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lumosinlove · 6 months

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Vaincre

May Part Six

cw: mentions of past injury

They lost game five.

Maybe, Remus thought, they had expected the Rangers to be hurting. Their footing unsure. After Archer, Remus knew he felt shaken. It was an accident. The phrase rang in his mind, complete with Archer’s face—and, even worse, Leo’s face. Heartbroken.

Remus had thought, more than once, that Logan would be off his game because of Finn.

But the Lions had been the ones feeling thrown. Sirius had stolen two goals, but one was overturned for being off-side. They missed Finn in the lineup badly. Kasey was hurting in the net. Leo had swapped in for the third period and was obviously hurting in an entirely different way. He had hardly looked at Logan on the ice and Remus hadn’t seen them say goodbye before the Lions’ flight back home to Gryffindor. He had simply slipped right out of the visitor’s locker room and onto the bus for the airport.

It should have been a complete spiral. They were facing elimination tomorrow. Their summer could begin right then, too early for anyone’s taste. Sirius should have been silent with his shoulders up to his ears. But Sirius still seemed…locked in. Captain mode, Thomas had dubbed it. It came with an exaggerated salute every time that made his stud diamond earrings flash. It still made Remus do a double-take every time he saw Sirius smile. Every time he caught him humming while loading the dishwasher or getting ready for bed in their shared hotel room. Maybe it was that they were both exhausted. Worried, too, about Finn, or about making it—that vague feeling that one was never quite doing enough.

Still. He felt some pride in seeing Sirius like that.

There existed an odd liminal space where Sirius wasn’t his. Not his fiancé, not his boyfriend. Not the man he kissed good morning, or showered with, or watched fold his laundry oh-so carefully. Not the one he’d mostly taught how to cook or the one who stole the covers ‘on accident.’ There was a space where Sirius was his captain, and only his captain.

These past few days were closer to that space than anything else. At home, they moved around each other in their own, focused routines, but Remus didn’t mind. At night, Sirius’ arms were tight around his waist. Sleepy kisses to his shoulder. It was a season balance that they were only going to get better at—and wasn’t that a strange thought. This year had felt like a dream, and it still struck Remus each time he remembered that he didn’t need to wake up.

The weight room smelled like sweat and metal and Remus let out a breath as Thomas spotted the bar back to rest.

“Shit, Looper. New PR, boy.” Thomas grinned at him upside-down.

Remus ducked the bar and sat up, using the hem of his shirt to wipe sweat off his face. “Somethings up with Leo and Logan.”

Thomas came around the bench with his arms crossed and an incredulous look on his face. “Maybe you missed the part where Leo’s ex slammed Finn’s head against the ice.”

Remus tried to side-step that mental image and stood to help him release the clips. “Why would that make them stop talking?”

“How do we know if they’re talking? Tremz lives in a different city and, let me tell you, FaceTime hits different when you’re in love.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “They didn’t even look at each other in New York.”

Thomas looked like he wanted to argue, but they both knew he couldn’t. They’d both been there each time Logan came into the Lions’ room to take Leo and Finn into his arms, win or lose. It hadn’t happened last game.

“Gotta be tough,” Thomas said more quietly. “First Tremzy now Harz. Maybe it’s just Leo sorting through it all. Plus…”

He darted a look towards Kasey on the bikes. Remus had realized the other day that he braced himself every time Kasey opened his mouth in the locker room. He’d been waiting to hear the word retirement for so long that it hardly felt like a secret anymore, just an unspoken fact. These kind of things were felt by a team. An energy shift. A change in the heart of it all.

“Team dinner tonight,” Thomas said. “We’ll sit Knut between us, see if we can’t—”

“He’s not going,” Remus said.

“Why-huh?”

“Says he wants to be there for Finn at home. Logan flies in later today, so.”

Thomas clicked his tongue. “No, man. Boyfriends are killer and all, but sometimes you need you friends.” He stuck two fingers into his mouth and let out a sharp whistle across the room. “Knut! Get over here.”

Leo looked up, settling the dumbbells he was curling near his feet, sweat gleaming across his bare chest. “What?”

Thomas gave an impatient jump. “Get over here, Cub.”

Leo still looked confused when he stopped beside them, eyeing Remus who was sliding his weights off the bar.

“You’re coming to team dinner,” Thomas said firmly, and when Leo opened his mouth to protest, Thomas jabbed a finger into his chest. “No, I’m pulling rank. You’re coming to team dinner.”

“Jesus, T,” Leo rubbed over his chest. “Ow. No, because Finn—”

“Has been very well looked after by his mommy, if I’m not mistaken, and will be very well taken care of by Logan, too. Meanwhile, you will be with us letting that weight of the world off of your stupidly toned shoulders.” Thomas slapped Sirius’ chest, who had walked up beside Remus. “Isn’t that right, Captain?” Thomas saluted.

“Quoi?” Sirius said. His fingers had started rubbing softly below the hem of Remus’ tank top. Remus bit back a smile.

“Leo is coming to team dinner,” Remus said. “Right? We’re going to drive him and he can leave his car here at the rink overnight and we’re going to buy him a drink or two.”

“Uh.” Sirius nodded when Remus did. “Ouais. Yes. True? Was this not true before?”

Thomas took Remus’ place on the bench press with a sigh. “You gotta get better at pulling rank, Cap.”

Sirius sent him an unimpressed look, then patted Leo on the shoulder. “We would like if you came to dinner.”

Remus knew Leo would have probably melted at that at one time in his life, but standing there now he just looked conflicted. Worried. It was enough to make Sirius glance at Remus.

“Not if you really don’t want to,” Sirius added softly, and in French.

“I do,” Leo said quickly. “I just…No, yeah. I do. Logan…Logan’s got it.”

“I mean, he’s done it before, right?” Thomas said. “Twice.”

Leo’s expression crumpled a little more, but he nodded and ducked away back towards his weights.

“What the hell?” Thomas whispered.

“He’s worried,” Sirius said. “Give him a break.”

Thomas scoffed. “I’m helping.”

“And I’m pulling rank,” Sirius said with raised eyebrows. “Give him a break.” Sirius turned his eyes on Remus. “And you, come with me.”

Thomas looked up from where he’d laid down on the bench. “That’s my spotter, Black!”

Sirius just threw an arm around Remus’ waist, settling it low on his back—very low. “That’s my fiancé. Rank.”

“Fucking hell,” Thomas sighed. “Warn me next time I create a monster.”

Evgeni stepped up behind Thomas’ bar, flipping his hat backwards. “I spot.”

Thomas looked mildly horrified. “Dude, you never catch it when I tell you to.”

“Work hard,” Evgeni said sagely. “Do better than you think.”

“Whatever, Yoda.”

“I am force.”

Remus reached behind him and tugged at Sirius’ wrist when his touch got more insistent, but Sirius only used the leverage to spin him around completely.

“Can I help you?” Remus asked.

Sirius’ eyes did that thing Remus liked—the very boyfriend thing, no salute required. They flit over the room behind Remus, almost playfully, before settling back on his own. Remus knew he was either about to get a secret, or blush.

“You look good right now, that’s all.”

This. This right here was the anti-spiral. Had they lost a game five like that on enemy ice a year ago, Sirius might have broken his stick. Yet here they stood.

“Thanks, baby.”

Sirius just tilted his head at him, smile slight, then asked, “What are you doing right now?”

“Well, breaking records.” Remus brought a hand around Sirius’ waist when he began walking them towards a bench press of their own. “Spot you?”

Sirius hesitated. “Uh, ouais.” He lay back on the bench and looked up at Remus upside-down. “You got a new PR?”

“Sure did.” Remus watched Sirius grip the bar of the weight and drew in a slow breath. It made his wrist bones flex with the strong cords of muscles over his forearms.

It had been good at home between them. Balanced. Focused.

Quiet.

“Ready?” he asked Sirius.

Maybe a little too quiet with Regulus in the house. Remus had watched Sirius’ bare back through the bathroom doorway that morning, muscles moving gently as he went about getting ready.

Sirius flexed his fingers around the bar twice, a little superstition of his, and Remus darted his eyes up to the room. He couldn’t get hard in the weight room. It didn’t matter how quiet home was or how busy life was.

Remus glanced towards Leo. It occurred to him then that he’d never seen him without Logan or Finn. At least, not here. Not within the team. He hardly looked up from his workout. Checked his form in the wall mirror a few times, smiled at something Olli or Jackson said, but that was all. Remus frowned. Maybe it felt as weird as it looked for him to be alone.

“I could die on your watch right now?” Sirius’ slightly strained voice said from beneath him.

“Oh,” Remus replied distractedly, and took the bar from his hands easily. “Sorry.” He settled it in the racks.

“What—non, I didn’t mean—I was half way through a set! I was joking.”

“Hm?” Remus looked down at him. “Oh. Shit, sorry.” He reached down to touch Sirius’ cheek, laughing a little. “Sorry, here.”

Sirius shook his head. “Non.”

“Non?”

Sirius’ smile was slow and secret. “I have something better in mind.”

Remus drew in another breath and reached forward to settle a hand over Sirius’ on the bar. Without another word, Sirius ducked out from the bench press and was off striding out of the room, only turning once for a last look at Remus.

James stopped on his way over to the water bottles and looked after Sirius, then at Remus.

“You know what you two are?” James said, stretching a resistance band between his hands and very nearly smacking himself in the face with it. “Subtle. Yep. That’s the word I would choose.”

Remus, at another time, would have cared. Now though, they were facing elimination from the play-offs, and he didn’t have enough fingers on his hands to count the amount of people he was currently worried about. And things had been…quiet at home.

“Thanks, James,” Remus said, then patted the weights. “Bench is all yours.”

Cabin and crew, please prepare for landing, came the pilot’s voice overhead, and Logan looked up from the iPad that Luke was holding between the two of them. It had Sirius’ line on it, with Finn, and the only reason it didn’t hurt to watch was because he would see Finn in less than an hour.

“Why did that feel like forever?” Logan rubbed at his eyes. Maybe he’d slept a little. He couldn’t tell. There was one thought in his mind. LeoLeoLeoLeoLeo.

“Because you get a little desperate when you’re excited,” Luke replied, then nearly dodged Logan’s well-aimed knock to his head.

“How’s he doing?” Luke asked. “Finn.”

Logan thunked his head back against the plane seat. “I don’t like seeing him quiet and hurt. I don’t like it when he pretends to be all right, but at least if he can pretend, then he’s not as bad as he was.”

Luke looked like he was thinking about laughing at him again, but the look ended up boarding impressed instead. “Man. That’s a lot to figure out.”

Logan looked down at his phone. The background was lit up, Finn and Leo smushed together in bed, laughing. He stroked a thumb over Leo’s smile. “I like figuring them out. Even if I get it wrong…” Logan trailed off. “Sometimes.”

Their row was a bit of a mess. Headphones hanging from the jack, a stack of plastic cups that had once held ginger-ale and coke. The discarded containers of their take-out lunch and the crumpled bag of left over chips they’d been sharing.

“I just want to see him,” Logan said. In truth, it felt like more than a want. He thought he might die if he didn’t get his hands on Finn soon. And Leo…

He closed his eyes at the thought of Leo.

“Wanna talk about it?” Luke asked softly.

Logan shook his head. He supposed he hadn’t been very subtle, staring into the empty visitor’s locker room like he had after game five, but he didn’t have the words. Not yet.

“Non,” Logan said. His voice sounded scratchy to himself. “Thanks.”

“Lucas.”

When Logan looked again, Saint was leaning against the seat in front of them, his curly hair tucked away beneath a blue backwards hat.

Luke’s posture relaxed at the sight of him. It always did. His shoulders lowered, knees spread a little, fingers reaching behind him to rub at the back of his neck and the star tattoo there. Logan was still waiting to hear what it meant.

“That’s not actually my full name and you know it,” Luke said.

Saint ignored him. “Will I be seeing you tonight?”

“We did say we were grabbing dinner, so…” Luke smiled a little.

Saint’s eyes darted to Logan, then away. “Is that what we’re doing now? Grabbing dinner.”

Slowly, Logan watched Luke’s smile falter. “Seb, I…”

Seb. Logan had only heard that a handful of times now, too. No one called Saint by his real name, Sebastian. Luke did, though. When he was really celebrating on the ice, gloved hand cupping Saint’s goalie mask and tilting their foreheads together. Fuck, Seb, gorgeous game. Logan had heard it in softer settings, too. Late night, at Luke’s apartment, when they thought he was still in the kitchen. Seb…stay tonight. Will you?

Saint just looked at Luke, hip against the plane seat, and Logan felt a familiar squirming in his stomach, even if it was second-hand this time.

What if I said I wanted to spend the night with you, Logan? What if I said that? What if my night would be good with you in it?

This look of Saint’s was one of a boy who had been waiting on an answer for a while. And Luke’s was one of a boy who was trying hard, trying with everything in him, to give one.

“Well,” Luke said haltingly. “Let’s go to dinner. Like we said.”

So precisely put. Kind. Careful. Nervous.

Saint rolled his eyes, but he put a hand on Luke’s shoulder as he passed them by. “Tonight, then.”

Logan looked away. He pretended to tidy up the floor beneath them. Cups, wrappers, crumbs. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luke look between their seats to the row behind them. It was empty. He cleared his throat, rubbing at his eyes, then spoke.

“You know,” Luke said softly. “Don’t you?”

Logan straightened. He crumpled a chocolate wrapper in his fist.

“I don’t know anything. Not if you don’t want me to.”

“But I do,” Luke said. Even with how clean the admission was, Logan could see that it was hard. The familiar struggle flickered right through his eyes. Luke wet his lips, checked around him again, then looked back at Logan. “I…I do want you to know.”

Grabbing dinner. How many times had he and Finn and Leo said that to each other before actually taking each other to dinner? It sounded the same, but it wasn’t.

“Then, yeah,” Logan said. “Ouais, I know.”

Luke nodded. He looked at the screen in front of him, showing the icon of their plane on the electronic map.

Logan tried desperately to think what to say, but, then again, maybe that’s what Luke was doing, too. Leo would have known.

“I know…” It’s hard. It’s so hard, but it’s so wonderful when—

“Think they’ll call Archer back up?” Luke hardly seemed to want the answer to his own question. He looked mournfully down the aisle where Saint had retreated. “He played well besides…you know.”

Logan cursed himself. He’d have to be quicker. More sure. He’d have to be those things if he wanted to help.

“I don’t want to win with Archer.” Logan gave his head a sharp shake. “To be honest. I don’t want him to get any credit for how young he is and how much he’s done. And I don’t care if that’s too personal.” The coaching staff’s reprimand still tasted bitter in Logan’s mouth.

“Right,” Luke said. He was distracted. He needed Logan to talk.

“I think…Je…Uh, quand—” Logan looked out the window and closed one eye, thinking. “You know, uh, c’est la—Have you been to Low Moon? Best ramen in the city. Really, Leo and I love the spicy one and that’s really saying something that we both think something spicy is good. Usually he hates it if I like it because it’s not enough—”

“I’m taking him out to dinner,” Luke said suddenly. Soft, but not quite as under his breath as before. He looked over at Logan. “I’m taking Seb out to dinner. Tonight.”

Logan was startled to find his throat thick.

“Good,” Logan said firmly. He offered Luke a small, sure smile. “It will be so, so good.”

Remus’ plan was already half gone. It had been something about fast, and quiet, and pinning Sirius against the equipment closet shelves. Something about Regulus always being in the house, and them not having much time, and wanting to see that look on Sirius’ face that was entirely his, no captain in sight. Something stupid like making Sirius come when anyone could walk in at any moment and anyone could hear.

But Sirius was kissing him slow now, taking his time, and feeling up Remus’ ass like he had absolutely nothing better to do. He kept the kisses sloppy, little nips to Remus’ lip, probably too much tongue than Remus should actually be enjoying, but he was. He knew that Sirius liked it this way sometimes. Especially when everything was so figured out. So in routine. It was making them both hard in their shorts, and Remus knew they should probably do something about that if they were going to make it through this without any embarrassing encounters.

He had come in here wanting that look in Sirius’ eyes that put him at sea with only Sirius’ hands to save him. It was his very own color blue. He wanted to watch Sirius have to lean against him, and feel that fine tremor that started in the muscles of his lower back. He wanted the shadow of Sirius’ shoulders arching around him when he came. It made Remus feel completely covered, hidden from the rest of the world.

Sirius had a smile in his voice when he spoke next. He leaned back, hardly at all, and pressed a thumb into Remus’ bottom lip. “I know we should be quick but…” He leaned in again, thumb sliding down to hold Remus’ chin, and Remus had to wrap his arms around Sirius’ neck to keep himself steady.

“You’re—” Remus had to catch his breath. He reached between them, he needed to feel. He tugged at Sirius’ waistband. He was hot and silky to the touch. Remus looked at the shine smeared across his stomach, the way Sirius had to catch himself against the shelf behind them. The way he had to spread his legs, the slit of his cock giving way to shining drips of want.

Sirius ducked down to press their foreheads together. Outside, Remus heard someone pass them by in the hallway.

“Shit,” Remus whispered against Sirius’ mouth. He felt it when they both started laughing, breathlessly.

“I love you,” Sirius whispered. His hand was gentle, a little cool, when he reached for Remus, tugging the front of his shorts down. God, he had had these shorts in college and now Sirius was—

Remus tried to stay quiet, tried to stop smiling, but laughed more when Sirius’ next kiss was more to his teeth than his lips. “Shh—hm…”

Sirius had hitched one of Remus’ thighs up around his waist and brought their hips together. He looked like he did when he was actually fucking Remus. Sweat on his temples, eyes so soft Remus could have died. He thought for a moment maybe they could—but no, too much time. Not enough time. But Sirius’ hand was still on his ass, fingers tight and digging in, and he lined the two of them up perfectly. Sirius’ cock looked so ready that Remus’ mouth watered. His t-shirt was done for, white stains smearing over the dark hem.

“I’m—” Remus breathed. His voice sounded shaky in the silent, muted room. Something was rattling on the shelf behind him—metal?—and he could hear the music blasting from the weights room—something country sounding with, thank God, heavy bass. Sirius’ fingers slipped down an inch. “Sirius…”

Maybe it was his thigh being up like that. Maybe it was Sirius still smiling into their next kiss, or the drag of the play-off scruff, dark on his cheeks and chin, against the sensitive skin of Remus’ neck.

“Re,” Sirius whispered. Remus, with his hands locked on his shoulders, could feel his muscles working. “Fuck…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Remus chanted, tilting his head back. “Yes, yes…”

“Shh…” Sirius whispered and then he was kissing him again, swallowing the sound Remus made as he spilled between them. “Re, Re…”

They were heat against heat when Sirius tipped over right after him, and there it was. That tremor. That ocean that held just the two of them. Just Sirius. Just his boy, crushed against him, all warmth, and all that was those cool, rain water eyes.

They listened to the music down the hall as they caught their breath. Someone had gotten tired of country obviously, and what sounded like Thomas’ sugary pop was blasting now.

“I don’t know—” Remus swallowed around a dry throat. “No idea how long we’ve been here.”

“Probably too long…” Sirius kissed his throat like he had no plans of moving, and Remus pressed a hand to the coarse beard across his cheek.

“Hm…” Remus thought maybe he was going to fall asleep, right here in this dark, smelly closet. “It’s still going to be light outside when we leave though. If we can even make it to the showers without…Jesus, we’re dumb.”

Sirius grinned. “I would say I’m going to take you out to dinner now, but…”

“Can’t,” Remus said. He had the most wild urge to jump straight into Sirius’ arms though. “We have a team to take care of.”

Logan had his face tilted up into the shower’s hot spray, letting it wash the airplane from his skin, when the fogged up glass door opened.

“Non. I told you—” The words were hardly out of Logan’s mouth before he even turned, but Finn was already inside, sling left behind on the bathroom floor along with all of his clothes.

“For five minutes,” Finn groaned. He had his bad arm cradled protectively against his chest. “I missed you.”

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Logan said, pushing wet hair out of his eyes. “That means still.” When Finn just shuffled right under the spray and up against his chest, Logan couldn’t help but laugh and rub a gentle hand up and down his side. “Who’s the puppy now? I said I’d be right back.”

“Yeah,” Finn said simply, and cradled Logan’s jaw with his free hand to kiss his other cheek. “Thing is, I’ve had enough distance from you to last a couple lifetimes.”

Logan clicked his tongue but leaned forward to kiss right over Finn’s collarbone. “You’re bad.” Then, what was it Finn was always saying? “Low blow.”

Finn just pushed his face into Logan’s neck with a pleased, rumbling sound. He was warm in the way that Logan associated with him being hurt. A little too warm, like his entire body turned all of its multitudes of attention on itself. Okay, it made Logan think. Five minutes.

“Sit, then,” he said.

There was a little stone-tiled alcove in their shower wall, and Finn only complained a little at how cold it was when Logan eased him down. He tucked his good hand under his injured arm’s elbow for support and ignored Logan’s pointed look.

“Hm,” Logan said. “What could be supporting your arm, I wonder?”

“Hm, what should I do while I’m sitting?” Finn asked with a smile, eyes low on Logan’s stomach.

“Not that,” Logan said.

“Yes.” He leaned forward and kissed over a dark mole on Logan’s stomach.

“Non, doctor says—”

Finn just ducked lower and kissed the tattoo on Logan’s hip. “What doctor?”

Logan cupped the back of Finn’s head gently and tried to will the heat in his stomach away. This was new. Never had he ever had a concussed Finn in his arms and going for sex. “Harz.”

Finn looked up at him, steam curling the parts of his hair that were still half-dry. “It feels like it’s been decades. Between this and the play-offs…”

Now that Logan was considering it, Finn was sporting a semi, fattening against his thigh. He felt Finn’s hand on his hip slid a little lower over his ass.

“Lo.”

“You shouldn’t have come in here,” Logan sighed.

“Light exercise within 72 hours,” Finn recited the doctors words. “Helps speed up recovery.”

Logan laughed and watched Finn’s eyes light up with it. “This is light exercise?”

Finn grinned. “As light as it gets.”

“Shoulder.”

“Minimal movement helps speed up recovery. I want you.” Finn leaned forward to rest his forehead against Logan’s stomach, then nuzzled against it. “I missed you.”

Logan closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy, for a moment, the hot water down his back and the feeling of Finn’s mouth against his skin. He had another set of months to look forward to of not being able to get the image of Finn’s hurting eyes out of his mind. It happened like this every time. Seeing Finn hurt scared him, a true and unforgiving nightmare.

He wanted Finn. God, did he ever. He was gone for the way Finn seemed so like himself. Those first few days had been hell, an unwanted flashback.

He knelt on a knee and rubbed his hands slowly up and down Finn’s thighs, watching the way Finn smiled at him.

“Really?” Finn said softly. “Thanks, baby.”

“I missed you, too,” Logan said, looking between his brown eyes. “I missed your jokes and your eyes and the way you walk around the house.” He cupped Finn’s elbow. “But if you think I’m letting you sit on hard stone right now and do this, you’re insane—C’est fou.”

“Foo-who?” Finn sighed. He jerked a chin towards Logan’s knees. “Trickery.” He reached out to tangle one hand’s fingers in Logan’s wet hair. “Viens ici.”

Logan raised his eyebrows. “How hard did you hit your head again?”

Finn just smiled against his lips when Logan leaned forward for a kiss. “Knocked some French right into it, I guess.”

“Shh…” Logan laughed into the word and pushed up on his knees to kiss him gently again. “I’m tucking you in bed.”

“You can take me to bed after this, for sure.”

