind was willing to abandon you to suffer during the hunt. Then he rages at them, thinks they do not deserve you.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes. How many cycles in his ship, on his hunts account for the cycles on Earth.

He’s no longer a Young Blood, but a restlessness comes over him. He hunts with his kin. He hunts alone. He takes new trophies and cleans them, hangs them in his trophy room, but even here he thinks of you. He showed you his trophies and you had praised him, called him a great hunter, and he had trilled in pride.

He replays the stories you told. He replays the night he told you he was going to take you home, and how you had reacted.

You should have been happy to return to your own kind. He thinks, perhaps, he understands why now.

*****

Sitting around the fire becomes your way of unwinding in the evenings. A glass of wine, the warmth of the fire. You can look up and see the stars, even if they are the same ones you have always known.

When you hear that strange, clicking growl one night, you think it’s an auditory hallucination. There’s no way he’s here, no way he’s found you—

But he’s a hunter. He’s an apex predator, so when the air in front of you shimmers and then reveals him, you can’t really be that surprised.

What surprises you is how hard your heart leaps to see him. How quickly you spring to your feet and take those few steps to stand in front of him. You stop at the last minute, but you very nearly tackle him—as if you could, with how big he is—in a hug.

“You’re here,” you breathe out, and he makes the clicking, chuffing sound that you’ve always thought of as his version of laughter. But then it cuts off, and he tilts his head at you.

“Be’kan was unworthy,” he growls at you. “A worthy mate would not have fled.”

#yautja #yautja x reader #yautja imagine #predator #predator x reader #predator imagine #predator franchise

2K notes · View notes

towriteloveontheirarms · 5 days

Text

The princess´ favour (Criston Cole x Targtower!Reader)

synopsis: Your love may never be accepted by the people around you, that doesn´t hold you back from expressing it in the privacy of your chambers.

warnings: age gap, kinda forbidden relationship, smut, oral sex (m receiving), afab reader

word count: 1.9k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bucknastysbabe

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by me

As a girl you never understood what was so great about tourneys. Sitting beside your mother, flinching away from the raw violence of it all, while your brothers watched with a fascination you had rarely seen them have for anything. However, now as a woman grown, you began to see the appeal. Not for the fighting, but for something entirely else. Or rather someone entirely else. Sitting all the way in the front row of the stands with your brother Aemond, who was just under the age of being allowed to participate himself, watching on as knight after knight gets knocked off their horse. Analysing and talking on and on about what they could have done better, while your eyes solely rested on one knight, sitting on his horse waiting for his turn to most assuredly destroy his opponent. Your knight, as you called him in the secrecy of hidden places in the gardens, empty hallways around the keep and your chambers in the dead of night.

When it is Criston Cole's turn to compete against some knight from the Reach, whose name went in one ear and out the other almost immediately, he rides up to the stands. As his horse comes to a stand, his helmet finds its way under his arm and those dark eyes search for your own.

With a poorly concealed wide smile you lean over the railing. "Ser Criston."

His eyes light up with the way his name sounds falling from your lips and his own lips split into a smile, nodding to you in greeting.

“Your highness. I am sure to win this tourney. Would you do me the honour of doing so with your favour?” His voice carries over the background of excited chatter and knights barking commands at their squires.

Without hesitation you skip over to the small table to grab the ring braided from acacia blossoms to let it down the lance that is safely propped up against his side.

“Good luck, Ser.” You chirp, waiting for him to bow his head ever so lightly and then ride away to take his position. Only then you sit back down by Aemond´s side. The side eye he gives you easily goes ignored, as in the moment he opens his mouth, the horses start to race towards each other.

Of course, Criston ends up successfully knocking his opponent off his horse, having you jump up to applaud him enthusiastically. Along many other Ladies. Yet one look of his beautiful, dark eyes is enough to quell your doubts about his loyalty. It would be your chambers he would be sneaking into later.

“Have I told you how much I hate seeing you get hurt like this?” Your thumbs run over his cheeks to assess the extent of his wounds.

“You have, princess.” Criston smiles up at you, brown eyes watering as you run one of the digits over his busted lip, despite his victory he naturally had taken a few hits himself.

The heavy plates of his armour discarded and the clothes underneath unbuttoned to reveal his muscular chest.

“My apologies.” You mumble upon hearing him suck in a sharp breath.

Criston shifts ever so slightly before he lets you put the washcloth to his skin again, wandering down steadily. When you reach his chest, the backs of your noses brush against each other ever so slightly. Your breath catches in your throat and almost reflexively Criston's fingers twitch against your thigh.

"How are you feeling?" You mumble, still fully concentrated on cleaning his wounds.

"I feel quite alright, now that I have you all to myself." Criston looks at you, the glimpse of something sparkling in his eyes.

"My attention will always be on you only, my sweet knight. My affections will only ever belong to you." You put down the cloth you had used to clean him up and run your hands through his hair, before kissing his forehead.

After that you barely separate until your foreheads rest against each other, noses rubbing against each other playfully, before Criston´s lips find their way onto yours. They lap at each other in tender, languid motions while eager hands run over clothed bodies they had explored a multitude of times before. Still, even if you knew each other’s bodies like the back of your own hand, you would never grow tired of it. In all this time the butterflies never calmed.

In the blink of an eye Criston joins you on the bed, straddling your hips and pushing you onto your back. The world spins around the two of you from the abruptness of the motion, as the rough pad of a thumb traces your jaw line first, before running over your lower lip.

Instinctively your legs wrap around Criston´s hips. Before your lips can seal in another kiss though, you roll the two of you around, to comfortably kneel above the knight with a triumphant teasing smile.

“You have done enough already. Let me reward you for your win.” You whisper against his neck.

The tip of your tongue traces a line down the middle of his chest and abs to the hem of his pants.

On the bed Criston propped himself up on his elbows to look at you better, his breath hitching as you teased just under the material.

“As you wish, princess.” He breathed, hiding a half smile, by biting his lower lip.

You follow this up by pulling his pants and breeches down to his ankles to set the tan hardness free from its confines. The same action makes your mouth water at the thought of what was to follow alone already.

In a matter of moments, you gently take the base of his cock into one hand to lick up the length of the vein on its underside. When the wet muscle reaches the tip, your lips wrap around it eagerly, teasing the weeping slit. Underneath the hand resting on his strong thigh, the tired muscles begin to shake from the teasing actions.

“Princess…” Criston's shuddering voice sounds through the room.

His dark eyes, though half closed, are trained as you give his cock an experimental suck. Taking it in just a bit deeper. As an immediate reaction you can see from the corner of your eyes how the knight’s hands grip the sheets a bit tighter. With a happy sigh at the reaction, you set a comfortable pace. His hips meet your mouth, thrusting up with trembling legs.

After a while his thrusts become harsher, hitting the back of your throat now to elicit the most enticing moans mixed with quiet gagging sounds he had heard from you.

Amid trying to concentrate on breathing through your nose and the view of him vanishing under a veil of tears, the hand on his thigh wanders upwards. Immediately his body trembling turned into a full-on shaking. Your hand barely cups his stones, yet the touch pulls a groan from him, that has the juices from between your legs dripping down your own thighs. The sound is more rousing than anything you had ever heard before. You gently roll them in your palm and the knees on either side of your shoulders tighten abruptly and Criston´s hips push off the bed and into your mouth on their own volition.

“So good… I don´t think I am able to hold back much longer.” The cries of pleasure from his lips grow louder, uncaring of who outside the door might hear them.

The tip of the knight’s length slips past the back of your mouth and into your throat to make you gag. The wet sound fills the room for a moment followed by sputtering and panting, as you desperately gasp for air. At the same time, you never stopped pumping his hard cock.

The quick motions and have his body shaking uncontrollably, even more so when you put your lips to his big sack, placing gentle, wet kisses onto it and sucking it into your mouth. The two of you moan in unison. The vibrations again send shocks through Criston’s body, his eyes rolling back into his head and arms underneath going limp, unable to hold him up any longer.

“Please, princess.” The begging whimpers get repeated like a prayer.

You barely manage to separate long enough from laving affection onto his lower body to answer. “Please what, my sweet knight?”

“I'm so close." Is the desperate, needy whine you get to hear in turn. “Please, I want to finish.”

It's truly adorable how he still asks for permission to let his climax overcome him. Hips trying to hold back from trusting into your hand until you answered his pleads, swollen lips hanging open and a sheen of sweat coating his face.

“Go on then. Paint my face with your seed.” You encourage him, before going back to pay attention to his stones. Your tongue flicks out to play with them, while your hand tugs on the knight’s hardness just a bit faster. The other hand, which rubs circles into his inner thigh again, wanders up just far enough to let one finger put the lightest amount of pressure on the point right behind the sack. The reaction it earns in return is all the bigger.

Criston´s hands fist into the sheets and the groan that breaks free from tightly pressed together lips has you praying that no one would storm into the chambers while Criston does as you have told him. Painting your face with his seed, making you look like one of the women serving in the pillow houses in flea bottom. The ones Aegon would talk about, whenever he wished to upset either you or one of your siblings.

And in the moment, there exists no more beautiful sight in the entire world to your secret lover. You continue pumping his cock until he has nothing more to give and the whimpers from above have turned even more raw and high pitched. For a moment after that you sit back on your haunches to just revel in the glow that shines from Criston after his climax. One finger collects the seed on your face to get it into your mouth.

After that moment of respite, the washcloth is picked right back up and wet again. This time to wipe your face first and the knight's privates afterwards.

But the second you crawl onto the mattress the both of you know that there is not much time left to cuddle. Outside the sun started to set, colouring the sky in all kinds of beautiful shades of red and orange. Alerting you that you would be expected at a dinner in your mother's chambers and Criston needed to go back on post. Perhaps you had taken a bit too long to take care of his wounds, but when your knight’s lips graze yours, his chest still heaving underneath your hand, you can't find it in you to care about any of that. Not as long as he would be lying there with you.

“I do not know what I have done to deserve you, princess. You are too good to me.” He rasps against your lips, noses brushing against each other to make the moment more intimate, as your hands wander over the other´s sides and arms.

“You deserve only the best. I hope you know that.” You answer in a raw voice.

#ser criston #ser criston cole #criston cole #ser criston cole x reader #ser criston cole x you #criston x reader #criston cole x reader #criston cole x you #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x you #hotd x reader #hotd x you #house of the dragon fic #hotd fic

107 notes · View notes

ladythornofrivia · 5 months

Text

Kingdom of Fire & Blood || (Part Seven)

🐉 MASTERLIST 🐉

Next Chapter

summary: lady greenstar’s ceremony is all but merry, and the offer that could change the course of her life forever.

pair: aemond x reader

warnings: smut, violence, p in v sex, sexual content, aemond being arrogant, modern reader doesn’t know how the world of GOT works but is a Aemond stan, praise kink, breeding kink, spitting kink, voice kink, fluff, angst—family drama, oral sex, hate sex, stalking, jealousy, virginity loss, obsession, reader is neutral; neither a green or black supporter, reader being sassy and aroused, sweet moments with reader and aemond. Reader is a huge GOT & HOTD fan. Aemond becomes king instead of Aegon. (P.S. Alys who? I only know Aemond x Reader)

a/n: sorry it took forever to write the chapter! It’s finally here! Woo! Reader’s backstory is finally revealed! Woo! If you enjoy, please leave a comment.

Chapter Seven: The Price of Heart

On the proclamation from the Iron Throne, King Viserys granted a ceremony and anointed a young maiden to unite both factions, Blacks and Greens, and renamed her as Lady Greenstar, a star that befell and shook the cores of Westeros, to which have known for causing disruption and awakened in the realm.

Apart from previous accomplishment on saving Princess Helaena and Prince Jacaerys, Lady Greenstar, a newcomer to Westeros, has its gaze is as deadly as a thorn. Upon a gaze of a maiden, men’s hearts fickle in delight, and women’s hearts enraged with fright. And among others, she is nothing but an air of mystery, but her appearance is no more than averagely simple and unimpressive (claimed by Mushroom). Lady Greenstar, whose maiden name is unknown, the time of Viserys’s reign may have yet to be remain, as Lady Greenstar is in an absolute self-merry and encourage the nobles and commoners alike to a celebrate at her unimportant arrival at a tedious ceremony.

~Your POV~

The nightmare hadn’t stopped.

You want to destroy—set ablaze everything into ashes.

