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sopebubbles · 1 year

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Master List

Six

Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.

Chapter summary: Yoongi and Hobi are going to give you (almost) everything you need to feel better.

Warnings: allusions to/descriptions of past abuse. Honestly this chapter is mostly fluff (by my standards of fluff). Yoongi is just 🫠

Wc: 8.5k ;)

A/n: if you've not read The Lore™️ I recommend that you do so. Also if you don't follow me and don't see my random posts, m/c is very smol, like probably under 5 foot.

Alpha smells so good, the tiny voice in your head preened, happier than she had sounded in years. Thank you, thank you, thank you, she chanted as you breathed deeper, and despite the fact that his arms were the only things you could feel, you felt more grounded in that moment than you had felt in days. Not that you would ever admit it.

The moment was too brief for your omega's liking. It seemed before any time had passed at all that your bottom landed in a chair. You looked up at the alpha like he had just taken the air from your lungs as he pulled away from you. Wordlessly, he nudged the shoulder of a taller alpha, and the male moved into the empty chair beside him.

"Yoongi, are you sure this is a good idea?" A voice asked. There was something familiar about it, and it might have been the pack alpha, Seokjin, but for the life of you, you couldn't take your eyes off the one who had carried you here. Yoongi. Yoongi smells like Tangerines, your inner voice cooed.

"She'll be fine. She needs to eat now. So everyone will be on their best behavior," Yoongi said in his smooth, deep voice. "Aren't you hungry, princess?"

Vaguely, you were aware of your head nodding and the sound of someone choking to your left. Yoongi picked up a glass from beside the plate in front of you and filled it with orange juice from a glass pitcher.

"Can you drink this for me, pup?" He offered you the glass and you took it with both hands, but even so you couldn't stop shaking, and a little splashed over the sides onto your hand. "That's okay," he assured you when your lips turned into a frown. The drink was removed from your hands, and they were quickly wiped clean. For the first time you looked around the table to see six pairs of eyes fixed solely on you. Startled, you began to draw away from Yoongi's touch, wanting to curl in on yourself and escape their view.

"Don't you all have your own dinners to eat?" Yoongi reminded them with a subtle growl. Clinking utensils and murmured requests to pass dishes were their response. Once more, Yoongi gently guided your gaze back to him with a touch of his fingertips. "Just focus on me right now, alright pup? Let me hold your glass and just have a small drink. It will make you feel better in no time," he encouraged with a smile so soft you didn't know what you could do but obey. You let him press the glass carefully to your lips before he tilted it up. The tangy juice coated your tongue, more sour than sweet. It must have been freshly squeezed. It smelled like him. You gulped it down greedily and earned an even wider smile from your—the alpha. He drew the glass away and gave you a soft pat on the top of your head before he pulled his own chair closer to yours and finally sat. He spoke to the others for a few moments as dishes continued to circulate the table, but you didn't hear a word of it. Your consciousness seemed trained entirely on the features of his face, the way his soft pink lips moved as he talked and the slight pull that made him smile, his cute round nose and cat-like eyes. Pretty, pretty, pretty, the you that wasn't you chanted.

Finally his attention was back on you and you had to focus on hearing the words he was saying when he looked at you again. He was holding a fork of scrambled eggs in your direction. You reached out for it but he took your hand and held it easily.

"You're still shaking. Let me do it. Open." His voice was soft, but you knew it was a command, and you obeyed before it occurred to you to protest further. How strange to be fed by another person, but the gentle way he did it, without discomfort or clumsiness, suggested that this wasn't his first time. He watched attentively as you chewed and swallowed before he offered you another mouthful.

"Do you want syrup?" He asked after you finished your eggs. You cocked your head at his question. "On your pancakes," he clarified. You still felt so fuzzy around the edges, whether it was because your blood sugar hadn't picked up yet or you were just out of it, you made no answer.

"Everyone likes syrup, hyung," one of the others commented on your behalf.

Yoongi nodded and poured syrup on top of the pancakes in front of him. He cut a triangular piece and lifted it in front of your face, giving you a raised eyebrow when you didn't immediately open your mouth. The instant he delivered the bite, your tongue exploded with a sweetness you had never tasted before. The moan that followed shocked everyone, including you. Your face heated with shame as they all laughed.

"I guess that was your first time," Jin said, smiling when you looked at him. "You'll never go back."

"Jin hyung insists on only real maple syrup," Yoongi told you, refocusing your attention with another fork full.

You stared into his eyes briefly before you snatched the fork from his fingers and turned it around to push the food into his gaping mouth. "Eat," you said with a pout. The others erupted into cackling while Yoongi chewed slowly, his cheeks and ears turning from pink to deep red.

"I think she can handle it now, hyung," Jimin said, grinning from ear to ear.

The alpha nodded shyly and pushed your plate closer to you before picking up his own fork. You continued eating on your own, quickly clearing your plate. You hadn't realized how hungry you actually were. When your plate was empty, you started to stand to leave them in peace, but Yoongi placed a hand on your lower thigh, using very little force to put you back in your seat.

"Stay," he ordered, turning your bones to jelly with one simple word. Before you knew what was happening, one of the taller alphas took your plate, giving you a boxy smile, and you could only whine after him. "Did you want more?" Yoongi asked, but you shook your head. It was the idea of an alpha cleaning up after you that filled you with dread. You should be doing that. But Yoongi wouldn't let you. Would you be punished for it later? You looked up at the alpha with bewilderment.

Yoongi swallowed the last bite of his dinner and washed it down with juice. His hand moved from your leg to your hair and a shiver like you've never known rippled down your spine. He smiled. "You listen so well, pup," he told you softly. "Tae and Jimin will clean this up. Hobi has gone to run you a bath and then he will fix your bed. Does that sound alright?"

Why was your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth? You'd barely been able to speak one word to him since you woke up to him hovering over you. You needed to protest because none of this was correct. It wasn't making any sense. But you couldn't argue because he made it sound right. You just nodded. He smiled once again before he stood and leaned over you like he was about to lift you up again. You squeaked, finally finding your voice.

"Walk," you croaked. If you knew his face better you would be able to see the microscopic fall of his smile, but today you couldn't. He nodded and straightened, holding out a hand to help you out of your chair. You took it, surprised at finding yourself unable to pass up an opportunity to touch him again. You got to your feet shakily, but you were determined to walk yourself. He released your hand when you turned to walk back to your room, but your shoulders relaxed as soon as he placed his hands there, guiding you and keeping you steady as his warm palms pressed through your shirt.

You walked through the bedroom toward the bathroom where the water was running. Hoseok shut it off and turned to you.

"You have soap, shampoo, conditioner and towels. Do you need anything else?" He asked energetically.

You raised a hand to your head shyly and cleared your throat before you could speak. "Do you have a brush?"

He didn't answer but simply rushed out of the room, leaving you alone with Yoongi once more.

"Where are you going?" Jin asked as Hobi whizzed past him on his way to the stairs.

"Pup needs a brush!" He answered, not changing his velocity.

Jin sighed heavily. His husband had been uncharacteristically quiet at dinner and there's no doubt it had been because of you. No one knew what kind of black magic the alpha had worked on you to get you to comply, but he knew it affected Hobi that you listened to Yoongi and not him. Now the omega would do anything in his power to get you on his side, if only because he was a little bit of a control freak. That had never bothered Jin. Hobi was always the one with the plan and he was always followed happily along, ever since they were children, before stealing kisses and making future plans, which had been Hobi's ideas too. Jin had never seen anyone not do as his mate said, so had never seen him quite this desperate before.

"Slow down, sweetheart," Jin admonished as the man came back down the stairs quickly, bearing his hairbrush. Hobi pecked a kiss onto Jin's cheek without slowing his steps too much. He followed to your room and hovered in the doorway as Hobi handed you the brush.

"Is there anything else you need?" The omega asked when you took it. You shook your head meekly.

Jin knew the look in Hobi's eyes, the particular curl of his fingers that said he wanted to do it for you. Probably, he wanted to take the brush from your hands and detangle your hair himself. Everyone had done a good job of not noticing during dinner because your presence had been so shocking, but you did look like a fucking disaster. Three days and nights of rolling around in bed, out of your mind, not bathing or taking care of yourself. You looked rough. Jin watched you turn and walk into the bathroom, looking at them as you closed the door as if you weren't certain they were really going to let you go in alone. Yoongi's hands also hovered uncertainly in the air. But they went limp when they heard the lock on the door click.

"Should we have let her go in there alone?" Hobi asked Yoongi after a second, but the alpha was clearly wondering the same thing.

"Guys, she might not know anything about being an omega, but I'm sure she has bathing down by now," Jin replied, stepping fully into the room now.

"I guess," Hobi mumbled. "Quick, help me with the bed."

Yoongi remained still, so Jin stepped around the bed to pull the fitted sheet from the mattress. He rolled it into a bundle and moved toward the door to take it to the laundry room, but Yoongi stopped him.

"I'll take it," he offered in a rough voice. Hoseok laughed, high and amused, more joyful than Jin had noticed in a few days.

"You're not gonna make fun of him like you did Namjoon?" Jin asked, almost defensively.

Hobi shook his head. "Oh, Jinnie, I think he's earned it, don't you?" Yoongi stood holding the sheets with a dopey smile. "He's not just being weird. He's taken a shine to the girl. How did you get her to listen to you, anyway?"

Yoongi shrugged, his smile turning slightly smug. "I guess she just needed an alpha's touch."

"Whatever you say, hyung. Go take those to the laundry room," Hobi chuckled. "C'mon, Jinnie, help me make the bed."

"What are you so happy about?" Jin asked abruptly as he helped tuck a new fitted sheet under the corner of the mattress.

Hoseok smiled as he shook a fluffy blanket over the bed. "I'm going to build her a nest."

"But she doesn't nest," Jin grumbled. It had been one of the things that bothered Hoseok the most about you. He couldn't stop talking about it after he found out.