“Put your sling on.” Logan kissed the corner of his mouth and got back to his feet. “Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Finn leaned forward and pressed his teeth into the muscle of Logan’s stomach.

“I’m just gonna take that as a yes. Ow.”

Finn bit harder.

Logan could have run his hands through Finn’s hair forever. Thick red strands that he’d spent years looking at—soaked through by rain, drying in the sun, curling and coarse from salt water, stuck to his skin from sweat.

God, did Logan want him.

“Shut up,” Logan whispered, a little nonsensically, at the sight of Finn’s brown eyes looking up at him. Finn grinned like he knew.

“You are a beautiful boy,” Finn said. “Hot fucking damn, I’m a lucky one. You, Le…”

Logan combed his hair out of his face. His eyes were bright. Clear. He looked all right. Still, Logan flinched through lingering glimpses of his body on the ice. It hadn’t been like that the other times. Not the first, when he’d dropped against him on the bus home. Not the second, when he’d gotten himself off the ice and into the locker room on his own, to scared to try and hide it.

“What did I do in a past life to deserve you two?” Finn asked softly.

Logan passed his thumb over the freckles on his cheek, the familiar pattern of darker ones on the left side of his nose and under his eye. One, two, three, four.

“What did you do?” Logan repeated. “Make drinks.” Finn was kissing his tattoo again, wet darts of his tongue stroking Logan’s skin. Logan let his head tip back, he couldn’t look for too long. “Make trouble…”

“And?” Finn asked. He was drawing a palm up Logan’s inner thigh.

Logan hissed a breath in through his teeth and reached for something to hold onto. His eyes flashed open when Finn’s body flinched away from his touch and Finn cried out.

“Oh…” Logan yanked his hand away from Finn’s shoulder. “Finn—”

“It’s okay.” Finn was hunched in on himself a little, eyes closed and holding his shoulder. “I’m good, I’m good.”

“Non,” Logan said with finality. He shut the shower off. “Non, non, non. Deslolé, sorry, sorry, Rouge, Rouge…” Logan bent to kiss the opposite side of Finn’s neck, avoiding the shoulder any way he could. “Desolé, mon coeur, sorry—”

“Lo, I’m good, I’m fine. Surprised me.” Finn put a hand on the back of Logan’s neck, rubbing gently. “I’m good, baby.”

Logan just pressed his nose gently against Finn’s jaw, then pulled back to look him in the eye. “Sling.” He raised his eyebrows. “Dinner. Bed.”

When Finn just sent him a mournful look, made almost sweet by the way the shower had plastered his bangs against his forehead, Logan kissed him softly on the mouth. “Rouge. Let me.”

Finn let him rub a towel through his hair. He let Logan sit him on the edge of the bed and then help him into a soft pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt—Leo’s, he requested. A big, worn out summer camp one. It was a bad memory, doing everything by dim light like this, but Finn looked good in the soft glow anyway.

“You look like you do in that bookstore you love,” Logan said as he gently loosened the sling to accommodate the thicker fabric. “The small one. In New York.”

“I do?”

Logan stroked Finn’s hair out of his face. He hadn’t been wearing his glasses. There was no point. Logan missed them. “Mhm.”

“What does that even mean?”

Honestly, Logan didn’t really know how to explain it to him. He didn’t know it beyond the feeling of soft, looking at me, warm hands.

When he leaned down and brushed a kiss over Finn’s mouth, Finn wrapped an arm around his hips and scooped him right into his straddling his lap.

“Harz,” Logan complained, but he did it right against Finn’s mouth so it probably lost some heat.

“Hey,” Finn said. “Don’t tell me I can’t handle even this.”

Logan snorted out a laugh when Finn’s fingers squeezed. “You need your medicine.”

“Ooh, you gonna give it to me?”

Logan nodded, and cupped the back of Finn’s head, touching their foreheads together. Finally, he felt Finn relax. When he risked a glance, Finn had his eyes closed.

“Missed you,” Finn said softly.

It took Logan back to that first day, getting him home from the hospital. It hurts, Finn had whispered to him in the darkness—a thunderous admission. He’d slept hard that night, barely moving from his place against Logan’s chest.

And no matter how much Logan tried to pull him close, Leo had been distant, claiming he was just tired. He’d kissed Finn’s forehead, squeezed Logan’s hand, then rolled over, his back facing them. It twisted Logan’s heart all up, just thinking about it.

Logan settled him and Finn on the couch to scroll through Grubhub, keeping the TV off. Finn looked happier with the sling taking the weight of his arm and his night round of medication for his head.

“Soup,” Finn said when he saw Logan’s phone screen—Logan jerked it away from his eyes.

“No screens.”

“Fine, fine, but Le made me soup. It’s in the fridge.”

“Baby, I love you,” Logan said. “But I need more than soup.”

“Ugh. I miss being, like, full-on hungry.” Finn pushed his good shoulder up against Logan’s. “You’ve never called me baby this much in your life.”

Logan slid his eyes over to him. “So you’ve said. Taco’s? Or do you just want soup?”

“Soup,” Finn said—not the best of signs in Logan’s book. The second Finn requested a bagel and lox he’d feel ten times lighter. Though, Leo’s soup did smell like heaven.

“D’accord. I’m gonna put my order in then I’ll heat it up for you.”

“I can do it—”

“Non,” Logan said. He clicked his phone off and kissed Finn’s temple. “Let me.”

“I’ll come with you,” Finn said the second Logan got up.

He turned around and laughed. “Harz. Did you follow your mom around?”

“No,” Finn said. “Those days I mostly just slept.” He went to push himself up from the couch, but he must have moved something wrong—shoulder, head—because he cursed, eyes squeezing shut, and he rested his head back against the cushions.

Logan sat down, reaching out a hand to his thigh. “Rouge—”

“I’ve been exhausted and in pain and tired of both,” Finn sighed. “There. I admit it. I’m sick of sitting still, I’m sick of being cooped up away from the light, I miss you both so much it’s insane, I drive myself insane, and I’m sick of…” He cut off, a frustrated pink to his cheeks and neck. He stared at the blank TV, as if there was a game playing. “I want to be out there. I don’t like listening on the radio.”

“I know,” Logan said. “I know you do. But you’ll be able to come to a game soon—”

“I want to be on the ice. Helping. We lost the last game and…God, I’m sick of you not being on my team and—and you and Le are fighting.”

Maybe Logan should have seen that last one coming.

Maybe those words had been hovering in the room, in the apartment. A tight, thick feeling of unrest that had kept him staring at his ceiling most of last night and on the plane.

He didn’t like the look of those words on Finn’s face. Bitter as the aftertaste of the pills he had to swallow.

“Aren’t you?” Finn asked quietly.

“Non,” Logan said uncertainly. “We…”

Was it so real as that? A fight? He couldn’t stand the idea of Leo going through practice all day, sitting at a restaurant somewhere downtown, mad at him.

“He won’t say what happened,” Finn said. “He won’t say something’s wrong at all, but there is.”

Logan swallowed. “We…” Words clogged up his throat.

“I’ve told him over and over again that this isn’t his fault,” Finn said. “And for a while I thought that was it, but it’s more like…I don’t know. It’s more like…”

“I maybe, um.” Logan paused. “I maybe got a little protective…that first night.”

“From Leo?”

“Non, of course not, I…I don’t know, Finn. I don’t know. I didn’t mean to, I just—you were so—I don’t know.”

“No one is still telling me what the fuck happened—”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it me?”

Logan pressed a hand over his eyes, groaning. “Finn. Non. Of course not. Just let me get our food.”

“Tremz…”

“Look, I’m starving.” Logan pushed his hands through his hair. “And I need to think how to say it, d’accord, so—I’m getting our food.”

He didn’t want to leave Finn on the couch like that, staring after him. He waited for footsteps, Finn’s socks on the floor, following him like he promised. But when he had ordered and peeked back into the living room, Finn had his eyes closed.

Remus loved the beginning of team dinners. They rarely hopped around from place to place, not when it was all of them. More often than not, they booked out the third floor of the Golden Lion bar. Remus could still see Sirius at his first one, standing across the room, a rookie, guarded, unwilling to even accept a drink. Even then, he had been so beautiful.

Everyone stood around high-top tables and the bar, helping themselves to the chips and salsa or mozzarella sticks passed around by waiters, ice cold beers sliding across the bar. The scene made Remus feel a little like he used to, as the PT. He could stand more towards the edges of the room, only just on the outside of things near the stairs, and look in.

Sirius and James were talking to Regulus near the far end of the bar. Regulus rolled his eyes at something Sirius said and James threw his head back, laughing. The brothers looked similar to Remus in their gray t-shirts. Regulus looked like he had taken back up with the gym, and Remus watched James pluck at his t-shirt like he had noticed, too.

Evgeni was being firmly told off of a shot of vodka by Jackson and Layla, who was standing back to back with Cole—and Remus swore he saw their fingers brush sometimes whenever one of them put their hand down.

Pascal had Celeste cornered against the bar with a soft smile on his face and one hand on her waist. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek and she said something that made him duck his forehead her her shoulder and laugh.

And Leo. Remus could tell, almost just by the way he was slowly stirring his gin and tonic, that Leo was missing his boys. Even as he laughed at something Thomas was saying to him and Cole, he kept brushing a thumb over a back pocket where his phone was.

Remus took a sip of his beer and turned to Lily. “I don’t know why but it’s really bothering me. The Cubs thing.”

Lily looked up from the chip in her hand, dangerously cradling too much salsa. “Lupin, you can’t go worrying about everyone else the second you’re not on the rocks yourself. It’s Leo. It’s Leo and Logan and Finn—Jesus, I’ve seen the way they treat each other. I’m surprised they don’t use all that money to build monuments to worship at.”

“Yeah,” Remus said absently, frowning at the back of Leo’s head.

“I’m surprised you and Black don’t build monuments,” Lily mumbled, then put the whole chip in her mouth.

“Sirius’ would be to slap shots.”

“Mm, pretty sure it’d be to you.”

Remus leaned back against the dark-wood bar and grinned. “Huh. Yeah, it would be.” He held up his hand with his ring on it. “Aren’t offerings the beginning?”

Lily slapped his chest. “Okay, that joke’s over now. Get that thing out of my face before it catches light and blinds me.”

Remus just turned his hand to look at it himself. The stupid big rock had grown on him—as if, some how, Sirius had known it would. He loved slipping it back on after practice. He even didn’t mind the Instagram account dedicated to Remus-Ring-Sightings that Thomas had shown him.

“We’re here!” came Natalie’s voice right behind them. She finished walking up the stairs and spun on her heels, flashing Remus her red-bottomed boots. “Hello Remus Lupin, we brought a soldier behind enemy lines.”

“Oh?” Remus asked.

Kasey followed her, smiling slightly, and behind him came Alex.

“Oh, boo,” Thomas yelled. “Wrong O’Hara!”

“Get lost in big city, Ranger?” Evgeni called out.

“What can I say?” Alex grinned. “I was promised whiskey.”

Remus laughed, sharing an eye-roll with Kasey. He was holding tightly to Alex’s hand, and Alex didn’t let go even when Leo walked up to hug him.

“How’s my baby brother?” Alex said, keeping a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Not smothered by my mother?”

Leo pretended to think on it. “Don’t think so.”

“Surely Logan, then.”

Leo’s smile wavered. “No. They’re good. Lo’s there now. Got home after I left for here.”

Alex nodded. “Well, guess he’s done it before. Knows his way around the I’m fine’s and I can do it’s and It doesn’t hurt’s.”

Remus saw Leo’s throat move around a swallow. “Yeah. He does.”

Lily got taken up by Natalie (and her boots) and Remus was left to settle back again and watch. Sirius was talking with his hands, replying to something Kasey had said, and then pushing his palm through his hair in the way he did when he was really loose. Not worried about seeming too much, too loud, taking up too much space. Remus smiled watching him smile. He wasn’t sure what he wanted more, to steal him away into another hidden corner or to take him out to dinner, just the two of them. He wanted to trace the way he rubbed at the beard he was growing for the play-offs. He wanted to tangle his fingers in his hair.

“Hey, heart-eyes.”

Remus blinked and looked up at Leo, who took a bar stool for himself.

“Hey yourself.” Remus gave himself a little shake. “Hey, it’s hard not to. You get it.”

“Oh, I get it.” Leo glanced Alex’s way. “But wrong O’Hara.”

“Ha.” Remus grinned. “Yours is doing okay?”

When Leo let out a long sigh, Remus clinked their glasses together apologetically. “Sorry, you’re probably so sick of being asked that. I can ask him myself.”

“No, no…” Leo took the lime off of the edge of his glass. It had been squeezed already and was dry between his fingers. “No, it’s not that.”

Remus wondered where Thomas had gone off to. Noelle was with Natalie and Lily. He’d wanted to be here for this.

“We—T and I…” Remus shrugged. “We’d noticed you’d been a little…down. And I mean, understandably, but…you and Logan sort of…”

Leo huffed. “Stop wincing at me, Loops. I’ll tell you if you want.” He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink, crunching ice between his teeth. “If I even know what to tell.”

Remus frowned. “What does that mean, Knutty?”

Leo’s jaw worked as he let the ice melt in his mouth, blue eyes down. Remus stayed quiet, though part of him was dying to guess, to try and help.

“I’ve always thought that I’d feel their history more than I do,” Leo finally said. “More than I ever have. I’ve always been a little surprised by it. By how little I feel…you know. Like I wasn’t there. Because I wasn’t, I wasn’t there. And it doesn’t actually come up, honestly. Until…”

“The concussion brought it up?”

“Yeah. A little.” Leo looked down. “I don’t know, I think Lo’s just sort of in the mode of feeling guilty about the other times, when Finn got hit in college and he couldn’t…”

“I guess that makes sense.”

Leo’s smile was sad. “It all makes sense, and I’ve got it all figured out. That’s how I always am. I get it, and I can say it. That doesn’t always make it better.”

Remus nodded. “Yeah. No, I see. It’s still there. And you haven’t said anything to Logan?”

“I don’t know if it’s fair of me to.” He looked over at Remus. “Re, we’ve never…we’ve never fought before. And the worst part is, I’m not even sure if that’s what we’re doing or if I’m just being stupid and, like, stubborn or something. Or just childish. Or selfish?” Leo shook his head. “And I just can’t stop thinking about the night it happened. We brought him home—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Alex threw his arms around them both. “Which one of you is gonna buy me a drink before me and Tremblay wha-hip your asses next game?”

Leo, to his credit, did a pretty good job of dredging up a smile.

“Not me. Goalie privilege.”

Alex pushed his bottom lip out. “Kase never told me about that one. I think you made that up.”

“Oh, it exists,” Leo said, then ducked out from Alex’s arm. “I’m sure of it.”

Remus sighed, watching Leo go. “Hazard, I was getting somewhere.”

“What do you mean?” Alex looked at Leo over his shoulder. “I thought we were cheering him up. That’s what Walker just said.”

“Well—yeah.” Remus shook his head. Leo, maybe, didn’t need another person on his case. “Yeah. All right, so I guess I’m buying. What’ll it be?”

Finn was on the very edge of their bed, on top of all the covers like he had barely lay down before falling asleep. His injured arm was cradled protectively against his chest in its sling. Leo checked the time on his watch. He couldn’t have been out for more than a few minutes since Logan and him had finished bringing all their things inside. He glanced behind him from his place in the bedroom doorway, listening to Logan doing something in the kitchen. Probably leaving every single cupboard open in the way he always did. Finn would usually be out there bothering him. Lo, whiskey? We could share.

Leo knew where that came from. He knew all the stories. The roof. OKN House. But he didn’t know. He never cleaned up Logan’s knee when he cut himself climbing back through the window from that roof perch. He’d never watched the sunset from up there. He’d never passed a bottle of whiskey back and forth with them beneath the pink and orange sky.

He knelt beside the bed, bringing his face close to Finn’s, and reached out to push the hair out of Finn’s eyes.

He’d never done this. He’d never seen such a soft Finn. A needy Finn, too exhausted to hold himself together. It was different than the hurt, desperate Finn that he’d seen when Logan first went to New York. That one had been wound so tightly that he was bound to fly apart. This one was all loose sadness and helpless pain.

“Howdy,” Finn whispered without opening his eyes. His voice cracked with exhaustion. “Butter.”

“Hi,” Leo said. “You don’t look very comfortable.”

“Come to think of it, I’m not,” Finn mumbled. “You have practice?”

“No, honey,” Leo said.

“Oh. Wait, what time is it?”

“It’s really late,” Leo said. “Don’t worry, you can sleep.”

“Good. Hmm, good, that’s good.”

A moment later, he was asleep. Leo frowned, reaching up to smooth his thumb over a crease between Finn’s eyebrows. He watched Finn’s eyelashes flutter a little across his cheeks before trying to decide how to get him comfortable. He was too hot, his shirt sticking to him. No sooner had Leo reached for the hem than did Finn suck in a breath, half-waking.

“Lo?” Finn mumbled sleepily, reaching a hand out to blindly grasp at Leo’s shirt.

Leo bit his lip, looking towards the living room where Logan was. “Oh. No. No, it’s Leo, Harz. But I can get him—”

But Finn grabbed onto his arm and opened his eyes. The honey-brown looked so, so tired. “No. Stay, Le. Sorry, I was still half asleep. Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” Leo whispered. “You want to get out of your clothes, sweetheart? Get under the covers?”

“What?” Finn asked. “Oh, sure. What time is it? Do I…Wait, I’m getting dressed?”

“Let me help you,” Leo said.

He got at Finn’s shoes first, slipping them off while Finn lay back on the bed. Next came his sweatpants.

“Okay,” Leo said. Finn eased himself up with his good hand, and Leo could hardly stand the slight shake in the muscle of his forearm.

“I think I can do it,” Finn said.

“Okay.” Leo knelt between his knees, ready, as Finn gingerly took his sling off before pulling his t-shirt up and over his head—one arm first, head out, to be eased off his shoulder. Leo helped him out of his sweatpants. He blinked down at Leo when he was done.

“You know…” Finn put his good hand on Leo’s cheek. “You know this isn’t your fault, right?”

“We don’t have to talk about that now. You need to rest—”

“You know this isn’t your fault,” Finn said again. “Leo.”

Leo closed his eyes. He pressed a kiss to Finn’s palm and then rose to go to their dresser. “Which t-shirt?”

“Yours,” Finn said softly. “Your Saints one.”

Leo looked back at him. He looked sad, worried. The opposite of rest. He was holding his arm protectively, cradled against his chest, but he seemed to forget for a moment. He went to reach out and then flinched, sucking air in through his teeth.

Leo grabbed the shirt and pants quickly and shut the drawer. “You need to lay down and put that sling back on.”

“Not until you tell me you don’t think this is your fault.” Finn blinked up at him as Leo gently eased a t-shirt over his head, his sling over it. It mussed his hair in a way that made Leo want to lay right down and curl into his side.

“Lay back,” Leo said shakily. “Sweetheart—”

Finn held onto his wrist even as Leo managed to get him to lay on his back, head propped against the pillows. “No, you’re about to cry, I can see it. I can see it.”

“And I really don’t want to,” Leo whispered.

“Lay down,” Finn said. “Lay down with me.”

Leo put a hand on Finn’s cheek. He took Finn’s fingers off of his wrist and Finn let his head sink into the pillow.

“Le?” Logan said from the doorway. He was holding a bowl and Leo could smell that it was chicken broth. Leo frowned.

“Did you bring in the bag of medicine from the doctor?” Logan asked.

“I—yeah,” Leo said. He stepped back from the bed. “It’s in the hall.”

Logan sat on the edge of Finn’s bed and set the soup down. Finn’s eyes had slipped closed, but they opened again at the weight at his side. “Mon rouge, drink a bit of this, d’accord? Just a little.”

Leo stared at Logan’s back. Had that been a request that he go get it? He took a step back, waiting for Logan to look at him, but he only set the broth down at the request of a protesting Finn and, when Finn put an arm around his back, leaned over him.

Leo watched as Finn just blinked up at Logan and gave a weak shrug with his good shoulder.

Logan brushed a finger over the skin under Finn’s eye. “You’re so tired, Rouge.” The kiss he let rest against Finn’s mouth was the softest thing Leo had ever seen. “It’s okay.”

“Lo.” Finn let his head sink into his pillow and closed his eyes.

“Tell me,” Logan whispered. “Tell me how to help.” He brushed their noses together, back and forth, back and forth, feather-light.

“I love you,” Logan whispered.

“Love you,” Finn said, barely, a little slurred from exhaustion. “It hurts.”

That admission, from Finn, was almost terrifying.

The guilt welled up so fast that Leo had to take a step backwards. He went to the kitchen—every cupboard open, a little soup spilled on the counter. Can knocked over, can opener splayed out. It was a mess, it was the mess Logan usually made, but it felt ten times worse just then. Ten times bigger.

“Did you get his medicine?” Logan’s voice came from behind him, brushing past Leo and going over to the bags in the entry hall. “He should take it before he really falls asleep.”

Leo turned, watching him rummage through their things.

“You made soup,” Leo said.

“Ouais, it’s always the only thing he’ll touch,” Logan said without looking up.

Leo nodded wordlessly. He thought about going over to the stove. Cleaning up. His feet didn’t move.

“Quoi?” Logan passed him by, headed to the fridge. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Why was he?

“I don’t know,” Leo heard himself say. “Just that if there was one thing I…”

Logan had yanked open the refrigerator but paused, a water bottle in hand.

“What?” Logan asked. He looked surprised by Leo’s tone. It had come out harsh. Angry.

Leo looked down, a little embarrassed. Wishing he could take it back. “Nothing.”

“Leo—”

“If there was one thing I could have done right tonight, that was probably it,” Leo said in a rush. He sighed, motioning to the stove. “Like, okay, you’ve done all of this before but I…”

He suddenly didn’t even have the energy to finish the sentence. He wanted to crawl into bed. He wanted to listen to Finn’s even breathing. He wanted the image of him with his eyes closed against the ice out of his head.

“Le.” Logan looked down at the water and medicine. “I’m—I didn’t…”

“He needs the pain killers before he sleeps,” Leo said. “You should give them to him.”

Leo shut the door to their apartment and shut his eyes against the memory. He didn’t like this lumpy ball of guilt, misplaced, overworked, and unguided. It was dark except for the hall’s night light, and he imagined that he could hear Logan and Finn sleeping. Synced breathing and body heat.

The bedroom door was open, but he forced himself to go right to the shower. He took his time. Let himself cry a little. Let himself be angry at Jack, angry at himself.

Angry at Logan.

The team dinner had distracted him, but Kasey brought a new round of what felt like grief. He’d really thought Kasey was going to make the announcement tonight. Honestly, he didn’t know if he could’ve taken it tonight, hearing Kasey go.

His own mind rang between his ears, so muddled that, if asked, he wouldn’t have been able to put a name to the feeling. He wouldn’t have been able to say if it sprung from the ever looming possibility of losing Kasey, or the general pressure of the game, or the past of Finn and Logan that he would never know the half of.

It was his own fault, letting all these hopeless and irrational feelings stir up now of all times. The soup didn’t matter, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. He couldn’t have known Jack would do this. His mind skipped around, but it always landed in the same place. He just wanted Finn to be okay. He wanted his loud laugh, dancing around the kitchen, pausing with his hands on Leo’s hips. Back in the locker room. Coming home from a run and bringing him coffee in bed. Good morning, rise and shine, sunshine.

Toweling off his hair, he came into the dark bedroom. Finn’s head was on Logan’s chest, sleeping on his side without the sling. He was passed out hard, his mouth open a little. Logan was pulling gentle fingers through his red hair and watching Leo through the dim light.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” Leo whispered.