In a soundless blight rising in your chest, you managed to gather yourself in the midst of ceremony. You wanted to scream. Heating anger risen within you; you are nowhere near happy with the proceedings. You just wanted to go home, anticipated that this no more than a fever dream, a weirdly filter episodic moment that is meant to be unseen.

Unable to gaze upon the crowd, despite your head is held high, your roundish headpiece wrapped atop your tucked hairstyle; your hairline styled and slicked back, yet your longish manes flowed and adorned your figure, clad in a floor length ivory gown, your arms heavies a wide bishop sleeves, but your forearms are fitted, ends of your v-pointed sleeves rested on the back of your hands. Your bodice, from bust to waist, the ivory corset is encrusted in pearls and gold embroidery, aligned and patterned with black and green stones as your long skirts in mermaid-shaped flowing, not strictly.

Bowing to Blacks and Greens, the ever so watchful gazes on the crowd are perplexed, yet so many spectators are grateful for your deeds. Some women’s gaze directly lanced at your direction with envy, perhaps displeasure of King Viserys’s announcement. As for men, however, it’s unreadable for you, but with unknown gazes may have yet proceed to either have notable rancor or the deepest of illest intentions.

In Westeros, you knew that you could trust no man. For now, trusting the Targaryens is your only option, a sole bargain, a wager to your existence. Nothing has ever come to simple or as festive. All you wanted was to stay in the sidelines, watching the events unfold, not to be a part of one. The real question is: who sent you here, and what was the real purpose? Of course not, you’re just a simple and honest modern woman—or at least what anyone thought of your outward appearance, which prevailed by the designed precision of Queen Alicent and Lady Rhaenyra’s plan of softening image.

You weren’t meant to be here.

The scream emerged.

All eyes snapped away from your direction. One man grabbed—dragged away and pointed it’s knife at Princess Helaena’s throat at the centered floor, the guards had their swords up, as one of them demanded for the man to release the princess.

“None should accept a woman as a knight on the throne,” the man spattered, yellow teeth gleaming, his voice grating with delight, continuing to drag the princess away bit by bit.

“Mother,” Helaena pleaded quietly, the knife pressed onto her ivory skin, trying not to flail.

“It’s either the cause for the great nobles, or the cause of the war.”

Alicent is frightened for her daughter’s fate.

And so, you watched, palm clenched and unclenched. Hands behind your back, your body veiled with a silver sparkling cloak, but one hand seized the spare knife—your knife you had in your clutched purse, moving with caution as you descend the steps without anyone spotting your intentions.

“Let her go,” you said, before turning your eyes to theirs.

Soothe the realm.

The men flabbergasted at your appeased state. “What?”

“Did I stutter,” you said, ambling, the cloak floated a little. “You’re ruining the King’s celebration. Do you want to be executed? You’re in the presence of Targaryens.”

“I won’t lay rest until I see no woman standing beside the Iron Throne. I won’t serve by the likes of you!”

Shaking your head as you said, “Who said it’s about me?”

The man uttered no response but a heaving breath, near Helaena, furrowed with concern.

Unblinking, your head tilted to the side. “You want me, right?”

The man carefully laid his eyes on you.

“You don’t want the princess,” you resumed, drew nearer. “You want me.”

Soothe the realm.

Your eyes indicated to one of the guards to hold him down, but none succeeded on reading your body language. Looking at your side, Queen Alicent’s widened eyes glazed with warning, a reminder to soften the image. Prince Aemond still abide, his violet eye gleamed, his eye stated something more, wanting more of the anticipation of what you’ll do next.

“Let her go, and I’ll give you what you want,” you negotiated.

“What makes you think I could negotiate with such a pathetic woman?”

“Because I’m not a liar,” you declared, hand stretched. “Release her.”

After moments of hesitation, Princess Helaena has been freed into your arms, shaking. You lightly shoved her towards Alicent as you walked onward without looking elsewhere.

And before you knew it, a knife stabbed behind your belly.

The gasps ensued as the fight broke out, leaving the Blacks and Greens emerged with apprehension, still safe and guarded.

Turning around, the knife you held plunged into the backstabber’s throat, but missed—instead it became a slight deep scratch on the cheek and his hand smacked against your cheekbone. Falling down, you pulled yourself back up again and knocked him out unconscious and rushed to Helaena’s side again and escorted her out, leaving the guards to assign fate to the intruders.

The fate became crueler; the man separated you and Helaena, shoving Helaena aside the intruder hooked you by the arms, trapped. When another opponent came, you lifted yourself in the air, and punted the opponent’s chest with both of your feet, leaving you and the large man collapsed. Rolling back, you gathered yourself again and escorted Helaena back at the corridor.

A young boy screamed—Prince Lucerys—his arm being yanked through the crowd. Briskly, you aid to their side, shoving the crowd apart, you casted your cloak—aiming at the foe, and lanced the man’s neck, trails of blood exploded, smearing the young prince’s face and placed him back Rhaenyra’s side.

A tall figure suddenly shielded you; the knife flew at your direction; Aemond deflected the attempted shot with his spare dagger. Queen Alicent and Lady Rhaenyra rushed altogether—guards protected all and ushered back into the corridor, leaving you breathless.

The pain has been numbed due to the shock implanted.

Far back at the pillar, you watched Rhaenyra and Alicent exchanging with altercation while you find yourself leaning on the stoned pillar with your left hand clutched your bleeding waist beneath the white dress.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Rhaenyra stated in shaky breath.

“Of course not,” Alicent seethed. “King Viserys should’ve thought of bringing Lady Greenstar to the Iron Throne to soothe the realm before the commotion erupts.”

“I hadn’t known,” Rhaenyra argued back, cradling Lucerys in her arms.

“You did this. Lady Greenstar warned that this would happen. A private ceremony should’ve been suffice.”

“We need Lady Greenstar to unite both factions—father suggested to that.”

“Your ideas may influence others, but you’ll never influence with me from the misguidance of your indulgence.”

“I have made no declarations and decisions—it is my father who has done it so!”

Bellows of altercation continued as Prince Jaecerys stood nearby you, given you an awkward tight-lipped expression with his hands laid rest upfront.

Blacks and Greens watched two ladies quarreled with venom as your chest heaving. Gazing below onto your hand, the gold ring sparked on your fourth finger; you brought it up to your lips and kissed it.

Everything will be alright, a gentle voice reminded.

Lidded eyes hazed as the hand placed on your back shoulder; Princess Helaena walked over to your side and consoled you with diminutive smile.

Instead of returning the offer, you patted Helaena’s hand your half-lidded eyes in a suggestion that everything is alright. The concentration in your mind has been misplaced that Helaena began to tie your strands to tiny braids. You’ve inspected everyone. So far, it went smoothly—you’ve found no wounds, but when your eyes meet Green sons, your head inclined to a subtle bow. While Prince Aegon bowed back with his smugness, Prince Aemond is as elegant and unreadable. His eye still lay onto you as you faced back, watching the princess and the queen.

Altercations and debate went ongoing.

The aggravating pain hadn’t ceased.

“Stop,” you groaned.

The abrasion struck you so hard that you let a long groan, your head hung back, relied on a cold pillar.

“Lady Greenstar,” Jacaerys said.

“I’m fine,” you assured, eyes watery. “I’m fine.”

Daemon, no doubt, is suspicious. Shielding Helaena with your might, you held onto her spare hand.

The quarrel wasn’t far from over as you sauntered, the belly scorched again, pinching your nerves and coiled your stomach to a point of punishment you couldn’t withstand.

The cough unleashed, veiling the spots of blood.

Someone…

And collapsed onto your knees, trembling with cold sweat, fell onward.

“Lady Greenstar,” Jacaerys called aloud, as he caught you into arms, soon follow by your feet, your body weakened, slipped away.

“You’re safe now,” you said, darting at Aemond, offering him your sweetest expression laid on your lips.

Gradually, your eyes fluttered with slow blinks, choking. Then your vision faded to nothing.

~Aemond’s POV~

“My Queen, Lady Greenstar has collapsed,” Criston announced.

Queen Alicent and Lady Rhaenyra halted, and veered back to your lifeless body in Jacaerys’s arms.

Both women’s anger replaced with fear. “No…” Rhaenyra uttered.

“Take her to the Maester at this instant. We can’t afford to lose her,” Alicent ordered.

All the while, Aemond, the king’s second son, is devastated, powerless and hopeless as the life slipped between your parted lips. Piqued as he was eyeing on the golden ring rested on your fourth finger.

~Your POV~

What the hell was that?

“The life flashes before your eyes,” it said.

Your head snapped to the noise.

“Poor little woman, who’s life has been tormented one after the other,” a voice rang into your ears in a darkened void. “A life of a woman is no ordinary, but will soon be free.”

“Who are you?”

“My, you’re just a thing of beauty. A shame that comes price with it—ever so ethereal but with a demonic spirit residing in you since your childhood, all but bad luck,” it taunted. “You have killed and tortured the mundane, both men and women, especially in your days where you were trying to save your dying lover—born a thief and a liar—the evil men have taught you well.”

“What the hell do you want?”

“I want to make an offer, an offer to which it might entice you. Right now, your very soul is on the bridge between life and death.”

“I know that!”

“Of course you knew. But you didn’t believe that we exist.”

“All are anything but real.”

The voice’s rang into your ears with its taunting laugh. “But if you wish to remain alive and well, I offered you choices, one which the cost of your life to be rekindled. One which you cannot turn your back into—and I offer you this; stay in Westeros and serve the realm, serve the dynasty and find a new purpose and bond. Even if it means of forgetting your dead lover. Or, the Gods will offer a sweet and merciful death—your pathetic and tragic life will soon meet its end and face your maker.”

“I want to go home,” you objected.

“Going home is no longer an option; if you go there, chances are your death will be as quickly repulsive and vile; death is near at your doorstep as soon as your consciousness blurred.”

“What do you mean?”

“The men from your former clan are hunting you down. They have found you. You thought running away from a syndicate after burning everything to ashes would be simple.”

“Why Westeros? Why send me there? Who sent me here?”

“Those questions are irrelevant; time is ticking.”

“At what cost?”

“The price you’ll pay, it’s either your eyes, ear or mouth. Or I will decide for you.”

Goosebumps flooded over you, heart struck with quiver.

“I can’t,” you whimpered. “I can’t!” Fell onto the ground, hands veiled your face, walls you’ve built tarnished as your cries echoed through the void, cried longer than you should’ve.

“Sweet summer child,” it cooed. “Time is running short. The elder man of Hightower wants to burn your body.”

Another shiver ran.

“I know everything. Submit yourself to me, and I shall grant the desire—the offer I gave you—your life will start anew. What do we say to the God of Death?”

“Not today.”

“Good!” the voice rang, enchant. “I knew you have come to made your decision.”

The green light sprang and ran into your heart—your voice reached high into bellows and wails. Nails digging into your chest firmly, nails dragged with blood, already on the floor, knees on your chest. Ears rang in high-pitched noise; ears bleed as nose, and mouth drained in red flow, crying in agony.

“Don’t worry, child, you’ll soon meet the fate that you’ve been longing for,” it said. “You’ll find your purpose here. The history of Fire & Blood, alongside yours, will be rewritten.”

In that moment, you knew the unknown being wasn’t lying.

Taglist: @daonenonlysandman @toodlesxcuddles @kittendoll05 @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @taintedlovesworld @kukulyarva @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @herathedreamer @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @nananeptune @domithebomi @moonseye @valeskafics @faesspace @rxixo31 @tm-starr @xinthia19 @popsycles @naiaaramena @aleemendoza2425-blog @letmehavemyfictionalmen @aracelipf @ammo23 @blackswxnn @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @wolfdressedinlace @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @runekisses @jmii722 @colored-tr-panels @evergreen9083 @foggypeacestarlight @dixie-elocin @galactict3a @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216

152 notes · View notes

moni-logues · 8 months

Text

Kintsugi 9

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 6.2k

Content: MORE Yoongi POV!, um, honestly there's really not anything to warn for in this chapter, I don't think; Yoongi is not having a fun time

A/N: thank you to @quarter-life-crisis2 and @minttangerines for beta-ing this for me!!! Also, I know I have said before that this story is outlined for 10 chapters but it's going to be more like 12, so we're not THAT close to the end yet!!