"She doesn't know how. I bet she's never had one decent nest in her whole life. But I make the best ones, so if I can just show her how nice it is, maybe she'll learn. Or at least maybe she'll be a little more comfortable tonight." He shrugged as he shuffled around the alpha, intent on his task. Jin knew that helping would only get in Hobi's way, so he simply pressed himself to the wall and watched.

"It's not like she deserves it," he mumbled as his mate built up a perimeter, "or will even appreciate it."

"How can you say that?" Hoseok asked, clearly offended. "Everyone deserves a soft nest to lay their head in."

Jin sighed. "I know, but she's been nothing but rotten to you, to all of us but especially you, since she got here."

Hoseok looked at him like he didn't know the man. Jin knew he was being uncharitable in his opinion of you. When you first arrived he was driven as mad as the rest of them by your sweet scent, but his head had since cleared and the way you upset his husband had changed you from an omega in need to a troublesome intruder in his mind, and he didn't feel much like being charitable.

"Jin, you can't hold that against her. She's broken. She doesn't know what she's doing."

"Don't say that about her," Yoongi interrupted. "She could hear you."

"And so what if she does? It's not like she's been particularly concerned about Hobi's feelings."

"Jin, please," Hobi cut him off. "I don't understand why you're lashing out like this."

"I don't like seeing you upset the way she made you yesterday," Jin admitted.

Hobi stepped close to him and held the alpha's face in his hands. "Baby, I appreciate that you are sticking up for me, but you can't blame her for how she's acting. She's half out of her mind. We don't even know who she really is outside of the heat haze. Yesterday was as much my fault as it was hers. So don't be upset."

Jin closed his eyes as he deflated. "Fine. She can't use this one though," he declared, grabbing a blanket that he only moderately liked off the top of the pile Hobi was pulling from before walking out in a huff.

"Thank you," Yoongi said softly when the other alpha reached the stairs, "for giving her the benefit of the doubt."

"Pfft," Hobi replied as he continued adding soft material to the small nest he was building for you. "It's not for you."

"I know."

Hobi finished and stood with his hands on his hips, taking a moment to admire his work. "What's it to you, anyway? What's she to you?"

Yoongi shrugged, because he didn't yet have a good answer to give.

"She doesn't want an alpha. You understand that, right?" Something like understanding and maybe a bit of pity filled his gaze.

Yoongi nodded. "I know. But that doesn't mean that she doesn't need one. I think she just doesn't know what she needs," he argued, and the omega only hummed in agreement. Yoongi might have elaborated further, but you emerged from the bathroom a moment later with a towel wrapped around your hair, wearing the fresh t-shirt and shorts Hobi had left for you. If you had heard any of their conversation, you showed no sign of it. The alpha's eyes roamed over what little there was of you. Your small frame looked even smaller in his shirt. You were tiny even by omega standards.

"What?" You asked when they both stood staring at you a moment too long. Yoongi could see you were a bit more yourself now. The color of your irises wasn't so lost by the pits of your pupils anymore. He hated himself for wishing just a little bit to have you back in that soft state. What if you were about to kick them out?

Yoongi cleared his throat. "Are you feeling better?"

You averted your eyes from his dark stare and nodded. "Thank you." The alpha practically melted over the two softly spoken words. "What's this?" You asked, looking at the pile of blankets arranged on the mattress and then back at the two of them.

"I made you a nest. I thought it might help you sleep. Will you give it a try?" Hoseok asked, hopeful but shy. You swallowed, looking over the nest again, unsure.

"It will be really good for you," Yoongi encouraged. He wanted to purr at the way he could see your hesitation fall away an inch.

You tugged the towel from your hair and Hoseok took it immediately from your hands. He wanted more than anything to get at you with a brush and a blow dryer, but he knew that would definitely be too intimate for you.

"How do I get in it?" You wondered.

The two men smiled, and without thinking too much about it, Yoongi stepped forward and grasped you firmly around your rib cage. You kicked your feet a little in surprise, but it wasn't much of a protest. Hoseok pulled back one of the top blankets, and Yoongi deposited you directly into the center of the nest, where you let out a little 'oof.' You patted at the blankets all around you, looking smaller than ever surrounded by them.

"You can adjust them however you like," Hoseok said nervously.

You took a moment to feel the fabric under your fingers, enjoying the softness, and pulled the blanket on top of you. "I've never had a nest made by an omega before," you admitted quietly. Your eyes were already beginning to glaze over again, with tears or omega space, Yoongi wasn't sure. "This is so nice."

Hoseok's heart swelled, equal parts sorrow and pride. It was a travesty that you had never known an omega's touch, but if he would be the first, he would also be the best. His confidence rose, knowing no one else could do it better.

"I knew you'd like it." He would thoroughly enjoy telling Jin just how wrong he had been. In response, you only nestled further into the blankets. "I guess you're probably tired. I'll let you get some rest and check on you in the morning," he told you, but he wasn't sure you were listening. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he thought he heard the shortest of purrs come from the blankets. Hoseok turned to the door with a lingering look at you before he caught Yoongi standing beside your bed and looking at you fondly. "Yoongi hyung, are you coming?" He asked teasingly.

Yoongi shook his head dazily. "No. I'm going to stay and watch over her."

"Yoongi," Hobi said, all teasing gone, his voice flat and serious.

The alpha turned to look at him just as seriously. "I promise I'm not going to do anything. I'm not going to get in there with her or anything. I'm just not ready to leave her. What if something happens?" Hobi gave him a concerned frown. "I have to leave in a few hours for work anyway. Just give me a little while to make sure she's safe."

At that, Hobi walked back to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Alright, hyung. But let me get you a chair so you're not standing over her bed all night like a creep."

He went to the kitchen for a chair and set it by the door so that Yoongi could give you a little space and then let him be. Yoongi sat and watched the pile of blankets rustle for several minutes, listening happily to the broken little chirps and grumbles you made as you explored the nest. His scent fluffed around him, unintentionally at first, but then he hoped it would reach you and be a welcome addition to your cocoon. When it did reach you, your head emerged suddenly from beneath a thick blue blanket, hair ruffled and face red from rubbing it against the blankets. You met his eyes curiously.

"I'm just going to stay here a little while," he told you gently. "If that's alright. I'll watch over you."

Your eyes didn't stray, but you rested your head on the edge of the nest and continued to watch him back. He fidgeted slightly under your gaze, not uncomfortably, but he wondered what you thought when you looked at him and he hoped it was good. He wondered which of the items Hobi had gathered for you was your favorite and if that would be a good courting gift for you.

And yeah, he was getting ahead of himself, but he'd been done for since you first called him alpha three nights ago and the way you unexpectedly allowed him to take care of you and sealed his fate. Yoongi had never formally courted Hoseok. There had been gifts and dates, of course, but he already had three other alphas, and Yoongi had done his best to prove that he could be a valuable member to the whole pack, that he fit in right, rather than showing that he could provide and protect for an omega that already had everything he needed. It wasn't at all like he hoped it would be with you. Yoongi wanted you to be his omega. He would have to show you that he would move heaven and earth to make sure you never hurt again, and that you could have everything you'd ever been denied. After just the last few hours, Yoongi was ready to risk it all to give you just that.

"Do you want me to turn off the lights so you can sleep?" He asked when your eyelids closed heavily. At the sleepy nod of your head, he reached above him and flipped the switch, drowning you both in darkness.

It wasn't that late yet, so there was still plenty of activity in the house. In the living room, Jungkook and Taehyung played video games. Their laughter became much clearer to Yoongi now, but he could also hear Namjoon's deep voice as he told Jimin about something that happened at school. The alpha always valued Jimin's advice in particular when it came to his students. He could even hear Jin and Hobi's footsteps upstairs as the omega prepared the pack's nest. He liked to subtly tell each member where they would sleep that night based on the placement of their favorite pillows. Yoongi knew how he would frown when he set aside Yoongi's pillow. He sighed heavily, hoping with all of his being that the pack would let you stay, because letting you go didn't feel like a viable option, but losing the family he had built would break his heart.

You were barely conscious and you could hardly breathe. And yet somehow it was better that way, better not to be entirely in your body when your alphas pushed your face into the mattress and took what they wanted with the excuse that you needed it too.

"Omegas like you are only good for breeding. When you give us a pup, we won't have to do this so much."

At least heats were a little better than ruts.

You awoke in a panic, fighting desperately against the blankets smothering you. Sitting up to free yourself, you looked around as you caught your breath. You were alone. The chair by the door where Yoongi sat was empty now, but the door was open and light poured in from the room across the hall. Fearing that the suffocating nest would pull you back into your dreams, you scrambled gracelessly over the edge and toward the door.

You smelled leather, something between a new car smell and an old leather jacket. You had smelled it in the house before, but you hadn't assigned it to a face yet. You should have been paying more attention at dinner earlier, but you had been singularly focused on Yoongi; you couldn't have looked at the others if you'd wanted. As you stepped cautiously into the hallway, you noticed that the TV was on in the living room. When you looked in his direction you found Jungkook already looking at it. He didn't say anything, but his expression was curious, like he was waiting to see what you were about to do. So you turned away from him and took a few unsteady steps toward the other room. You clung to the door frame as you peered into the room. A tall alpha with broad shoulders and fluffy dark hair held back by a headband stood inside the room facing an easel. He looked ponderously at the half-done canvas in front of him, but he must have sensed you, because he whipped around suddenly to look at you. You leaned harder into the door post and he brushed at a lock of hair escaping his headband, getting paint on his face in the process.

"I'm Taehyung," he finally said after a long silent moment of staring at one another.

You nodded, figuring your name wasn't necessary. "Where's Yoongi?" Your voice came out in a rasp.

Taehyung's lips lifted into a boxy smile. "Yoongi hyung had to go to work."

You let out a soft oh. "What time is it?"

"It's after 3 am. So hyung might be home soon," Jungkook said from the hallway behind you.

"What are you all doing up so late?"