Logan just open his free arm. “Ici.”

Leo hesitated. He knew his blocked up nose would give him away. He turned to hang the towel over the ajar door, then walked into one of the closets. “One sec.”

He grabbed for a pair of pajama paints and, on second thought, a long-sleeved shirt. He didn’t feel being exposed anywhere. He felt too shivery, too wound up. He wished one of Logan or Finn’s sweatshirts would pull easily over his hands.

Logan was still waiting with patient green eyes when he emerged. He’d propped himself up on a pillow a little, but Finn had hardly moved. Logan opened up his arm again, insistent.

Leo lay down beside him, but Logan didn’t have it.

“Non, ici.” Logan pulled until Leo’s head was on his chest, too, a mirror to Finn. He kissed Leo’s hair once, twice. The third time, his lips stayed and Leo nearly closed his eyes. Finn looked peaceful, this close up. He was holding himself tight, just a little, as if the discomfort didn’t dissipate even in sleep. His hair was damp, like he had showered. Come to think of it, Logan’s was, too. Maybe they’d had theirs together. And he’d just cried through his own.

“Was dinner good?” Logan whispered. Leo felt the words against his skin. He nodded, but he didn’t think he could speak.

“Good.” Logan rubbed Leo’s back in silence for a few moments. Leo felt him draw in a long, slow breath. “Good…”

Finn seemed to have felt the disturbance, too, because he cleared his throat and rolled onto his back. They both looked to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt himself. The pillows he’d been sleeping with along his bad side to keep him from rolling onto his shoulder were still in place.

“Does he look okay?” Leo whispered, eyes darting over the sling.

“Ouais.” Logan, his arm free, rolled towards Leo until his leg was over Leo’s hip and his arm drawn tight around his back. They were face to face now and Leo got a ticklish face full of curls when Logan bent to kiss his neck, then his chin, then a quick peck to his mouth. He said nothing, though, and Leo wasn’t sure if this was just Logan being Logan, or some sort of apology. Leo wasn’t even sure he wanted an apology. He didn’t want Logan to feel like he’d done anything wrong. He wanted this weight on his chest gone.

“Reg was there?” Logan asked. At Leo’s confused look he said, “Saw some pictures on Natalie’s instagram.”

“Oh. Yeah.” It had been nice, being with friends and not just on the rink. He felt like the last week had been consumed by a fog of worry and hurt. Being away from Finn, hearing his voice on the phone, weak and tired sounding.

Him and Logan feeling awkward in New York.

Leo leaving without saying goodbye.

He regretted that. He really regretted that. He’d hated himself all the way home.

He should be saying sorry to Logan. About getting mad about the soup, about being quiet, about leaving.

Logan was all tensed up in his arms. Worried. Trying to test the waters without jumping in. Trying to gauge Leo.

Logan’s heart was going a mile a minute beneath Leo’s fist and Leo couldn’t help it. He lay his palm over his chest and rubbed his thumb over the pounding.

Logan drew in a breath. “Le…Desolé.” Logan pressed his forehead against Leo’s sighing. “I’m so sorry, mon amour. I’m a mess, and—and I love you. And I’m a mess, this is hard and…”

Something in Leo loosened.

“The soup thing was stupid of me,” Logan continued. “And I didn’t mean to ignore you and…” Logan pressed harder, his whispers shaky. “This scares me. So bad. And I know it’s not just me, but I…I didn’t get to take care of him the last times. Not like I really wanted, and part of me just—jumped for it. I needed to know I could do it, I think. Do it the right way.”

So, all this quiet, all this tension in Logan’s muscles, had been him trying to gather the words.

“Mais—but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you can. Of course you can.” Logan pulled back some to look at him. “None of this is your fault, okay? And I’m so sorry.”

The right words. The English words. Leo should have known.

“Me too,” Leo said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you that night and… I hated myself for leaving New York like that the second it did it.”

Logan shook his head. He drew a thumb over Leo’s lip and Leo felt it shake, just a little. “I should have come sooner.”

“I should have waited for you. God, I…” Leo worried he had lost them that game and now they were facing elimination and—

And then Finn was moving again, pushing a hand over Logan’s arm in his sleep until Logan fell back onto his back so Finn could settle on his chest again. He sighed in his sleep, mouth open. Leo looked up at Logan and they both smiled a little. This time, Leo settled his head on Logan’s chest without needing to be told. Logan put a hand in both their hair.

“I really feel like I…” Leo looked for the words, too. “I rely on him to be…”

“Happy,” Logan nodded. “Je sais, I know.”

“Yeah,” Leo said. “But is that good of me? I…Just—not even just happy, but like, solid and upbeat and…joking, making me laugh. And then when he’s not it…like something is wrong. Really wrong.”

Logan took his time answering. Leo leaned into the feeling of his fingers stroking through his hair. Finn’s breathing was gentle. Peaceful. He seemed so content, resting against Logan, ear over his heart. Letting himself be held.

“The first time,” Logan finally began. “I hadn’t even known him that long. But it was so weird. I couldn’t figure out why I was so scared every time he didn’t smile.”

“Mhm,” Leo said softly. He wanted more. He wanted to hear.

“We slept like this every night,” Logan whispered. Leo felt him shift, mouth and nose against Finn’s hair. “I was so terrified someone would see us, but I never moved. Not once. I think that’s the only time I never backed down. Or backed out. Maybe both.”

Leo pressed a kiss to Logan’s chest through his t-shirt.

“He would only eat this one canned soup and only if we put, like, so much pepper in it. Knutty, it was insane. You would have hated how much pepper. Only pepper.”

Leo smiled a little. “He does like pepper.”

“It was kind of freaky, like he couldn’t taste it otherwise or something. But he said it just cleared his nose up so I was like, okay. He loves your soup. I tried to get some, like, sushi delivery into him or something and he wasn’t having it.”

Leo smiled. “He’s gonna get so sick of it.”

“Non, don’t think so.” Logan’s thumb was making small tracks across his neck. “And he couldn’t read or anything, like his homework. So I read to him.”

Leo smiled. “He’s the reader.”

“He interrupted all the time. It’s like going inside his mind. It’s—the only thing better I can think of is watching you two read.”

Finn sighed in his sleep like he’d heard. Leo touched the curl of his fingers poking out of the sling. “Did he fight you then? Trying to take care of him.”

“Not for the first couple days,” Logan said, then his chest rose and fell with a sigh of his own. “But once he starts feeling better its harder. Like tonight. Followed me everywhere.”

Leo turned his head up to Logan and smiled softly. “He did that to me, too. Followed me right into the shower and—”

Logan darted a mocking little glare towards Finn. “Oh, he tried that on you, too?”

“Almost gave in, to be honest.”

Logan grinned and leaned a little closer. “Would’ve like to see that. But same. Took me a bit to realize how badly he needed to lie down.”

“Good thing we’re Harzy-whisperers,” Leo whispered against his lips.

Logan’s laugh was quiet and his kiss was tender. “Finn-fluent.”

Finn made a sound, a little hum followed by a soft snort.

“Ouais, Harz,” Logan whispered. “Your blowjob efforts failed.”

Leo suppressed a laugh and reached up for Logan’s jaw, turning him down into another kiss. Logan’s mouth was soft, a little sleepy maybe, but he opened Leo’s lips gently and squeezed him closer by his shoulders.

“I love you,” Leo whispered. “And I…I like hearing about it. The two of you, before me.”

“It doesn’t compare to the three of us,” Logan said.

“I know. I just don’t want you to think I don’t know that, I just felt…I felt like I would never live up to it for a moment.”

Logan’s brow knit. His skin and eyes took on the darkness. He lit it up, blue and green, and for a moment Leo was lost.Like this, Leo could almost imagine it. Knowing Logan back then. Knowing Finn. Having even more time than he would already be given. He was selfish for those years.

“He used to leave his backpack unzipped,” Logan said. He pet a hand through Finn’s hair and it was almost fond.

Leo smiled. “Oh no.”

“He would probably get all the way to class like that if I didn’t tell him every time. Shit falling out behind him.”

It was a sweet image, Logan catching Finn’s things. It was always Fall when Leo imagined them there, he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because of the sweatshirts they wore around the apartment, the maroon color, or the idea of school, just something that started in September.

“He’s never late for anything,” Leo whispered.

Logan smiled. “Not now, maybe. I used to wake up to him banging his hip on the dresser every morning while he rushed around.”

Leo reached down and put a hand on Finn’s waist, dipped a little with the way he was curved against Logan. “He still does that.”

“And you already know about our bagel place,” Logan said. “And his insane order.”

“It’s not so insane,” Leo said. “Plenty of people like capers that much.”

“Ouais,” Logan said. “But I only know one.”

Leo’s laugh was too loud for the time, and he turned his head into Logan’s chest.

“Là, take over for a second,” Logan said. “I’ve had to pee for two hours.”

“Hurry back.”

Logan eased Finn off of his shoulder with kisses and plenty of pillows, and Leo slid over into the warm spot left behind by him until Finn’s cheek rested against his chest instead.

“Hm…” Finn pressed his nose against Leo’s neck. By the kiss he placed there, Leo was sure Finn thought he was Logan still but he enjoyed it anyway.

“If I’m here, will you fall asleep okay?” Finn mumbled. When Leo hesitated in replying, Finn pressed his cheek harder against his chest. “Can I sleep here, Le?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah,” Leo said, throat tight. “Of course, sweetheart.” He pressed his nose into Finn’s hair. “Of course you can.”

“Did the boats leave?”

Leo arched a brow. “Uh. What?”

“I gave them the money,” Finn mumbled. “No one ran to the top.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t… What?”

But Finn didn’t reply, just breathed out, fast asleep.

Logan came back in, switching off the bathroom light.

“Did he used to talk in his sleep?” Leo whispered.

Logan paused with a knee on the bed. “Non. Did he just?”

Leo tried not to laugh, nodding. “Something about boats and money.”

Logan made a half-bewildered noise and lay down against Leo’s side. “There’s a lot going on in that brain.”

“There is,” Leo said. He had Finn’s head on one shoulder, Logan’s on the other. The game might’ve been tomorrow, but he’d reclaimed his prizes tonight.

#vaincre lumosinlove #coops #Sirius black #remus lupin #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #finnlo #lelo #sunfish #hockey au #wolfstar #sports au #smut #cw: injury

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marthawrites · 1 year

Text

Pretty Girl

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 6.8k+

About: There's been some weird stuff happening in the woods and your boss buys top of the line security cameras. You definitely weren't expecting to hit it off so well with the tech guy who is much more than a tech guy.

Includes: Meeting, first date, some drinking, explicit sexual content (fem receiving oral, p in v)

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is my first modern Aemond story. This idea has been rolling around my head for a good month or two. I wasn't expecting to go so deep, but the ideas kept coming and I ran with them! Reader is nondescript and implied to be 21+ due to alcohol consumption. As always, please enjoy! ♥

read pt 2 here

The bright chime of your text tone cut through the mellow voiced narrator of your current podcast obsession: supposed real life horror stories. Perhaps not the smartest thing to listen to while alone ten miles deep into the forest in the ranger's cabin. But, whatever. What's life without a little risk, anyway? Swiping your screen open revealed your boss' message.

Hey kid. Running late. That tech guy is scheduled to be there for the installation at 9:30. We had a minor family emergency here. Everything is fine. I'm working to head out within the hour. Text you when I'm on the road.

It was already 9 and you knew there wasn't a chance in hell Joey would be there by the time the install person showed up. Great. You ran a hand down your face and, since you were alone, didn't fight the groan that adamantly broke free. Customer service – this could be considered customer service, right? – was never your forte. There was a reason you went to school for forestry. Mostly so you wouldn't have to deal with customers on the regular. You texted back:

I'm glad everything is fine! But, if I end up ax murdered by this freak I'm going to haunt you forever. Also, you're to take care of Charles. He's very needy.

A minute later the chime broke the podcaster's voice again:

Oh please. They're a very respectable family. How is a fish needy? Don't they just need tap water?

You laughed out loud, reading the message in Joey's rumbling baritone.

That's right, boss. Tap water and cheerios!

When you didn't hear back from him within the next few minutes you could only assume he started driving.

You had a good twenty minutes to kill while waiting for this person and weren't quite sure how to spend your time. A cool early-spring rain poured all morning, and an angry late-winter wind sent the trees swaying all around. You weren't going out there if you didn't have to. In fact, you threw another log into the wood stove and brewed up a fresh pot of coffee. No reason to stress about trying to look busy when you knew your boss would be doing the same thing if he were here with you waiting.

Once the coffee was finished you fixed yourself a cup and sat by the fire, completely absorbed by the tale in your ear: friends camping with no one else around, being taunted by something. A truly unsettling tale regardless it it were paranormal, a druggie, or a stalker.

A knock on the front door nearly sent the remainder of your hot beverage spilling and your fingers visibly trembled as they touched your earbud to pause the story. Jesus Christ. Did the person arrive in a fucking spaceship? You didn't hear anything coming up the gravel road nor parking in the gravel lot. Taking a few deep breaths to settle your racing nerves, you stood and walked to the door. You cracked it open to the width of your head, just enough to see the person standing on the, thankfully, well covered porch. “Can I help you?”

“Hm. You don't look like a Joey Wagner,” the man on the porch mat said, a single pale brow arching.

Holy shit. He was really handsome. “No. He's my boss. I'm one of the forest rangers beneath him. What can I help you with?” You opened the door wider in an attempt to get a sight of whatever vehicle he showed up in. Despite not having much knowledge in cars, you knew that “T” anywhere. So, you were right: he might as well have shown up in a spaceship.

“I'm Aemond Targaryen. I'm here to install the Vhagar security system and cameras,” he paused and looked around, curious of the exterior of the ranger's lodge and surrounding woods. “I'm.. a... I'm a little surprised you want such a system here.”

“You and me both. Apparently it's your best one, right? I dunno what's been spooking Joey but whatever it is must be pretty weird. That thing's probably my entire yearly salary and then some,” you laughed dryly, gesturing to the briefcase he held. “I'm Y/N,” you added with a smile. “He's running late this morning, but told me you'd be here. I was expecting someone more, uhm...,” you tilted your head and closed one eye as if you were looking at him through a telescope. “Nerdy?” You mused aloud, nose scrunching with the somewhat embarrassing admission.

That sent a grin across his face. His chin tilted up as he regarded you down the long straight line of his nose. “I could say the same about you and forest rangers.”

Beneath your green and tan uniform your skin prickled. Something in you thrummed. This was bad news. Very bad news. When the hell was Joey going to be here? You tried to shake off the sensation his sweeping gaze gave you. He had a long paling scar over his the right side of his angular chiseled face, and there seemed to be something off about his right eye too. You didn't say anything about it and tried not to stare. “Anyway, wanna get started? It's warmer in here, I promise,” you gestured a thumb over your shoulder and swung the door wide so he might step inside.

“Yeah, thanks. It'll take awhile to get all finished. The rest of today and maybe half of tomorrow or so, too,” he admitted as he strode inside.

You whistled lowly at that – at his remark, not his backside – unaware it'd be such an ordeal. “That long?” His hair was long and beautiful in a way you didn't often see men wear their hair; so blonde it was a silvery-white. He had it pulled back in a simple ponytail. It hung a little loose and you couldn't help but wonder if he put it up in haste this morning. Aside from his Adidas shoes (which stuck out adorably, you thought to yourself), he wore all dark colors. Blacks, grays, and only the barest hints of white. Jacket, sweater, the neck of what you assumed was a t-shirt, and straight legged pants. Casually and mindfully layered.

Inside was much warmer, indeed. So much so that Aemond immediately took his jacket off. The simple gesture sent clean laundry and the faintest trace of cologne wafting your way; the fine muscles behind your ears flexed with the reveal. His sweater looked unbearably soft and you hated yourself for being so drawn to a man you literally just met three minutes ago. He was unfairly good-looking, yeah, but what if he was a jerk too because of it? "You weren't lying," he said, giving you a glance from his left side. "It's cozy. Is it just you here?"

You gestured him to follow you through the place. "For now, yeah. Here's the security room. Everything's open and unlocked so you should be able to do whatever you need to. Joey will be here eventually." The room was a little cramped with multiple monitors, desks, cabinets, and general clutter; papers, writing things, wrappers, cups, the like. "Oh shit. Sorry sorry. I should have cleaned it up. I didn't realize the boss left it such a mess," heat rose in your cheeks as you rolled your eyes, annoyed.

"I'm not worried," he replied calmly, seemingly unbothered by the mess. Taking advantage of a clean space you just cleaned, he placed the briefcase atop it and opened it up. With your back to him he found himself giving you another glance or two, grinning privately. How could someone make that uniform look so good?

"Care for coffee or water?" You asked, all the counter space now clear of clutter. Various wrappers crinkled in your pockets and you held four empty cups between both hands.

"Coffee, please. Black," he answered.

You pushed the door further open with the help of your foot and butt, leaving Aemond alone to get started on the lengthy process. Once in the kitchen you gave yourself a few extra minutes to collect yourself. Frankly, you felt half-silly for being so enamored by this tall, lithe, long haired stranger. He probably had a girlfriend back home!

"Here you are," you said upon returning, placing a mug down for him.

"Thank you," he said, turning his gaze up to you appreciatively. "Do you ever see weird things on these in the middle of the night?"

Instead of sitting down you opted to stand with one hand on your hip and the other flat atop the desk. You leaned against the edge and turned your head to look over the various monitors in an attempt to not stare at him. "Sometimes," you answered honestly, weighing how much you wanted to divulge. "Lights with no apparent light source are a more common occurance. Sick animals can look extremely strange," you paused and chuckled nervously. "Of course, there's always random homeless people, vagabonds, and even drunk or drugged out people." From your peripheral you realized he hadn't taken his eyes off you and it sent a shudder of embarrassment down your back. Did you have something on your face? "What?" You asked, turning your attention to him, then, breath catching in your throat.

It was his turn for color to creep in his cheeks. "Ugh. I was staring, huh? Sorry. You're just, uh... really pretty," he said, caught and guilty, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was expecting a Joey to match that deep voice on the phone. Not like a Dawson's Creek Joey."

Before you had a chance to reply the front door swung open and the booming voice of the actual Joey called, "hey, hey, so sorry to be late! Damn dog killed another squirrel and my youngest was the one to find it. Poor thing nearly had a panic attack."

"Oh damn. Sorry to hear that, boss," you hollered back, cringing.

"Hard lessons for kids to learn," he said, appearing in the doorway sipping on his own cup. He was a big man and easily took up the whole width of it, and the chair he sat upon groaned beneath his weight. "Enough of that though! If it isn't Aemond Targaryen of Dragon Security! I was surprised as shit to hear it'd be you installing these. Don't you normally have grunts to do this work?"

Aemond chuffed and shook the older man's massive hand. "Usually, yeah. My dad's fixing to retire soon and my older brother doesn't want to take up the mantle. So here I am doing boots-on-the-ground training to get a feel of things before taking his place."

"Good boy! You'll be the youngest wealthiest mother fucker around!" He belly laughed and clapped his free hand atop Aemond's. "Now! Walk me through this. This ain't no joke. There's been some wild shit going on and I intend to catch whatever it is. If I get famous I'll be sure to mention you too, boy," he drank half his coffee in a single chug and put his game face on.

"I've got rounds to make. I'll check on you guys in a couple hours," you said with a grin. You lingered on Aemond a moment longer. When you caught his gaze you give him a little look, letting him know you heard him and thought similairly. At least, you hoped that's what you silently communicated.

You never believed in love at first sight. But, lust at first sight? Maybe that's what burned low in your belly.

Through the single window he watched you jump into one of the ranger's newer model orange jeeps. A perfect ride for out here, he thought, distracted as you backed the wrangler out and drove away – a stark difference to his Tesla.

Your rounds took much longer than originally anticipated and you didn't return until nearly 5 o'clock. Thankfully, the turn of seasons was happening and it was still light outside. Pulling in to park you were surprised to see Aemond's car still in the same spot. It seemed the day was longer than anticipated all around! With the assistance of your visor mirror you took your hair down and ran your fingers through it, glad to finally let it fall free after a day's work. Joey was still here too, and you wanted to at least say bye to him before leaving for the night. You hopped out and started making your way in that direction.

"I'm right here, don't let me startle you," the unfamiliar voice of Aemond called from the tree line. Thank God he said something because he would have startled you out there.

You let out a half strangled laugh. "Thanks for the heads up. But, what are you doing?" You asked, curious steps walking in his direction. He was on a ladder about halfway up a tree. Each time he reached up the hem of his shirt lifted to flash a peek of the pale skin of his lean abdomen and slender hips. Damnit. He must have ditched his sweater sometime ago for he only wore his plain white t-shirt now.

"Just finishing getting the cameras up. Twenty-four in total across the nearest five miles or so," he replied with a final click. "There." Despite the chilly temperature sweat still glistened on his face and neck. He tipped his head down and rolled his bicep up at the same time, using the arm of his tee to wipe his brow. As he came down the ladder you saw his ponytail was replaced by a sloppy bun instead. Loose strands stuck to the dampness of his skin, and some of the more wispy fly-aways stuck out at varying directions. If you thought him handsome before, he, somehow, was even more so now.

"Joey made you do that all by yourself!?" Five miles of carrying ladders and equipment? You wanted to smack your boss.

He shook his head as he landed on both feet, momentarily breathless. "No. We've been together until just, oh, maybe fifteen minutes ago. Wife called him," he gestured to the lodge.

"Oh. Good! I was gonna kick his ass." Secondhand tiredness crept into your bones. "I'm gonna go say bye before heading out. Need help with anything?"

He shook his head for a second time. "I don't think so. Mostly just want to get back to the hotel and shower. I feel disgusting." Lifting up the neckline of his shirt he used it to wipe his face dry, thankful to finally be on the ground to do so without fear of falling off. "And I am starving. What's the best place to eat around here?"

Was he fishing or were you wishing? "There's a really good sandwich place just as you're getting into town. That's where I'm stopping to get dinner anyway," you smiled, belly rumbling loudly in answer.

He sighed contentedly at the idea. "I'll be hitting it up, thanks. If I didn't have to stay and finish a few things I'd ask to meet you there, but...," he paused, eyeing your reaction. You didn't say anything, yet he must have caught the excited glimmer in your eyes. "Maybe next time."

You smiled and unintentionally fluffed your hair up from the roots, hip propped out with your casual stance. "Sounds fun. Good night, Aemond. Drive safe," you said before turning and walking with a little too much purpose to the lodge, gravel crunching beneath your heavy work boots.

"Hey, Y/N," he called after you after a moment, long strides closing the distance between you. When you stopped and let him catch up, he asked, "can I get your number? So I can warn you when I'm here tomorrow. You looked a little scared this morning. Don't wanna do that again." His features remained neutral. His eyes (eye? that one seemed almost completely unresponsive and you weren't sure if it was even real), however, sparked with a mischief that sent your stomach flipping. Obviously you barely knew the guy, but you swore his voice dropped a little lower with the new closeness.

You exhaled. "I was that obvious? Dang. I was hoping I played it off more cool," you tsked yourself beneath your breath, pulling your phone from its pocket. He did the same and you both swiped them open to exchange numbers. His thumb tapped a few times on the screen and your phone dinged. 'Aemond' appeared at the top and a single dragon emoji was the only thing his text read. Despite yourself, you smirked.

"See you in the morning, ranger girl."

The next morning you found yourself fixing another fire and pot of coffee, peacefully idle and waiting for the others to arrive. Your phone chimed. It was a message and photo from Aemond.