Chapter Eight | Masterlist | Chapter Ten

Chapter Nine – Crush

Yoongi stopped outside your building but you didn’t immediately move to get out of his car. You looked at him and had no name for what you felt, muddled as it was. You didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you for driving me back,” is where you began.

Yoongi grunted.

“I was driving anyway.”

“Are you ok?”

He turned towards you and most of his face was in shadow, a lance of light cutting sharply across his face, missing his eyes entirely.

“I’ll text you tomorrow.”

You knew what that meant and you didn’t want to push for him to say anything more, not yet. You nodded, opened the passenger door, turned to climb out, and reached out to give his hand one last squeeze. You hadn’t been expecting him to hold on, so when he didn’t let you go, you fell backwards into your seat with a muffled ‘oof’, loud enough though to cover whatever quiet words he uttered.

“What?”

“Thanks for coming.”

His voice was the smallest you’d ever heard it.

“I’ll always be here for you,” you told him, meaning it, hoping he believed it.

He let your hand go and didn’t stop you this time when you climbed out of his car and shut the door. You wanted to watch him drive away but you knew he wouldn’t leave until you were safely inside, so you waved and walked into your building.

Yoongi slipped off his shoes and called out for Cherry, but he needn’t have bothered as she was already hurtling towards him, screaming what he assumed was invective for having left her for so long. He picked her up and carried her to the sofa and he had to remind himself to be careful, to not squeeze her too hard. At least someone was happy to see him.

He lay, his body feeling thick and heavy, and stared up at the ceiling. The apartment was dark—he hadn’t turned the lights on—and where he had been hoping it would feel like home, that he would feel relieved and comforted to be back in his own space, he felt empty.

That raw, clawed-out feeling burnt in him. The emptiness rang out in the cold, dead space of the room. He felt skinned alive. Everything he had not wanted to deal with, everything he had been putting off, everything was hiding from, everything that scared him most in the world had come home to roost. All at once. He used to think of you when he felt like this. You made him feel one ounce lighter, one shade brighter, a little less hollow. He would think of you and remember that you were there and remember the promise that you had made and he would go to sleep and wake up to another morning.

Now, he couldn’t even think of you. Because he couldn’t pretend anymore. Because you had come to Daegu and met his family and held his hand and nothing had ever made him feel more cared for. These feelings that he’d had, that had sparked in him the second you smiled at him and waved him over on that very first evening, that he held close to himself like a warding spell, were no longer under his control.

He had denied them at first, obviously. Strenuously. You were friendly; he wasn’t used to people being so friendly. You were generous and sweet and overly familiar and it took him off-guard, that was all. Then you gave him a brownie and his heartstrings snapped. He carried that brownie around with him until he had to throw it away, not because he didn’t want to eat it, but because he couldn’t bring himself to make it disappear. It showed him all the ways in which you and his ex-girlfriend were different: all of the ways in which you made him feel happier and lighter and like he was having fun, like he was a person who could have fun and all the ways in which she made him feel bad and irritable and lonely.

He tried to deny that, too, furious and sick with guilt at his disloyalty. His cowardly resolution was to not talk to you at all, made all the harder by the fact that he ended up at the station next to you and then harder still at the way you kept talking to him, the way you stopped talking to him when he didn’t utter a word in response.

He usually took a long way home, a detour; sometimes he stopped in at a friend’s for a drink or a snack or he wandered around a convenience store, putting off going home. He didn’t that night because he felt sick with himself, made livid by his own cowardice. So he had walked into his apartment and Cherry had been curled up on sofa, which was very unlike her, but Yoongi hadn’t had to wonder why for very long. His ex had never been quiet and neither, apparently, was the guy she was fucking in Yoongi’s bed.

He figured he deserved that, but it had also given him a really good excuse to break up with her, to kick her out, to stop feeling guilty when he had realised that he didn’t actually fucking like her at all. The relief he had felt when she left was physical. And fleeting, because then he had felt guilty about the way he had treated you.

He never intended for you to sleep together. There was no plan. No plan other than seeing if maybe he could be the person you made him feel like. Could he be fun? Could he be a person that someone like you would like? Could he be more like you? But then you had put on that fucking dress and all he’d wanted to do was take it off. You had put on that dress and he had accidentally told you that you looked sexy and you had looked surprised, delighted, so fucking cute and he had been way past most of his inhibitions by that point so he just... kissed you.

He knew it wasn’t the start of anything. He knew you were going to backtrack, brush him off, sweep it under the carpet. He knew and he forced himself not to mind because everything you had said was right; you had already told him enough about your relationship and break-up for him to know that you wouldn’t have wanted anything with him. And that was fine by him, for the most part. He was safe at this distance, nursing his delicate feelings in secret, unworried at the prospect of being found out or having to do anything about them.

Besides which, you loved him. You told him that. So quickly that he automatically didn’t believe you, couldn’t believe you, because love doesn’t just spring up like that, but you told him and you called him sweet names like you did Taehyung and you teased him and you showed up and you understood and even though he didn’t think it was possible, not really, he believed you when you said it. He was happy to have you in exactly this capacity because your generosity of spirit and your kindness and the brightness of your spark carried him through. Every time he thought to himself, sad and lonely and miserable, that no one like you would ever want someone like him, that you could never see him as a real man, as a true partner, as someone you might want to be with, he reminded himself that he had you as a friend. That had been enough.

But now, it wasn’t. Now, Yoongi couldn’t hide from himself anymore. He had, foolishly, when he had been wrung out and exhausted and it was almost five in the morning, told you that he wanted a hug and you had got on the first fucking bus to come and give it to him. It had broken him. It had broken him open and there were worms everywhere. It had been like trying to swim through mud; he was fucking drowning. Then he would see you—in the kitchen, preparing dinner; out in the garden with his nephew; looking tired and biting the inside of your lip like he knew you did when you felt self-conscious—and it was like a lungful of air. Like a lungful air getting punched out of him.

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough anymore to be your friend, to be at a safe distance. He wanted the distance between you to be atom-thick. He wanted to take a hold of you and never let you go. He wanted to pour his entire wretched heart into your hands.

He knew he never could.

You had been clear. You were just friends. You were just friends and, besides, you weren’t seeing anyone right now; you were off romance, off relationships. Everything would have had to be different for him to stand a hope in hell of getting what he wanted. Though, in a warped kind of way, he didn’t really want to get what he wanted either. Because, as much as he wanted to be with you, he didn’t want you to be with him. You deserved more. You deserved better. You deserved the best. He was far from that.

You had said so yourself that people like you—people like the person you had been—people like Yoongi, they were burdens. You had said you were unlovable and you had said so many times that you and he were the same. He looked at how you saw yourself and he knew you saw him the same way. How you used to see yourself anyway. Because you were brighter now, lighter, genuinely happier and more confident. He didn’t know how it was possible because he had already thought you were the sun when you first met, but the brittleness of your spite had disappeared, the frequency with which you joked about dying had diminished, and there was something more peaceful about you now, the spikes of your anxiety more like ripples.

Yoongi wasn’t ripples. Yoongi wasn’t even spikes. He was a pit. An abyss. A blackhole. And the very last thing he wanted was to suck you into the middle of it. You deserved more than anything he could ever give you, so he could never tell you how he felt. And now that feeling hurt.

You sent a text to Taehyung as soon as you stepped inside your apartment.

[18:31] You: can you please come over so I can have my crisis now?

[18:34] Teddy 🐻: ofc sweet thing. I'll text you when I'm on my way xxx

The door beeped and you were just about to sit up from your slouched position on the sofa and exclaim about how glad you were that Taehyung was here, when you spotted Hyunjin just behind him and you stopped.

“Hey!”

You greeted them both but it came out a little more hesitant than you liked.

“Hey! Don’t worry, I’m not staying,” Hyunjin replied with a wide smile. “My friend lives around the corner so I’m going to hang out with him for a bit but I thought I’d come up to say hey, happy new year.”

He shrugged and your heart melted.

“Oh, bless you! Happy new year, babe! Got any resolutions?”

“I don’t know,” he answered lightly, casting his eyes about, nodding his head side to side. “Have more fun? Take more chances?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“What about y-”

“No, do not ask about mine. I cannot even fathom having a resolution about anything right now. Why do you think Teddy’s here? He has to tell me what to do with my life, as usual.”

As if on cue, Taehyung handed you a glass of wine from a bottle he had taken out of your fridge.

“I’ll leave you guys to it. Just wanted to say hey. So, hey.”

“Hey,” you repeated with a wave as he shut the door and left the two of you alone.

Taehyung sank into the sofa with a sigh that was unlike him and you eyed him suspiciously.

“What’s up with you?”

“We’re not here for me, babe; this is your crisis.”

“No, there’s something going on. You have energy.”

“It’s really nothing,” he insisted, taking a long gulp from his wine glass.

“Tell me or I won’t tell you anything. The entire fucking confection, Teddy.”

He looked at you, blinked slowly, and then put his wine glass back on the coffee table.

“Hyunjin is leaving.”

“What do you mean leaving?”

“Leaving Korea. He’s going to Paris.”

“What?!”

“Yeah... But it’s fine.”

“Fuck off is it fine! He can’t leave! He can’t leave you! Why? Why is he going?”

You felt betrayed on his behalf. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Taehyung and Hyunjin were perfect together, everyone knew. How could he just leave? You reached out to take his hand but he pulled it back.

“He got a graduate scholarship thing for the- I don’t know the name, it’s in fucking French, Beaux-Arts school or something.”

“Aren’t there arts schools in Seoul?” you demanded.

Taehyung smiled in appreciation of your outrage, but he shook his head.

“Not like this one. This is a huge opportunity for him; he couldn’t turn it down. I wouldn’t have let him even if he’d suggested it... And anyway, it’s not like we were serious; this was always a casual-”

“FUCK. OFF. You and your bullshit ‘casual thing’. He was your fucking Morticia, Teddy.”

“I’m serious,” he said, in the voice that brooked no nonsense. Then he sighed. “He’s been applying for this stuff since before we started seeing each other; this was always going to happen. That’s why we were trying to keep it casual. And I’m happy for him, genuinely. He deserves it. It’s an incredible opportunity and I’m glad that he’s got it...”

“Just also kind of fucking sucks, too.”

He began to nod but then it changed to a shake.

“No. No. No, I’m not doing all of that. He leaves in two weeks. In two weeks, I will be sad. In two weeks, you can have another family emergency and take care of me when I can’t get off the sofa and want to drown in vodka ice-cream floats. But I’m not sad yet, now, because he’s still here. So it’s fine.”

You looked at him carefully and he let you when you tried to take his hand again.

“Ok, but also, I am really fucking sorry and you have to promise you’ll tell me when you are sad. You carried me through a break-up and I want to do the same for you.”

“Oh, darling, I’ll be putting you through your paces, don’t you worry about that.”

He knocked his glass against yours, as if making a deal, and you forced him to let you give him a tight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. Then he shuffled to face you properly.

“Come on, then. That’s out of the way. You can have your crisis. Start from the beginning.”

That you could do. The start was easy.

“Ok, so I was with my parents over Christmas and we went to the supermarket...”

“I just don’t know what to do,” you said when you very quickly reached the point at which things stopped being easy and stopped making sense. “I don’t understand. I don’t know how I feel and I don’t know what to do with that. I have Feelings, Teddy, you know this. My feelings are always big and loud and strong and I know what they are—no matter how unreasonable or disproportionate or stupid, I know what my feelings are. Always. And now I just... don’t? And I don’t know how to find out. And I don’t know what to do or what to say or what anything means and it’s all so confusing and c-”

“Ok,” Taehyung held up a hand to stop you. “Can I tell you what I think?”

“That’s literally why you are here.”

“You have feelings for Yoongi.”

It made you squirm to hear him say it out loud like that. Something didn’t feel right about it. It made you feel uncomfortable, made you want to shrink away from him and cover yourself. There was a discomfiting churning in your guts that made your body feel weak. You shook your head.

“No.”

“Yes.”

You knew that you had started this, that this conversation was happening because you had said to him that you thought that maybe, actually, perhaps, you did have feelings for Yoongi but hearing him say it out loud, such a bald statement like that, made you recoil. You wanted to chop those feelings off at the root- pull them up from the roots before they could sprout. No, you couldn’t have feelings for Yoongi.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I said NO!”

You picked up a cushion and tried to hit him, not gently, in the face. He had his arms up in front of him before it could make contact and he merely took it from you and placed it on the floor next to him.

“And I said yes.”