"Oh. I had a nightmare, so I got up to paint a bit. Sorry if I bothered you. He said the pheromones would be good for you, but I know people find my scent overwhelming, so I didn't want to overdo it." Taehyung's smile faltered, and you didn't like that one bit.

"I think your scent is nice," you assured him with a shake of your head, and his smile returned instantly, maybe even brighter.

"I told you, Tae," Jungkook added.

"I've seen her before," you interrupted the conversation the two men were having with their eyes.

"Huh?" Taehyung asked, his eyebrows raising dramatically.

You gestured to the small girl on the canvas behind him. Her arms were outstretched, palms up and her face raised to the sky. "I've seen her on a building downtown."

"Oh!" The apples of his cheeks reddened. "Yeah Hobi and Jin were not particularly impressed with that stunt. But I'm glad you recognized her."

"I pass by her a lot. I always wonder what she's waiting for."

Taehyung turned to look at the canvas, cocking his head to the side. "I never thought of her as waiting for something. I see her as just existing, free, taking it all in."

You shifted nervously. "Oh, I'm sorry. I don't know anything about art."

He turned back to you quickly. "No! It's what you see that matters. I like your perspective. Art is about what you see."

You smiled half-heartedly at him. "I'm sorry for interrupting. I should go back to bed."

"Do you need anything?" Jungkook asked when you briefly met his eyes as you turned back to the bedroom. You merely shook your head as you passed him. "Yoongi left you some water and a protein bar. He'd want you to have some before you go back to sleep," he added.

You didn't answer but went straight through the dark room into the bathroom and shut the door.

"Did I upset her?" You could hear Taehyung ask through the closed door.

"I think it's alright, hyung. She's probably just tired. Take it from someone who has already fucked it up once," Jungkook assured him.

"She seemed okay though." Whatever Jungkook's response was, you couldn't hear it. "Cute the way she asked for Yoongi hyung," Taehyung said, and both men snickered. Finally, Jungkook's steps retreated and only then did you go about your business.

After you washed your hands, you exited the bathroom and went back to the bed. On the nightstand, Yoongi had left you a bottle of water, a protein bar, and two tangerines. You sat at the edge of the mattress and rolled one of the small orange orbs in your hands. When you brought it to your nose. Smells just like alpha, she purred and something in your shoulders relaxed involuntarily. You sliced the thin skin with your thumbnail and began to peel it. Tart juice squirted in your mouth, bringing an unexpected brightness to your mood that you would swear was just a rush from the natural sugar. You quickly peeled and ate the other one as well. You didn't truly have the appetite for the protein bar but…

Alpha wants us to eat it. So you unwrapped it and ate the whole thing in a few unthinking bites and drank half the bottle of water to wash it down. Satisfied that you had done enough, you finally crawled back into the cocoon of the nest.

Hoseok was so nice to give us this, your omega crooned. We should make one like this, please?

"We can't," you whispered back and you settled amongst the blankets. It was lovely, so soft and soothing against your skin. It made your body hum like you'd never known before. At the moment, you couldn't remember why this was wrong, but you knew you could never recreate it yourself. Hoseok was a perfect omega who did everything perfectly. No attempt you made could ever compare, so you could add that to the pile of reasons why you never would. You'd never top this.

You weren't really tired after the snack you just had, and you felt more clear-headed than you had in days. Your heat must have been coming to an end, and that thought brought you immense relief. Soon you'd be free of your intrusive thoughts and persistent needs, and you'd be able to leave and return this pack to the peace it deserved. You decided to enjoy this nest while you could and laid back listening to the distant tv.

Sometime later, you heard Yoongi come home. There was some shuffling, shoes thudding on the hardwood floors where they were removed, keys clashing with others in a bowl. More shuffling and you could smell him at the bedroom door, which was still open.

"How is everything?" You heard him whisper.

"Fine," Jungkook replied. "She woke up a while ago, but I think she's back to sleep now."

You closed your eyes as Yoongi's soft, socked footsteps neared the bed. He stopped by the nightstand, and you heard the crinkle of a wrapper as he closed his fingers around it. His happy citrus scent settled on you and you tried to keep your breathing even.

Ask Alpha to stay, she whined. There's room in here for him.

You kept your fists around the blanket so you could resist reaching out for him.

He doesn't want you or your filthy nest.

Yes he does! Not filthy!

You let out an involuntary whimper as the voices argued, and you could sense him shift in your direction. His hand reached out to you and skimmed the top of a blanket almost imperceptibly.

"C'mon, hyung. You should go upstairs and get some rest," Jungkook called to him. He hesitated for a moment, but sighed and turned to pad away, out of your room, and you released your own breath.

Even with three of his mates still snoozing in the nest, mornings always felt chaotic for Hobi. He always tried to get the men to eat something, at least a piece of toast for Namjoon to soak up the positively enormous tumbler of coffee he took with him every day to school. Jin was a little better about eating a full breakfast, if only to make Hobi worry less. Jimin was always harder to coax since he usually stayed in bed until the last possible second. He was incorrigible on this point, but his omega always made sure he left with a good lunch.

After the three of them were off to work, Hoseok got started on laundry, which there never seemed to be an end to. He didn't like to admit to being a stereotype but when Jin had gotten him the top of the line, heavy duty washer and dryer set last year for his birthday he actually almost cried from joy. The only thing that would have been nicer if he had brought home another omega instead. Jungkook had always been eager to help with chores before he entered the academy, but now Hobi mostly relied on Taehyung, who was a cheerful, if often inept, helper. Really, all of his packmates did their best to help with chores, but it never sat right with him, and deep down he knew that he was lacking something beyond an extra set of gentle hands.

As if summoned by his thoughts, you appeared in the kitchen a few minutes after the house fell quiet. You picked up a sock that had fallen from the pile of clothes in his arms when he stopped short.

"Hey, good morning," he smiled at you. "Are you hungry? I can make you some breakfast."

You shook your head softly. "Can I help?"

He cocked his head to the side. "With what?"

"Um…I can fold laundry. Or I can clean. I'm a good cleaner."

He hummed and nodded for you to follow him to the couch, subtly sniffing the air around you as he passed. He could tell you were at the end of your cycle since your sweetness had diminished, replaced by a pleasant crispness, more fresh Granny Smith than gooey apple pie. He dumped the pile of clothes on the cushions in between you, and you immediately put your hands to work.

"You can just put them in piles by, like, type of clothing. Everyone wears each other's stuff for the most part, so there's no use in dividing it out." You nodded as he spoke. You sat for a few minutes in silence while you both worked and a pile of neatly folded t-shirts grew quickly on the ottoman in front of you. "Where did you learn to fold like that?" Hoseok asked, looking at the crisp, methodical way you folded the shirts. You did it quickly, but so perfectly that you must have had a lot of practice. You paused, your hands frozen where they carefully helt the fabric.

"Is it not okay?" You asked sheepishly.

"No, it's brilliant. I was just curious."

You cleared your throat and continued folding. "My former alpha was very particular. He was in the military for a long time, and he liked everything to be perfectly neat."

Hoseok tried to hide his cringe, not looking directly at you when he asked, "he was much older than you?"

You hid your face but nodded.

"You must be really good at ironing then?" He laughed, trying to get you both past the awkward moment, trying not to dwell on it in his own mind. He could digest that information later on his own.

"Oh, yeah, I'm great at it!" you smiled.

"You'll have to teach me your tricks. I'm terrible at it even though I've been doing Jin's shirts and Yoongi's uniforms for years. Now I have Jungkook's uniforms, too, but I just hate doing it so much."

You smiled up at him, and he recognized the gleam in your eye as the joy of being useful. "I can help you do them today."

Hoseok smiled back, and you lapsed back into silence as you worked.

Around lunch time, Hobi's three sleepy pups trudged down the stairs, all fluffed and bleary eyed, as if it were still early morning. Yoongi led the line, but Taehyung and then Jungkook each ran into his back when he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, eyes locked on you where you were ironing his work clothes in the middle of the living room with Hoseok looking over your shoulder.

"What's going on?" He asked in a rough, sleepy voice.

Hobi's smile gleamed at him. "Little pup is helping me with some chores."

"Did we wake you?" You asked, a tiny bit of fear visible in your eyes.

Yoongi shook his head and raked a hand through his messy hair.

"Don't stare," Hoseok tisked. "Go sit and I'll get a pot of coffee and some food going. Do you want to join me in the kitchen after you finish this one?" He asked you and you nodded your head shyly, avoiding the men's gazes, before he walked away.

As difficult as it was to have the guys on different schedules all the time, there was something nice about days when Jungkook and Yoongi were at home and Hoseok could give them the attention that was sometimes hard to give when everyone was home. Yoongi was unusually quiet as he sat at the kitchen table. Normally he would be telling the omega about what calls he had made the night before or filling him in on the workplace drama that Hoseok ate up like a soap opera. Instead, he noticed the alpha's eyes glued to you no matter where you went. You clearly felt it too, because although you wouldn't look directly at him, your shoulders curled in as you moved around, following any instructions the older omega gave you. After a few minutes of this, he began to worry that maybe it wasn't just shyness that made you hide, but the fear that Yoongi might be a particular alpha. Hoseok could only guess what that might mean to you.

"Take that to Yoongi, please," he told you, handing you a plate full of eggs and sausage.

After you set the plate on the table, Yoongi grabbed your wrist, gently but with authority. "Sit."

Your ass was in the seat next to his the next second.

"You need to eat, too," he instructed, shooting the briefest of glances at Hoseok. A second later a plate was also placed in front of you. Then Hoseok picked a grape out of the bowl of fruit in the middle of the table and threw it directly at Yoongi's forehead.

"If you don't stop staring at her like you're going to eat her, I'm going to eat you," the omega threatened.

Jungkook and Taehyung snickered over their food and Yoongi finally sat back in his chair. You both turned your attention to your meal and didn't look at each other again until you were finished.

"I'll go take a nap, if that's okay?" You said when you'd cleared your plate.

"Of course," Hoseok nodded. "Leave your plate. I'll take care of it," he smiled, and you reluctantly did as you were told.