Hope you're hungry. The girls at your fave sandwich place knew your order. On my way now.

Attached was a photo of a paper food bag seat belted into his passenger seat. Something more than excitement rose in your belly and you actually giggled. Handsome and sweet? No way he was single.

Fifteen minutes later he arrived with a soft knock. "You didn't have to get me breakfast. Way too kind of you, honestly."

He squinted and smirked softly. "Good morning to you as well." He stepped inside and closed the door behind, happy to be where it was warm. "It really wasn't a bother. Gives me an excuse to spend a little more time with you," he winked.

"Were your ears tingling last night? I only thought about texting you fifty times, at least," you admitted, flirting back.

"Should have. Hotels by yourself are terribly boring."

You two ate fully loaded breakfast sandwiches and you were more than a little surprised he ate all of his. Those things were huge! Before any time at all passed, it was already noon and you and Aemond had chatted the morning away in the security room. Everything seemed to be working well. He'd done a fantastic job at setting the cameras up yesterday and Joey beamed in excitement.

"I need to do my rounds before I don't. Catch you both later," you said reluctantly.

Just as you were stepping out of the room, Aemond called after you, "hey Y/N! Before you go..." His face spelled mischief. You arched a brow at him, waiting. "About Lord of the Rings and Frodo's journey...," – your conversation a few tangents ago – "why didn't Gandalf just call the eagles for them to fly to Mordor? Seems like that would have been a lot faster and smarter."

You were dumbfounded. "Excuse me?" You asked, fluttering a series of blasphemous blinks at him. "Seriously Aemond? And here I thought we were vibing. We're not friends anymore." You slammed the door but not before flipping him off. With both middle fingers. In the hallway you snorted and laughed in disbelief.

The door did little to block Aemond and Joey's uproar of laughter.

Handsome, sweet, and a jerk in good humor? How dare him!

The next day you didn't hear from Aemond, and you weren't going to lie to yourself: it kind of sucked. Despite knowing him for so brief a time, you missed him!

Thankfully, it was time for your weekend though. It was full dark by now and you were worn out from the week. You quickly changed into pajamas and flopped on your bed to find something to watch. Settling on reruns of one of your favorite shows, you found yourself staring at the black screen of your phone. Should you text him? As if your thoughts had traveled miles away right into Aemond's brain, it chimed with his message.

Hey ranger girl. I wanted to swing by the lodge today but wasn't able to. I'm in town for a few more days and was wondering if I could take you out to dinner before I go?

Holy shit holy shit holy shit. You texted back embarrassingly fast.

Only if you swear to never talk bad about LotR again.

Pinky promise. Tonight?

You looked down at yourself and snorted.

Definitely not, sorry. Tomorrow?

Yes. God I can't wait to see you out of that dorky uniform.

You had nothing appropriate to say and left him on read, lest you say something humiliating you'd regret.

The following evening was a clear cool night and you were glad you wore pants instead of a dress, and a leather jacket instead of a cardigan. Part of you was sad to leave the toasty confines of your 4-Runner, but it quickly dissolved once you saw Aemond standing outside the bar and grill restaurant talking to someone on his phone. He wore an elevated version of the outfit you originally met him in. What caught you off-guard, however, was his hair. Those long silvery-white tresses were pulled back into an intricate braid and you couldn't help but gawk. He looked devastatingly handsome. You saw him notice you, and butterflies turned in your belly at the heat and weight of his gaze.

"A leather jack and red lipstick? How did you know that was my favorite?" he asked as you hopped up next to him, twirling playfully for his attention. "Shit, you're lovely. I'm so glad you said yes to this."

You smiled at him, pretty white teeth beaming as you tired to reel your excitement in. "So are you. I'm going to have to sit on your lap so no other girls think you're free for the taking," you half cooed, black lashes giving your eyes an opened appearance that only elevated your playfulness.

He hummed and gave you a long look, tilting his head in direction of the entrance. "You'll get no argument." He reached out and you took his hand, suddenly bashful as his long fingers laced between yours. His palm was very warm; thoughts and images filled your mind of those hands all across your bare skin. The natural bow of his mouth lifted in a little smirk.

The restaurant was fairly busy tonight: you were lucky to snag a booth by the window. You both ordered a drink and agreed to skip the appetizer to instead indulge on something from their dessert menu. Him, an old fashioned bourbon, and you, a gin with pomegranate liqueur and lemon juice. Conversation flowed easily while you waited, the ambiance of the restaurant absorbing both of you in with ease.

With the help of a little liquid courage, you found yourself asking a question that'd been on your mind since first meeting. "I gotta ask," you started, looking over the scarred half of his face curiously. "What happened?" You gestured over your own face letting him know what you meant.

He briefly bit at his bottom lip. "Childhood accident," he answered with a sigh. "It was pretty brutal, actually," he added with a dry half-laugh. "One of my nephews got me with a knife. We were wild boys. Them moreso than me, but still, wild like boys can get. I ended up loosing my right eye and opted to get a prosthetic one instead of having an empty socket."

You gasped, truly in shock, and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "Oh my God, Aemond. That's horrible."

He wasn't hot or sweaty, but your skin was delightfully cooler than his and he got more comfort out of it than you realized. "It was. The scar actually looks much better now than in the past. I've learned to live with it well enough. Driving is sometimes a struggle because of it, though. That was a big learning curve."

The waiter came back for your food order. Aemond chose the pork tenderloin with apricot almond chutney, herb roasted potatoes, and broccoli, and you chose the crusted ahi with cucumber, bell pepper, and red onion salad topped with a ginger soy vinaigrette – with no onion. Red onions, raw or cooked, destroyed your palette.

Both of your drinks were nearly gone by then; you couldn't speak for Aemond, but you were definitely feeling looser. Not drunk by any means, but a warm buzz that blushed your cheeks, hooded your eyes, and made your smile all the easier. "So, Aemond Targaryen of Dragon Security, what else do you do in and outside of your work?"

"You looking like that across from me is making focus very difficult," he replied, idly trailing the tip of his finger around the rim of his glass. He leaned back and flashed you a little smirk, the lovely color of his eye seeming to shrink. "It's a family business. We make high quality security cameras. My brother's invention, the Sunfyre system, specializes in daytime monitoring, and my sister's invention, the Dreamfyre system, specializes in nighttime monitoring." He sipped at his drink, wetting his lips with the smooth, fragrant liquor. "And mine, the Vhagar system, takes and elevates both. The beefest and strongest system by far. So, whatever your boss wants to find in those woods, he'll have the absolute best chance with what I set up for him."

You listened, genuinely interested, and did your very best to focus on his words and not the he sat across from you. "Honestly that's an entirely different world than anything I know," you shook your head amusedly. "Gross rich people stuff."

You continued talking about it until your meal came. It looked and smelled divine. "I'll check on you again shortly," the waiter said with a wide handsome smile.

Sticking out like a sore thumb was a pile of red onions atop your salad. All it took was a single glance between you and Aemond for him to know you wouldn't mention anything about it to the waiter – instead choosing to pluck them off your plate and try to enjoy your dinner regardless.

He wasn't about to let that happen. "She asked for no onions," Aemond said flatly up to the other man, one of his pale brows arching up in silent judgment.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! Let me have them remake it for you," the waiter said apologetically, disappearing with the plate quicker than you could say it's okay.

You wanted to sink down into the booth and disappear. Before you could stop giggling, and before Aemond could wipe the smug expression off his face, your new plate arrived. As well as a refill of your drinks.

"Her entree and both beverages are on the house tonight," the waiter said brightly as he placed everything down. You reached for the drink and sipped appreciatively.

"Just a refill for the lady, thank you. I'm driving," Aemond said with a hint of that same expression as before. That worked for the waiter and he was off again, busy with other tables. "Hey," he muttered to you, lower and softer than you've heard him before. He scooted closer to the window and patted the spot next to him. "Come sit by me, pretty girl."

An excited blush crept into your cheeks as you did so, and you leaned your knee against his beneath the table. His free arm draped across the back of the booth, engulfing you with the warmness of himself. You both ate and chatted, and you found out he travels far and wide. "French is my favorite language," you admitted blissfully. "So lovely to listen to. I can't speak it for the life of me, but listening to it?" You made an approving gesture with your hand.

"I don't quite have the accent down, but I'm fairly fluent in it...," he said, low and husky, as he tipped his head closer to yours. He whispered by your ear, and his breath fanning across your skin tickling your spine. "Je veux parler français entre tes cuisses."

A satisfied sigh escaped your lungs. You reveled in the way the natural rasp of his voice sounded with the language. "What did you say?"

"I want to speak french between your thighs."

A breath caught in your throat and you nearly choked on it. "Shut the fuck up. You did not just say that," you sputtered, immediately turning your head to meet his gaze.

He chuckled, palm trailing across your thigh beneath the table. "I did say that. And I do mean it."

"Aemond Targaryen...," you whispered in return, looking him square in the eye. You were pleasantly buzzed and the courage it gave you prompted your next movements. "Let's say we get out of here and you can show me that boring hotel room of yours." With a tilt of your head you slowly pressed your mouth to his, kissing him with the fire that began building in your core.

He hummed into the kiss and deepened the affection, holding the side of your neck with a need of his own. Pulling away, he quickly laid more than enough cash on the table, not bothering to wait for the tab.

The smear of your lipstick matched the faint stain of it on his own lips as he lead you out of the restaurant.

In the room, Aemond closed the door with a deliberate click and wasted little time in pushing you up against the nearest wall; your arms draped over his shoulders all the while, lips barely leaving each other. "You have no idea how bad I've wanted to do this since I first saw you at the lodge," he rasped against your mouth, kissing down your chin and throat with sloppy need. His hands were somehow all over you at once: waist, hips, ass, throat, everywhere.

You gasped, arching between him and the wall, shuddering in anticipation and excitement alike. "You should have," you murmured in reply, hands tugging off his jacket in near desperation. "I almost had a heart attack when I saw your hair in that stupid bun. I should have taken your clothes off to help you cool down right then and there," you teased in response.

A groan came from the back of his throat. "Je suis peut-être tombé amoureux," I might have fallen in love he rumbled with a smirk. You didn't know what he said but you also didn't care, because next thing you knew his teeth sunk into the slope of your neck and shoulder and you moaned. "Like being bitten?" He asked, doing it again in a slightly different spot.

"Yeah," you managed to gasp out, turning your head to entice him along. His laugh vibrated against your neck as he sucked the sensitive skin between his teeth, aiming to leave a mark. "Hey!" You gasped, giggling.

"Not gonna let you forget this, pretty girl." He tore your jacket off and threw it near his, already gripping the hem of your shirt. "Plan to make you feel it tomorrow," he added smugly, lifting your shirt off and tossing it aside. You wore one of your fun bras, lace and straps accenting the curve of your bust. "Oh, fuck, look at these beautiful tits," he groaned again, immediately bending to kiss and lick over your bare cleavage.

"You're a big talker. Are you sure you can follow through with all of that?" You questioned as if your skin wasn't already goosebumped, nipples weren't already pebbled with need, and the apex of your thighs wasn't already hot with the primal desire to be fucked and stuffed full.

He growled with your challenge, single eye looking down at you darkly. "That's the plan." In three motions he wrapped an arm around your waist, turned with you flush to him, and stepped to push you onto the bed. You landed heavily, thighs clenching as you watched him discard his shirt. He was long and lean like a swimmer, with a pale patch of hair at the center of his chest and trailing below his navel to disappear beneath his pants. A new wave of warmth pooled between your thighs and your pants felt much too tight.

"Stronger than you look too, Targaryen," you taunted, squeezing your thighs together. You looked up at him with heavy lidded eyes. Lust burned through your blood and you couldn't help the heave of your breasts.

Both his hands moved to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants to ease some of the pressure on his obvious arousal. He made no move to do anything else. "You're a big talker too." Kneeling at the edge of the bed he pulled you further down the mattress, calculating and amused. You helped him help you out of your pants, hips squirming so he could pull them down your legs. Carefully, he parted your legs and laughed a deep mocking sound. "I haven't even touched you and you're wet through your panties. So needy," he crooned, thumb barely grazing down the line of your covered slit.

You shivered, unaware and unable to bite back a whimper. "Aemond...," you gasped, the shocks his touch gave you sparking yet even more heat to pool inside you.

"And sensitive," he purred, watching your face as he continued to slowly trace along you; heavy eyed and smeared lipstick made you look all the more adorable. "Si amusant à manger. Embrasser. Lécher." So fun to eat. To kiss. To lick. He kissed the inside of your thighs in punctuation, the sounds of them sending embers up your spine. Wide hands trailed up and down your legs, over your belly, across your hips. He kissed your covered mound until the full length of your legs tightened.

"Take 'em off... move 'em to the side. Something," you panted, eyes already threatening to unfocus with the tantalizing teasing.

He had nothing to say, his mind just as clouded with lust as your own. Tugging the damp center of your panties to the side, he licked a long line up through your soaked, silky folds, groaning a hitched sound from the center of his throat.

You rolled up against him while your hands flew down to his head, fingers sinking through the smoothness of his intricate braid. Pleasure left your parted mouth.

A little moan of his own answered yours. Lick, suck, kiss. Over and over again with varying speeds and pressure, pulling more of those lovely sounds from your pretty mouth. The combination was nearly obscene; wet, lewd, eager. He carelessly pulled your panties full off and discarded them.

"Oh my God...," you drawled, gripping into his hair as he continued his delightful assault on every part of your pussy. Sucking your clit, sinking his tongue inside your saturated walls, licking over everything as if his own orgasm depended on it.

Stopping for only a moment, he reached up to the front of your bra and pulled the cups down to send your breasts spilling free. He palmed over them roughly, squeezing the soft flesh until you hissed between your teeth, body arching for his mouth's attention once more. He pinched at your nipples as his head dipped down again, hot tongue and handsome lips going right back to work.

"Yes... please, fuck! I'm so close!" Your core burned and tightened, and you were past caring if anyone in the neighboring rooms heard you.

"That's right... be a good girl and come so I can really fuck you," he hummed, delving right back in until you were trembling beneath him.

The intensity of your climax left your fingers tingling and toes curling as your thighs squeezed around his head. You were sure you'd rip some of his hair out, but the near desperate groan that left his throat told you he fucking loved it. He eased his actions on you but never truly stopped, increasing and lengthening the waves of your pleasure as you rode them out.

Once you were done, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, he finally stood and joined you on the bed. "Open the front pocket of my bag right there. Yeah, that one. Grab the condom for me," he said as he kissed over your jaw and neck, beginning to shift out of his own pants.

"I have an IUD. We're not using that bullshit," you replied cheekily, helping him out of his pants. He kicked them off and his briefs followed, and you instantly saw why he made sure you came first. Not only did he have a beautiful cock, but it was big.

"Fuck, babe, you're gonna let me come in your pretty pussy?" He asked, gripping your body to roll you onto your belly.

You moved with his prompts and nodded. "Yeah," you said and looked up at him from over your shoulder, shifting your legs to prop your ass up. It accentuated the natural curve of your spine and that sight alone would have gotten him hard.

With one hand he held onto the soft meat of your hip while the other held himself, lining up with your hot little cunt that was on full display for him. He inched in, drawing back once half of him had sunk into you, only to plunge into you all at once. "Shit...," he hissed, grip denting harshly into your flesh.

You fisted the sheets, whimpering at the absolute fullness of his cock buried in you. While nestled in you, he unclasped the back of your bra and helped you out of it, briefly lingering on the faint lines it left on your skin; an odd sort of intimacy making him appreciate the sight. "Take me," you whispered, breathless, belly slowly building up with a new coil of bliss.

Pulling his hips back, he snapped them forward against you. "Taking me so well, pretty girl," he praised. Using both hands, now, he propped you up into a better position, steadily rocking into you as he did so. The sounds that poured from your mouth were a mix of elation and lust, desire taking hold of all your senses as your body yielded to his intrusion. The way he slid in and out of you, the way your tight walls gripped around him, and the way the muffled whines that came from you each time he rammed into your deepest parts made him half insane. "Getting sooo messy, baby," his words were accented by his pelvis slamming against your upturned ass; sticky, squelching, skin on skin.

You were embarrassingly close again, eyes rolled closed. "Feels so good," you cooed from beneath, mind fully drunk on him.

"Yeah? Gonna fuck your pretty face into the mattress. Can't have you so loud that someone comes knocking," he said as he fisted into your hair, turning your head into the blankets and pillows that smelled like him. His pace grew faster, sloppier, and you knew he had to be close too. That deep sensitive spot inside you was being absolutely bullied; cockhead slammed against and past it, meeting your deepest wall, only to drag backwards along it, over and over.

"Aemond!" The mattress muffled your cry of pleasure and your second peak left you numb and weightless, mind totally blank save for the man who drove you there.

With a final push he drove into you with a guttural groan. The full length of him twitched inside your pulsating walls, coating your insides with his release. An obscene mixture of your creamy arousal and his seed oozed out from around him to dribble onto the bed. You both laughed in the aftershocks, static buzzing your brain as the lewd, heady scents of sex filled the air around you.

"Fuck, that felt good," he rasped, slowly pulling out of you and watching his cum leak from your core. "I'll get us a towel in a minute. I just need to catch my breath," he added with a lazy, glorious smile, laying flat on his back with momentary exhaustion.

You laid on your belly beside him, taking in the angles of his face and how they softened in his post-sex bliss. "No. Not yet. I'm not finished with you yet," you said slyly, pushing yourself up to flip a leg over his middle. You bent and kissed him, pushing your fingers through the damp hair from his hairline to his crown, braid no longer neat. Already half hard again, it didn't take long for him to catch his breath beneath you; fiery and refueled from your display of sensuality.

"What about you car?" He asked, biting the top of your shoulder.

"What about it? We can get it in the morning. I wanna ride this big cock."

There very well might have been some noise complaints from his room that night. Neither of you cared. Once you were both finally satisfied to the point of silliness, sleep came easy. When the morning came and he drove you back to the restaurant? You were mesmerized at how his features glowed golden with the cloudless sun.

"A 4-Runner? Lots more room in there than mine...," he teased and gave you a questioning look, testing the waters.

You hummed thoughtfully, returning his look. "Well, yeah. But, might need to put it to the test. Just to, you know, see which one is better."

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider a follow and reblog as I have plans to create and share more writings ♥

Here is my masterlist

tag list: @melsunshine @iiamthehybrid @rottingviserys @arcielee @nina2697 @darylandbethfanforever9 @sahvlren @aemondsdaemons @obsidian-hearts @bellaisasleep @watercolorskyy @ruby-dragon @aemondmama @meggiemay82

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #modern aemond #aemond x reader #aemond smut #fic

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 2 months

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Febuwhump - Day 26

Pairing: Endverse!Dean x daughter!reader

Prompt: "Help them"

Warnings: language, apocalypse, big angst vibes

A/N: So this one got away from me and didn't end up being a drabble (more like 2K). Whoops!

_________

Your dad hadn’t been in a good mood since you got up. You didn’t exactly blame him. You were going outside the compound for the first time since you’d been born. Well. They took you on occasional hiking trips around the place in school and dad had insisted you be in the Rangers program so you’d probably been outside more than most other eighteen year olds there. But you’d always been close. The high compound walls visible. A few armed guys from security with the group. Never more than a ten minute walk away.

Today though? Today you were starting your job and that meant going outside of the walls, far outside of them.

“You don’t have to do this you know.” You finished tying your work boots and stood up, your dad frowning from the small kitchenette in your shared cabin. “Be a Ranger.”

“You’re the one that put me in that after-school program in the first place,” you said, shrugging into your hooded jacket. You frowned, his face blank. “Nothing to say?”

“I did that so you’d have more survival skills, not join them. You’re too damn smart to risk your neck. We need you to help run this place when the rest of us get too old to. Croats I can handle but other communities? It’s going to be an issue someday. We fucking need someone with a level head to negotiate-”

“You’re a Ranger and on the council so clearly I can do both,” you said, going to the ladder that led to the loft. He sighed, leaving you to climb up and grab your pistol from beside your bed along with your backpack. When you dropped down, he was right beside the ladder. “Dad. Every other kid I graduated with has been working their job for months. My job is being a Ranger and you cannot stop me anymore.”

You shoved your pistol in your thigh holster, slung your bag over your shoulders and took off for the door.

Two hours later you were still fuming. Your dad decided he just had to go on your first run. Sure, it was standard to have more experienced team members out with new Rangers their first few months on the job, but your dad?

“Alright, everyone,” said your team lead for the day, motioning to the group of eight of you when you slipped out of the two vehicles. “I know we’ve picked over this area pretty good in the past but we’re looking for raw materials, things we might have skipped over in the past. Shingles, nails, plumbing equipment. Home maintenance items. Groups of four and we’ll reconvene at the vehicles in an hour. Stay sharp.”

You headed towards the group leader when your dad’s hand caught your arm. You huffed but didn’t want to make a scene in front of your new co-workers. Besides an annoying amount of staring, he let you work and pile items into a cart, making a few trips back to the cars where the team leader was organizing everything.

“Shit, where’d you find tires in a hardware store?” he asked.

“The forklift,” you said, earning an eyebrow raise.

“That is the out of the box thinking that I like,” he said just as you heard a loud crash. You both turned with guns drawn, seeing no less than eight Croats rush into the store. “Fucking hell.”

You both rushed forward, taking out the two stragglers in the back but six made it inside where the others weren’t expecting it. Loud, angry shouting came from in the store as you rushed in, shots firing off.

On the right you saw a large group of Croats and your people, your dad’s shout coming from the far left. You felt the group leader turn to go left with you but you grabbed his arm.

“Help them!” you shouted. “I got this.”

“Do not do anything stupid,” he said, letting you go and breaking off to help the others. You cleared the aisles as fast as you could before you saw your dad on the ground, a Croat on top of him. A loud shot rang out from your weapon and the Croat went limp, your dad panting hard. His eyes flashed wide as he shouted, a great force shoving you to the ground. Snarling in your ear told you it was a Croat on top of you, your gun going flying across the floor. He scrambled to grab it, another Croat rushing around the corner and going for him. He must have fired off a whole clip while you tried to get the damn Croat on your back off.

Finally, you managed to grab your switchblade from your backpocket, swinging wildly and slicing something on the creature. You spun when it faltered, stabbing the knife into it’s side, searing pain rippling through your arm. You stabbed again, this time in the neck, the thing going limp as something grabbed your hood and yanked you backwards.

“Get off!” you screamed, the grip suddenly gone, a hand pressing a finger to your lips. You caught your breath as your dad scanned the area, the shooting dying down.

“Winchesters! You good?” shouted the team leader from the other side of the store. He relaxed briefly.

“We’re in one piece!” he called out. He sighed, grabbing his own gun from the ground before turning around to hand yours back.

“Thanks,” you said, taking it from him, his eyes wide. “I know you’re pissed I came in to save you but…”

Your gaze traveled down to where his laid, to the red bite mark on your exposed forearm where it pulsated in pain. Your gaze flickered back up, his head shaking.

“No,” he whispered, still shaking it. “No.”

“S’okay,” you said quietly, strangely calm despite the fact in a few hours you’d be just like one of those things. He just stared and you offered him a smile. “Dad, it’s alright. Just don’t let me turn into a Croat. Please.”

“I can’t…” he trailed off as footsteps approached. He yanked your sleeve down hard over your wound, giving you a stern look. “Keep your mouth shut.”

“Hey,” said the team leader, coming down the main aisle. “You guys hurt?”

“We’re fine,” said your dad, pulling you to your feet.

“Let’s get the gear and get out of here,” he said.