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

You picked up another cushion and he was so shocked that you called him by his actual name, his full name, that this one hit him square in the face. When the cushion fell, he looked at you, open-mouthed, genuinely surprised for a moment, before his face settled into exactly the sort of face a teacher might use on a child who was having a tantrum.

“Babygirl, I can see you’re getting angry,” he said, using the most patronising tone he could muster. He even reached out and took one of your hands in his. “And what do we know about anger, hm? It’s a secondary emotion, that’s right. So what do we do when we’re feeling angry?”

“I want you to get out of my house.”

“No, you don’t,” he said in retort, back to his normal voice. “You want me to say that you don’t have feelings for Yoongi and everything will go back to normal and you don’t have to worry about anything. But that’s not fucking true.”

You flopped backwards against the sofa and sighed, defeated, feeling an enormous wobble start in your chest. You did your best to beat it back but it still choked your voice when you next spoke.

“I don’t want to have feelings for him.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s Yoongi.”

“It is. Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?”

You didn’t want to say it all. You didn’t want this to become clear. You hated the confusion but this would be even worse. Because Yoongi was safe to you; he was your safe space, in a way that was different from Taehyung, and you’d done that. You’d had a safe space; you’d had a boyfriend who was your safe space and it had been your downfall. He had broken up with you for it. You couldn’t lose Yoongi. You couldn’t go through it again; you wouldn’t make it out the other side, you just knew.

“I love him,” you said quietly, tears brimming. “He’s my friend. It’s too much.”

Taehyung nodded and thought for a minute or two while you sat sniffling next to him.

“Yes,” he said eventually. “It’s scary... What about if we made it less scary?”

You looked at him doubtfully but this was where Taehyung shone: trying to convince you of his visions.

“Having big, new, romantic feelings is terrifying, but have you ever had a crush? That's fun, right? Like with me and Hyunjin, how I would go into the café and hope he was there and I’d see if he drew a little smiley face or flower on my cup and how I alwa-”

“I fucking told you you were dotty about him from the start! Playing it cool, my fucking arse.”

“Yes, yes, fine, I admit it. But it was fun. You remember having a crush, a harmless, cute, little crush that never has to go anywhere-”

“Like you and Hyunjin, you mean?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Ok, fine, that wasn’t a good example, but you know what I’m talking about. That guy who always gets the same train as you, or who lives in your building, who you see from time to time and you get to just go mad fantasising about him and what he’s like and what your relationship would be like and all that. That’s fun, right?”

Yes, you could remember those feelings. The bubbliness, the fizzing, the curling in your toes and sparkling in your eyes. You didn’t see how that could possibly apply to your situation though.

“What I’m saying is,” he continued, reading your mind, “can you... lean into this? Lean into your feelings and just... have a crush on him?”

You looked at him in disbelief.

“You’re fighting your feelings right now, right? You’re so confused and upset because, as you literally just said, you don’t want to have feelings for him. You’re trying to deny it. I’m saying... don’t. Give in to it. Just to see. Try the feelings on. Maybe they’re not comfortable and you don’t like them and you do want to be just friends with Yoongi. But maybe they are comfortable and you will have clarity on what you want because you’ll have let yourself feel things.”

“You know I’m not going to pay you for this therapy session.”

You were pouting, sulking. You didn’t want him to be right—you never wanted him to be right about your life, even though he always was and you were always grateful to him for it in the end. You just didn’t like this part, where he was able to poke around your insides and see you better than you saw yourself.

He grinned.

“I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, love. You said it yourself: your feelings are bloody loud. You know what you’re feeling and your feelings are arguing with each other.”

You sighed dramatically with a heave of your chest.

“I don’t know how to have a crush on Yoongi.”

“That’s why you try.”

“What if I do it and I really do have feelings?”

“That’s when you tell him.”

You grimaced at the thought, squashing yourself against the sofa and away from Taehyung. You could never. But you would try this crush thing; it gave you some direction, some way to channel your feelings. You would do it in the hopes that it didn’t work. You hoped whatever you were feeling now would go away. You and Yoongi were just friends. That was the whole point. That was it. Nothing more. You would prove it.

Your fortnightly dinners were reinstated and the following Friday was your first opportunity to test this out. A crush, you reminded yourself. A cute, innocent crush. You pretended to yourself that your nerves were excitement, that the anxiety was anticipation. That the sweat in your palms and snakes in your gut and the buzzing sound at the back of your mind—all good things.

It got off to a bad start because Yoongi looked so worn and tired when you saw him. All your nerves were replaced with worry and a sinking in your stomach and a rift opening up in your heart. He insisted he was fine; it was weird adjusting to being back; he was still processing Daegu. He was fine, he said. He was fine. He promised you. And then you could see him making the effort to be a little brighter, to smile a little wider than he wanted to. You loved him, you reminded yourself; he was your Yoongi, your person, your friend.

“I may have to cancel our next dinner, just so you know,” you told him as you picked up a slice of the pizza he had ordered (which is how you knew he was not fine, not really). “Hyunjin is leaving Korea and I don’t know how Teddy will deal so I want to make sure I’m available.”

“Oh, he’s leaving? Where to?”

“He’s going to fucking Paris to become Monet or some shit.”

You weren’t angry with him, not really, but you were angry with the situation and it was such a clean feeling, amongst the mud of all your others, that you indulged in it.

“That’s a real shame.-”

“Yeah, and you never even so much as got to kiss him.”

His mouth twitched up.

“Truly the greatest tragedy of my life.”

“You’ll live.”

“Yes, but is a life in which you’ve never kissed Hyunjin really a life worth living?”

“Guess we’ll just have to find out.”

You felt him relax as the night wore on; he was a little less brittle, a little softer, and you hoped he was feeling better. He had spent weeks living with people--his family—and then come back to an empty apartment to live alone; that would’ve been a tricky adjustment at any time, but especially when his grandfather had just died, and especially because it was him and you knew how he felt about his family, his home, himself.

His sharp edges worn a little smoother, though, meant that your worry eased and, without even trying to, you were looking at him differently. Noticing things you maybe hadn’t before. His hair was thick and dark and longer than you had ever seen it; it suited him. It looked good when he pushed his hand through it and it immediately fell back in strands over his face. You hoped it wouldn’t annoy him into cutting it off.

“Your hair looks nice,” you said, without thinking, regretting it immediately when he looked at you, a surprised ‘o’ on his pouty mouth, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

“Thanks?”

You felt embarrassment creep up your neck and you didn’t know what to do. You suddenly couldn’t remember what you would usually do or say. You chuckled and bit the inside of your lip, hoping he wouldn’t notice. You wanted to reach out and trail your fingers through it, just a little, a gesture more than a touch but you didn’t know if that was something you would do, as just a friend. Your mind had gone blank. Would that be weird?

“Yeah,” you said, somewhat pointlessly, to break the silence more than anything else. “It’s um, it’s long. You’ve grown it long.”

He shrugged.

“I haven’t really grown it; I just haven’t cut it. My mum said I should. She wanted me to cut it for the funeral actually but I didn’t have time.”

“No, you look good with longer hair. Really good.”

That was too much, wasn’t it? All your jitters had returned but it was almost worth it with the way his ears went pink at the tips and his mouth pulled into a pursed, shy pout.

“I’ll tell her,” he said, a half smirk on his face, making eye contact with you for only milliseconds at a time.

You were exhausted by the time his apartment door was shutting behind you and, when you got home, you did something you almost never do: you wrote in a journal. It was something your therapist had you do in the immediate aftermath of San breaking up with you, when your feelings were so strong and so many that you couldn’t get your mouth around them, couldn’t parse them because of the way they howled around you in a screaming gale. This wasn’t that, but you had now spent a fortnight with everything buzzing incessantly in your head and Taehyung might have helped (or might not have—jury was still out) but you had to try to find some kind of clarity, to at least purge these feelings so they existed somewhere other than your brain.

You repeated this over the coming days, scribbling furiously whenever your mind turned to Yoongi (which it did, all too often) and you were relieved when you had to cancel your next dinner together (Hyunjin had left and Taehyung was calling you from his sofa). Relieved because all your writing made the crush thing easy; it was easy in your imagination but you didn’t know how you could do it in real life, faced with the real him.

You found out a couple of weeks later. You weren’t nervous this time because you felt inured to it by now. You had exorcised your anxiety and you thought you had exorcised the crush, too—you had thought of little else and the familiarity of those feelings was starting to reassure you. All the things you were feeling were things you had felt all along; you had always known he was handsome, and cute, and funny; you already knew he was kind and sensitive and generous. None of this was news to you so you didn’t need to fear romantic feelings or test a crush anymore. He was the same Yoongi he’d always been.

Then you opened the door to him with half his hair tied in a bun on top of his head and, when you meant to say hello, what came out was,

“U-h, um.”

“Hello?”

He looked at you, theatrically quizzical, and walked past you into your apartment. He placed a box on the counter—dessert—and was peering into the pan on your stove when he noticed you were still staring.

“What?”

You merely gestured to your head and swallowed. He mirrored your gesture and looked hesitant.

“It stops it getting in my face,” he said, unsurely, as if you had been asking for an explanation.

You could see his cheeks turning pink and he was reaching backwards, as if to take out the hair tie holding it there.

“No, no!” you exclaimed. “It looks good. Uh...” You cleared your throat. “Really good.”

You felt a little breathless, your chest a little tight, your stomach fluttering.

It turned out that, all this time, as you had been writing down, with such confidence, all the things you liked about Yoongi, all his good qualities, all the things that anyone with a crush on him would believe, thinking that it was catharsis, that you were expelling these feelings, you had really been confirming them. You saw his smooth, shiny skin and his dark, narrow eyes, crinkling at the corners when he smiled, when he laughed, when he opened his mouth wide and showed his tiny teeth and it made your heart flutter; you saw his hands, deftly untying the ribbon he had put on the dessert box and it made your own fingers twitch with how much you wanted to touch him; your mouth was dry looking at his pink lips, the strong arch of his cupid’s bow—every time you remembered the name, you remembered Hallowe’en and how much fun you had had, how easily Yoongi had slipped in, and it made you feel warm in a way that also made you wobble. It made you feel soft and scared and like this wasn’t just a crush.

You shook your head to dispel the thought and set about serving up dinner. You ate it, as you always had, at your little makeshift table, and you talked and you tried to concentrate on the things he was saying, but he was so close to you, always so close to you in the confines of your miniscule apartment, that you found it difficult not to let your mind wander. You could barely remember what it was like to kiss him—that night was still a blur—and it made it all the more tantalising. This knowledge that you had, somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you imagined it coming back the second you kissed him again; you would remember it from that night but it would also feel like you had kissed him a thousand times already, like your mouths knew each other in lifetimes before, like somewhere your souls had previously met and you had been doing this all along.

“So?” Yoongi asked, nudging you with his foot and bringing you back into the room.

“Huh, what? Yes.”

He grinned, knowing he had caught you not listening.

“My birthday party; will you come?”

“What?! Oh my god, it’s your birthday?! Of course! Happy- wait, when is it?”

His eyes were crinkling again and your heart was skipping beats.

“9th March, a few weeks. Party is on the 10th.”

“Obviously, I would love to come. What do you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean as a present. What do you want for your birthday?”

He shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“Yoongi, I have to get you something.”

“No, you don’t. I don’t want anything. Just come.”

You rolled your eyes. You decided not to fight with him because you needed to preserve your energy for worrying about what to get him.

Usually, you had dinner and dessert and sometimes an extra drink or two and that was it, but you didn’t want this night to end. You hadn’t been spending time together outside of these dinners and you wanted to maximise this time; you didn’t want him to leave. Not yet.

“Want to watch a film or something?” you asked as you stood from your stool and piled dishes in the sink.

“Oh, uh, ok, sure.”

“You pick; the remote’s on the table, I think. I’ll wash up while you choose.”

“I can wash up.”

He was moving next to you, reaching for the bowls in your hand.

“Fuck off, babe. I’m doing them. You go and sit down.”

You fixed him with a determined glare and he backed down.

“What sort of films do you like?”

“I’m best friends with Teddy; I promise you, I can sit through anything. Put on whatever you like.”

“Tazza?”

“Yeah, sure, what’s that?”

When there was only silence in response, you turned around from the sink to see him looking at you in shocked incomprehension.

“What do you mean, ‘what is that’? Have you not seen Tazza?”