Yoongi's eyes tracked you back to the bedroom. After they heard the click of the door, Hoseok popped him with another grape.

"What the hell is your problem?"

Yoongi growled but there was no threat in it. "I want her to stay."

"That's not an answer. You're scaring the poor girl." He threw another grape.

Yoongi flicked it with his fingernail after it fell by his hand, as if it were the fruit assaulting him and not the man across the table. He sighed, "I'm just trying to look out for her. Can't you tell? Her heat is almost over, and then what will happen? Are we just going to throw her out to fend for herself?"

"Yoongi–"

"Please ask Jin to let her stay. I know he's not fond of her, but I'm begging you."

Hobi reached across the table to take the alpha's hand. "We can discuss it with him when he gets home."

Yoongi squeezed his fingers around the other man's hand and looked at him desperately. "I picked up a long shift tonight. I go in a four. But it doesn't matter because he'll listen to you more than me, anyway. You like her, don't you, Hobi?"

He couldn't help smiling at his packmate's emotion, but also because yes, he did. "Of course, sweetheart. We're still just getting to know her, but I like her. She was very sweet this morning. And no, I don't want to throw her out on the street. But it isn't only up to me and Jin. We have other packmates to consider as well."

Jungkook took his cue. "Of course, I want her to stay."

"Me, too," Taehyung agreed. "And Jimin will, too. Namjoon…will agree with whatever Jin decides."

Hoseok rolled his eyes, even though it was true. "I'll talk to Jinnie when he gets home, but I don't think it will be all sunshine and roses if she stays," he warned, looking particularly at Taehyung. "She might not want to be around all you alphas. Not right away. We don't know how she'll act when she's normal versus during her heat."

"I don't mind if she doesn't care for us. I just want her to be safe," Yoongi mumbled into his food as he pushed it around his plate, earning him an endeared smile from Hoseok.

"I don't mind either. It could be like having a sister! Never had one of those before," Taehyung mused.

"Okay, okay. Finish your lunch and get cleaned up. You're smelling up my kitchen," Hobi teased.

When Jin came home, found his husband alone in the kitchen, having beaten Jimin and Namjoon home from work while Jungkook and Taehyung had gone to the gym, giving them a rare moment alone. The music playing loudly from the Bluetooth speaker in the living room allowed him to sneak up on the unsuspecting omega. Jin wrapped his arms around Hobi's waist and buried his face in the man's neck, leaving a kiss while taking a deep inhale. He melted a little more into his back as Hobi reached to turn down the volume.

"You're in pre-heat, baby," Jin said against his warm skin.

"I know," Hobi grinned.

"Isn't that like a week early?"

Hobi nodded. "Yeah, I think our house guest might have triggered it to start a little early. It's not a big deal. I'll probably be there by morning."

"You should have told me so I could get my meetings for the rest of the week moved."

"Don't be silly. You don't have to move all your meetings," Hoseok hedged.

"Since when? Of course I'm going to be here for your whole heat. That's my job, and my priority." Jin turned Hoseok around so that he could hold his face in his hands. "I'll let my secretary know and she'll handle it. I won't miss a second."

"I don't need to be waited on hand and foot," Hobi blushed.

"Of course you do. You're my prince," Jin said with a kiss to his forehead.

"I was thinking maybe I should see what it's like…"

"What what's like, baby?"

"Struggling the way she did. To be alone…" Hoseok braced himself because he knew Jin wouldn't like the mere suggestion of it.

"What? You don't want to have a knot during your heat?" Jin looked shocked.

"No! No. It's not that I don't want it. I was just thinking how strange it would be. Forget I said anything. I must be getting a little muddled already." Hobi fidgeted under the alpha's eyes.

"Don't worry, baby. The boys and I will get everything ready tonight. We're going to take good care of you like we always do," Jin assured him with a soft kiss to his lips.

"I know."

"It will be strange, having two omegas in heat in the house," Jin commented, moving away slightly to pick at the bowl of fruit.

"She's coming off it actually," Hoseok said softly. You told him you wanted to clean the bathroom you'd been using, but you might appear at any moment.

"Oh." Jin froze. "Oh. She'll be leaving then?"

"About that…"

"Hobi, don't look at me like that."

Hoseok took a step closer. "Baby, hear me out."

Jin took a deep breath and sighed. "Fine. I'm listening."

"She doesn't have anywhere to go."

"She does, actually."

"Don't interrupt me," Hoseok warned, and the alpha looked chastened. "She doesn't have somewhere good to go. Somewhere safe. She can stay here. We have the room and she isn't causing us any problems." Jin looked like he wasn't buying. "I've already talked to Yoongi, Kook and Tae, and they all want her to stay with us."

"What about Jimin and Namjoon?"

"I haven't spoken to them about it specifically, but Jimin has already been trying to convince her that cohabitation is the right way to go, and this could be a good first step, since she's already here. And Namjoon will agree with whatever you think."

Jin smiled a little at that. Namjoon always deferred to Jin on pack matters, while Yoongi and Taehyung weren't afraid to debate. Not that Jin was the kind of alpha who demanded complete control. If anything he kept a rather light touch on power, seeing as how Hoseok was always the one who was really in control, in his opinion. Still, it was nice to get that kind of respect from one pack member.

"Ultimately, it's your decision, pack alpha. It's your home," Hobi added, knowing how to butter him up.

"It's our home, but more importantly it's your home. I don't really care about her one way or another. What I care about is how she affects you. I don't want her being disrespectful and upsetting you." Jin brushed his fingers along Hobi's cheek and the omega could see in his dark brown eyes that he truly meant it.

"I think that was all a big misunderstanding," Hobi said with a shake of his head. "We actually spent a lot of time together today and she was really sweet, and helpful. I like having another omega around. I like her." He pulled Jin close, going in for the kill with a light kiss in the lips.

Jin groaned. "What exactly are you asking me here? To court her? Or to let her crash for a few days? Because I don't think I can–"

"I'm not asking you to court her!" The omega answered quickly, not least because that was definitely a conversion he would have to have with Yoongi when the time was right, if it ever got that far. "Just let her stay until she's back on her feet," he proposed softly, not adding or until things change.

Jin closed his eyes and breathed, "okay."

Hobi hugged him tight and smiled into his chest. "Thank you, alpha. You'll be glad in the end, when you stop thinking just of me, and the need to protect hits. You'll be glad you didn't toss her out."

Jim grumbled something unintelligible.

"Maybe we should use protection this time around," Hoseok said quietly.

Jin pulled back quickly. "Why?"

"Just…plans might be changing…"

"You don't want to have pups anymore?" Hobi could see how deeply that truly hurt him.

"That's not what I'm saying at all!" He assured his alpha. "I want pups with you more than anything. But things might take a while to settle and with someone new in the house…maybe we should wait."

Jin shook his head. "No. We've already been trying for over a year. I don't think it makes sense to miss an opportunity. If it's between us trying to have pups and her staying, then I change my answer."

Jin was shaking, and it scared Hobi deeply. Seokjin had always been very clear on his desire for pups and they had already waited so long in his view. He didn't blame Hobi for that, but it hadn't been easy so far. To have you present one more obstacle was more than the alpha could bear. Hoseok placed his hands on both sides of his face and rubbed soothing circles with his thumbs.

"Okay. We'll try. I was just thinking out loud."

Jin's face fell at his lover's attempt to soothe him. "Wait. No. I'm not going to be the kind of alpha who forces you to have a pup when you're not ready. If you think it's better–"

"You're not forcing me." Hobi reached up on his toes to press their foreheads together. "I want to have your baby. You know how my brain just constantly works to shift things around. Every decision moves everything else around it. But you're right. We shouldn't miss the chance while we have it."

Jin's lips curled into a soft smile. "I love your brain. You make everything work for us, all the time. Don't know what we'd do without you."

"You won't have to," Hobi replied as he was pulled one again into a warm embrace where he stayed for several long moments. Until they heard you clear your throat. They pulled away to look at you.

"Sorry for interrupting," you said sheepishly. "I finished the bathroom. Would you like me to do the one upstairs?" You asked with a bucket in hand.

"Absolutely not!" Hobi cried. "But you can help me with dinner."

"Of course!" You nodded and went to put the cleaning supplies back in the cupboard where you had found them before washing up.

Jin sat at the kitchen table observing the two of you as you prepared a meal for the pack. He was surprised to see how you talked sweetly with his mate now, how he could even draw shy little smiles from you. Jimin and Namjoon came home, followed shortly after by Jungkook and Taehyung, and they all sat around the table while the two of you insisted you didn't need any extra hands.

"Y/n," Jin said your name simply to call your attention after he had seen enough. Your hands paused mid chop and you looked at him like a deer in the headlights. "I'm inviting you to stay here until you get yourself back on your feet. If you would like that," he offered, feeling a little sheepish.

You swallowed and looked from the pack alpha to the omega, who nodded encouragingly. "I…I wouldn't want to be inconvenient."

"You wouldn't be!" Hoseok insisted. "You take up no room at all. And you've been a huge help today." He hoped you understood how much he had enjoyed that and how grateful he was.

"But, I'm taking up Jungkook's bed, aren't I?"

Jungkook shook his head. "No. I'm sleeping in the nest, where I'm meant to be. You should stay," he added.

"Oh. Well. Thanks. Can I think about it?" You hedged.

Hoseok knew it was always a chance you would rebuff their offer, but he had hoped you wouldn't. Still, you weren't saying no. "Of course you can," he smiled.

A/n 2: please tell me what you thought of this chapter! What did you think of Jin? Aren't yoongi and taehyung the cutest things? I hope you were kicking your feet. Your comments/asks are my greatest motivator, and anon is on!

A/n 3: yes, Jin and Hobi are husbands, as in married in the Sapien way. During early integration, some politicians believed that encouraging Lykos to enter monogamous, legal marriages would discourage polygamous pack practices. They were wrong, but much like in our world, there are practical reasons to get married. Jin and Hobi married young, before they met any of the other pack members. None of the other pack members are married. Additionally in this universe there are no such things as mating marks or bonds, soulmates, etc. What Yoongi is feeling is much more your good old fashioned love at first sight combined with some very strong instincts. Please feel free to send an ask if you have any questions or thoughts!