“I’d like to keep one of the cars and Y/N out a bit longer, get her a little more used to the outside world one on one.” Your team leader pursed his lips but nodded.

“Just be back before dark. It’s not always like this Y/N. You did good today,” he said, smiling before he headed back for the others.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, your dad, grabbing your bicep. “Dad-”

“Later.”

After twenty minutes, you were alone with the car, packed full of supplies you had a feeling your dad never intended to bring back to the compound.

“Dad. What are you doing?” you asked. He ignored you, instead pushing up your jacket sleeve and taking his med pack out of his bag. “It’s a damn Croat bite. You can’t patch-”

“You weren’t supposed to die!” he shouted, glaring at you with tears in his eyes. He tore open the pack roughly, dabbing the wound with an alcohol soaked cotton ball before gently wrapping it in gauze.

You slowly took your hand away, squeezing the thrumming flesh with your other hand. He packed up silently, slamming a fist on the hood when he finished.

“You should have left me,” he grit out. “You should have let me die.”

“Ranger or not, I wasn’t going to let you get ripped apart by that thing. I got bit, okay? I got bit. Now we can either spend my last two sane hours fighting or we can spend it together before you get in this fucking car and go back home.”

He was silent, giving the far off treeline a death stare.

“Why didn’t you tell them?” you asked quietly.

“They’d have killed you. It’s protocol.” He slammed his fists again, turning his anger on you. “You know I can’t be changed. You fucking know about Lucifer and what he did to me. I am safe from this bullshit so my whole life can be one long torture fest but you? You-”

“Dad.” You grabbed his hands, the fight leaving him. “Today’s my last day and I don’t want to spend it arguing. Please can we just…I don’t want to die in a fucking hardware store parking lot. Can we just go somewhere? Somewhere nice?”

“Okay. We can do that.”

The car ride was silent, your bite itchy under your skin as he drove. It took nearly thirty minutes but eventually he pulled off the road to drive through some trees, coming to a stop.

“Can you walk?” he asked. You hummed, following out and through some kind of hiking park or something. Certainly not one you’d been to before. It only took ten or so minutes before you came to the top of a trail, a wide expanse looking out at the valley below, full of orange and red leaves.

“Wow,” you said. He guided you to take a seat on the ground, his body nestling in behind yours. “It’s so pretty up here.”

“I always thought I’d take you camping up here one day when you were old enough.” His chin rested on the top of your head, his breathing hard behind you. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” You were quiet for a few minutes, enjoying the breeze on your face. “Promise you’ll go back tonight after it happens. Promise you won’t do anything stupid.”

But he didn’t answer, only kissed the top of your head. “Daddy, please don’t…”

“I don’t want you to worry about what happens after.” But he refused to make that promise.

“Dad.”

“Just sit with me, baby girl,” he said quietly, voice cracking. “Just let me have one more hour with you.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “Okay, dad.”

_________

#febuwhump #Day 26 #Dean x daughter!reader #Endverse!Dean #Dean Winchester #SPN #Supernatural

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munv · 1 year

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𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗤𝗨𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬

Tighnari x kistune reader brainrot has been haunting me for a while now. Send help tumblr ate up all the anons i had im gonna sob fr

Just consider this fluff and forgive me if you see any mistakes!

TIGHNARI could without doubt feel you staring millions or even dozens of holes into his back yet chose to ignore it. Why you may ask? He loves you without doubt and don’t get him wrong because he isn’t upset with you or anything however..he needs to finish this report. He recently found a new plant that had affects that makes you hallucinate but could also be a tad bit dreadful to anyone who doesn’t have at least a good amount of tolerance to toxins. Enough about that though.

Your face looks calm but your tail and ears clearly betray you to say otherwise. I mean you had every reason to be upset with him! Even after he has the nerve to scold everyone else about their health he isn’t doing quite as well when it comes to taking care of himself. It’s like just going against his own words.

Tighnari hasn’t eaten a decent meal since morning, didn’t even take a nap or even bothered to go outside. Sitting at his desk for hours on end while only drinking a cup of water before getting back to work! You could obviously see how he was struggling not to doze off which has surprised you..how isn’t he asleep yet??

Your tails still impatiently waving behind you as you do no job to conceal the aura around you that basically screams “trust you will be dealt with”.

How could tighnari be so cruel as to neglect you and everyone else for the day? It really made you wonder if the work in front of him was more important than his lovely spouse. No matter how snarky and cheeky he gets you couldn’t take it anymore! Quickly getting up from your shared bed to pull his chair back and grabbing his pen with one of your tails and you wrap another one around his hand. Irritation basically oozing from your dissatisfied face.

Surely that was enough to snap him back to reality from that little world. Now realizing the situation he is in Toghnari’s only thought is to submit to you. For one he is way too tired to carry on and two when you get like this it’s quite hard to get you to calm down.

“Love are you by any chance perhaps..u-” Cutting his sentence short you dragged him over to the bed pushing his back first into the soft cushions.

“Oh so you now want to point out the elephant in the room?”

He found it in himself to chuckle a bit at your response. “You’ve been worrying everyone even when you didn’t come for patrol you fool, not to mention collie too! I had to assure her every second of the day that you were perfectly fine.”

You continued to scold him but he was well aware that this is what was coming for him in the end. Halfway through you realized tighnari’s ears were pressed against his head while as his eyes slowly started to close. “Mhh..how about we talk about this in the morning?..’m quite tired..” With the last of his strength he gently but securely wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you down along with him. Which resulted with your head on his chest listening to his calming heart beat almost as if it was second nature.

Peppering his face in kisses once realizing he was asleep, reaching out to turn off the small light you both had next to your bed. And getting comfortable you slowly started to drift off into dream land with your oh so loving husband.

As for the report he was writing? That was tossed somewhere else, something to worry about in the morning. All you could think of was the warmth he had brought you even after being slightly stupid. However what could you do? That was your forest ranger..Tighnari.

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arcaneroses · 2 years

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Tighnari x Gn!Reader

Helping the helping hand

Sypnosis: Avoiding your crush, you busy yourself in your job as a forest ranger. You find yourself trying to handle that problem at the weirdest of times with the cause of the problem itself, Tighnari.

You were just returning from your latest excursion away from Gandharva Ville when two of your coworkers approached you with frantic faces. "Y/n! There you are we were just about to go look for you!" Amir, a forest watcher runs up to you with Nasrin in toe. "It's Collei, she fell again and Tighnari asked for you to help him." Nasrin got straight to the point when Amir was still catching his breath.

"Ah fuck." You curse and chart your course towards the infirmary where you saw a familiar tail disappearing inside.

"Tighnari? Collei?" You call out as you step in.

"She’s unconscious, Y/n can you give me that?" You turn your head towards the voice, and see Tighnari looking over the young girls body which lays on the bed. His hands gently adjusting her head to rest on a pillow.

You don't even have the heart to poke at him for his bad habit of excepting people to read his mind to know what he had meant with 'that'.

You had spent enough time helping him to know what he meant.

You reach on the shelves and grab what you need, as Tighnari extends his hand with exception. Both of you growing silent and starting to quickly work in sync.

"She has been so good all week, what happened?" You finally ask when Collei seems to be more stable, her condition calming down a notch.

Tighnari yawns a bit as he steps away from the bed and stretches his arms. "She was on patrol with Nasrin and Amir, and suddenly fell over. Luckily they noticed and brought her over quickly." He explains, turning to face you.

"Ah, that's a shame." You sigh, you catch Tighnaris eyes staring you down. A uncomfortable warmth spreads through your body and you turn away from him, trying to look busy by sorting the leftover leaves on the table.

"You're doing it again." You hear him closer to you than before.

"Doing what?"

"Being like this..Distant, you've been avoiding everyone for a while now. Now that I think about it, this is the first time in weeks we've spoken." Tighnari says and sits on a stool next to you, looking at you like he looks at his plant specimen. Trying to figure you out.

"It's not-..Argh, it's just something that has been bothering me for a while now. Feelings stuff, it's..Not something you would understand." You stop fiddling with your hands, stopping to just look at them. You didn't want to have this converstation, especially with him.

"Oh wow, so that's how you think of me."

You roll your eyes. “I wasn’t trying to be insulting, it’s just…it’s complicated and you’re…” your eyes run him up and down in a way that does not feel the most flattering. "Not. Atleast in the feelings department."

“I can do complicated,” Tighnari insists, his tail swooshes againts the floorboards.

You look at him skeptically. “You..uh..don’t strike me as a complicated guy Tighnari.”

“Pfft,” Tighnari huffs, “that’s because you constantly underestimate me. Remember when you first arrived here? You completely took over my work until I 'proved' to you that I do more than just write research papers.”

Your smile is weak, but it’s still a smile. You let out another heavy breath, running both hands through your hair as you sit up a little straighter. “Oh, what the hell, Rudaba and Kamran are both too preoccupied studying the mushrooms to be of any use and I know I won't find Nasrin anywhere. She always is running off to somewhere”

“She’s probably boning Amir in his hut.”

You shoot him a look and Tighnari instantly raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry, no more sex jokes, promise.”

“Good. Besides, if they’re boning anywhere it’s in the hidden tree hollow, honestly Tighnari.”

Tighnari lets out a surprised laugh. “My bad, you’re absolutely right.”

“Try to do better next time,” You shoot him a cheeky smile out of the corner of your mouth that twists something in Tighnari’s chest.

"Anyway, the problem is..Ugh, how do I explain this to you? Okay, imagine you find a really pretty flower, the only one of its kind, the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Are you following?"

"Y/n, for archons sake get on with it."

"Jeez okay, so the flower. You found it and now you really like it, I mean who wouldn't? And that is the problem, everyone else likes the flower too and now you have no time to study it. And you can see that they are way too rough with the flower and you're afraid that the flowers petals will break. But of course you can't just take the flower from everyone else, they would get mad and the flower would also get so mad-"

"The flower can get mad? Y/n are you feeling feverish?"

"No, Tighnari the flower is a fucking metaphor!"

"Ah."

"I was right, I should have just found someone else to talk about this with." You run your hand across your face, patience run out.

"I guess, but I am happy you shared this with me. Even if I couldn't be much help." Tighnari tries to offer you a comforting smile, you return it.

"Well, it was nice to have you atleast try to listen." You conclude. Tighnari’s eyes brighten at that and his ears twitch.

"Let's get Collei to her room."

"Sounds good."

And so you do, both of you lifting her from the bed by the shoulders and carrying her together all the way.

"Hmm..you're the most beatiful thing I've seen." Tighnari mutters to himself, looking over Collei's head at you.

"What?"

"Uh-..Nothing."

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin tighnari #tighnari x reader #tighnari

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bedoballoons · 10 months

Note

AHH THIS IS ADOORABLE could you make a part 2 from finding a baby on the door and then after taking care of the baby and decided to keep it or unless not...👀 BUT ANYWAYS Loving the Genshin characters sm

YES! I was really hoping someone would want a part 2! Thank you so much for your request!

Genshin Men Headcanons:

✿~Part 2!~✿

~Taking care of the baby and deciding to keep them...or not~

A/N: If someone would like to see alternate endings for example, if someone doesn't keep the baby and you want them too, or they kept the baby and you don't want them too, OR you want other characters, don't be afraid to ask! Requests are open! <3

(Includes: Tighnari, Kazuha, Wanderer, Xiao, and Cyno!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tighnari (Doesn't keep):

You giggled quietly, watching Tighnari as he attempted to feed the baby and proceeded to spill more than half of the baby food on the little one, rather than actually get it in their mouth. The tiny being laughing hysterically as food dripped down its messy chin and dirty fingers, their eyes filled with so much happiness.

By now the two of you had spent enough time taking care of the baby you had a bit of a rhythm, each morning you'd take turns feeding or making breakfast, Tighnari would leave for work most of the day and then you'd come back together for dinner. It was a perfect...each day went by quickly and it felt like you were now a family. Of course, that was only wishful thinking...after all the Mahamatra had said they would stop by after two weeks to collect the baby...find them a permanent good home.

You wanted to talk to Tighnari about it...see if he felt the same way you did...about keeping the little one, even if it wasn't what either of you had planned..."Tighnari...?" You said quietly, feeling nervous as his ears flicked your way, his eyes still focused on the baby as he tried to clean him up a little. "Hmm?" He sounded distracted and for a second you wondered if perhaps you should leave it for a different day...but you were running low on time.

"...Can we keep...the baby?" His head turned to you as you spoke, his eyes slightly widened as he stared at you, was...it really such a surprising question? He sighed softly, leaving the baby to keep playing with their food as he walked over to you...your heart already starting to sink. "Ive known for some time now you wanted to keep them, but...what if that's just baby fever? We've only had them for a week and a half...and with me having work as a forest ranger, Collei, and the side job of being a on call doctor...there's already so much going on..."

His words...they made sense, but you didn't want to believe them...you almost wanted to cry, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked past him, the baby mere feet from you still laughing sweetly as they splashed food onto the table. "I truthfully...don't think this is baby fever Tighnari...I know you have a lot on your shoulders...but I'm here to help and the baby...they were given to us...don't you think it was meant to be...?"

He had to of noticed your reaction as he stepped closer to you, pulling you into a caring embrace, and gently kissing your forehead before responding, "I'm sorry...but I don't think we are ready for this. I'm not completely cutting out the idea of starting a family...but right now isn't a good time." You stepped out of his embrace, you just... needed a moment to yourself, you thought as you ran into the bedroom...closing the door behind you...

Kazuha (Keeps):

Apparently the people of Inazuma weren't interested in adoption, after speaking to Heizou, who was unable to find the original parents of the baby, he said he'd do his best to find a nice home for them...but you'd both have to watch them in the meantime....that was almost a month ago. You didn't really mind though, each day had been a wonderful, even with difficult times and stinky diapers, Kazuha was always there for you.

Just like now, the two of you sitting on the floor, cuddled together as you played with the baby, pretending to sneeze or blow kisses at them, their small face so full of joy as they giggled loudly. The both of you couldn't help but giggle along with them, the two of you having so much fun...you couldn't help but want to stay like this. To think...you'd never really thought about children to now...it felt crazy.

Your gaze left the babies adorable face and instead landed on Kazuha, his mouth in a wide smile and his cheeks slightly blushed from the amount of laughing he had done. Your mind making you speak before you could even truly think of the words to say, "Let's keep them Kazuha....I love them and I think we should keep them...raise them together." You watched nervously as he went through so many emotions, shock...then back to happiness and then to love.

He leaned his forehead against yours, giving you soft butterfly kisses before he spoke, his voice sounding calm and loving, "I've been thinking about that too...seeing you with the baby...it makes me feel like I'm in a dream and I want to stay in that dream...forever. You both have become the reason I no longer need to wander...I've already found everything I could have ever been looking for."

Your eyes started to water, you felt so overwhelmingly happy, this really was a dream come true and you got to experience it with the most perfect person for you. You gave him a sweet kiss, pouring all of your feelings into it before gently pulling the baby into your lap. Kazuhas arms wrapping around you both...you were a family now after all.

Wanderer (Keeps):

(I use the nickname Scara here!)

You laughed loudly, your stomach slightly hurting from laughing so hard for so long as you watched Scara struggle to dress the baby, the cute sunflower onesie being difficult as the the little one waved it's arms and legs, laughing so much you couldn't help but wonder if their tummy was going to hurt by the time he was done getting them dressed.

"This is impossible.." Scara finally decided as he stepped away, he had a small smile on his face and a light blush on his cheeks, showing he was slightly embarrassed he couldn't do this simple task. He wouldn't say it out loud...at least not yet, but he enjoyed making you both smile and laugh, knowing he was finally...apart of a family. He couldn't believe he was actually...happy being a parental figure, it was almost like he was making up for how he had been treated by his own mother.

When you finally calmed down from your laughing fit you stood up, gently putting the onesie on the baby before picking them up, holding them softly against your hip, your eyes meeting Scaras as you considered what to say next, "Scara..I know you said you didn't want children...that understandable, they are a lot to handle and after what happened to you it makes sense why you wouldn't want to be a parent, but...you're so good at being a father and seeing you with a baby...it's so perfect. It's like we have a perfect little family and...I...I want to keep it that way...but I don't want to force it on you..."

You swallowed harshly, trying not to get to anxious about the situation, it was a life changer...and you knew that, but after the couple weeks you'd been taking care of the little one...you couldn't help but think it was the right life change to make. Even Nahida had complimented you both on how well you had been doing...going so far as to say you two seemed happier.

"You're right, I didn't want anything to do with children...I thought of them as nothing but dirty, whiney little humans who couldn't even use a restroom on their own...., but....even though that's still partially true...I can't deny...I like the baby too. I like...us with a baby and I never thought I would say this..., but I think...we should keep them. Just don't expect me to change every poopy diaper." His blush deepened slightly as he shared his true feelings with you, the topics he had been thinking about for awhile now...

You giggled happily, holding the baby out for him to hold, watching as he tickled them before speaking, "I won't make you change every poopy diaper...but I am gonna make you learn how to put clothes on them." You snuggled into him lovingly as the two of you played with the newest addition to your family, the missing piece you never realized you both needed.

Xiao (Keeps):

You softly kissed the babies cheek, watching with a wide grin as their small fingers curiously reached out to touch Cloud Retainers beak. This was the first time you had introduced them to the animal Adepti and...the geo archon who was currently spectating from a few feet away. Xiao was standing next to him, his spear put away for once, he looked so proud as if showing the little one to everyone was the greatest achievement...other than when he had managed to get you as a partner.

"One cannot help but think you should keep the small human, after all they have been left to you and they are incredibly cute. Much like Shenhe and Ganyu when they were younger." Cloud retainer said, loud enough that Xiao and Zhongli could hear, the baby now softly touching her feathers...their face shifting from curiousity to excitement.

"It is true...they are quite adorable for a human child and you two have thus far done a wonderful job at taking care of them." Moon carver said, softly nuzzling his nose into the babies cheek, the small one giggling in response and hugging the big deers face. "What does thou say... conqueror of demons?"

Xiao walked over to the two of you, the rest of the Adepti taking a step back as the question still hung in the air. He leaned down, his eyes meeting yours as he spoke, "What do you choose? If we keep them, my promise remains the same, I will protect you both with my life." He reached his hand out, smiling slightly as the baby softly grabbed his finger and smiled up at him.

You looked around, everyone waiting on your answer as if it wouldn't be what they were all expecting, "Of course I want to keep them...I wanted to keep them the second I saw Xiao interact with them." You grinned widely as Xiaos smile grew, his lips touching your forehead gently, before he repeated the same action to the baby.

Cyno (Doesn't Keep):

Cyno bit his lip, watching silently as you sung a soft lullaby to the baby, doing your best to help them fall asleep after a long day of playing hide and seek. You couldn't help but smile at the little one, their eyes closed in a peaceful sleep and their mouth in a tiny grin as if they were dreaming sweet dreams.

The two of you quietly sneaking out of the room, leaving the door open so you could hear if they woke up in the middle of the night and turning off the light, leaving the nursery with the soft glow of the night light. Your heart felt so full, like for the first time ever even the difficult days felt perfect...and the good days...felt like each one was one to remember.

"I think...we should talk." Cynos words caught you off guard...or more accurately his tone...it was so serious, unlike any you had ever heard him use before. You suddenly felt nervous, like there was impending doom just seconds away from making itself known, "Oh...okay. I-is everything alright?" You silently cursed yourself for your shaky voice and slight stutter, as if you could control it.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Tomorrow the some of the mahamatra are going to come by and pick up the little one. They've found a home perfect for them, a place where they can grow and learn, have a nice family take care of them." He crossed his arms, looking away as he felt a overwhelming amount of guilt...by now he knew you had wanted to keep the baby and he...didn't.

Your heart felt like glass dropping onto the hard floor, breaking into a thousands of tiny pieces and scattering everywhere, to places you might never find again. "Oh...r-right. I'll make sure they are dressed and ready then...I'll um...I'll pack a bag of their baby s-stuff." He reached out to comfort you but you shifted away from his touch and using every bit of control you had to not cry...the baby would be going to a good home after all...it just wouldn't be your home.

✿Hope you have a good day!✿

224 notes · View notes

8-dermestid · 2 months

Text

it's like as if somebody was gripping my throat

relationship: eyeless jack x reader

word count: 6.2k

links: available to read on ao3

warnings: canon-typical violence

M. Eerie National Park is one of the most boring places to work. You hike the trails to make sure nobody is trying to stay after hours, clean up garbage, and befriend the local cryptid.

Nobody knows about that last part except for you.

(like/reblogs are greatly appreciated, requests are open ✷)

“—Shocking news for M. Eerie National Park. Another victim, twenty-one-year-old Penn State student Ryan Sheppard, discovered on the property—”

You dig into your food, tuning out the broadcast as you scarf down your lunch and prepare for work. You rinse your bowl, toss it into the dishwasher, and move into the bedroom to change out of your pajamas and into your uniform. You pull up your cargo pants and pull on a green collared shirt with the M. Eerie National Park logo embroidered on the pocket. After deodorant, you pull on your hiking boots, grab your jacket and bag, and leave towards your car.

She’s a beat-up old thing, but she gets you to and from work without too much trouble. It’s a short, red, rust-damaged Honda Civic. Your car’s engine is strong, and it, other than the external imperfections and duct-taped-on mirror, has treated you well, and you’ve never felt the need to trade up.

(Nor the want, being a park ranger hardly gives you enough money to keep your head above the water, but you love it, and working an office job sounds worse than pulling all your toenails out at once with rusty pliers.)

The car sputters to life, rumbling beneath you in her comfortable and familiar way. You look down at the radio—the clock reads 14:37—you’ll be on time for the start of your shift. The drive isn’t exciting, and you’d take your boring drive over a three-hour drive to the office any day. Your job is so easy, too, a simple routine you follow every day—go in during the afternoon, hike the trails before closing, watch for lost folks and garbage, and close up the park. It’s easy, so easy that your job is almost dull. You walk into the break room, your lunch in your non-dominant hand, and stumble into a meeting.

“Oh. Hey guys.” You hesitate, creeping over to put your food in the fridge. Usually, the break room was empty, and Leslie, your superior in the standard uniform with her beat-up clipboard, was marching back and forth like a drill sergeant.

In the kindest way possible, you hope she retires. She’s been working here for so long and managing everything that she deserves some R-and-R. Leslie is the backbone of the team, and one would have to pry her position from her cold, dead hands (even then, it would still be a fight), but she should consider passing the job to someone else.

You plop down in one of the three empty chairs. Two of your coworkers transferred to another park (quite suddenly, too, no two-week notice or anything). It’s not good, especially considering they were the only other people working your shift.

“Alright, we can wrap up this meeting with a quick problem,” Leslie begins again, waving quietly to you. “Guests have been reporting stolen items more than usual, lots of jackets, gloves, boots, ooh—food, too,” Leslie jots something down on her clipboard, “To be honest, I think people are just misplacing things and blaming it on the wildlife, but if you see anything, just radio me, and I’ll come to help you sort it out.”

You nod. People leave things where they shouldn’t be all the time—you can't count the number of times families wake up with ransacked coolers because they leave them outside unprotected.

Leslie sighs, “And—look—there have been more than a few teens sneaking off into the woods before we close. Please, I don’t want another 24-hour challenge incident on our record. Keep an eye out for them. I mean it.”

Everyone affirms, whether with a nod or a “Yes, Leslie.”

The team filters out of the break room, and one of your coworkers (with wild, dark hair and stickers nearly smothering the Molly on her nametag) bounds to your side like a deer.