“Haven’t heard of it.”

“How is that even possible? Come here right now, we’re going to watch it.”

“Give me a minute!”

You pushed your luck, pushed your nerves to the limit. You curled yourself into Yoongi, telling yourself that you would happily sit like this with Taehyung so why should Yoongi be any different? You were the only one who knew it was different; there was plausible deniability all over this thing! You stretched your legs out over his lap and, eventually, he rested a hand on your knee; it was heavy and warm and distracting. You shuffled down and rested your head on his shoulder; you hoped he might shift and put his arm around you, or if not around you, at least over the back of the sofa so you could snuggle down further, smell the detergent on his shirt, maybe feel the hair at the nape of his neck. He didn’t. You tried not to be disappointed.

You also tried to follow the film, you really did, but when Yoongi’s other hand came to rest next to his other, just a little higher on your leg, over your thigh, you found yourself incapable of paying attention to anything else. You wanted to take his hand, hold it, lace your fingers with his. You wanted to trace the vein on his hand all the way up his arm, wondering if it was true what the Greeks said and it really did go all the way to his heart. You didn’t do that. You just kept staring at it, imagining that you could.

You tipped your head up to look at him, the profile of his face; a loose strand—freed from its elasticated prison—fell over his eye and you couldn’t resist the urge to try to tuck it gently behind his ear. It immediately fell forward again when he turned to look at you. The swoop in your stomach almost made you gasp and you flicked your eyes back to the TV screen, feeling the heat in your cheeks and the stutter in your heart.

When the film ended, you wanted to think of something else to get him to stay longer but it was already late and he was already stifling his yawns. So you let him get up, you forced him to take back some of the yakgwa he made (he may have missed that class but he certainly made up for it; they were better than any you had ever attempted), and you closed the door behind him with a sigh.

You reminded yourself that this was a crush. It was a fun, harmless, innocent, little crush. That was all. Nothing to get carried away with. Nothing to be scared of. Just a crush. A crush.

But it was also Yoongi and your heart was starting to ache. tags: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @quarter-life-crisis2, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings

Chapter Eight | Masterlist | Chapter Ten

#yoongi x reader #yoongi fic #bts x reader #bts fic #yoongi angst

138 notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 7 months

Text

fic rec friday 43

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

These Walls Have Ears by notverystraight

Before Lance’s friends arrive at his apartment for their weekly movie night, Keith is in Hunk’s car on the phone to Lance, trying to explain why they’re late, again. Mid conversation, Keith drops his phone under the seat. Assuming Lance has hung up, Pidge and Hunk start pestering Keith about certain feelings that he may be harboring, leading to some quite personal confessions. Little do they know, Lance has not hung up, and is listening in on every word. Shenanigans ensue.

the second best part of this fic is how sweet and funny this is. this fic is blushy and silly and dorky and so so so!!! it is just fun and garrison trio my love. the BEST part of this fic is lance knowing hes hot shit

2. That Won't Last, He's Gay and She's An Alien by notverystraight

Lance didn’t know what he’d expected to see when he came onto the Garrison’s training deck, but it definitely wasn’t this. Keith was panting with exertion, pinning someone to the ground with the edge of his training sword just brushing their neck. And by someone, Lance meant Acxa, one of Lotor’s old half-Galra generals. Or, Lance walks in on Keith and Acxa sparring. He has not-so-mixed feelings about it.

usually every jealousy trope fic i read induces the PHATTEST eye roll literally of all time but this one made me laugh lol. its just such a ridiculous concept and its fun basically. also krolia lowkey being a thot is hilarious

3. Go the Distance by orphan_account [EXPLICIT]

Keith is a sprinter, Lance runs long distance. Despite not competing against each other directly and despite the fact that they're training to bring glory to the same high school track team, the two end up becoming rivals who are wholeheartedly committed to victory. Along the way, however, they find themselves awfully sidetracked by the other's inspiring legs--er, skills. Much fluff and smut and no angst.

bro lance is SUCH a goober 😭😭 he gets himself into the most embarrassing situations and there is truly no one he can blame but himself. honestly this one is such a fun read and if the explicit warning bothers you, it's not the whole fic! you can easily skip it. the rivalry and getting together is just as fun and stupid as you'd expect from them truly

4. Haunted House Hang-Up by Creatortan

Keith runs a paranormal investigation YouTube channel with his friend, Pidge. Pidge is friends with Hunk, who is friends with Lance, who is very, very haunted. And also, very, very pretty.

oh my LORD i love this. nd team? check. supernatural fuckery? check. cute flowery lance? check. dorky suave keith? check. side of hot firefighter shiro? check. just an 11/10 in general top notch

5. Rambling by Creatortan

Lance was a talkative person, and he thought he had accepted that.

no seriously bc the Can't Shut Up Syndrome is the Worst side effect of adhd and other nd's tbh. i hate the way you're excited and you can feel yourself start to build and trip over your words but it doesn't matter bc it's so background! there's so much cool shit ur sharing!! and then you see the eyeroll or the shrug and it just comes crashing back on you so so quickly and hard and. god. this fic captured that so well

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

#idk what the deal is lately but very few authors have been on tumblr #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #rivals klance #adhd lance #lance is hot #pining keith #pining lance #pining klance #rivals to lovers #fic rec #fic rec friday #frf #longpost

133 notes · View notes

eddiemunsons80sbaby · 6 months

Text

Everybody Hurts

Chapter 13

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You needed to escape, escape from your life, your messy divorce, and all the pitying looks. Looks you couldn't ignore when everyone in town had known you and Cam, had known your shame and failure. So, you took the first job you could get, teaching third grade in a town called Hawkins. Little did you know, you were walking right into another messy situation, a messy situation with big brown eyes and long dark waves. But he's resistant, at times unbearable and you start getting curious about the town's past, his past, especially when things don't start adding up.

18+ Only for eventual smut

Next chapter: 11/22

Word Count: 7.2K

Masterlist

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Sunday came and went and you never heard a word from Eddie, not so much as a phone call. You tried to tell yourself that he was just with his uncle. He was just too busy to call. It didn’t mean he was blowing you off or that he was ignoring you. It didn’t mean that he’d wished you’d never done what you did last night. It didn’t mean he’d just used you and discarded you. Right?

You spent the day busying yourself by doing little things around the house like pulling weeds and wiping down every inch of your kitchen. As afternoon came, you walked into town to the local hardware store to look at possible paint colors for your porch. Then you’d popped into Melvald’s for some light bulbs and met Will’s mother, who was also apparently the Chief’s wife.

She was kind and friendly, pulling you in for a hug, telling you how nice it was to meet you, welcoming you to Hawkins. A big smile stretched her face but she had the same haunted look in her eyes that the others did, a look of someone who’d almost been completely broken by life and was trying hard to keep the pieces together. You couldn’t imagine what that sweet woman must have gone through when she thought Will was dead. No mother should have to experience that kind of trauma, even if it turned out to be false in the end. Joyce had insisted that you should join them for dinner at their house sometime. Apparently all the kids came over once a month. You told her of course, finding yourself unable to disappoint this lady who was so welcoming within seconds of meeting you.

When darkness fell and the late hour reminded you that you had to wake up early in the morning to teach a bunch of eight year olds, you fell into bed, deceiving yourself, holding onto the thought that he’d just been busy and he would call tomorrow. But an annoying voice in the back of your head kept whispering that you’d been an idiot to trust him, to believe him. You’d made a rash decision after your divorce and now you were going to pay for it.

Monday came as it always did, far too early, whether you wanted it to or not. Your mind stayed fairly occupied at work, as long as you were busy, and that wasn’t a problem when the students were in the room with you. Between watching Lance like a hawk, having to explain to two heart eyed children that there was no kissing in third grade, and Jeremiah announcing to the entire class that his mom had hit the neighbor’s car yesterday but it was a secret, your mind had stayed plenty busy. But your planning period had found you blinking back tears at your desk as you tried to work on interventions for a couple of kids who were behind a grade level in Reading. Your lunch hit the trash can even though you’d barely touched it when your stomach revolted against it.

The meeting with Lance and Charlie’s parents had gone just about as awful as you’d expected. Mr. Johnson and Gareth, as he’d requested you call him, had wound up going toe to toe. The meeting got heated very quickly when Mr. Johnson said his son had done nothing wrong and Charlie shouldn’t dress like a freak if he didn’t want to be treated like one. Both men were up and in each other’s faces within ten minutes, chests heaving, eyes hard and hateful.

Principal Washington had wound up calling it over after forty-five minutes that was getting no one anywhere, telling both men to go cool off. So, you were stuck in the same position you’d been in prior to the meeting, no resolution to the issue between the boys and now a bigger issue between the parents.

You’d thought about stopping by Eddie’s after work to confront him but quickly realized you had no idea where he lived. He’d always shown up at your work or house or you’d seen him at Nancy’s or the bonfire. For a minute, you considered calling Nancy or Robin to ask but how would you explain why you needed to know without telling them what had happened? And you couldn’t do that. You imagined them sighing, pitying the dumb girl who’d allowed Eddie Munson into her bed. So you didn’t and by the time you went to bed that night, you’d cried silently into your pillow, hating yourself for believing anything that had come out of his mouth.

Tuesday, you struggled to make it through your day. You lost track of where you were, couldn’t remember what you were teaching, stumbled over your words. At one point you passed out a paper on common and proper nouns when you were supposed to be working on division. The kids noticed, asking you if you were okay and you knew you had to do something about this.

You couldn’t keep going on like this. If he was going to treat you like some cheap one-night stand then you had to just get over it. There was nothing you were going to do about it and chasing after him just made you pathetic. It had clearly meant nothing to him so why were you allowing it to consume you so much? Lots of people had one-night stands even if you never had. You were freshly divorced. Shouldn’t that be the kind of thing you should be doing? Relishing your freedom, making up for all the things you’d never experienced? Maybe it was just a good time and great sex and you needed to leave it at that.

After work, you headed to the bakery to grab a coffee, needing a pick-me-up after two sleepless nights and a really stressful meeting. Millie glanced up from behind the counter with a smile, took one look at your face, and the smile dropped as her eyes went wide.

“Uh-oh, honey, do I need to pack up some extra sweets for you? You look downright miserable.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, shaking your head. “Just needed a little coffee to get me through the rest of the day. It’s been a really long week already and it’s only Tuesday.”

“Uh-huh…” the old woman replied, clearly skeptical. Her hand came down on the counter as she leaned in toward you. “Well, if those swollen eyes and frown are any indication, you’re lying through your teeth. Sadness is leaking out of you like steam from a hot kettle.”

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to say much more. Your sadness was like a rain cloud hanging over you, threatening to break open and release your sorrow at any moment. And when it did fall, it would come pouring down in a flood of tears and anguish. You would be right back where you’d been months ago. You weren't ready to let that happen and certainly not in this coffee shop in front of this woman who’d been nothing but kind to you. You were trying so hard to just let it go.

Millie came around the counter faster than you would have expected her to be able to. Her arm slid around your shoulders, guiding you to a small table off to the side. You obeyed when instructed to sit down, the kind woman taking the chair across from you.

“Alright, I am going to need you to eat this first and then tell me what is going on,” Millie demanded, sliding a warm chocolate chip across the table toward you. When you didn’t make a move for it, she nudged it even closer. “Come on. Nothing makes the bitterness of life better than a little sweetness. Besides, the sugar will be good for you. Bring a little color back to your cheeks.”

You broke off a small piece, placing it in your mouth, allowing your senses to be flooded with the baked good. The chocolate chips were rich and creamy, the cookie was tender and chewy, and the combination just melted in your mouth. It felt like a hug, like comfort wrapped up in butter and sugar.

“There you go,” smiled Millie, tapping the table with her hand, clearly satisfied now that you had enjoyed your cookie. “Now, what’s got my girl looking like a four year old who just dropped her ice cream cone on the ground?”

You looked up at this woman, this woman you barely knew but who already felt like an old friend, someone you could trust anything to. Millie had been the first friendly face you’d met in Hawkins. She’d welcomed you with open arms from the moment you met as if she’d known you all her life. If you couldn’t talk about it with your new friends and weren't willing to admit to your sister that you’d been fooled by a man once again, then who else could you tell?

“I slept with Eddie,” you groaned, your forehead dropping onto the wooden table with a thunk.

“Oh…oh my…okay.” You lifted your head to find Millie sitting, one hand covering the smile that was obviously beneath it, deep lines creasing in the corners of her eyes.