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hornyhornyhimbos · 1 year

Text

"Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: Reader strikes up a conversation with Steve, who unbeknownst to her, is the best bull rider in all of Indiana. When the two strike up a conversation, it turns out this cowboy has plans for Reader.

Pairing: Bull Rider!Steve Harrington x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 5,353

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (18+ content) PROTECTED piv sex, cowgirl AND missionary activities hehehe, maybe dubcon bc they were lowkey under the influence, one night stand, oral f!receiving, fingering f!receiving, overstimulation, multiple orgasms for reader, explicit language, steve def has a power kink, alcohol consumption, blasphemy toward the Greek Gods (sorry), nicknames (sweetheart, princess, baby; cowboy, god), maybe modern!au idrk, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: mayhaps i am a wh0re

Based On: some thots™️ that me and Georgia had (also slightly inspired by this reel i watched recently)

Originally Written: 03/12/2023 through 03/14/2023

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold (literal bestie, love u so much for working on this fic with me)

stranger things masterlist can be found here!

hornyhornyhimbos ask box can be found here!

The air smelled of freshly poured booze and a hundred sweaty bodies as you walked into "The Lucky Shot."

You spotted the bar across the giant room, marveling at the glimmering and flashing of the lights as you made your way through the crowd. Your heart pounded in time with the country song that blared through the speakers.

You weren't really sure what possessed you to go to a random bar in a strange city during the middle of your work trip. Maybe it was your constant craving for a difference in your somewhat boring career. Maybe it was the secret wanderlust that often sat in the back of your mind. Maybe it was just because you wanted a really good margarita. Whatever the case, you sure as hell weren't regretting your decision when your eyes locked on him.

He was beautiful, the kind of beautiful only talked about in Greek mythology. From the brown strands that perfectly framed his chiseled face, to the hazel that swirled around his pupils, to the beige Stetson that sat upon his head, everything about this man was simply beautiful. If Apollo wore a cowboy hat, you were sure this would be him.

Your stomach did a somersault when you sat down on the only stool left, which conveniently happened to be next to this country god.

A couple moments later, your cocktail arrived, and you caught another glimpse of the room as you started drinking. Your eyes darted toward the dance floor, and when you spotted the mechanical bull on one side of the room, you felt mesmerized by it. Specifically, the thought of him on top of it. His hips swaying to the loud music, one hand holding onto his hat. There was no way it wouldn't be the prettiest sight imaginable.

"It's all in the hips, you know."

You turned to face the voice. It was thick like molasses, the perfect mixture of sweet and rough to your ears. "What?" you asked, your eyebrows furrowed together as you finally made eye contact with him.

"It's all in the hips," he repeated, pointing his chin toward the mechanical bull.

You fidgeted with your straw, positive that if you didn't keep your hands preoccupied, you'd tear his clothes off right there. "Uh-huh," you simply said, unsure if you could get anything else out.

"Really. You just have to know how to… angle them correctly."

Your mind raced with dirty thoughts at the emphasis he'd used. You managed to take a sip of your drink, trying your hardest to wash them away. "You seem pretty certain."

One of his eyebrows cocked upward almost as if to confirm your statement. "That, I am, ma'am," he said with a nod and a tip of his hat towards you.

"Hmm," you hummed, taking a long swig of your cocktail in hopes of wetting down the dryness of your throat. "Alright, Tom? Dick? Harry?"

"Steve," he clarified. No other name would do this cowboy justice.

"Steve," you repeated, and the word felt like honey to your lips, "why don't you show me?"

His arms crossed tightly in front of his chest, the tee shirt that covered his skin becoming extra taut. "What's in it for me?"

You shrugged, sipping down the last of your drink. "I suppose… whatever you want, cowboy."

"Hmm," he hummed, taking the last swig of his beer. "How 'bout this? If you can stay on longer, you get my number. If I stay on longer, I get yours."

You scoffed, your tongue darting out to lick your lips. "You're lucky you're cute," you chirped. "OK, cowboy, you're on."

He stood first, holding out a hand to help you down from the barstool. "After you, pretty lady."

You felt a rush of blood shoot through your body as he led you to the bull, and you'd be lying if you said you weren’t anxious.

"Ladies first," he smiled, lifting you up onto the mechanical bull. His hands felt rough and big on your hips, and you nearly fell off the bull before it even started up.

The operator counted you down from three, but even that wasn't enough to brace you. You held onto the handle for dear life, moving your pelvis to the best of your ability. What felt like an eternity later, you fell onto the blue mat, your heart nearly falling through the floor as you landed.

"Five seconds," he said with your back still flat on the cushiony floor. "Impressive."

He held out his hand once again, and you gladly took it. Suddenly, you were pulled up close to him. His eyes shot through you and it was then that you noticed the musky scent of his cologne. You had to collect yourself for a moment, excusing the clear sexual tension for pure competition."Let's see you do better, cowboy."

He slung his leg over the machine, gripping the handle and lifting his left hand into the air. You couldn't help but notice how thick the muscles on his biceps were. Get it together, you thought, but he just looked so natural on the bull. Like he belonged up there. You couldn't help the feeling that settled in your chest.

"Sound me off!" he shouted over the crowd.

You and the operator counted down in sync, and his hips practically assaulted the bull as the machine started up again. You were mesmerized by the movements. Now you definitely weren't regretting taking him up on his offer.

His hips twisted against the fake saddle, and you could just barely see the outline of his cock behind his giant belt buckle and those tight jeans. You watched the way he winded on the bull, wishing it was you he was humping like that.

Even as he fell off the bull, he looked beautiful. He landed flat on his back, letting out a triumphant, "WOOOOOP!" followed by a chuckle. "I believe I hit twenty seconds."

"No fucking way," you argued, turning toward the bull operator, who just answered with a confirming nod.

"How'd you do that?" you challenged.

"I told you, it's all in the hips, sweetheart."

Your arms crossed defensively, your eyes narrowing in on him. You chose to ignore the pleasant feeling building in your stomach with his new nickname for you. "Do you hustle all the women around here for their phone number?"

He folded his arms in front of his broad chest, almost mocking your stance. A stupid, taunting smile was plastered across his face too. "Hey, it's not on me if you don't know you're talking to Indiana's bull riding state champ."

Your mouth fell open in pure shock at his words. If any one person was made for that career, you thought, it would be him.

His eyebrows raised. "You seem surprised."

You gulped down the lump of disbelief in the back of your throat. "A little."

"Should've just read my belt buckle, sweetheart."

You had to fight the urge to look down at his crotch, which was unsurprisingly not the first time you'd had to fight that urge. It had definitely been one hell of a night so far.

"Go on," he instructed. "You know as well as I do that you're curious."

You exhaled a deep breath you'd been holding, eyes locked on the giant buckle as you forced them not to wander lower. Pain is temporary, victory lasts forever, it read, with the date of the championship engraved below.

You had to force yourself to meet his gaze again. "So what do they call you?"

"The Hawk," he replied nonchalantly. "What about you? What do they call you, sweetheart?"

"Y/N," you answered, not even trying to force your mouth closed. He spoke, and you answered, and somehow, you didn't care in the slightest.

You shook your thoughts away, willing yourself to focus on what had just gone down. "You know what? Not important," you blurted, shaking your head. "I want a rematch, Mr. The Hawk," you mocked.

You looped your arms in front of you once again. You wanted to challenge this man to anything you could find. Eventually your eyes landed on the dartboard. Jackpot.

After all, if Steve could hide the fact that he was a professional bull rider, you could hide the fact that you'd been playing darts with your father since you were old enough to hold one. "Darts."

He smirked, walking toward the dartboard. "Alright, sweetheart, you name the stakes this time."

"Fine," you rebutted with a smirk of your own, "whoever gets closer to the bullseye gets to ask the other a question. If they don't wanna answer, they have to take a shot."

He seemed pleased, giving you a crooked smile. "How 'bout this? We each get a Jack and Coke and take a nice big swig of it every time we don't answer."

Your eyebrows ruffled in confusion. "Why does it matter what we drink?"

He leaned in close to your ear, his breath hot on your skin. "I want you as close to sober as possible if things go in the direction I'm hoping for."

Your airway felt tight as you processed his words. You felt lightheaded when you answered, "Understandable."

He shot you another smile before heading back to the bar for a couple drinks. Your legs wobbled as you gathered the darts. You watched his hips sway in time to the music while he waited for the drinks, and all but drooled over the way his ass looked in those tight blue jeans. And I thought the front looked good, you smirked internally.

Soon enough, he came back with the drinks, placing them on the table next to the darts. "Two Jack and Cokes," he confirmed. "Like I said earlier, ladies first."

You tossed the dart, landing almost directly in the middle of the board. He threw next, landing a little above where yours was.

Your mind raced, carefully considering every question you could ever ask him. Truth be told, you wanted to keep winning, not only for the sake of being better than him at something, but also because you wanted to find out every little detail you could about this Country Apollo.

"Hmmm. How long have you been riding bulls?"

"Since freshman year of college," he explained. "I rode horses a lot of the time while I was growing up, did the whole bucking bronco thing, so I thought I'd test the waters. See if it was something for me. Guess it was, all things considered." He gestured to the belt again, almost like a taunt, but your eyes stayed on his, cold and steely.

You threw again, the dart sticking to the single area, prompting you to groan at how bad your aim suddenly was. It had to be the drawl of his voice distracting you.

His dart stuck in the single area as well, slightly closer to the middle of the board. "I believe that makes it my turn."

You nodded. "That it does, cowboy."

"What's your story? You here for business or pleasure?"

You planned on answering anyway, but still took a small sip of the cocktail to wet your lips. "This city? Business. This bar? Pleasure."