“You think it’s a bear?” She asks. She’s practically bouncing off the walls despite Park Ranger being the least thrilling job on the planet.

You shrug. You don’t carry the same energy that Molly does. She is just a wee sixteen-year-old at your side working her first big girl job, and any excitement at this middle-of-nowhere park is a godsend for her.

“Well, it could be a bear. But, I mean, a bear wouldn’t be stealing men’s jackets or boots.” she suggests, “Maybe not a bear, or maybe it’s those kids again… Remember the kids from a few weeks ago?”

Oh. Oh, of course, you remember those kids. Three of them, two girls and some in-between kid, all seventeen and seniors at the local high school (local being the closest high school, which was thirty miles away) that Leslie caught trying to stay overnight for some silly internet challenge. One of them, the in-between kid with the flattest hair you’ve seen in a while, brought an Ouija board because of some weird internet gossip about your park. It was strange—super, duper weird—because the couple (apparently, maybe? You aren’t sure) ditched the third girl to make out under an abandoned deck. Leslie only caught them because the third (a taller, more heavyset girl with colored hair) was terrified of some tall, slender man who scared her on the internet.

“God, don’t remind me.” You finally say. You still remember the three of them yelling at each other, Leslie dragging them out by the collars of their shirts like scruffed cats after they got caught (because one of the girls was a crybaby, their words, not yours).

Leaving the break room and finally feeling the sun this morning, Molly waves you goodbye and starts jogging down her favorite trail. She’s got energy for miles; if she were older and wiser, she could compete with Leslie.

Speaking of, Leslie pats your shoulder. Her grey hair shimmers in the sun, and she, with wrinkles showcasing her long and fulfilling life, smiles down at you.

“Afternoon, kiddo. You doing alright?”

You nod, more focused on the heavy workload you have in front of you.

Leslie pats your back like a coach would to her favorite player, “I know Josh and Ryan quitting hasn’t been easy on you.” Her voice is too solemn for a work transfer, “I’ll be working tonight, too, if that eases you.”

You perk up, half with relief and half because working with Leslie is the best. It’s comforting to have a superior like her around when people start getting wild in the woods; she’s good at grabbing people by the scruff and dragging them out, kicking and hollering.

“You can take care of the Southern Reach, yeah? You’re a big kid—you can handle it.”

You’re more than just a kid, but between her being near retirement age while you are fresh out of college—you are a kid in her eyes. You nod, already unhooking your heavy flashlight from its carabiner.

“That’s the ticket. I’ll take Northern. We’ll meet back up here for closing.”

“No, no, I’ll handle closing.” You persuade, “Come on, Leslie, I can handle closing a big gate. Just handle Northern and go home.”

She debates it, rolling the idea around in her mind before conceding. “Alright, kiddo. Just this once, though.”

At first, with the sun just touching the horizon, your checks go well, and you clean up a few empty beer cans along the southernmost trails. Your trash bag is light, which is a plus. You don’t need to pull your flashlight out until past seven in the evening when the moon peeks out behind you. You find an empty can of soup (chicken-noodle but with star-shaped pasta instead of noodles). The top looks messily cut, as if with a knife, which isn’t at all uncommon.

Except, well, this can has a pull tab disregarded by the previous user. You turn over the can in your palm, examining the shredded metal and paper label, and toss it into the bag with the rest of the trash.

Further, closer to the center of the trails, there is another disemboweled can. You pick up one, the lid is also ripped off, the pull-tab forgotten about, yet this soup can has more than half of it ripped off into a swirly shape, almost like someone was desperate for something to eat. It’s Campbell’s, not Grandma’s cooking.

There’s another can further into the woods, more shredded than the last, with a deep dent in the center; the can was clean, too clean, which is both weird and disgusting. Dogs shouldn’t eat this stuff concentrated—too much sodium.

Another one; there is a streaky, black substance marbling with some soup still sitting at the bottom of the can; another, and more of that black slime. You carefully pick up each one and add it to the bag. The next can has more of that substance—almost too much. The smell is putrid. It burns inside your nose, and you get a whiff of formaldehyde or something that reeks of death.

You keep traveling into the woods, finding more debris and litter, an old chewed-through sleeve, a jacket, and a glove smattered with that syrup-y oil. There’s something wet beneath your palm, and thank the stars you chose to bring your gloves this morning. It’s red, with a black slime marbled in it. It’s sticky between your fingers, and it smells awful. You follow the trail of red and black with your flashlight.

The source is the mangled carcass of a hiker wearing a high-vis vest. You suck in a breath and reach for your walkie-talkie. It’s sickening, and you can’t stop looking at the body as you radio for your superior.

“Leslie? Leslie, you there?” You plead, hands shaking and mind racing. Of all the people you want to pick up, it’s her. She’s been working here since before you were born—maybe she’s found a mutilated person in her time working the trails.

The silence stretches for an eternity until you hear a familiar voice on the other end.

“Hey, I’m here. What’s going on?” She asks.

“Uhm, I don’t know,” You make the mistake of looking at it, at the remnants of a man, at the carcass before you. “I don’t even know what could do something like this.” God, it makes you sick, but you can’t look away.

“Come on, talk to me,” She barks, her voice firm with years of seniority, “What are you seeing? Talk.”

You swallow. “Some hiker got attacked. They’re not responsive,” You mutter into your little plastic lifeline. “I’m off Trapper’s—I don’t know—Christ, I’m going to be sick.”

“...Okay,” Leslie replies quickly, “Are you safe?”

You don’t know the answer to that question. You swallow a lump in your throat as you look frantically for movement in the dark woods. Leslie says something, but you can’t hear it over the sound of your heart hammering away in your ears. You see movement between the trees, the primal part of your brain attempting to identify any immediate danger. Everything is spinning, it reeks of death, and Leslie’s voice is staticky because of the shitty speakers.

“Answer me! Come on, kiddo, where are you?” She shouted, her voice laced with harsh static.

Your flashlight flickers, and you hope whoever ordered these flashlights has something horrible happen to them. Something rustles in the bush. The only thing you have to protect yourself is a bag of loose garbage and your shitty flashlight. Leslie is shouting so loud you can only hear half of her words. Whatever emerges from that bush will eat you alive—you’re sure of it.

The stench of death gets heavier as a figure crawls out from beneath the foliage, wearing a dark hoodie and a blue mask. There’s blood and guts caked under their fingernails, and they look filthy and smell worse. They lock eyes with you and try to stand, stumbling and letting out a near-inhuman cry. You hold your heavy flashlight like a baton—all it’s useful for, considering the lightbulb works when it wants to—as the masked stranger lets out a wheezy breath and crawls towards you.

You grip the flashlight so hard your hands are shaking, taking careful steps back to maintain some distance between both of you. Their approach doesn’t stop. They reach and grab at your leg and pull you to the ground. Your head is spinning as it collides with the damp earth, and you feel two hands digging into your abdomen, sharp nails scratching and attempting to burrow into your stomach. You shout as their ice-cold hands scrape across your body, their claws raking across tender flesh.

You thrash and try to push them away, but they hold you down with one hand and remove their mask with the other.

You always said you’d know what to do if you were in a slasher flick. You always called the protagonists stupid for freezing up in front of certain death, never thinking about what it felt like, knowing you were probably going to die. You look them in the eye—more so what’s left of them, staring into two tar-filled sockets where their eyes would be—and unable to do anything.

You lay back, each breath barely making it in and out of your lungs. They stop, hands still pressed firmly against you. They crane their neck, probably just as surprised as you for simply giving up. They tug your shirt back down, pressing a palm over it and smoothing the fabric with their palm.

It reignites something in you because before either of you can register what’s happening, they’re squealing in pain as you hit them upside the head with your flashlight. You scramble away, pulling yourself to your feet and running blindly to the main trail.

You don’t stop, even after the demonic cries die out under the sound of the beginning storm. You push and push yourself until you nearly collide with Leslie.

“Stars—! Kid, where the hell were you? What the hell happened to you?”

She shines the light across your face, then brushes a leaf from your coat. It’s hard to think about speaking; Leslie knows you’re trying.

“Hey, it’s okay. Come on, I’ll drive you home, kiddo.”

“But the—”

“Don’t worry about it,” She says as softly as she can, “You’ve done all you can do. Anything about you that I should be worried about?”

You pat your abdomen, a few lines of brown blood staining the front. You shake your head, and Leslie holds off on grilling you for details.

✷𓃞 ✷

She drives you home in her big pickup truck (she even went through a drive-thru and got you something to eat on the way home). She pats your back as you dig through the bottom of the bag for scraps.

“Don’t think about coming back tomorrow—Partly because you’ve been through hell tonight—but also because there’s going to be an investigation. Look—take it easy, maybe go see your doctor, don’t come back until at least next Tuesday.”

Leslie pulls over to the side of your street and pulls out a box of cigarettes. “I mean it, take it easy. You do enough work while you’re on the clock; don’t worry about anything—I have people that can cover your shift if you need more time off.”

You nod, gathering your things and walking towards your house, digging your keys from your jacket to escape the rainy weather. You shut the door behind you, and Leslie walks towards her truck, a thin line of smoke trailing behind her.

You open the door, and a warm puff of air welcomes you home. It’s quiet and dark, leaving you on edge from tonight’s incident. Instead of relaxing—like Leslie practically ordered you to—you drop your bag at the front door and book it to your computer. It hums to life, and you punch in your password and open your web browser. Surprisingly, being attacked by a person-shaped thing did not perturb your furious web-searching.

Creature in the woods near me

Masked creature, person that tried to eat me?

Blue man— you hastily hit backspace as Blue Man Group auto-fills in your search bar.

You keep trying outrageous combinations of words, eventually finding a near-defunct blog with a picture of the freaky humanoid that almost killed you.

EYELESS JACK. Well, the name fits. At least you’ve finally got a name for that face. You read through this article, which recounts this woman—a hiker-slash-rock-climber, to be more specific—coming into contact with a human-ish guy. They had a few photos of deep claw wounds that scarred over pale on her dark skin. You jot down the name, continuing to dig into the incident recounted by this woman.

You pause and close all your curtains and turn off all the lights (and you get yourself a drink to keep yourself awake). Sinking into your chair again, you continue the deep dive into this Eyeless Jack fellow, feeling like a detective from some once-popular show that wasn’t that good. You keep searching—jotting down leads for your search—until the sun is peeking over the horizon, and you can hardly keep your eyes open. Eyeless Jack has been around for longer than you first believed—they’ve probably been terrorizing after-dark visitors of your park for years, right under your nose.

Are there more missing-person cases? Did any of your coworkers who quit unexpectedly actually have a reason? God, this journey to the weirdest parts of the internet has left you with more questions than answers.

You look down at the big sticky-note pad you used for notes. It looks like you fell off the deep end with your feverish scrawling, smeared ink, and lots of quick notes about disembowelment, kidney removal, and even cult activity. You think this may need another night of internet excavation to answer those (and inevitably, come up with more, even crazier, questions). Based on a few accounts of unwanted kidney removal in their sleep, you think about getting something to eat—

—and staying as far from your bed as possible.

✷𓃞 ✷

You can’t even eat breakfast without being tempted by your thirst for knowledge; it’s unbearable. You don’t even want to think of spending more than a few days at home. Hopefully, the police hurry up and finish so you can start your investigation.

You quickly rinse and dry your empty dish, filling a glass of water and flopping onto the couch. Surfing channels and finding something mindlessly entertaining will probably take your mind off things.

The news is boring—talking about the recent storm off the southern coast—and some cooking show. A history documentary—about someone you don’t care for—a jewelry channel, another news channel, and a kids’ show.

(Tempting, but no.)

The local news, though not mindless, is entertaining. There’s an over-top camera view of the park. Dozens of police cruisers and K-9 units are parked—and you can see your car, your old, rusty girl in the lot—Cops are infesting every corner of your TV, some moving into the woods toward Trapper’s, others lingering to talk in the view of the helicopter. It cuts to a news anchor recapping the incident from last night. They think it’s a bear attack. Leslie says it was a bear attack. Your coworkers say it was a bear attack, and Wildlife Removal will deal with it.

They don’t know anything—Jack tore into that hiker like a wild animal—and left the poor guy’s insides all over the forest floor.

You don’t stop watching the news until they start talking about the weather, where you only half-listen. There’s going to be a storm tonight. The teams at your job are probably going to try to recover the body and bring it to the morgue before it starts raining.

You turn off the TV after that. You examine your abdomen, five short lines across your belly where their claws made contact. You decide to go to the bathroom to clean and dress them.

“Better to be safe than sorry.” You tell yourself.

After a few cotton balls soaked in alcohol and big bandaids later, everything is clean enough and about as well-dressed as you can, considering your supplies.

There’s not much to do at home, and trying to take your mind off things with your usual hobbies isn’t working. You even try scrolling mindlessly online, but you can’t stop thinking about last night.

Why did they stop—and so suddenly?

You lift your shirt and brush your thumb over the bandaids on your belly, the skin still too hot and tender. Maybe you were just lucky, stupidly lucky. You pick up your home phone and dial Leslie’s number. She at least deserves a warning about what’s out there.

“...What are you doing?”

“Leslie,” there’s some strain in your tone, “Hey, Leslie. How are things?”

“You’re calling about work? You’re supposed to be on vacation.”

Yes. Yes, you are.

“I know, but—Look, it’s about last night. I know you specifically told me not to do any digging, but—”

“Kid,” She cuts you off. You can picture her frustration as she probably rubs at her temples, “Tell me you did not do that.”

Yes. Yes, you did.

She sighs dramatically. “You work too hard—even when I order you to stop thinking about work, you do it anyway.”

“Look, it wasn’t an animal. It was a guy.”

“...What.”

You pull the phone from your ear. You probably do sound crazy. And you will continue to sound crazy when you talk about what you found online from defunct blogs from 1999. No matter how you try to spin it—every time you start talking—you can not come up with the words to explain that the scary internet creature is real. Leslie will not believe you, and who the hell would?

“...Nevermind. I have to go. I have, uhh, laundry in the dryer.” You mutter.

“Well, feel better, and stop going on the internet—you’ll scare yourself out of your skin with stuff people make up for fun,” Leslie sighs, then her voice goes soft, “I mean it. Take care of yourself. We’re thinking of you, kiddo. Oh, and Molly says hi.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “...Well, let Molly know I said ‘Hi’ back.”

“Will do. Okay, see you next week.”

You hang up.

✷𓃞 ✷

It’s damp. The fallen leaves are starting to rot and turn mushy under their boots. Jack tears through another can with their claws and downs a mixture of soup and soaked-through chicken. They drink, grinding the sinewy chicken and too-soft between their teeth, swallowing harshly and curling up at the taste. Police swarming the woods like ants to fruit has been awful; Jack is tired. Everything burns, they’re tired of running, and they’re still so hungry.

Other foods are necessary to Jack’s diet—they can’t live off meat. They need carbs and stuff—but if Jack has to spend more time seeing faces, they will start digging for their kidneys. They collapse underneath a fallen tree, curling up like a woodlouse. If the police find them, Jack just hopes it’s quick.

They can hear men shouting somewhere nearby with their big, angry dogs.

Jack falls asleep there, eventually, and they don’t know what time it is when they wake up, just that it’s dark out again, and it’s so quiet.

They survive off stolen clothing and soup cans between stays at the manor. Though their vision is gone, Jack still lives with psychosis (one would figure getting their eyes melted with hot tar would prevent visual hallucinations). Eating human flesh, though a taboo solution to their symptoms, allowed Jack to clear their mind and function.

Jack sunk deeper under the heavy log when they heard footsteps and a whining dog.

“I know, boy.” A man says, coughing as the air smells of cigarettes.

Jack’s nose burns at the smell. The dog sniffs at the earth and knocks aside a pile of leaves with its nose, whining and howling. The officer kicks aside the leaves and sighs.

“...Alright,” He says, the metal bits of the dog’s vest clicking together as the dog grows restless, thrashing against it.

The man hunches down, the sound of a plastic bag crinkling in his palm, muttering something to the canine.

“Atta-boy. Come on, Chester, it’s damn creepy out here.” With the tug of the leash, the officer and his canine retreat out of the woods.

When the two are out of earshot, Jack squeezes out from under the log and feels around in the dirt, sniffing the air and only smelling wet earth. Their chest tugs in a sickened sort of way, and they sink back into their hiding place and curl up into a ball. The rain picks up again. Wind howls and thunder crackles in the sky, rattling the earth.

Their new jacket, which they snatched off an unsuspecting hiker, was Jack’s only protection from hypothermia stealing the heat from their digits. Jack breathes into their palms, hot air flowing across their stiff fingers (which Jack promptly stuffed into their underarms to warm them up).

The wind doesn't hesitate to rob Jack’s already-deprived body of what little it has. Jack can’t stop thinking about how hungry they are—and how they see faces melting in their periphery whenever their mind wanders. They pick at the raw edges of their sockets in a measly attempt to soothe. It doesn't work. Nothing works anymore, even when Jack can consume human meat. After only a few hours, Jack’s skin is already itching with the need to keep consuming, to keep eating, to stave off their psychosis by any means necessary. They tug—and tug, and tug, and tug until they’re shaking—at their raw skin, where hardened pitch meets seared flesh and patchy brows. It’s unbearably cold, it’s so fucking cold, and going back to that hellish manor sounds like paradise right about now.

But that’s not an option.

✷𓃞 ✷

Tuesday finally comes around, and you can return to work.

You pack two lunches today. Your bag is just leftovers in a takeaway container (dinner from yesterday), and the other is a sandwich with a few slices of Swiss cheese and meat (far more meat than you’ve ever used at once). It’s got other things on it; you aren't going to give some hungry person—who’s probably been living alone in the wilderness for who knows how long—a boring sandwich. Too bad if they don’t like mayo (Well, you hope they like mayo, lest they rip you in two for the offense of a condiment on real-people food).

You fill your water bottle, grab your keys, and head out the door.

Leslie’s truck is humming outside. Your car is still in the lot at work. You were not in any condition to drive after, and Leslie would not have let that happen. She moves her bags as you climb into the passenger seat. You set down your things on the floor, trying to conceal the second lunch you made.

“...Glad to have you back, got everything?” Leslie asks.

You nod, jingling your keys.

She flicks her turn signal to the left and drives onto the road, turning right onto the main road.

The car is quiet, except for the radio playing old 80s hits, thick with the tension that you almost died the last time you went to work.

“You can work wherever you want today. Molly’s willing to work with your plans. I can imagine not wanting to do trail walks after, well, you know what.”

“I’ll be okay,” You say, ”I’ll do trails today. Not a problem.”

Leslie grips the steering wheel tight. “You’re sure? After you know what, I figured you would want to quit,” She turns left, “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“No. I’m a little shaken up, but I’m okay.” You say, looking out the window.

Leslie makes some noise like she knows you’re lying. Your brush with death should have turned you off from any outdoorsy work, but here you are, making lunches for the thing that tried to rip you open like an orange. Maybe your too-empathetic and hopeful parts hope this sandwich helps them out. Everything you read about them was far from pleasant—Some of it didn’t seem real.

“A mixture of blood and hot tar poured into the eye sockets.” You recall.

This stuff about Eyeless Jack you read felt like fiction, but what you saw that night was real. God, it sends shivers down your spine, makes you feel ill—you don’t know what you would do if put in that scenario (blinded, abandoned, and left to die in the woods with an insatiable hunger for human flesh? Jack has been active for years, all alone, you think, you’re not sure how you would last even half as long).

“...Did they find anything?”

Leslie sighs. “No. But it’s an animal, so it’ll return next time it’s hungry. We’ve got more people on watch. Hopefully, we can get Wilderness Removal or Animal Control on it, maybe kill it if we have to.”

You hope not. Leave the critter that keeps eating people alone; they should just leave a plate of food out.

“Maybe don’t try to hunt down the wild critter-person like an animal.” You think. The rest of the ride is silent. You pull up to the park and see Molly chatting with a guest. She spots you looking out the window and waves, delighted to see you again.

“I wanted to give you this in case anyone tries giving you trouble.”

She passes you a black cylinder that’s roughly four inches tall. The button on top and the spray nozzle tells you it’s pepper spray.

“...Thanks, Leslie.”

“Anytime.”

You pull on your coat and leave your lunch in the fridge, taking the other out. Then, you jog over to your car and abandon the pepper spray in the cup holder; you hope that this choice won’t get you killed tonight, but you need to start on a good foot.

Your day-to-day rhythm comes back to you. You warmed yourself up on the more populated trails, picking up cans and directing folks about. It’s sparse, only seeing small groups unfazed by the recent killings (perhaps through ignorance or a belief that death is beneath them). The dread is heavier when you walk an empty trail that’s usually lively with people, even during the day, when dangers lurking in the bushes are more visible. As the sun creeps across the sky—and lower towards the horizon—fewer and fewer people choose to risk hiking after dark, lest they get disemboweled like the last guy who tried.

By 19:00, it’s empty. There’s nobody around other than you. But you know they’re still out there, listening to your every movement (and every breath and every hitch).

You scan the edge of the woods where they’re probably hiding, carefully stepping over the foliage while you intentionally stray from the carefully manicured path.

The trails are well-kept. The landscaping crew works diligently and takes pride in their work, keeping them free of debris and roots that would make the footpath a challenging terrain. Beyond the edges of the dirt roads, however, the forest is wild; vines writhe and twist along the floor, every plant fighting for sunlight in the undergrowth, with bigger-than-your-head leaves and trees wearing thick coats of creeping ivy. You witness the cycles of life and death within this delicate ecosystem—young trees climb higher and higher, growing larger and larger; insects feast upon the trees, rely on the trees, live and die by the trees; the trees, after centuries of life, die and rot; the lichen and insects feast on the rotting wood and refresh the cycle anew.

It makes you feel small and insignificant, as the world around you lives and dies without even noticing your existence. It’s like being surrounded by other people’s ideas in a museum, thousands of other people, forgotten by time, remembered by their art, or their shoes, or their stories through other people’s mouths.

Your boot slips on slick earth before you can continue your mental spiral about your insignificance as one among billions. Your boots squeal against pulpy mud and you nearly slip down into a strange recess; the earth is slick with that same slime, though it is more grainy and pus-like in texture. You follow the streaks in the muddy ground, where it slips underneath a large, rotten log.

You shine your light underneath, spotting a shivering, cobalt-blue mask underneath layers of jackets and stolen fabrics.

Maybe they’re sleeping, and waking them up (though with the promise of real people food) may upset them enough to maul you like a bear and eat you for lunch instead.

They shift and wiggle into the recess they carved out for themselves, hearing some shuffling outside of their burrowing. They suck in a deep breath through their nose, and the smell of human sears the insides of their lungs like smoke. They hunch a little bit, curling into a more upward sitting position, sniffing the air, inhaling once, twice, then a third time until they have that scent burned into their hindbrain. They can’t stop drooling, salivating at the thought of finally feeling okay again, having something to cut through the smoky, blurry feeling. They hear shuffling, their prey slinking back as they curled forward. They can’t suppress the growl that rumbles in their throat, teeth licked behind the mask. They don’t move like a person in preparation for a chase. Jack slips out of their nook, their body curled forward and arms hanging limp.

Jack reaches up and peels the mask like a second skin, revealing tar-filled sockets that bore down at your scent.

Jack lurches forward like they’re on a leash, sinking their claws into your arm and digging in, etching out five deep grooves, each weeping a stream of blood that makes Jack’s mind run wild. Without thinking entirely, Jack pulls your arm forward and sinks their teeth into your bicep, leaning their body weight against you, knocking you both to the floor. There’s kicking and screaming, high-pitched whining as Jack’s teeth tear through skin and sinew, coating your arm in blood and spit.