“This is not even slightly amusing,” you huffed, frustrated at the woman’s smile. She had no idea. No idea how infuriating this was, how confused you were, how much you despised yourself for allowing it to happen.

“Sorry. I’m sorry but it is. I called it. If you remember, just a couple weeks ago I told you that the two of you would wind up here getting your coffee together. I could see that look on your face. That look was like fireworks on the Fourth of July, honey. I knew it was only a matter of time before something happened. Look, this is not a bad thing. I know what all these idiots in town have to say but Eddie is actually a very good guy. It’s not the end of the world. Honestly, I think the two of you could be exactly what the other needs.”

“Except not. We slept together Saturday night and he raced out of there like he couldn’t wait to get away and I have not heard one word from him since.” Your cheeks hollowed as you blew out a long breath, sitting back in your chair. “I am pretty sure I let some guy screw me over again, this time literally. He said all these lovely things and I, in all my desperate neediness after my divorce, believed him and I was nothing but a one night stand. He just wanted to screw the new girl. He’s probably out bragging about it to all of his friends.”

Millie’s face settled into a look of disbelief, “No. That can’t be right. I don’t believe that for one minute. Eddie can be…difficult and sometimes dense, but he wouldn’t do something like that. I just can’t believe that he would do that to you.”

“I know you think he’s some wonderful guy because he jumped your car and helped with your gutters, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a dog when it comes to women. He’s in a band. You know how guys like that are. They think they’re God’s gift to women or something and women throw themselves at them. He’s probably had more one night stands than he’s had your cookies. I don’t know why I didn’t think all this through. He just…god, he’s had me in some kind of chokehold from the moment we met and I don’t know why. He’s so annoying. He’s infuriating, really. He’s just…god, he’s so beautiful and…” You swallowed, picking off another piece of cookie but simply holding it between your fingers, staring at it. “I thought there was something more there. I really thought there was a decent guy underneath all that hostility. But honestly, what did I think? I’ve only known him a few weeks and we’ve only been getting along for a couple of days. Jesus, I am so stupid.”

Millie’s hand covered yours, her skin feeling thin and papery but warm and comforting, “You are not. I don’t know why he’s acting like some playboy. There’s no excuse for a man not to at least call after a night like that. I have half a mind to go over to his house, drag that boy out by his ear, and give him what for. He clearly needs it. I don’t care how old he is. Wayne would have his head if he knew he was treating a woman like that. What you need to do is confront him because there has to be some explanation for why he’s acting like this.”

You snorted, “How? I thought about showing up at his house but I have no idea where he lives. I know he’s a mechanic at the garage but I don’t know his work schedule and I am not just going to keep showing up there like a lost puppy. I don’t know. I think I’m just going to let it go. It is what it is. He obviously got what he wanted from me and he’s done. I was already dumb enough to fall for it. I don’t need to be the pathetic girl chasing him around. Thirty years old and I just had my first one night stand. I never saw myself as that kind of girl.”

“You’ve never…really?” Millie asked doubtfully.

“No. I’ve only ever been with one guy,” you admitted softly. “My ex-husband and I met in our sophomore year of high school. He was my first and I always thought he would be my last. Obviously, I was wrong about him too.”

“Oh honey,” Millie sighed. “No wonder you’re taking this so hard. Eddie was your first after your husband and only the second guy you’ve ever been with?”

You shrugged, “Yeah. Maybe I should just swear off of men for a while. That was the original plan anyway. I even thought about maybe getting myself some cats. Just really lean into the whole spinster vibe, you know? I was supposed to be focusing on me and then this stupidly gorgeous guy came along and I forgot to follow my own rules.”

“I hate to break it to you, honey, but there are no rules when it comes to the heart. And our hearts can make us do things that our brains would never agree to. They just take over the operation completely. Alright, here’s what you’re going to do. Eddie and his band play tonight at The Hideout. They do it every single Tuesday. You go down there and when his set is over, you corner that man. You demand some answers and you tell him what a shit he is for treating you like this. Don’t let him get away with this. His behavior is unacceptable.”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t want to chase after someone who doesn’t want me. I already came off as pathetic practically begging him to spend the night. Showing up at his show, that’s just mortifying.”

“You’re not chasing after him. You’re just getting the answers you deserve and telling him what a jerk he is. He needs to hear it so he doesn’t do this to another poor girl. I really thought he was better than that. And don’t you swear off men. You are a beautiful, sweet girl who is far too young to spend the rest of your life alone. You will find someone. If you need to take your time, heal for a little bit, that’s okay but don’t close that door for good. One day the right guy is going to come and sweep you off your feet. I just know it.”

“I’m not sure I believe that. I’m not sure I believe good guys even exist.”

“Oh, they do. Know how I know? I’m married to one. My Roy is as good as they come. He spoils the hell out of me, treats me like a queen, and he would never cheat on me. Could be because he knows I would slice his balls right off, but…” Millie laughed, shrugging.

You laughed, the sound loud and foreign to your own ears, a sound you hadn’t made in a few days. But hearing this sweet old woman say balls was sending you into hysterics, the words so shocking. Millie’s palm patted your cheek gently.

“Be brave honey because you’re worth far more than this. Don’t let that man treat you like this and get away with it. You go to that show and give that boy shit. Make him regret ever deciding to do that to you.”

Your spine straightened, your resolve hardening. Millie was right. Eddie had treated you like shit from the very beginning. He’d been so rude and mean and just when he started being nice, it had all been a ruse to get you into bed. He didn’t get to use you and discard you like trash along the side of the road. You were sick of people in your life thinking it was okay to treat you like nothing, like you didn’t matter, like you were an idiot.

“You know what? I will,” you stated.

Millie smiled, “That’s my girl.”

____________________________________________________________

You pushed open the door of The Hideout that night to be greeted with a cloud of smoke. The inside of this place was exactly what you expected from a little hole in the wall bar in a small town. The floors were sticky under your feet and the tabletops were chipped and stained from past drinks. The furniture looked old and weathered and it didn’t look like anyone had given this place a good cleaning in far too long. The atmosphere was loud and rowdy, the place packed full of people laughing and drinking. This was clearly the kind of establishment that people went to in order to forget their problems for a while. But you were coming here to step right into yours.

You’d battled yourself for the last few hours, trying to decide if you were going to follow through or not and now that you were here, you wanted nothing more than to turn and leave. Your chest tightened, the thought of confronting Eddie like a heavy weight pressing on it, keeping you from moving forward.

This was so stupid. What was the point of this? Nothing you said was going to change a damn thing. Eddie wouldn’t care. You couldn’t be the first girl he’d done this to. You meant nothing to him. Your fantasies of causing him pain like he’d caused you, of seeing regret on his face were just that, fantasies. If he’d cared at all, he would have called you once in the past three days.

Just as you turned to the door, ready to head back out and go home, put on your sweats and forget all about this ridiculous idea, you heard someone yelling your name. You turned to find Robin waving her arm high over her head to make sure she was seen through the dim lighting and smog being created by the dozens of cigarettes lit up around the place. She sat at a table with Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, Dustin, Lucas, and Max.

You groaned, closing your eyes for a moment, knowing there would be no easy escape now. If you walked out, they would want to know why you’d ignored them and you really did not want to explain what had transpired within the last few days with Eddie. So you slowly made your way over to the table as Steve was grabbing a chair and pulling it between him and Dustin for you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, dropping down into it, mortified to find that they were right in front of the stage where Eddie would definitely not be able to miss you.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight!” exclaimed Nancy with a grin.

“Yeah, neither did I. It was kind of a last minute decision,” you shrugged awkwardly. Jesus, this was going to lead to more questions. You and Eddie had done nothing but argue in front of all of them so of course they had to be wondering why you’d be here.

Max’s head tilted slightly, those sunglasses keeping you from being able to read her reaction very well, “You and Eddie must be getting along if he asked you to come to his show.”

“Argyle told me you two came into his place to get pizza together yesterday,” Jonathan smirked, clearly thinking he knew more than the rest of them but not knowing near what he thought he did.

Nancy’s mouth formed a perfect little ‘o’, like Jonathan hadn’t already told her, “Really? Well, that is interesting. Pray tell, why were you and Eddie out to dinner together?”

“Are you two…are you two dating?” asked Dustin. “Damn it. Why am I always the last to know everything?”

“Because you have a big mouth,” snorted Max, receiving a middle finger from Dustin in response.

“There’s nothing to know. We are not dating. It was nothing really,” you insisted, shaking your head. “He’s helping me with the car I bought off of his uncle. I have to buy the parts and he’s going to fix it for me. So, we went to the junkyard to look for stuff because he was trying to save me some money and then we were hungry. We just grabbed some pizza. That’s all.”

“Hmm…” Robin mused, her tongue slipping between her teeth, mouth curved in amusement. “I suppose at least you two are getting along well enough to spend time together and both come out alive.”

“Yeah. I thought I was going to have to referee at the roller rink,” chuckled Steve. “You looked ready to clock him in the jaw.”

“I tried to call you on Monday,” Nancy accused, saving you from responding to Steve’s comment, swirling her straw through her drink. “I left a message but you never called me back.”

“Yeah. I heard your message. I’m sorry about that,” you mumbled, pulling the ketchup bottle toward you, peeling the label anxiously. “I had that meeting yesterday with Lance and Charlie’s parents. It didn’t go well. I got home late and I was just exhausted, completely wiped. I wound up going to bed early,” you lied, growing concerned at how easily not being truthful was coming to you these days.

“I could have told you that wouldn’t end well,” snorted Dustin. “Andy’s a dick.”

“What happened?” asked Lucas.

“I tried to calmly explain to Mr. Johnson that his son’s behavior was unacceptable and cruel. He wouldn’t hear it, saying the kid was asking for it by choosing to be different. What did he expect to happen when he walked into school looking like that? That got Gareth very upset, as you can expect, and he accused Mr. Johnson of raising his son to be a bully just like him. Mr. Johnson then said he shouldn’t be raising a freak if he didn’t want him to get bullied. Gareth said better a freak than an asshole. Then Mr. Johnson said Charlie would turn out to be a low-life criminal psychopath just like Eddie and before I knew it the two men were squared off, looking like they were ready to have an all out brawl in my classroom. My principal tried to calm everybody down but the meeting was going nowhere fast so she eventually just told both of them to go home and cool off. I don’t think the issues between the boys will ever get resolved because the issues between the men never have.”

“Trust me, those issues will never be resolved,” Lucas told you. “That bad blood runs deep in their veins. Andy was a member of the cronies who came after Corroded Coffin when they were looking for Eddie. Jason almost busted Gareth’s hand which would have made it very hard to play drums. And Andy, he almost broke my little sister’s arm. They were horrible.”

“Why were they looking for Eddie?” you asked. “Were they part of the vigilante crowd who was hunting him?”

“How do you know about that?” asked Nancy.

“Me,” Jonathan answered, raising his hand with an apologetic smile. ��I told her how the people in town were out hunting him down, assuming he was guilty. Yeah, they were part of that. In fact, they were leading the charge. When Chrissy died, Jason lost his mind. He got the whole town riled up at the town hall meeting and he and his basketball crew were out with weapons looking for Eddie.”

“Did they find him?”you asked, wondering if those scars weren’t from raccoons after all but a bunch of cruel boys hunting down a man they’d falsely accused based on how he looked and what he enjoyed. Could that have been what he meant when he started to say that he almost died? You’d been sure that was how he was going to finish that statement. The very thought made your stomach turn sour. Eddie being horribly attacked by a bunch of cruel bastards was enough to make you want to lose your dinner.

“No. They didn’t,” answered Lucas, pointing around the table. “These guys were able to help him stay hidden until he was proved innocent by the chief. I gave them a heads up because I was on the basketball team. I was with Jason and them after it all happened. So, once I knew they were coming for Eddie and it wasn’t just to talk, I let everyone know so we could keep him safe.”

“Wow…he was lucky to have friends like you. There’s not a lot of people who would put themselves in that position, helping a wanted man, placing themselves in the line of danger. That was really brave of all of you.”

“Or really stupid,” Steve shrugged, laughing. “But Eddie was innocent and he didn’t deserve all that bullshit and luckily, it all worked out in the end.”