About a half hour passed of you spitting questions back and forth. Your drinks were both about halfway finished, mostly from sipping. You had both been pretty bold with your answers, and questions for that matter.

Your arm felt tired from all the dart throwing, and if you had to be honest, the more you found out about him, the more you wanted to jump his bones. "Alright, I don't know about you, but I'm about ready to get out of this place."

He chuckled at the hint of eagerness in your voice. "Me too."

"I say we throw one last dart."

His expression read one of confusion and curiosity. "What're the stakes this time, sweetheart?"

A rush of heat pooled in your stomach as you carefully thought about how to word your answer. Confidence came over you as you finally figured out what you wanted. "OK, cowboy. If you win, I take you back to my place," you started, stealing the Stetson right off his head and placing it on your own, "But if I win, and I will, you take me back to yours."

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, eyes dark as he said, "Well, princess, I think someone needs to remind you of the cowboy hat rule."

You nearly snorted. "What the hell is that?" Your heart fluttered at the nickname, secretly hoping he'd continue using it.

"You wear the hat," he said, taking his hat back, "you ride the cowboy it belongs to."

Your thighs closed together as discreetly as possible while you picked up the darts. You placed one in his hand, your fingers shaky as you released it.

Even in your desperate state, you managed to toss the dart at the board, the dart sticking almost directly in the middle of the bullseye. "Hmm, lucky shot."

Steve's face was one of confidence, even when he threw the dart and it landed in the single area. "Huh," he said plainly, "Guess we're going back to my place."

You were quite positive he'd fucked up on purpose, but chose to ignore for the sake of not staying in your bleak, boring hotel room again.

The ride to his place was absolute hell. His hand on your thigh, his muscles tight in the flannel he'd thrown on, the sultry country music playing quietly on his radio.

The comments Steve made the whole way certainly didn't help you either. He was "sweetheart" this and "princess" that, and he certainly didn't shy away from telling you every little thing he wanted to do to you, making sure you were still okay every once in a while. He even offered to drive you back to your hotel at any point, but you reassured him you wanted this. Probably even more than he did. Hell, if the vehicle hadn't been moving, you would've taken him right there in the front seat of his truck.

From the moment he unlocked the door, he couldn't keep his hands off you. His fingertips slipped through your belt loops immediately upon entering his house. He barely succeeded in kicking the front door closed behind him as his lips met your neck.

"Aren't you gonna give me a tour?" you teased, your hands slipping into his back pockets. Damn, the fit was tight.

He snickered into your shoulder. The vibration was absolutely intoxicating against your skin. "Well, this is the living room. And I fully plan on laying you back on that couch before the night is over."

You easily kicked off your sneakers, Steve letting out an aggravated groan as he remembered his boots. "But first I'm gonna have to sit on it to take off these goddamn boots of mine," he complained, plopping onto the couch in frustration.

You giggled as he started to pry one of them off. "I don't know," you sang. "Next time, you could just leave 'em on. It's kinda sexy."

His head shook in disbelief. "You keep saying things like that and you're gonna be the damn death of me, sweetheart."

You sat down on his lap, your ass winding down on his leg as your lips made contact with his. He struggled to hold you up and take his boot off at the same time. He decided on putting his focus solely on you, choosing to worry about his boots later.

You clutched his shoulders, maneuvering him to lie back on the couch. Your hips ground onto his thigh, and you let out a whimper against his lips. The friction was absolute heaven to your cunt, feeling your heat make contact with his even fully clothed.

His hands clung to your waist, guiding you along the fabric of his jeans. "Mmm," he hummed against your lips, "You're so good at this."

You let out an amused huff, moving from his lips to his jaw. You placed a hard kiss on the stubble. "Bet you're even better. You should teach me sometime. How to angle my hips correctly, that is."

His head fell back in pleasure. A soft moan fell from his lips, and you felt quite proud of the way he was falling apart beneath you.

His grip tightened on your hips as he pulled the two of you up from the couch. You whimpered in protest, but he just said, "Gotta finish the rest of the tour, princess."

He finished kicking his boot off before heading toward the next room. His lips made contact with your skin again as he began leading you through the rest of the house. His fingers returned to your belt hoops, tugging you ever so close. "This is the kitchen. Definitely planning on bending you over that table while we wait for breakfast to finish cooking in the morning."

He led you down the hall, stopping in front of the bathroom. "Gonna pound you against those tiles after we get done in my favorite room of the house," he said, cocking his head towards the shower.

Finally, he ushered you into the bedroom. His hands parted from your waist to flick on the lamp. "And this is my favorite room. The bedroom. The room where you're gonna ride me into the sunset. Or sunrise, all things considered."

His room was quite different from what you'd imagined. He had white walls, which you were sure would only enhance the sunlight in the morning when you woke up beside him. His white bedsheets and deep brown quilt looked so welcoming that you wouldn't even fight if he asked you to stay for the rest of your trip. Maybe even the rest of your life if he wanted.

Your stomach fluttered with pure want as he tossed off his flannel, followed by his shirt. All you could do was stand and watch him strip. His abs were nothing short of glorious, glowing in the pale bedroom light. You wanted to leave scratches and bites and bruises down them. You wanted to memorize every divot and ridge of his body.

His lips met yours again, and his hands were back on your body. They roamed down your torso, meeting the hem of your shirt. "Can I take this off?"

"Uh-huh," you breathed out, trying your hardest not to moan already.

His face fell teasingly. "Aw, you're gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart."

Your cunt clenched around nothing at his dominance. "Yes, Stevie. You can do whatever you want to me tonight."

His hips bucked into yours when you called him Stevie, persuading you to add it to your vocabulary for the night. He lifted the shirt from your body, his eyes going glassy as they fell on your boobs. "I'll take you up on that offer, princess."

His hand moved to his hat, tossing it onto the bed lightly. You took a second to admire his curls and waves, sure that you would get lost in them if he allowed you to. As he laid back on the bed, he held your hips and guided you to straddle his waist. With a soft movement of his fingers, he undid the clasp of your bra and slid it agonizingly slow off your body. His mouth made contact with one of your tits while he occupied the other with one of his coarse hands.

Your hands grasped at his jeans but struggled to undo the giant buckle. He chuckled, eliciting a mewl from you as the vibration rumbled against your body. He lifted your hips out of the way before undoing his jeans and kicking them off, his mouth not leaving yours. After finally getting out of his own pants, he moved onto yours.

He flipped the two of you over, your back arching away from the mattress. He sucked on your nipple as he slowly helped you out of your jeans and underwear. You kicked them away, nearly shivering as you heard them hit the floor. As his hands led you further up the bed, your head crashed into his pillows. They smelled like him and it made you smile.

"Ah-ah," he tutted as he moved down your body towards the foot of the bed. His lips met your mound for a second, leaving a soft kiss right above where you needed him most. "Don't get too comfortable laying down. You'll only be like this until I'm satisfied, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah," you answered, your nipples feeling neglected since he parted from them. You let your own hands wander towards your breasts, giving your nipples a tug, still desperate for friction there. Pure shock exploded in your body though as his lips met your thigh, inching toward your entrance.

Your hands flew to his hair on instinct, tugging on the soft strands as he licked a stripe up your cunt. "Stevie," you sighed, your grip tightening.

His mouth moved up to your clit, suckling on your sensitive bud. "Mmm," he praised against you, letting you know he was tasting the most delicious thing on the planet. The rumble of his voice egged your orgasm on and your legs began to shake already.

He left a trail of kitten licks from your clit to your hole, his tongue thrusting in the exact rhythm you needed it. Your legs tightened around him, and you found yourself struggling not to push him away.

"Hey," he stopped you, pulling your legs apart with his rough hands. "You remember what my belt says?"

You looked down at him between your legs to refocus yourself, meeting his beautiful eyes. Your senses were in absolute overdrive at his words. "Pain is t-temporary, victory lasts f-forever."

"I want that to be your mantra tonight, because I've still got a while with you yet."

You moaned pornographically as he met your core again, and this time his mouth was accompanied by his fingers. "Oh, god."

His lips parted from you, his fingers still working fast at your hole. "What was that? Couldn't hear you."

"Oh, my god." Your head fell back and eyes rolled as the digits brushed against your g-spot.

"That's right, princess," he said, licking another line up your puffy cunt. "I'm your god tonight."

Your first orgasm of the night rushed through your body, your essence gushing on his tongue. Apollo had nothing on this man, you were sure of it.

He didn't give up though and continued sucking hard on your clit. Your body convulsed at the stimulation. Your hands clung to his hair, struggling to push him away. "Oh, god, Steve!"

He removed his lips for a split second. "You tell me to stop and I’ll stop," he said, his tone of genuine concern.

"No, god, please don't stop!" you cried out. Your grip was becoming even tighter on his hair.

"Then I need you to remember the words, baby." His mouth absolutely assaulted your pussy, but you were sure you didn't want anything else at that moment.

"Pain is temporary, victory lasts forever," you repeated, your feet digging into his shoulders where they dangled. "Pain is temporary, victory lasts forever."

You could tell that hearing the phrase fall from your lips was affecting him just as much as he was affecting you. You watched his hips roll against the mattress below, desperately searching for any friction he could find. Still, he was dedicated to pulling one more orgasm out of you with just his mouth and hands.

He stayed like that until you came again, and a string of profanities was all you could manage to say. "Fuckfuckfuck," you muttered, your walls pulsing around his tongue.

"Oh, god, please!" you begged, his mouth licking up every last bit of your taste.

His mouth moved up to yours as he hovered above your body, and to say that your taste on his tongue was anything less than sexy would've been a lie. "I think I got you good and loosened up for me, princess. You ready for the fun part?"

You mewled, your hips bucking at nothing as your hands met his skin. One of your hands slipped into his boxers, and already you could tell that he was big.

He hovered over you, his legs straddling your hips, as he reached toward the nightstand. You had only just realized how long his limbs were. He pulled out a condom and slipped it into your hand. "OK," he instructed, "Go ahead. Open it."