You cry out, trying to pull their steel trap of a jaw out of your arm—managing to loosen their upper jaw, and by shoving them away with the heel of your palm, you manage to rip out their lower jaw, too.

They shiver, licking their teeth over and over again. Feral, animalistic delight rattles their whole body; they’re giddy at the taste of your blood, but they hold some restraint at the sound of their name.

Your breathing is frantic, and your heart is hammering in your throat. Jack’s breathing slows, and they quit licking their teeth. You’re not sure where to start. You hold your breath as Jack’s tar-filled sockets bore down into yours. Their breathing is heavy, and there’s saliva dribbling down their chin. You squeeze your arm, your skin clammy with blood and sweat, while Jack stays still above you.

Your mouth is nailed and twisted shut like you’re at the morgue. Jack doesn’t finch as they, strangely again, don’t tear you to shreds like the last guy. You sigh, which comes out as an exasperated laugh, your chest squirming like a bucket of mealworms as Jack’s warm, blood-soaked breath enters your nose. Their hair is long and matted, greasy and cool-brown in color; their skin is a deep gray like the living dead, bulked up by layers of stolen sweaters and pants to keep warm.

“I, uhh…” You start, “I brought you a sandwich if you want it. I didn't know what you liked, so I just put a little bit of ever—”

Jack’s knee presses into your ribcage as they climb over you, feeling around on the ground for your bag. A wheeze rattles from your throat, and they dump your belongings onto the forest floor unceremoniously, sniffing the contents like a tracker hound.

They pinch the bag between their claws, disemboweling the brown paper bag, the contents hitting the floor with a wet thud.

You watch them eat, tearing through plastic and paper with their teeth, eating with no sensibility nor dignity. The sandwich is shoved into their mouth and swallowed in about fifteen seconds, and a crushed bag of potato chips you forgot at the bottom of your bag perishes, too. They crack open the plastic container full of your dinner and hesitate, neck craned in your direction. It takes a few moments to find them, but Jack finds the metal utensils you packed for yourself, showing the container to you.

“Oh, well, yeah. That’s mine. My dinner, I mean. You can have it if you want.”

They shake their head in a fit.

They push it in your direction, a flatly affective expression on the remainder of their face, but their body language pushes your cold leftovers on you with a lot of force. You gingerly take the container from their claws, crack it open, and eat. Jack listens attentively to you, sockets trained on you, on the sound of metal utensils clinking against your mouth, the sound of you swallowing your meal. Their hands squirm and play with the dirt and leaves, excited to share a meal of leftovers with somebody they nearly killed twice. Your arm is throbbing as you carefully feed yourself, your jacket’s sleeve shredded. Hopefully, your emergency fund can cover a trip to the hospital for however many stitches you’ll need, as well as the antibiotics you’ll be taking (or paying for amputation if this gets infected, but you try not to think about that as this demonic forest creature is enraptured by you eating supper with them). You scrape the bottom of the container, not missing a single morsel.

They move their hand under their chin, and you recognize what Jack is doing. You took a few classes in uni, so you pick up on the ASL as soon as their hand collides with the other in a neat thank you.

“Oh! You’re welcome,” You say, “Was it good? I was worried if you liked mayo or not.”

They grin. It’s small, subtle, and hard to do with the tar seared to their skin, but there’s a quiet peek of teeth as they chuckle at being understood. They like mayo.

You laugh, too, exhausted and relieved. After so many restless nights worrying about getting your organs surgically removed in your sleep, you’re looking forward to a restful night after the day you’ve had. At the hospital, because you’re arm is looking pretty ugly.

“Look, I think I have to go.”

They tense up.

“I won’t tell anyone about you, I promise,” You sigh, trying not to look down at your bloody limb, “They’re still looking for you, though, so be careful. If you need food, I can try to sneak you some from Lost & Found.”

Jack pats at their pocket, pulling out an old, beat-up phone. They pass it to you, and you type out your number and put it into a contact.

“I’ll, hopefully, see you soon?”

They shrug. It’s probably for the best that they don’t make any promises. Jack walks into the treeline, eventually disappearing from view.

#can also be read as: domesticating the feral they/them at your job #mewrites #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #creepypasta eyeless jack #creepypasta fanfic #fanfiction #creepypasta #mecreepy #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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tiredfox64 · 7 days

Note

I had an idea, I don't know how good this sounds but in the beginning of the MK1 story when the Lin Kuei trio attack Madame Bo's restaurant as an act to text Raiden and Kung Lao skills, the reader happens to be there as a traveler who also has fighting skills and fights off Smoke and finds out it's a test by Liu Kang who accepts being one of earthrealm's champions but has a hard time trusting Smoke after what happen and Smoke does everything he can to gain her trust?

Trust Me

Prior notes: Halfway through writing this the Ninja Storm theme song played in my head nonstop. I got distracted for an hour just listening to almost all the Power Rangers theme songs Σ(￣。￣ﾉ)ﾉ

Pairing: Tomas x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: A few kicks and punches, we got those from our siblings.

You travel high and low, far and wide. The lands must be explored and experienced. Your current location? Fengjian Village in China. Quite a peaceful village actually with farmlands that stretch for many miles. You decided to rest for a moment at the tea house. Madame Bo was really nice to you, happy to have a lovely lady like you come in.

Little did you know that she was expecting you.

Lots of different people and personalities around here. You got a show as well. Two men fighting just to figure out who is paying tonight. It must have been serious because they were fighting for their lives. You can understand since the food was amazing.

The sun had set and the cool breeze blew through the tea house. You were finishing up your meal at the same time those two men were about to. In an instant the atmosphere became hostile. You looked up to see a man with silvery hair and gray attire harassing Madame Bo. You watched carefully, wary of this guy’s intentions. You jumped into action once you saw him attack Madame Bo and literally throw her over the balcony.

His eyes turned to you when he saw you running towards him. You were surprised by the smoke bomb he threw down. It made you cough which gave him the opportunity to attack you, causing you to hit the floor.

“You are brave, but against us? You are in over your head.” He mocked you.

“I don’t care who you are or what your purpose is. You will not be a nuisance to Madame Bo.” You declared before fighting him.

You fought viciously, as anyone would suspect. This guy had a few tricks up his sleeve. Magic that you’ve never seen before. Yet you stood your ground. While you were dealing with him those other two guys were fighting off the other assassins. Oh great there are two more who got some sort of freaky magic. Well at least they are taking care of that.

An amazing spectacle of kicking, punching, and slashing was performed by you and your opponent. After all that you managed to defeat him, leaving him lying on the ground. You moved quickly to check on Madame Bo who was…fine. No, really, she was. Standing up straight and smoking a cigarette like it was a normal Tuesday night. A man with glowing eyes approached you and you finally got the answers you needed.

This was all a test from Lord Liu Kang. You, Raiden, and Kung Lao were chosen to join Earthrealm’s champions. Liu Kang was thankful that you chose to visit Fengjian now since it made things easier.

He explained that the people who attacked were the Lin Kuei and that you fought Tomas aka Smoke. They weren’t thugs but were actually a clan that helped protect Earthrealm. You were still in shock about the whole thing. You couldn’t let your guard down fully even if you now know it was a test.

Liu Kang told you all that the Wu Shi Acadamy will help train you and prepare for the Mortal Kombat tournament. Looks like you will be staying in China for longer than you expected.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Ever since Tomas fought you he has been dying to talk to you. He thought you did amazing. He really didn’t know what to expect since you were just a traveler. No one had a clue who trained you or even why you were so good at fighting. You must have been a quick thinker since you manage to figure out he was using smoke magic.

The problem is that you were cold to him. You still didn’t trust him even after finding out it was all a test. He would visit the Wu Shi Academy just to get a chance to talk to you, only for you to move away from him whenever you saw a hint of his silvery hair.

Raiden and Kung Lao told you to not hold it over his head. Madame Bo is safe. Hell, she was even in the Lin Kuei once, she’s a tough woman. Nope, you’re still not budging.

“I don’t understand, Raiden. She still treats me like some thug.” Tomas expresses his frustration to Raiden who wants to help make peace between you two.

“It probably didn’t feel good to her to be tricked like that. It may be best to prove to her that she can trust you.” Raiden gave back the best advice he could give.

“But what can I do if I can’t even get close to her.”

Raiden had to think for a moment. The others such as Kung Lao, Johnny, and Kenshi all came around as well since they heard Tomas’ frustration. They didn’t want him feeling bad about what he did since he was instructed to cause a disturbance at the tea house. They also don’t want you holding a grudge against a sweet and cool guy like Tomas.

“I got it!” Kung Lao snapped his fingers, “How about you train with us for some time. She will see that you aren’t so bad after all especially when she sees how calm you are when fighting us. Maybe giving her a gift once in a while will help as well.”

Not a bad plan. It could work. Tomas was on board with this. He didn’t want you viewing him as some thug anymore. You need to see who he truly is and he will do anything to prove it. Operation make you trust Tomas is a go go!

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Tomas asked his brother if it was okay to train with the Shaolin for a bit. Bi-Han couldn’t give two fucks where Tomas would be at so he let him do that.

Now you really couldn’t avoid Tomas. Anytime you decided to train with the other champions he was always there. You grew annoyed by his presence. You couldn’t understand why no one else was upset by that trick of a test.

You also couldn’t understand why he was leaving you bunches of lavender and peace lilies. Okay well the peace lilies should have been a big sign but you weren’t the biggest expert on flowers or their meanings. He would leave them at your door, on your chair, he would even have the guys pass you the flowers just to make sure you would accept them.

And after some time you did. It would be a waste if you kept throwing them out. They were lovely and lavender is useful. You didn’t fully trust him yet but his efforts were chipping away at your stubborn heart.

You started watched as he trained with the others. All those fighting moves you saw before when you fought him. The aggression you felt before when seeing those moves slowly started to fade. You watched as he patiently taught the others some tricks on how to defend themselves. Not just that but he was open to being taught as well. The monks taught him new moves and involved him in meditation. Now would a violent person meditate? Nope, because Tomas is not the violent person you think he is.

You realized maybe you were being a bit too harsh when you heard him speak. His voice was less deeper than when you first heard it. It was just an impression anyways. And without his mask on there is no muffle to it. You listened to how disappointed he was, concerned that you still don’t trust him. He expressed that he is doing his best but he fears that you will always see him as the bad guy.

It broke your heart when you realized you misjudged him. He was putting in a lot of effort and you were turning a blind eye to it before. You don’t know how long he will be training with the Wu Shi and you don’t want to regret not saying anything to him. You want to make things right and the best way to do that was to talk to him.

One day you found him near the zen gardens. A place of relaxation and peace. A good atmosphere for something like this. He was meditating all by himself and you were unsure about disturbing him. He already heard your footsteps, you can’t sneak up on a sneaky person. He turned towards you expecting to see someone like Raiden or Johnny. But no, it was actually you. He was shocked and wasn’t sure what you were doing here. You gently waved towards him before speaking.

“Hi…do you mind if I join you?” You asked softly.

Tomas just stared for a good five seconds before breaking out of his trace. “O-oh yeah sure.”

You thanked him before walking closer. You surprised him even more when you described to sit next to him. Both your hearts were beating fast. Yours because you were unsure of what to say and his because of the same thing. You took a few deep breaths before speaking up.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been kind of cold to you. Maybe even been avoiding you. I just kept thinking back to that night at the tea house and I just thought you were the same guy I fought back then.”

You saying sorry was already the highlight of Tomas’ day. Before he can say anything to you, even to apologize for fighting you, you continued.

“You don’t have to apologize for what happened. I understand it was just a test and no one really got hurt. Well, maybe not physically but I did hurt you by being mean.”

You were picking at your fingers as you looked down at your lap. Now you wondered if he thought of you as the bad person. He doesn’t, he never did.

“We got off on the wrong foot and I want to make it right. Maybe you and I can train one of these days if you are willing to spend time with me.”

“Yes! Yes! Of course I would love to.” Tomas got too excited and covered his mouth, not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the garden anymore.

You looked at him all shocked before chuckling quietly. He really was desperate to show you that he is trustworthy. Seeing that it all paid off was too great for him that he had to express it. How could you ever imagine he was some cruel man who purposely beats up old ladies?

Your chuckle made him feel less embarrassed and happy to see you loosen up around him. You seem way chiller than he imagined. He’s excited to get to know you more now. You took his hand into yours and shook it.

“It’s nice to officially meet you, Smoke.”

He smiled at you. The mission was a success. All of this was worth it.

“The pleasure is all mine. But please, call me Tomas.”

After notes: It’s a bad time for me to find out that my favorite show is free on YouTube. Mhm I’m gonna be blasting that good shit on my tv. Anyways I hope you enjoy whoever requested it. I actually thought about this scenario a bit ago but never wrote it down and forgot about it. So looks like you read my mind. Trust me it sounded good to me :3. Adiós!

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jaemmphilia · 1 year

Text

★ 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ★ || b.c

★ summary: after chris and y/n share a sloppy moment in chris' office, neither of them can deny the natural chemistry between them. chris, in a moment of confidence and mild lust, asks y/n out on a date. y/n agrees, not once thinking about his ex, shinwon. so why is that loser texting him to meet up while y/n is making out with chris on the couch?

★ characters: bahng christopher, choi y/n, lee minho, seo changbin, hwang hyunjin, han jisung, lee felix, kim seungmin, yang jeongin

★ warnings: language, protected sex (they have decided to be responsible), chan being the absolute cutest, minho being a menace, seungmin being seungmin, jeongin being baby, uhh let me know if i forgot anything

★word count: ~7.4K

★binnie's thoughts: the second part to my chan fic, i felt like i needed to write something softer to balance out the filth of the first part, i hope its as good as the first part lol i also totally switched up the pov for this one, i feel like its better this way

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so don't take it to heart. just enjoy!

read part one here!

After hearing those words come out of Chris’ mouth, you are stunned, his own mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find the right words to say. Honestly, what does one say to such a question without coming off as desperate? You decide to just keep it casual, but not so casual that it seems like you’re brushing Chris off.

“Oh, that sounds nice, actually.” You reply, a soft smile gracing your features as you fix the buttons on your shirt, your head turning to see Chris jumping into his slacks as he pulls them up, his ass bouncing when his feet make contact with the floor. You can’t help but stare, and before you have time to stop yourself, the palm of your hand comes in contact with the bouncy meat.

The sound that comes out of Chris is a mix of a gasp and a shout. His head whips around to the cause of the slight stinging pain in his back side. You look up at Chris, your eyes a little wide, and your mouth opening to spout a million apologies, but a sweet, nervous laugh stops you.

“I guess that’s payback for earlier, yeah?” Chris asks, turning his entire body to face you, his perfect teeth on display as he continues to chuckle lightly. You actually think you might explode if Chris continues to be so damn cute.

The two of you make plans to meet at Chris’ place after you both get off work. You guys exchange contact information (although Chris technically already has your number after he begged Minho for it, Minho finally choked it up after he made Chris tell him whether Jisung was single or not), and you both settled on arriving at Chris’ at seven that night.

Which leaves you with about four hours to get ready and invite your children over to gossip. You decide to send a simple text to the group chat (which is named knockoff power rangers, courtesy of Seungmin) and you set your phone down, heading to your bathroom to take a shower and clean yourself out. You can hear your phone absolutely blowing up and you just laugh to yourself before taking your well-deserved shower.

When you get out of the shower, you can hear people talking in your living room, and you’re not even phased by it at this point. All four of your headache-inducing children have a key to your apartment. The spare keys were made by Jeongin, who somehow managed to steal your main house key in order to make the customized versions for the rest of them. (“What if Y/N hyung accidentally cuts his finger again? And then we have no way of getting to him before he passes out?” Jeongin had said, his lips in a pout as he clung to his oldest hyung. To be fair, Jeongin had one too many mimosas that day.)

A sharp voice rings in your ears, and you don’t even need to think about it to figure out who the voice belongs to. “Choi Y/N you better get your ass down here and explain what the hell happened today!!” Hyunjin shouts, his pouty lips turned down in a small frown.

You quickly slip on some sweatpants and a loose shirt before making your way down the short hallway to the living room. Lo and behold, your friends are all squished on the couch, their eyes wide and transfixed on your figure.

“Alright, alright, just shut up and let me explain every single detail,” You say, taking a seat on the chair that sits near his couch. And then you begin to tell your nosy friends all about the time you had with Chris in that office just a few hours previous to now.

By the end of your little rencounter the four male’s jaws were damn near on the floor, shock completely taken over them. Until, Seungmin is the first to speak up:

“So, did you finally dump that lame ass guy? What was his name? He was so boring that I don’t even remember his name. Why did you even date him?” Seungmin says, his face contorted in a scowl. Seungmin had a vendetta against Shinwon, something about how he was painfully average and not exciting. He claims that it’s a case of “one person in the relationship is way too attractive to be seen with someone who looks like that.”

(“Hyung, you deserve someone sexy and cool, someone completely opposite of you,” Seungmin told you one day, and it took everything in you not to smack the chestnut haired male.)

“Yeah, Shinwon and I broke up this morning, actually,” You mutter, finding the bracelet on your wrist (Felix made it for you, and you cherish it more than anything in the entire world) way more interesting than looking at the expressions on your friend’s faces. “It was long overdue, I was falling out of love with him, and he kept talking about moving in together and I was getting annoyed and stressed out so I just-” You take a breath, cutting your rambles off short. Felix stands from the couch and takes a few short steps toward you, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace.

“It’s okay, hyung, you don’t have to explain yourself. If you felt that it was right to break up with Shinwon, then we all support your choice.” Felix turns to the other three with a look. “Isn’t that right, guys?”

The three males all reply with various agreements before you find yourself sandwiched between your closest friends. At this moment, you feel loved, like you’re not alone in this cruel world. With your friends by your side, you feel like you could do anything.

The five males had all met at JYPE, Y/N being the first of the five to start working there. It wasn’t until about half a year later, he met Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin, with his long black hair pulled in a half-up hairstyle, his body language confident as he feels all eyes on him, male and female alike. He knew those stares all too well. Stares of want, stares of envy and need. They all saw Hyunjin as someone with a pretty face and no brain. Hyunjin approached Y/N in the break room that following week, making himself comfortable in the chair next to the barely older man.

“I’m Hyunjin and I’m new here.” the dark haired male said, holding his perfect, soft hand to Y/N. Y/N offered a shy smile before shaking hands with Hyunjin. “You were the only one who didn’t look at me like you wanted to devour me, so I’m sticking with you, now.” That's all it took to seal his friendship with Hyunjin, the two were a dangerous duo.

Until precious Felix showed the next year.

Lee Felix, with his adorable freckles and sweet smile, became friendly with everyone in the graphic design department. Felix even managed to befriend a few people from the production department. His energy was contagious, when he’s smiling, you can't help but smile as well. When he has an off day, you yearn for his sweet smile. Felix met Hyunjin before he met Y/N, but the two were introduced very quickly. Hyunjin dragged Felix all the way to Y/N’s desk, desperate to introduce the two of them. When Y/N laid his eyes on Felix, he felt like he had to protect Felix from this harsh company where it's easy to be taken advantage of. From that day forward, their duo became a trio.

Then, Satan himself showed up just a month later. Nah, just Kim Seungmin, but close enough.

Y/N’s personal thorn in his side, the devil on his shoulder telling him that he should 100% punch the crying child in the supermarket. Seungmin could be described as a monster disguised as a sweet puppy. Seungmin has this innocent smile that shows off his perfect teeth, his eyes becoming crescents as his face crinkles up. Behind that innocent smile is a man whose default option is verbal violence. Y/N knows that Seungmin means well, he’s just a different type of person. Seungmin was the one to approach Y/N, claiming that everyone else looked too boring and lame to be seen with him. Y/N just cocked an eyebrow at Seungmin and allowed the younger male to leech himself onto him.

Now Y/N has three little ducks that follow him around, so why not give him one more?

About five months later, little Jeongin arrives as a fresh new face. He was the youngest person to ever get a job at JYPE, at the ripe age of 19. The poor boy still had braces lining his pearly teeth. The older people of the graphic design department chose Jeongin as their personal butler, making the boy go on numerous coffee runs, printing runs, or just stupid errands that didn’t really need to be done. Y/N watched as they ran Jeongin ragged, not once allowing him to show them why he was hired at a young age. Y/N finally had enough of watching Jeongin get mistreated, so he stood up and grabbed Jeongin by the arm gently and dragged him over to his desk.

“You’re joining my team, I can’t sit there and let them mistreat you like that.” Y/N said with his eyebrows furrowed, his gaze not leaving Jeongin’s wide-eyed expression. “I can tell you have potential, and I want to make sure that everyone sees that.”

Jeongin could have cried at that moment, but all he did was bow and thank the older male. Ever since then, the five of them have been attached at the hip. You would think they’ve known each other for their entire lives, rather than just knowing each other only a few short years. They truly are a family and nothing could possibly split them up.

“So, did you agree to his date offer?” Hyunjin asks you, flicking Seungmin on the side of his neck when said male puts his bare feet on Hyujin’s thigh. “If you didn’t, tell him to hit me up.” Hyunjin is the only one who fails to see the way Felix’s demeanor drops, a slight frown settling on his lips. The freckled male receives a soft pat from Jeongin, hoping to comfort him at least a little bit.

“Of course I said yes, the man gave me the best dicking I’ve had in a long time. Do you really think I’m going to reject him after that?” You say,, giving Hyunjin a pointed look as he rolls his eyes. “We agreed to meet at his place at 7 p.m.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re gonna wear?” Jeongin pipes up, his brain already coming up with several different outfit combinations that will make his hyung’s physique stand out and blow Chris’ socks off.

“Not a clue. I was waiting for you four to show up and play dress up with your personal doll,” You reply with a snort as you get up and make your way to the kitchen, preparing to feed Domino, who is currently laid on Seungmin’s lap.

“Okay, let me raid your closet and put some things together!” Jeongin jumps up quickly and makes his way down the hall to your room, Felix trailing behind him, laughing the whole way there.

“Does this mean I’m on hair duty?” Hyunjin pipes up from his spot next to Seugnmin, his dark chocolate eyes glued to his phone, scrolling on some social media app. He turns his phone to Seungmin, showing the male whatever is on the screen.

“I mean, it’s up to you. Do you want to mess with this mane of mine?” You question, setting your cat’s bowl down in its little holder. You noticed that your hair has gotten quite long, and you know you are due for a trim soon, but the longer look is kind of growing on you. You walk to the couch, plopping yourself down in between Hyunjin and Seungmin, propping your legs across Hyunjin’s lap, peeking over to look at the long haired male’s phone.

“You act like I have no idea how to handle long hair,” Hyunjin tuts, rolling his eyes as he flips his fringe out of his eyes. You watch your friend with a lovingly annoyed look on your soft features. Hyunjin is the definition of a diva and he’s aware of it. Seungmin always jokes around and says Hyunjin is probably a pillow princess, and not once has Hyunjin denied it. It’s honestly becoming less of a joke and more of a reality thing. (It’s hard to miss the way Felix blushes every time Seungmin jokingly mentions Hyunjin in a sexual light, the poor boy is close to exploding every single time.)

“You’re so damn dramatic, Jinnie. Just help me tame my hair, you Barbie wannabe.” You retort, your hand coming up and flicking the blonde’s forehead. Hyunjin lets out an offended noise, turning to you and throwing his entire body on your smaller frame. Seungmin gets kicked in the side and he lets out a yelp, before he pinches the culprit’s calf. You react on instinct and end up kicking Seungmin again with a sharp cry.