You were pleased to finally have some answers. At least they hadn’t all shut down on you this time. But just as you were getting ready to take advantage of their giving nature, the owner of the bar came on stage to introduce Corroded Coffin. The entire bar lost their shit, screaming and clapping, letting you know these guys were pretty much local celebrities. It made sense if they’d been playing here for so long but it was a testament to how talented they must be that people kept coming back week after week.

The guys came onto the stage, Eddie stepping out last and the minute you caught sight of him, your breath rushed from your body. How did that man still have the capacity to incapacitate your most basic functions when you hated him so much? Two conflicting emotions, hatred and desire, battling for dominance within you.

It didn’t help that he looked so goddamn sexy right now. His hair was covered by a black bandana, those lean arms exposed in a cut-off tee bearing his band’s name, pale scars shimmering brightly under the lights of the stage. He opened his mouth to yell to the crowd and then snapped it shut just as quickly when his eyes found yours sitting a mere six feet from him.

Brown eyes, glowing like an ember in the spotlight, widened in surprise. Yeah, you were sure he was surprised to see you, probably startled and appalled that you hadn’t gotten the message and left him alone. Was he nervous you’d call him out in the middle of the bar in front of all his friends? Well, he didn’t have to worry about that. You had no intention of allowing any of them to know what a fool he’d made of you, what a fool you’d allowed him to make you. But you couldn’t resist the smug smile that crossed your lips at how you’d thrown him off kilter for a moment.

Eddie shook his head, blinking, clearing his throat. “Hawkins, are you ready to have a good time?” he yelled into the microphone, pulling his eyes from yours, awkward moment forgotten, pushed to the side as rockstar mode slid firmly back in place.

As the show went on, you couldn’t help but be pulled in, completely mesmerized by him. He commanded the stage with confidence and charisma, his presence felt throughout the entire bar. He was a man consumed by his music. His fingers danced and flowed over the strings, seeming to have a mind of their own. His body moved to the beat. Eddie was a ball of energy, racing from one end of the small stage to the other, sweat dripping down his face, long waves plastered to his skin. He had frontman energy in spades.

The music was loud and aggressive, intense and powerful. It was everything heavy metal should be. The whole crowd was caught up in the show, an experience that wouldn’t soon be forgotten, an experience they would all be eager to have again next week. You understood now why the people kept coming back. He was absolutely electrifying, a rock god entertaining his people, providing them a release from the realities of life.

You had never seen him more at peace, more in his element than he was up there on that stage. There were no signs of the usual haunting sadness or the bitter resentment on his face when he was playing and singing. His eyes were closed, his mouth open as that growling, seductive voice sang, but his tone did not match the softness in his features, appearing completely at peace.

He grinned as the last chords were played on their closing song, his tongue slipping out and running over his bottom lip, those coffee-hued eyes exuding joy that was entirely captivating. So captivating that you leapt to your feet, screaming and clapping along with everyone else before you realized what you were doing. Eddie glanced down at you in surprise and then his lips curved into a smile that let you know he was pleased with himself. You quickly looked down at your feet, bringing your hands to your sides, annoyed that he’d caused your body to act without your permission once again.

“They’re amazing, huh?” asked Dustin, his grin wide and goofy, hero worship rolling off him in waves.

“Yeah,” you agreed, grabbing your purse. “That was great. I’m just…I’m going to get going, okay?”

You had to get out of here, escape before Eddie and his bandmates made their way out. You had thought you could do this, be strong and brave, tell him off for treating you like some cheap whore but you couldn’t. You couldn’t face him. You weren't brave. You were weak. Wasn’t that obvious? Cam had known it too. He’d cheated on you knowing you would be too dumb to realize what was happening. You were going to do what you always did when things got too hard, run and hide.

“What? No!” argued Steve, tossing his hands up. “Come on! The show just ended. The guys are going to come out soon. We’ll all have a drink.”

“Yeah, don’t rush out,” Max added. “Eddie will be so happy you came.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” you countered, shaking your head. “Look, just tell him I said they were amazing, okay? I’ll…”

“Amazing, huh? That’s awfully high praise coming from the Queen herself.”

Dread doused you, ice cold water creeping through your veins at the sound of that voice behind you. You glanced toward the exit, wondering how ridiculous it would be if you just raced for the door. But no, you couldn’t give any of them an indication of what had happened. So, swallowing down the lump in your throat, you slowly turned to face him.

Fuck. Why did he have to be so beautiful? He stood, wiping his face down with a towel. Close up like this, you could see black eyeliner rimming his lower lash line, only making his eyes that much more swoon worthy. You rolled your shoulders back. No. You would not be swooning. Eddie Munson was not worth swooning over. He was a jerk, you reminded yourself, an asshole who’d taken advantage of you and then ditched you.

“I mean, Gareth was incredible on drums and the bass player, damn. Really amazing musicians,” you spat, refusing to compliment him in any way.

“My guys are pretty fucking amazing,” Eddie agreed, chuckling in amusement before thanking a bartender as they handed him a bottle of beer. Your eyebrows raised and he shrugged, taking a long pull. “Perks of performing. Drinks are on the house.”

“Speaking of drinks, who wants?” asked Jonathan. “I got the first round.”

“Me,” you said quickly, thinking you were going to require something stiff and strong to make it through any more conversation tonight. “Can I get a bourbon on the rocks?”

“Well shit, our little school teacher likes the hard stuff,” Eddie commented with a low whistle.

“Bourbon, really?” asked Robin. “That’s an odd choice.”

“My dad likes it. It was the first thing I ever got drunk on,” you replied as Jonathan and Steve headed up to the bar. “Cassie and I drank half the bottle and then tried filling it with water but he drank it straight so he knew the minute he poured it. Not to mention the color was all wrong. I don’t know how we thought we wouldn’t get caught. I was grounded for two weeks after that.”

“My first time getting drunk was on some punch at a party, pure fuel,” Nancy said with a gag. “Oh, I was so sick. It was awful. Steve can attest to it. I was rather bitchy that night or so I’m told. I don’t actually remember any of it.”

“Well, you were going through a lot at the time,” Steve interjected. “You were just trying to forget…everything.”

“Including you,” snorted Robin, bumping him with her elbow and he placed a large hand on her face, pushing her. She shoved him back. “It was vodka for me, but the cheap stuff. It was like drinking gasoline.”

“My uncle’s whiskey and he drinks the good shit so he was pissed as hell when he found his bottle gone,” Eddie laughed. “I got my ear chewed off for that one.”

“Beer,” shrugged Dustin.

“Me too,” Lucas nodded. “It was me, Mike, and Dustin. Will was there but he didn’t drink. We snuck it from Mike’s dad but that guy is so oblivious he never said anything. He probably didn’t even notice, thought he’d drunk it and forgot.”

Max sighed, “I’ve never. I actually don't drink. My mom developed a drinking problem after my step-brother died and my step-dad took off. I just never cared enough to find out if I inherited that particular fun family trait.”

“That’s very impressive,” you told her and it was. For her to recognize the potential problem and choose to avoid it rather than risk following that same path. Most people couldn’t do that. They continued the pattern instead of breaking it.

“Here we are,” Jonathan announced, him and Steve arriving with an array of drinks carefully balanced, passing them around.

“Hey teach!”

You smiled when you saw Charlie’s dad approaching with his other two bandmates. The meeting may have ended badly but you’d liked Charlie’s dad from the moment you’d met him at Open House. He was kind and obviously adored his son. The meeting going poorly hadn’t been his fault but the fault of Lance’s dad who was openly hostile from the moment he’d walked in.

“Hey there.” You glanced down at the drink in your hand and cringed.

Gareth caught her look, “No worries. I won’t tell anyone you have an actual life outside of the classroom. Whatever you do on your own time is your own business. You’ve been wonderful to my kid and that’s all that matters to me. Besides, having to deal with Andy is enough to drive anyone to drink.”

“Thanks.”

You knew you were a human who was allowed to do adult things outside of work but it always felt weird when a parent spotted you doing so. You’d had parents in the past who’d looked at you funny or made comments if you had a drink in your hand. Or hell, the one time a parent had questioned you wearing a bathing suit to the pool, saying it was inappropriate for someone who worked with children to be showing that much skin. What were you supposed to swim in? Jeans and a shirt?

“You teach Charlie?” asked Eddie and you realized that because you’d been trying to keep him from hearing what had been said about him, that particular topic had never come up.

“Yeah, man. You didn’t know that?” asked Gareth. “Charlie adores her. She’s been looking out for him. Andy’s kid has been an absolute douche to him. Like father, like son, but Ms. Campbell here has been on him. You should have heard her with Andy in our meeting yesterday, letting him know exactly what kind of kid he was raising.”

“Well, I…I thought I was being gentle about it.”

“No, you were. That was what was so awesome. You basically let him know his kid was a dickhead but without saying those words. You made it all professional and shit with the words you chose. ‘Lance’s behavior with Charlie has been unacceptable, mean, and downright cruel. I fear if it continues then Lance could become alienated from the other children.’ You basically said, your child is an asshole that no one is going to want to be around if you don’t step up and be a dad but still managed to be nice about it. It was amazing.”

“Well, thanks,” you smiled. “I’m trying but his father doesn’t seem very receptive.”

Eddie snorted, “Of course not. Andy’s a massive douchebag. He’s probably proud that his son is an asshole just like him. Probably teaching him to go after any kid who doesn’t fit into his nice little box of what is normal.”

“You would be correct,” Jonathan huffed. “He told his kid all about you.”

“What do you mean?” questioned Eddie, spine rigid and there went that muscle in his jaw again. He definitely did not hide agitation very well.

“He told his kid that you were responsible for those murders.”

“How do you know that?” the metalhead demanded, his eyes moving from Jonathan to you, narrowing. “How would he know that? I didn’t think Jonathan knew Andy’s kid.”

“Shit…” Jonathan muttered, cringing as he looked at you apologetically. “Look, the kid was running his mouth to her when she told him to stop being a little jerk to Charlie. He told her he was going after him because he was making sure that he knew his place and didn’t hurt people like you had. He told her you’d killed people and gotten away with it. She was confused so she came over to our place and asked me what he meant.”

“Oh, I see, it was so easy for you to assume that I was some sadistic killer like everyone else in this town?” Eddie grumbled, his tone hard, cold, angry. Those eyes challenged you, terrified you, the darkness apparent in them causing you to take a step back. “So, you went and asked my friends about it? What? Didn’t have the balls to just come and ask me? Were you too scared to be alone with me? Afraid I might summon Satan and complete some dark ritual on you. Too bad you’re not a virgin, sweetheart. Kind of a prerequisite for any Satanic shit. So no worries. You’re safe.”

Tears burned your eyes and you battled them back. Jesus, what had you ever done to make him treat you so badly? This was precisely why you hadn’t gone to him because you knew he would just find a way to villainize you for it. Like it was your fault that Andy was spreading lies about him, that his kid had told you.

“How was I supposed to ask you? You’d been so nasty to me and I knew asking you that would only make it worse. I didn’t assume shit. I couldn’t see you hurting anyone. I was confused to find out some guy I’d just met had been accused of murder. Excuse me for asking for clarification.”

“Clarification?” he scoffed. “Please. You’ve painted me as a villain from the moment you met me.”

“I didn’t have to paint you as anything! You’ve done that all yourself!” you yelled. “You’ve played the part pretty damn well, being an asshole to me from the moment we met.”

“Whoa…uh guys…” Dustin stepped between them, trying to intervene but Eddie placed his hand on his chest and pushed him to the side.

“I’m only playing the part you cast me in. You say I’ve been nasty. Well, you’ve not exactly been sunshine and rainbows, darling.”

“Hey, let’s just calm down,” Steve called out, glancing nervously between the two of you. “It was a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

You ignored him. You couldn’t stop yourself now if you tried, your body practically vibrating with anger, sick and tired of him treating you like shit. “I don’t know what the hell happened to you to make you such a bitter, awful person. I thought I wanted to know. I thought maybe I could be someone who could help you…”

“I don’t need or want your help.”

“That’s fine because I really don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Eddie laughed, “And you think I do? You think I care whether you like me or not?”

“You sure seemed to Saturday night,” you spat, stepping into him, that bravery you didn’t think you had suddenly appeared and you didn’t care anymore what any of them thought about you. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about much at the moment other than the ugly urge within you to gut him the way he’d gutted you.

“Oh honey, I’m just a good actor,” he grinned, any trace of the man you’d spent Saturday with gone, replaced with this cruel monster who was enjoying digging that knife in just a bit deeper.