You eagerly complied with his simple command. He made quick work of pulling his boxers off and tossing them into the pile with the rest of the discarded clothing as you made an effort to tear open the foil. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, thinking about what it must be like to take all of him down your throat. He was just so big, and you knew one taste would be all it took to have you utterly addicted.

As he settled above you again, you finally pulled the rubber out of the packet. "Now put it on me," he demanded.

Before you managed to inch forward and take him between your lips, he moved your hands to his cock, helping you roll the rubber on. I guess I’ll just have to wait until morning, you thought to yourself.

Rolling the condom onto his length was definitely not an easy task. Between the thickness of his dick and the shakiness of your hands, it seemed impossible. After what felt like an eternity, you finally managed to get it on him, completely captivated at the way his length felt in your palms. You gave it a few experimental strokes and the groans you dragged from his lips were beautiful.

While you finished up with the condom, Steve reached into the nightstand again, grabbing a bottle of lube. He squeezed some onto his fingers, slipping them inside you once more. You moaned loud enough that it echoed off his walls and a chuckle fell from his lips. "You think that feels good. Just wait for what I've got planned for you."

He moved to lie flat beside you, squeezing a couple drops of lube onto your fingers. "Lube me up?" he asked.

There was no way you could ever say no to that. Your hand met his dick, massaging the liquid down the shaft. A groan tumbled from his lips, and you wanted to play it on repeat for the rest of your life.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you on top again, forcing you to face him. His hands squeezed at your love handles as he cooed, "Come here, baby."

Your mouth felt like it had been sewn shut as he guided you into his lap. He grabbed the previously abandoned Stetson, now setting it on your head and looking you over like he could absolutely devour you. "Go ahead, cowgirl. Giddy up."

You keened as you sunk down onto him, barely getting the tip inside you before your head fell back. "Oh, my god."

"That's it, princess, you got it," he cooed, lowering you down his length. You whined as he slowly reached the hilt, his cock surely hitting your cervix.

His hands carried you, rocking your hips in the perfect rhythm he needed. His mouth fell into an open 'o' as you rutted against him. "Just like that."

His cock was made for splitting you open, you were convinced. The only word for the sensual, blissful feeling he brought you was heaven. You'd died and gone to heaven, and this was Apollo you were looking at.

He pounded into you, but the stimulation was becoming just too much. Your body felt heavy as your movements stilled, leaving Steve to do all the work.

The thrusts of his hips slowed as he noticed the absolutely exhausted expression on your face. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Too much," you pouted. "Feel worn out."

His hands moved up to your cheeks before pulling you down for a long kiss. He smelled of sweat and what was left of his cologne, and the aroma did nothing to aid your senses.

"Do you need to stop? It's fine if you do, Promise," he reassured you. "I put you through a lot, huh, sweetheart?"

You shook your head. "Uh-uh. Jus' need a little help. Please?"

He pulled away, pushing some stray hairs behind your ear. "Want me to take care of the rest, baby?"

You managed to nod before he flipped you both over, a whimper falling from your lips at the friction. His hips resumed their previous tempo, his eyes screwing shut as you involuntarily squeezed around him. You smiled up at him from your new position. You were happy to keep going but even happier that you didn't have to hold yourself up any longer. Steve had it, had you.

"You poor little thing," he taunted after one particularly rough thrust. "Needed me to take the reins for you, huh?"

Your head bobbed in something close to the answer he was looking for. Your hands fell above your head, and Steve moved to hold them both in one of his large palms.

"Should've known you wouldn't last long," he teased, fucking into you harder. Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head from the stimulation. "Considering that sad bull riding attempt."

His lips met yours again as he continued pounding into your core. He controlled the kiss too, his lips rough against your trembling mouth. His tongue searched your mouth, giving you everything you didn't know you needed.

He moved from your lips to your ear, leaving a ghost of a kiss on the lobe. "Just needed Stevie to take over for a bit, yeah?"

"Mhm," you murmured, willing your hips to roll toward his once more. You tried so hard, but this time, you were sure you didn't have the strength left in you. You nipped at his neck, your way of letting him know you were still with him.

"Shhh, you're OK, princess," Steve cooed, "I got you."

His next statement was quite the juxtaposition from his previously quiet voice. This time, his voice was rough, and he couldn't help himself from babbling out, "Shit, I'm close!"

Eager to help him finish, you tried to meet his movements with a couple sloppy thrusts of your own. After all, you were supposed to be riding him. You felt bad for not holding up on your end of the cowboy hat rule. However, Steve moved a hand to your hips to still your movements. He left a distracting bite on your collarbone before kissing over the spot. "Told you I'd take care of the rest, baby. I promise I've got you, but you just gotta trust me.”

You managed to nod again, and your body jerked as you fell apart beneath him. "Oh, Stevie," you gasped. "Thank you."

"Oh, you feel so good," he rasped, his cock twitching inside of you. "Shiiiiittt!" Chasing down his own pleasure, his hips canted as he guided yours, desperately riding out both of your highs.

He fell limp on top of you, and his now softening cock left you feeling full and thankful. You still weren't sure what possessed you to go to a random bar in a strange city in the middle of your work trip, but you definitely weren't regretting it when this god of a man had been there seemingly waiting just for you.

He flipped the two of you over one last time, his hands settling on the small of your back as you rested on top of him.

"I guess the song was right," he sighed. His chest rose and fell in a heavy rhythm as he pecked your scalp, his fingers drawing soft circles on your skin.

"Hmm?" you managed to hum against his pec, his torso warm and inviting.

He left another soft kiss on your head. The feeling of his lips was to die for. "You really should save a horse and ride a cowboy."

OK I KNOW I DON'T USUALLY LEAVE LIL MESSAGES LIKE THIS ON THIS BLOG BUT THERE'S NO WAY I CAN'T THIS TIME

This fic... yawl. Me and Georgia stayed up til 5 am two nights in a row editing this for y'all. When I tell y'all... this might be my favorite fic I've ever written!!! Gosh, this was so much fun and I wish I could experience writing it all over again, even if it has only been like 3 days.

Again, huge thank you to Georgia for working this fic to its fullest potential. I am so obsessed with how this turned out and I am so thankful you helped me with it!!

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @rupsmorge @writer-in-theory @esoltis280 @liberhoe

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augustvandyne · 2 months

Note

oh here’s another addison thought

reader and addison start getting on, reader helping and assisting in surgeries. reader isn’t an intern tho.

reader gets a feeling addison likes her, addison does but she is Scared™️

and then addison goes to LA :(

and reader goes to her, last ditch attempt. “why did you leave me?”

angsty.. i like it

why did you leave?

You were Addison’s fellow. You were in your final year of residency when Addison made her big entrance, and you stood idly by as you watched everything with Derek, Meredith and her go down.

As soon as your options for fellowships opened up, you made sure you were to study under the Addison Montgomery.

She was kind of rude to you at first, as she was going through the final stages of her divorce, but she did finally open up to you and let you in on surgeries. And then, the two of you were closer than ever.

You did a lot of the surgeries with her, led them too.

Addison and you ate lunch together almost everyday, because all your other friends ate lunch while you were in surgery, so Addison would offer to eat with you.

“But Callie is sitting over there. You should go sit with her,” You would shrug and take a seat in the back of the cafeteria.

“I can’t leave you alone,” Addison huffed and sat beside you. “Besides, Mark will sit with Callie.”

You smiled appreciatively, “Okay. Only if you want to.”

You’d also go to the bar with her, and sometimes even get dinner with her if your schedules aligned. The two of you even got together for Christmas and exchanged gifts. Mostly because neither of you had any blood relatives in Seattle, and found comfort in each other.

She got you a necklace, and you would play with it when you got nervous. Addison would notice and try to comfort you, but she was beginning to think it was her that did it.

“Stop,” She removed your hand from your necklace. “You’re going to make a mark on the back of your neck from tugging on that.”

You’d let out a breath, “Sorry. It’s just the nerves.”

“Oh?” Addison lifted her brows, sitting beside you on the abandoned bed in the hallway. “What’s going on today?”

“An old friend is coming down to see me,” You shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Sure it is,” Addison swallowed down the negative thoughts and her own anxiety. “How long did you know them?”

“It’s a she, and I knew her my whole life before I moved out here. She was actually my first kiss.”

Addison nodded, pretending to be busy with the hair tie on her wrist.

“Hey, listen,” Addison turned her head, and she thought she might have told you about her ongoing feelings, but something else entirely comes out. “I’m going to visit a friend in LA next week. Could you watch over my patients? You’ll work under another neonatal surgeon while I’m gone. It’ll only be a day or two.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

She was gone for more than two days, and she didn’t answer any of your messages while she was gone. She came back almost a week later and she was different.

Addison told you about how she met a guy down there and that she missed her best friend, Naomi.

You stood by and tried to be supportive, you smiled and pushed the jealousy down, because even though you didn’t want to, you felt the same way she did.

She was tanner than when she left, and her red hair was a lighter shade now.

“It was nice down there,” She told you. “I think you’d like it. Because you love beaches.”

Your heart throbbed at the fact that she remembered something you told her the first time she talked to you.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow, Dr. L/n,” Addison threw her gloves in the trash.

She barely called you that anymore, but right then she did, and it hurt like hell. For some reason you didn’t believe you’d see her the next morning. And your hunch was right.. because you didn’t.

You didn’t even know what you were doing, honestly. You just got the urge to leave Seattle for a few days, and you took yourself to LA.

You were at a local market when you spotted her.

She looked amazing. She’d cut her hair, and it was now to her shoulders. She was still tan like she was when you last saw her, but her hair was back to her normal red color.

She looks at you, and you think she might not even recognize you at first. Because truth be told, it had been almost a year since she’d left, and she’d built a life for herself out here.

Or so you hear through Callie.

You look down at the blueberries you were messing with, suddenly trying to look busy.

“Y/n..” Addison approached you, but you didn’t look up. “What are you doing here?”