The three of you are wrestling on the couch when Jeongin and Felix come out of the bedroom. The two of them just watch as the three of you poke, pull at, and even bite each other. Jeongin and Felix share a look before Jeongin clears his throat to catch your attention. The three of you stop what you are doing and look up, all three pairs of eyes wide and focused on Jeongin.

“Hyung, go try on the outfit Lix and I picked out!” Jeongin says, flashing you a sweet smile, his eyes crinkling in excitement. Jeongin is the one person to go for fashion advice. The sweet boy has an eye for fashion just like Hyunjin has an eye for art and photography. “I think you’ll like what we put together! It’s totally your style, hyung!” Jeongin says, his eyes sparkling under the lights of your living room. You can’t help but melt seeing the youngest male smile so brightly. Jeongin deserves the world and so much more.

You untangle yourself from Hyunjin and Seungmin’s grips as you make your way to your bedroom, only tripping once (“That’s a new record, hyung,” you can hear Seungmin’s voice in your head, already). You take a glance at the clothes on the bed, all laid out and neat. Were all of those items in your closet? How come you don't remember purchasing them? It doesn’t matter, Jeongin and Felix did a great job at choosing your outfit. An oversized navy blue sweater with the words ‘heart stop’ on the front in cursive. A pair of pale blue, baggy jeans with tons of rips in all sorts of places, including the area right under the swell of one’s behind. Next to the sweater is a necklace, one that you haven't seen in a long time. Where did those two sneaky little brats find your mother’s necklace? You pick up the necklace oh-so-gently and examine it with a soft smile on your face. A beautiful silver chain with a charm that looks like the planet Saturn, with a stunning amethyst gem as the planet. A sad smile finds its way onto your face, and a single tear falls from your eye. You wipe it away immediately and take a breath.

Once you slip on the outfit, you take a look at your appearance in the full length mirror that hangs on your wall. You take in the way the clothes fit on your body. The sweater hangs a little big on your body, but the color flatters your skin tone perfectly. The baggy jeans hug your waist and hips as if there were a pair of strong arms there. You turn your body, looking at the way the jeans make your ass look round and plump. The rips cup the bottom of your cheeks, showing a sliver of soft skin. You just know Chris will get a kick out of them.

You venture out of the bedroom and into the living room where your friends are. You stand in front of the couch, catching their attention, four pairs of various shades of deep brown roaming your figure. You can’t help but feel your ears get warm as they just stare at you. Seungmin is the first to speak, and you are expecting a smartass comment.

“Wow, hyung, you actually have stylish clothes? I never would have guessed,” the chestnut haired male lets out an unattractive snort, earning an elbow to the side from Felix.

“Be nice to him! He looks really good!” Felix says, defending you with a cute pout on his face. Seungmin sends a glare at Felix, holding his throbbing side.

“I am being nice! I complimented the way he’s dressed!” Seungmin retorts, turning his gaze back to his hyung. Seungmin would rather die than actually compliment you, or anybody for that matter, that’s just how your dynamic is with the younger male.

“Innie, you and Lix did a really good job with the outfit. Where exactly did you find these clothes, though?” You ask, tilting your head to the right slightly, your hair falling in front of your face. “I don’t recall buying either of these items, if I’m honest.”

“Lix actually found them in the corner of your closet, the tags were still on them, hyung.” Jeongin says matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You just shake your head and chuckle. Leave it to Jeongin and Felix to find something out of thin air.

“Well, thanks you guys, I actually like this outfit a lot,” You say, a genuine smile on your face.

“Honestly, hyung,” Hyunjin starts, holding his phone up to take a selfie, “You could leave your hair as it is, I have a feeling it’s just going to get messed up by the end of the night anyways.” He says, making a valid point. “Besides, the messy look is what drives people crazy, trust me.”

You take Hyunjin’s words into consideration. Would you and Chris actually do anything tonight? A part of you hopes that you do, but on the other hand, you kind of feel like it’s a desperate move. As if he could read your mind, Felix speaks up.

“Hyung, whatever you’re thinking, stop,” He starts, crossing his arms. “Whether you guys do it again or not, doesn’t matter. What matters is that Chris definitely likes you enough to ask you out on a date, instead just being fuck buddies.”

“I guess so, I just don’t want him to think that I agreed to the date because of the sex, but it’s definitely a plus.” You say, ears warming up at your sudden confession. Talking about such intimate things with your closest friends shouldn’t be weird, because you often tell each other about your sexual endeavors, but you can’t help but get a little flustered. It’s not everyday that you guys are talking about the latest person you’ve hooked up with, but you always feel like a parent finding out their children aren’t innocent virgins.

“It’ll all go well, hyung,” Felix says, his words making you feel a little more relaxed. Felix knows you like an open book that he’s read a million times. Felix must have a radar that goes off when he feels like his hyung is about to spiral into overdrive. “We’ll stay here during the date and if it doesn’t go well, at least you’ll have plenty of shoulders to cry on.” Felix finishes speaking, flashing you one of his bright smiles that makes his gorgeous brown eyes disappear behind his lids.

“I hope you’re stocked up on tissues, crybaby hyung,” Seungmin pipes up from his spot on the couch, his body being squashed by Hyunjin, who is laid out on top of the male. You roll your eyes and shake your head. Although Seungmin makes you want to commit violent crimes, you know that Seungmin means well. You check your phone, looking at the time. You have plenty of time to freak out before you have to head to Chris' apartment.

Chris is freaking out. He’s going absolutely feral. He stares at the third failed beef wellington. He lets out a heavy sigh before grabbing his phone, calling the one person who actually knows something about cooking.

“Oh, this better be good,” Minho’s light voice comes through the speaker, a humorous tilt in his voice. “Did you end up canceling on him because he’s ‘just so pretty, Minho!!’” Minho’s laugh fills Chris’ ears, making the blonde roll his eyes. He’ll let Minho have his fun for now.

“Very funny, you must think you’re sooo hilarious.” Chris says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He really doesn’t have time for Minho’s silly little scorpio games, he wants to impress his long time crush so desperately, and Minho is quite literally the only person who can help (he doesn’t dare ask Jisung or Changbin, that’s off the table, not even an option).

“I actually don’t think I’m hilarious,” Minho replies, and Chris already knows what the younger male is going to say. “I know I’m hilarious.”

“Yes, yes, you're the funniest person in the world. Now can you please help me?” Chris can’t help the warmth that crawls up his neck. He can’t help the blatant desperation in his voice. He hates asking for help of any kind, genuinely believing that he can do things on his own. This situation is different, though. He wants to make sure this date is absolutely perfect for you.

Chris doesn’t want to look like a loser in front of the male he’s been crushing on since they both entered the company so many years ago. Sporting large glasses and your hair in a shorter style, you looked like the nerdy boy next door in a cheesy rom-com movie. Or the innocent member of an idol boy group. You didn’t really radiate the same confidence that you do now, your body language no different than an animal on edge. You often spoke in a soft tone, your voice easily getting lost in conversation. As the years went on, you became more comfortable in yourself, and you carried yourself completely differently. You ditched the chunky glasses for a pair of contacts (sometimes you would sport thin wire glasses, and Chris swears his heart would leap out of his chest cavity every time the two of you happened to lock eyes), and you let your hair grow out. You had friends, you were smiling more. You could easily command a room by your presence alone. You went from a timid, almost invisible person, to someone who refuses to be walked all over like a doormat, and Chris falls more in love with you each time.

“Holy shit, you sound desperate. What’s going on?” Minho pipes up from the other side of the phone, his playful tone being thrown out of the window. Minho might be the friend who jokes around too much, and is hardly ever serious, but he can always tell when something isn’t right with his friends (Jisung calls it his “Lino Sense” and Minho melts when Jisung points this out.).

“I’m making beef wellington for Y/N and it’s not going well. I’ve made it three times already, and I'm so close to losing my damn mind, Minho.” Chris says, his words jumbling together, and Minho can hear him huffing from how fast he was speaking. “I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” Chris’ voice trails off, a sad sigh leaving his lips.

“Alright, give me, like, five minutes,” Minho says, and Chris can hear the jingle of keys in the background. Was Minho really coming over to help? Chris could kiss the heavens above him.

“Ohmygod Min, you’re a lifesaver, I could kiss you,” Chris cries out, feeling the stress leave his body as quick as it came.

“No thanks, Chris. We’ve done that once and we both hated it,” Minho says, shivering as he remembers the time he had kissed his best friend and how quickly he realized he was not attracted to the older male in that way. “Save the kissing for Y/N, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, uh, see you soon.” Chris feels his face get warm, unable to keep his mind off the way your lips had felt on his just a few hours ago. He wants to shove his face in a pillow and scream while kicking his feet like a teenager in the 80s movies he watched with his parents.

Just as he promised, Minho barged into Chris’ apartment, his hands carrying a bag with a logo matching the convenience store’s just down the street. Minho looks at the blonde, taking in his appearance. His clothes are covered in various ingredients, and Minho can quite literally see carrot shavings in Chris’ blonde tresses.

“Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do, Channie,” Minho says, catching Chris’ attention at the nickname. It isn’t often that his friends use his nickname, and it catches him off guard each time. “You are gonna go and take a long, hot, shower, and I’m gonna make the beef wellington for you.”

Chris’ eyes go wide. He just might cry right now. Minho is his savior, a real knight in shining armor. Although, this knight is wearing sweatpants and a large shirt. Close enough. Chris pulls his friend into a hug, not exactly knowing how to thank him. Minho seems to get the idea, because he pats Chris’ back with a breathy laugh.

“Alright, loverboy, go shower. You smell like raw beef and desperation.” There’s the Lee Minho that Chris knows and loves dearly. With a laugh, Chris makes his way to his bedroom, opening his dresser drawers and taking a peek inside.

Black, black, black, and even more black. He huffs at his lack of color wardrobe. Of course, there’s a bit of white and gray in there, but other than that, it’s just… black. He closes the drawer and goes to his closet. There has to be something a little colorful in there, right?

Chris lets out a triumphant noise after digging deep in his closet for about three minutes. He tosses the deep red shirt onto his bed, a gift from his grandmother when he went to visit her in Australia about two years ago. He really hopes it still fits. Ever since his last trip to his homeland, Chris has hit the gym with Changbin and Jisung, the three of them bulking up rather quickly. Especially Changbin. Chris grabs his best pair of skinny jeans, a pair of black (are we even surprised?) jeans with various words painted on them. Once he tosses the jeans on his bed, he steps into his bathroom to take a shower.

As he steps out of the steamy shower, the smell of meat hits his nose. Chris swears he starts drooling at the smell. It smells ten times better than his three attempts combined. He quickly slips on his clothes and takes a look in the mirror.

Oh. The shirt, well, certainly fits. Maybe a little too well. It’s pretty tight, the sleeves wrapping around his biceps nice and snug. The fabric stretches a little across his chest, showing the outline of his impressive pecs. He just chuckles and shakes his head, making his way to Minho.

Minho’s eyes fall on Chris as the male enters the kitchen. He gives a whistle and an approving nod.

“Looks like all that working out has paid off, huh?” MInho says, busy stirring some sort of sauce in a pot. “I just have a feeling Y/N will jump your bones immediately.”

“As much as I would love that, that’s not exactly my goal here,” Chris says, leaning over on the counter. “I want to actually make sure he has a good night with me, and if it gets intimate, then so be it.”

“Wow, you’re way more whipped than I thought.” Minho says, fake gagging as he continues cooking. He acts like he hates romance but deep down, he genuinely wishes for a relationship.

“I don’t want to hear you talk. I have dirt on you, my friend.”

After Minho finishes cooking, he bids Chris goodbye, demanding that he gets the tea on how everything went. Left alone with his thoughts, Chris decides to tidy a little before you show up. He sprays the living room area with some light freshener, making sure to spray his couch as well.

Just as he was done tidying up around his living room and shutting the door to his bedroom, a notification from his phone shakes him out of his cleaning spree trance. A text message from ‘Y/N <;3’ stares back at him.

‘Hey, uh… I don’t know which apartment building is yours… I think I’m lost’

Chris can’t help but chuckle at the text. He quickly types a response and decides to stand outside his apartment to help you find the right place. He closes his eyes and feels the soft breeze of the night blow through his still-drying locs. He prays to every single god that this night goes smoothly. This is his only chance to completely swoop you off your feet.

He hears footsteps approaching him, so he opens his eyes. He feels his breath hitch as his eyes fall on the male standing beside him. You’re standing there in all your glory, and you give him a small smile and a wave. The light makeup makes your E/C eyes pop, the black liner accentuating the shape of your eyes perfectly. And is that a soft red tint on your lips? Yeah, poor Chris isn’t going to survive the night.

Chris finally snaps out of his lovesick daze and gives you one of his dazzling smiles. “Hey, I’m glad you made it! Even if you got a little lost.” He chuckles. You give him a shy smile and a nod.

“Yeah, I hope I’m not late, the makeup was kind of a last second decision.”

“I think it looks really good on you. Let’s go inside, I just finished dinner.” Chris’ hand wraps around your waist from behind, guiding you into his apartment.

The two of you finish dinner after a while and are nursing glasses of cocktails made by you just using ingredients you found in Chris’ kitchen. The two of you are laughing as soft music from Chris’ playlist plays in the background. You’re both facing each other as you tell embarrassing stories from your childhood and various college shenanigans.

“There’s no way you swam naked in the campus’ fountain! I can’t imagine you doing anything like that!” Chris’ eyes are wide as he looks at you after you tell him about one of your many drunken moments in college.

“Yeah, I was always down to do crazy dares, as long as I had a couple shots in me first.” You reply,, setting your now empty glass down on the coffee table in front of the couch. Your gaze falls on Chris again, your eyes flitting down to Chris’ lips for the millionth time that night. You so desperately want to feel those very lips kissing all over your body.

“If you want me to kiss you, you have to use your words, pretty boy.”

Your entire body warms up at the way Chris speaks to you. Firm, but not demanding, like he’s going at your pace, afraid to scare you off. You waste no time, opening your mouth to speak.

“Chris, will you please kiss me like crazy, and never stop even if I can’t breathe anymore?” You say, your body moving to plant itself down on Chris’ lap. You wrap your arms around Chris’ neck, the two of you leaning in to connect your lips together.

This kiss is totally different from the one you shared in Chris’ office. This kiss is softer and contains feelings that go way beyond just lust. Of course the lust is there, but it’s more of a soft lust. Your lips mold together with Chris’ as if they were made to, your noses slightly bumping together, and your tongues gliding against the other, tasting sweet alcohol. Chris’ hands slowly move from your hips all the way down to your ass. Chris is pleasantly surprised when he feels warm skin, and slips his hands inside the rips of your jeans. You jump a little, feeling Chris’ cold hands on your bare skin.

Just as Chris pulls away to plant kisses and bites all over your neck, a phone notification makes the both of you pause and look at each other. You share a confused look before the two of you are grabbing your phones to see who got the text. You groan when you look at your screen.

Why is your (very very recent) ex boyfriend texting you to meet up and talk things out? Did he not get the message this morning when you broke up? Before you have a chance to type a reply to Shinwon, Chris’ voice stops you.

“Hey, what’s so important on your phone that you stopped kissing me?” There’s a cute pout on Chris’ face, and his eyes are glued to your face. He doesn’t appreciate someone interrupting this little make out session.

“Well, it’s my… ex boyfriend,” you say nervously, not wanting to look up and see the expression on Chris’ face. Would he be upset? Disappointed?

“Is he bothering you? I can tell him off for you. He’s kind of messing up our night, here.” Chris says, sounding completely serious, taking you by surprise. He… wasn’t upset that your ex was ruining the romantic night?

“I mean, you don’t have to, but maybe…” you finally look up at Chris with a mischievous glint in his pools of your E/C specks and swirls.

“Maybe what, pretty boy?”

“Mark my neck and take a picture. I’m sure he’ll get the idea.”

Chris does not hesitate for a second before his mouth is on your neck, his teeth biting and nibbling all over the soft flesh, while his tongue glides over the bites, softly soothing the delicious burn. The soft noises that come out of your mouth lets Chris know that he’s doing something right. The noises get louder as Chris gets closer to the spot just under your ear. This must be your most sensitive spot. Deciding to test out his theory, Chris bites down on the spot, earning a beautiful whine from you.

Once Chris decides that he’s marked you enough, he takes the phone out of your hand and quickly snaps a picture. He sends the photo to Shinwon, and types a quick message:

‘Sorry, mate. Looks like he’s a tad bit busy right now. Maybe you shouldn’t text him again, yeah?’

Once the message is sent, he tosses your phone away after turning the ringer off, hoping the device won’t interrupt you guys for the remainder of the night. He turns his attention back to you, who is looking at him, lust clouding and swimming in your eyes. The sight makes Chris’ heart swell, knowing that those eyes are directed at him and him only. This is everything he’s ever wanted, he feels like all of his prayers have been answered. He plans on making the moment last, not wanting to waste a single moment.

Chris suddenly stands up, his arms wrapped around you as he lifts you up. You let out a shocked noise, your legs automatically wrapping around the older man’s waist.

“Warn me next time, Chris! You can’t just flaunt your strength by picking me up!” You slightly slap at his back, allowing yourself to be carried to what you assume is Chris’ bedroom.

Chris just laughs as he walks to his bed until his lower thighs meet the edge. He semi-carefully tosses you onto the bed, staring down at the way your body bounces on the bed. You just pout up at Chris, offended that you were just tossed like a sack of potatoes.

“Sorry, pretty boy, I had to move us to the bed. I don’t like when the couch gets messy.” He shrugs, speaking with such nonchalance, it kind of surprises you.

“So, I’m not the first person you’ve wined and dined?” you know you’re not, you just want to mess with Chris a little bit. Chris isn’t the only one allowed to tease around here.

Chris lets out a snort, and he climbs on top of the bed, hovering over your frame. He leans down and places a soft peck on your lips. “Would you believe me if I said you’re the first?”

Now those words really catch you off guard. That’s impossible. Chris, the very definition of a god, has never brought anyone home? There’s no way.

“I’ve only ever had one person on my mind. For many years..” Chris says, and the words linger in the back of your mind. Chris couldn’t possibly be talking about you, right? Why would Chris like someone like you? You are known to be unapproachable, the natural scowl on your face driving people away from you (besides your current group of friends).

“I know what you’re thinking: you’re wondering why I like you. I’ll be honest, I’ve liked you ever since the moment we both stepped into the JYPE building all those years ago.”

Now you feel like an idiot. You could’ve had the hottest man alive as your boyfriend, but you felt that Chris was more into… women. You really fumbled the bag on this one. You can hear Seungmin cackling at you in your head.

“So, you’re telling me that I could have had you all to myself but you never spoke up about it?” You cock one of your eyebrows as you stare up at the man on top of you. Chris looks amazing from this angle, his strong arms next to your head, ultimately caging you in. “I had to date other people while my mind was focused on you all this time.”

“I’m sorry for not speaking up sooner, I really had no idea how to approach you without things getting awkward,” Chris explains, obviously referring to the time the two of you attempted to have a conversation at the company Christmas party.

You give him a cheeky grin. “Why is that? Were you intimidated by my good looks?” You joke, tilting your head to the side as your eyes roam over Chris’ sharp facial features.

Chris gives you a sheepish smile, his eyes flitting from side to side to avoid your gaze. “Actually, yeah,” he says, a short laugh coming from him.

Your eyes go wide in surprise. Now this is news to you. You always saw Chris as someone with confidence spewing out of every part of his entire being.

(“Hyung, he’s a man who walks like he’s six foot tall, when he’s actually below average. How much confidence could he possibly have?” “Seungmin, disrespectfully shut the fuck up.”)

��Christopher, if you don’t kiss me and take off my clothes right now, I might go insane.”

This is too much, it feels way too good to even be real. You and Chris are both naked, and Chris is buried in between your plush thighs. Chris’ fingers are digging into your soft muscle as he holds them apart. (As much as he would love to be crushed in between those thighs, he needs to get his dick wet first.) You let out a delicious whine, your back arching as Chris’ tongue slips and slides all around your length.You’re drooling all down your chin as you shake and writhe under the intense pleasure.You’ve already been denied an orgasm once, Chris squeezing the life out of your length tightly with a shake of his head and a pitiful look.

Chris pulls away and looks up at you, adoring the fucked out look on your face. He wipes his mouth and moves his body flush with yours, his tongue coming out of his mouth to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. The two of you swap spit for a few minutes before Chris is pulling away, lifting his body up to rummage through his bedside drawer. He pulls out two items, placing them to his right. He sits on his heels in between your spread thighs, and he grabs your thighs, pulling your body close until your lower halves are flush against one another.

Chris picks up the small bottle that is sitting at his side, he pops the cap open and allows an even amount of the liquid to coat his fingers. The soft smell of vanilla hits your nose and you smile to yourself. Chris brings his hands in between your cheeks, his fingers circling around your rim, before one of the slim digits pushes past your hole. You let out a soft sigh as his finger slides in and out of you.

Soon enough, a second finger pushes past your ring of muscle, joining the first one, the digits stretching you open perfectly. You toss your head back against the pillow as Chris’ fingers rub and prod at that spot deep inside you. Once he deems you stretched enough, he slips his fingers out, wiping them on his bare chest. He grabs that familiar gold package and tears it open with his teeth, not once breaking eye contact with your lust-filled E/C eyes. He moves back just a little, rolling the rubber onto his thick length. Grabbing a pillow, he places it under your lower back, your hips being raised just a bit, also giving better access to your awaiting heat.

He pumps his dick in his hand a few times before he’s sliding the tip into you. He lets out a shaky sigh as he slowly slides all the way in, allowing himself to bottom out. Chris looks at your face, the sight of your eyes closed tight and your mouth open, short puffs of air exiting. He smirks to himself, feeling proud that he’s the one making you feel like this. Once he feels like you have adjusted to him, he snaps his hips forward, meeting yours in the middle.

He moves his body so he’s hovering over you once again, not once stopping his thrust, keeping at the same pace. He leans down and captures your lips, swallowing the noises coming out of your lips. After a little bit of kissing, he picks up the pace, the tip of his dick hitting that tasty spot dead on with every thrust. You’re going crazy under him, chanting his name like it’s the only thing you’ve ever known. Chris loves the way his name falls past your lips, it makes him want to tattoo the sound in his brain to be replayed over and over.

(“That sounds absolutely stupid, why are you like this, hyung?”)

“Chris,” You pant out, your chest heaving up and down as your hips start to shake from the overwhelming pleasure you’re being succumbed to. “I’m close, so close!”

Chris just chuckles, grabbing your legs and throwing them over each of his shoulders. This new angle allows him to absolutely drill into you with sharp, quick thrusts. He pounds into you, his own hips beginning to stutter and skip, chasing his own release.

“Come on, pretty boy, show me how good I’m making you feel,” Chris pants out, his chest and neck a bright shade of red as he tosses his head back, high pitched moans falling from his lips. Chris brings his hand to your length, jerking it in time with the thrusts of his hips. It isn't much longer before Chris spills into the condom, curses leaving his lips. You end up following not long after him, the white liquid coating Chris’ hand and your stomach. The two of you stay like that for a moment, coming down from such an intense moment. You let out a breathy laugh, bringing your hand up to brush the hair sticking to your forehead. Chris lets his heavy body fall on top of you, causing you to huff. You wrap your arms around him and place tiny pecks on his bare shoulders.

“That was so much better than this morning,” Chris says, his voice slightly muffled by your neck. You agree with him, this morning was definitely rushed and desperate.

“So, since we’ve already gone to second base, why don’t we make this official?”

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