“Maybe you are. Sure didn’t seem like you were acting when you were fucking me.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot to his forehead as a collective gasp erupted from your friends. His eyes slipped closed, hand running down his face as he groaned loudly. He’d clearly not expected you to divulge that particular piece of information and you found you felt justified. It was childish but it felt damn good.

“Did she just say…?” you heard Robin whisper.

Max wheezed, “Holy shit.”

Nancy choked on her drink, “Didn’t see that coming…”

“Seriously, always the last to know,” grumbled Dustin.

You ignored them all. “You’re pathetic, Eddie. You walk around putting on this front to the world. You act the part everyone expects you to because you never want to let anyone in, never want to let anyone close, to let anyone see you. I wanted to try. I thought maybe there was something there, something worthwhile. But now, all you are is one giant fucking mistake. One I won’t be making again.”

And with that, you turned and stormed out of the bar, leaving him speechless once again as everyone else broke out in a rumble of question and exclamations.

Chapter 14

Taglist

@tlclick73 @bebe07011 @eddiesguitarskills @witchwolflea @nailbatanddungeon @emilyslutface @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @corrodedcoffincumslut @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @katethetank @paleidiot

91 notes · View notes

folkloresthings · 9 months

Text

✩⡱ 1K celebration masterlist!

❨ ✾ smut, ✵ author’s favs ❩

fernando alonso

accept it

fernando + guitar

good enough

sick day

sleepy

whatever it takes

fernando + body heat

heartstrings

right here

fernando + sharing clothes

charles leclerc

charles + romantic comedies

reconcile

charles + hair

carlos sainz

unrequited

carlos + dancing

all along ✵

second chance

illicit affairs

sober thoughts

mick schumacher

tangled up (feat. lewis hamilton)

mick + cooking

jealous

august

napkin contracts ✵

lando norris

afterglow

stuck with you

bad idea ✵

meddle about

oscar piastri

you are in love

lover

i think he knows

for forever

all of the girl you loved before

hits different

oscar + puzzles

always ✵

sebastian vettel

scared to love

cruel summer ✵

sweet or sour

close for comfort

gold rush

boiling point

someday ✵

lewis hamilton

tangled up (feat. mick schumacher)

daniel ricciardo

take a chance

someone older ✵

fix you ✵

max verstappen

max + collections

middle of the night

lance stroll

lover

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k!

132 notes · View notes

shelbgrey · 9 months

Text

Falling in love with James Aubrey after losing Lance Sweets:

Paring: James Aubrey x Hodgins!Reader, previously Lance Sweets x wife!Reader

Summary: learning to fall in love again after your husband Lance passes away. - there will be a part 2!

🩷MasterList 🩷Part 2

you first met James Aubrey when he helped you and your husband Lance figure out who framed your best friend Seeley Booth.

Your first thoughts of him was that he was kinda adorable with his extreme eating habits and goofy personality.

“he's adorable” you whispered to Booth, when you said it back then you didn't mean it as you were attract to him. You ment as if someone called a small child adorable.

What you didn't know was he was smitten when he saw you, he thought you were beautiful and extremely smart. He couldn't stop staring at you and your husband and best friend noticed.

Lance trusted you and it was clear you weren't interested to Aubrey, he let it go and focused on the case. He was still sharp towrds him though, he was checking his wife out after all.

Booth had a different reaction, he thought it was humorous but wanted to Inform him before he started playing with fire. He took Aubry aside without you two knowing “married” he pointed at you, he then pointed to Lance. “husband”

He didn't know why it hurt so much, especially do to the fact you guys just met, but there was something about you and he couldn't get you out of his head. He really tried to let it go but failed, he had a crush on a married woman.

“don't worry” Seeley said, patting his back. “you'll get over it like the rest of them” meaning everyone has had a crush on you at least once.

To make matters worse he was there to witness your husband getting gun down. He felt tears run down his cheek as he watched you hold Lance lifeless body and sob.

“please don't leave me” you cried and rested your forehead on his. “I love you so much” Lance said softly

James didn't know what to do, he wanted to help some how but he only stood there in shock.

Seeley tried to separate you and Lance but you weren't having it. “he's not dying! Please Temperance help me” you cried.

Temperance was trying to hold it together herself. She held back her tears and looked at her husband then back at you. “honey... He's gone”

Seeley made his final good by in privet. “I'll make sure they're alright... Y/n and Charlotte both, I promise to protect them”

And just like that the love of your life was gone, it left a huge whole in your heart and all you wanted to do was avenge Lance.

What hurt you most was telling your daughter Charlotte that her daddy was gone, and on top of that your son hadn't even been born yet.

You stayed strong for your daughter, she had yet to real learn about death. She would have with when her gold fish Gus died but Lance replaced it while she was at preschool. All she knew was her daddy was in Heaven now.

You couldn't sleep on Lance's side of the bed, work got harder, and you just started to drift through time. Your brother Jack got worried about you and asked you and your daughter to move in with him and Angela.

It was a nice change, you got to be with your big brother, who you saw as your hero and Charlotte had the opportunity to grow up with her cousin Michael-Vincent.

A couple months went by and you started to feel better, you knew Lance wouldn't want you to be in so much pain so you tried to just live every day in his name.

Suprisenly James became a good friend to you, for awhile he forgot about his crush on you and just wanted to be there for you and your Daughter.

He made you laugh, the first time you really laughed since Lance passed away was when you went on a case with Seeley and James. It was video game company and James stoped to take a goofy selfie with a bigfoot. Seeley would have told him to knock it off, but it was the first time he heard you laugh in a while and he didn't want to take that away from you.

The more you hung out the more he fell for you and it scared the hell out of him... The both of you. At the time you didn't want another relationship, Lance was the love of your life and you always thought you only get one. You were scared you were giving off the wrong signals to him. Your kindness has been mistaken for flirting before.

Two years passed and your friendship with James only grew stronger. He was their when your son Seeley Lance Sweets was born. He was in the waiting room while your brother and Angela was there comforting you.

James got to be one of the first few to hold little Seeley and was aw struck. Once he saw that little boy he made a promised that he'd protect him and his sister from now on.

People noticed how differently James would treat you. He was naturally a kind man, but with you he treated you like a queen and was always there to protect you if you were out of the lab helping with a case.

He treated your kids like his own, he knew he'd could never replace Lance and he wasn't trying to, but if he need to babyset he would, if they want him read them a story he'll go all out and make difference voices for the characters. He loves your son and daughter.

Then there was the whole sharing food. People knew not to get in between James and his food. Your friends suspected his feelings when they cought you two sharing a plate of fries at the Diner. “that's different” Seeley said.

Hodgins, who just happened to be with him shared a worried look. “you don't think... He would be trying to get close right? She just lost Sweets”

The two didn't try to over think it, Jack knew your stance on a new relationship. He didn't want you to be in anymore pain but he couldn't help question James reasoning, it had only been two years since Lance left.

When the bottled up feelings became too much for James he went to Booth for advice. He was pacing back and forth while also rambling, Seeley tried to keep up as he watched him pace back and forth infront of his desk.

Then it finally clicked. “Wait! Your in love with her!? And she's into you, are you sure?”

“I can't help it.. I would never push her into anything but i cant-” he started but Booth cut him off.

“No, no, no. It's just that Lance was, Lance was perfect for her. I mean, that girl's heart beat for Lance Sweets. It just, it never occurred to me that she would ever be with anyone else.”

James knew how special your relationship with Lance was to you and he respected it. If you two were ment to be he would never be jealous or mad that you'll always love Lance.

But he is human, he would feel a pit in his stomach at the thought his first with you will always be your second with him. You experienced everything that was involved with a relationship with Lance first. Sex, cuddling, having a kid, everything.

Your first reaction to your feelings for him was absolute panic and remorse. You felt you were cheating on Lance or betraying him for having feelings for another. It ate at your already broken heart and you kept it bottled up.

It would go like this, you'd sneek a glance at James, admiring his beautiful eyes and his cute little smile. Then you'd immediately start feeling bad.

Jack caught on, he knew you like the back of his hand and loved you with every fiber of his soul. One day your big brother took you to the side and asked you if you're okay. You broke down in tears and told him how awful you felt.

“buddy, your not cheating on Lance” he said softly. “he would want you to be happy... You lost Lance at such a young age and now Your experiencing something most people wouldn't after losing a spouse, your getting another chance”

You looked at him with tears in your eyes. “what if I lose him too? And I can't expect him to take care of me and my kids? My son didn't even meet Lance”

That became another fear, you were so afraid of losing him too, what if James dies on you too?

“I think you two should have a long serious talk” your brother said.

You took your brother's advance and talked to James, you talked for hours and brought of everything that was on your minds.

“just promise me you will never die on me” you said with tears in your eyes. “I promise” James nodded and slowly leaned in, you mentally panicked and moved you face so his lips landed on your cheek.

“I'm sorry.. I-” he quickly said. You looked at him saddly and pecked his cheek. “I'm just not ready for all that yet”

He nodded “when ever you are... We'll take things slow there's no rush, just know I'll always be there for you and your kids”

It's been a while since you felt so much love and it scared you, you knew you could trust him but there was still fear of losing him if you got too close.

Even if you took things slow you both loved every moment. It was the little things that mattered most, you'd go to New restaurants, watch movies, go to your kids school functions.

James didn't miss a single thing involving your kids, if your daughter had some kinda concert with her class he'd be recording the whole thing. He even got to witness your Son's first steps.

Seeley Lance or LJ has know James all his life so it wasn't a surprise he called James dad, you told him stories of his father, but he couldn't help but see James as father. Charlotte calls him Jamie, she looks up to him and all but in her mind, her daddy is in heaven.

They do have a strong bond though, the little girl loves to be a round him and feels safe with him.

they probably watched every thing episode of Bluey together.

Speaking of which, James did get you and your kids a puppy, a Beagle puppy that your daughter named Bluey.

The first time you ever said I love you was about a year into your relationship, unfortunately it was after a life threatening experience. You went on a case with Booth and you ended up being in a coma for about a week.

You thought you were dying, and this sad thing is you accepted it. While you were under you could have sworn you talked to Lance, you didn't know if it was hallucination or a ghost.

You ran to him and hugged him tight as tears filled both of your eyes. He was so happy and sad to see you, it just wasn't your time.

“our kids need you.. They can't lose both of their parents”

You held his face in your hands and kissed his lips saddly. “you didn't even get to meet your son... He's so much like you”

He smiled. “I know... And couldn't be more prouder of him and Charlotte both, but I know you three are being tooken care of”

Once again you felt a pit in your stomach when you thought about James, you will never be ashamed of falling in love with him. James put your piece back together and helped you heal, but Lance will alway be your first love.

“don't you ever feel bad for falling on love again... You remember the pain you felt when I died?” Lance asked softly, you nodded sadly. “Aubry is feeling that right now, he's so scared of losing you”

You knew he was right, but you still shook your head and cried... All you wanted to do was stay with him forever.

He smiled softly and whipped your tears away. You said 'I love you' one last time before you started to blink back to reality. You took deep breath and looked around the hospital room. Your brother Jack was fast asleep on a couch in the room, Charlotte and Seeley was piled up with him asleep as well.

James was fast asleep next you, he had a chair pulled up to your bed with his head in your lap and his hand holding your. You took your free hand and ran your fingers through his hair softly.

He jolted awake in a panic, he left out a sigh of relief when he saw you smiling softly at him. “your awake” he said with tears pricking his sleep-deprived eyes.

He leaned over and wrapped his arms around you. “I thought I lost you” you placed your hand on his jaw and pulled him towrds you kissing his lips passionately, it was so soft but held so much emotion. “I love you... So much James”

He smiled, you didn't know how long he's been waiting to hear thoughs words. He smiled from ear to ear and kissed you again. “I love you too”

You only pulled away when you hear your kid chearing your name. “mama!” they jumped from Jack's lap and ran to you, giving you a big hug.

You finally had peace and felt you could move on, your life was better knowing Lance and you are better person because of him. Now it's time to start over with a man you knew loved you just as much as Lance did.

#James Aubrey #James Aubrey x reader #James Aubrey imagines #Lance Sweets #Bones TV show #john boyd #Headcanons #Bones headcanons #James Aubrey headcanons #James Aubrey smut #Jeffersonian #Jack Hodgins x Sister!reader

89 notes · View notes