“Um..” Your voice shakes, and you’re not sure if you’re going to be able to talk. “I needed to get out of Seattle for a few days.”

“I know the feeling,” She chuckles.

The sound of her voice and laugh makes your body tingle from your head to your toes.

“I’m sure,” You say bitterly, picking up a carton of blueberries so you can hopefully leave this conversation behind.

She just follows behind you as you make your way to the vegetables, “So.. uh.. how are you? How’s— how’s Seattle?”

“I’m fine,” You shrug.

“Are you still working in the neonatal field?” You see her hoist her bag higher on her shoulder from the corner of your eyes. “Is that why you’re here?”

“No,” You grit your teeth. “I’m here because I needed a few days away from Seattle, I told you. I didn’t mean to drive here, I just put my brain on autopilot, and it brought me here. I didn’t even think about you being here until now, okay?”

Your voice is soft and it’s scaring you because you hold nothing but anger for Addison. So the fact that you’re speaking in a sweet tone..

“It was nice seeing you,” You attempt to get her out of your head again, but it doesn’t work.

“Do you wanna.. I don’t know.. meet for drinks tonight?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” You clench your jaw, trying to keep yourself from saying something you know you’re going to regret.

“Y/n, look at me,” You hear Addison’s voice wavering like yours had only minutes ago.

You manage to pull your eyes away from the fresh produce and to her face, and it’s hard for you to look her in the eyes, but you manage.

Her hand comes up to touch you on the face, and when it does, you flinch at her soft touch. Your breath catches in your throat, and you have to swallow down the lump in your throat so you don’t start crying.

“Why did you leave?” Your voice breaks, and tears are beginning to fill in your eyes, much to your dismay.

“I needed a change of scenery—“

“No,” You all but growl, you sharply inhale and press your lips together. “Why did you leave me?”

Addison’s eyes flutter, and her own eyes fill with tears. You’ve struck her in a wound she was so desperately trying to heal.

“Y/n..” She wipes a stray tear with the pad of her thumb, her palm resting on your cheek. “I didn’t.. I didn’t leave you..”

“You did, though,” You try to turn your head, but her hold on you is soft and strong. “You left me, and I didn’t even get a goodbye.”

Next think you know, she’s pulling you into a hug, one of her hands now on the back of your head while the other snakes around your waist.

“I never meant to make you feel like that,” Her mouth is by your ear.

“It doesn’t feel that way,” You sob into her shoulder.

She pulls back, both her hands making their way to your cheeks, “I had feelings for you, Y/n. And I know it was immature, but— I— I was scared that you didn’t feel the same and I had to get out of there.”

As if your heart hadn’t broken enough times in your chest since this interaction had started, it somehow broke again.

“Addie.. I did— do feel the same. Didn’t you see?”

“I didn’t want to assume—“

You lean up and place a kiss on her lips, “Well stop assuming, and start living in the moment with me. This has been the worst experience ever. I hate the new head of neonatal, and I think she hates me too. I wish you would have just talked to me..”

“I will from now on,” Addison promises, staring into your eyes.

“What?” You smile softly, all of your pent up hate for her slowly melting away. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re beautiful, am I not allowed to admire you?” Addison tilted her head.

“No, you can,” You draw your brows together in amusement. “I like it, actually. But you want something from me.”

“I want another kiss,” Addison shrugged, shyness in her tone.

You laugh, “You’re adorable.”

“Thank you,” Addison nodded. “Now come on, I have a lot of people to introduce you to.”

“There it is,” You throw your head back.

#greys anatomy imagine #greys anatomy x reader #greys abc #private practice x reader #private practice imagine #private practice #greys anatomy #addison montgomery x y/n #addison montgomery x you #addison montgomery x reader #addison montgomery imagine #addison montgomery #addie is cutesie #send asks #wlw post #💗

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neewtmas · 5 months

Text

12 days of Christmas // A Lockwood & Co Advent Calendar

DAY 10

Hello everyone! It's the second-to-last post for this advent calendar, and today, it's time for my personal favourite. I wanted to include an x reader fic for every member of the agency, and after Lucy (day 2) and Lockwood (day 6), it's finally time for George! Seeing as this is a certified George-Fanblog™️ of course his fic is gonna be the grand finale.

But the best thing about today's post is that it is actually a collaboration! I wrote this together with the wonderful and insanely talented Eden (@givemea-dam-break) who understood my vision for this so well and I am so proud of what we created together. Thank you so much for doing this with me Eden, it was so much fun!!! love you🫂🫶🏻

make sure you don't miss out and go check out Eden's other writing here: masterlist

Brother Knows Best

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 6.3k

short summary: George's brother shows up at 35 Portland Row and shakes things up between George and reader

advent calendar tags: @givemea-dam-break @wellgoslowly @maraschinomerry @losticaruss @oblivious-idiot @uku-lelevillain @avdiobliss @strawberryloveyyy @strawberrycowgirly @demigoddess-of-ghosts @thefriendlyneighborhoodmomfriend @boookfreeak

my masterlist

day 1 day 2 day 3 day 4 day 5 day 6 day 7 day 8 day 9

It was a beautiful day in the middle of winter when (name) realised she was in love with George Karim.

The two of them were walking side by side, their breaths forming little puffs of white in the freezing air. It had snowed the night before, but all that was left were some dirty grey piles on patches of grass by the road. She’d had her hands buried in the warm pockets of her coat the whole walk, but still, her fingers felt stiff as she pushed open the gate in front of 35 Portland Row. George followed closely behind, carrying a bag full of books and newspapers they’d borrowed from the Archives.

(name) bounced up the stairs like she always did, not considering what the puddle of melted snow on the steps that had wet her shoes this morning would turn into over the course of the cold day. The worn sole of her boot slid over the patch of ice, and she lost balance, trying to grip the railing to prevent a fall.

But that wasn't necessary. George was there in an instant, arms wrapped around her and steadying her until she found her footing again.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and she nodded, finding herself unable to speak.

He released her from his grasp, taking a slow step back. (name) could do nothing but stand still for a moment, trying to calm her racing heart. She had no idea if it came from the adrenaline of almost falling or the shock of having George be so close to her so suddenly. She watched as he picked up the bag he had dropped on the ground in his rush to catch her, and then searched his coat pockets for the house key. His fingers trembled slightly, probably from the cold, as he pulled it out and turned it in the lock, keychains jingling.

Inside, the kitchen was deserted, but the kettle was still warm so (name) just had to choose two mugs and quickly reboil it while George laid out the books they had gotten. At this time of year, the warm, cosy kitchen of Portland Row was so much more inviting than the somewhat chilly archives. They could turn the heating up as much as they wanted here, which was why they had opted for just a short trip over to gather some books and then return to the warmth of their home.

(name) brought the two steaming mugs over to the table and made herself comfortable on the chair beside George. He had already grabbed one of the books and was intently skimming the table of contents.

“You can get started on the newspapers," he said without looking up, flicking through the book to find a specific page. “We’ve got a few to work through.”

She knew that, of course, because she had been the one to go on an hour-long hunt for all the ones he claimed they needed. Silently, she pulled the heap of newspapers over and started with the one on top, dating back 15 years.

George took a sip from his tea and grimaced. "You forgot the sugar."

That wasn’t like her. She always remembered the sugar. What was up with her?

George leaned over and reached past her for the sugar, and (name)'s breath hitched in her throat at the proximity. She could faintly smell his shampoo and was near enough that she could see the little scar on his temple, barely visible, from a case they’d taken on a month or two ago. Wordlessly, and seemingly oblivious to the thundering of her heart, he poured some sugar into his cup and stirred, all the while focusing back on what he was reading.

(name) tried to do the same, she really did, but the fact that George was now so close that their legs were touching made the simple task everything but. How was she supposed to focus when all she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears; hearing him muttering quiet words under his breath as if he hadn’t just stolen the air from her lungs?

It was when she looked at him then, a picture of serenity in the winter sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, that she felt it in her heart. Some urging sense of need, of want. A desire to do this for the rest of her life - to sit beside him, whether it be to research something or remember to put sugar in his tea or God knows what. To spend an eternity pressed up to his side, feeling this thrum of her heart. To feel the thrill of his fingers brushing hers as he reached over to peek at something in the newspaper she was reading.

There was no guarantee he would feel the same, she knew that. She didn’t expect him to, not when his life revolved around uncovering the root of the Problem. But she was grateful for what she got: the time he spared for her; the books he would gift her after visiting a bookshop on his way home from the Archives; the tea he’d make in the morning, served with some partially burnt toast he’d forgotten he’d put in the toaster until the moment it popped out.

And that was okay. Truly, it was.

—

35 Portland Row was in chaos.

George was in the middle of a cleaning spree, rushing around in a flowery apron and blue rubber gloves, scrubbing at every crack and crevice to be found - and, well, there were many of those. Lockwood was straightening the pillows in the living room, something he would seldom be found doing, and it was likely that he was stuffing things under said pillows to save having to find space for them in the cluttered house. Lucy, bless her soul, was making tea quicker than her hands could move and had spilt boiling water on her toes. Many curse words ensued.

This chaos, however, did not extend to (name).

Standing by the living room window, staring out onto the street beyond, she felt an odd sense of calm mixed with a hint of excitement.

Why? What incredible company could they be having that had the ability to send the members of Lockwood and Co. into such a frenzy?

Issam Karim.

She had been set on guard duty, ordered by the younger Karim brother to shout out when she saw him approaching. In all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure why George was making such a fuss about it. He had four older brothers, Issam, or Sam as he preferred, being the youngest of them and, according to Lockwood, the one most similar to George. So it wasn’t like he had anything to worry about.

Even still, when (name) saw a familiar mop of dark curls, she called out to the others and hurried over to the front door.

The knock came soon after; two slow taps followed by silence. George was there, staring at the door over her shoulder, tugging his rubber gloves off. And there was Lucy and Lockwood, peering from the end of the hallway like overly interested parents meeting their child’s friend for the first time.

(name) swung the door open.

Seeing Sam was like looking into George’s reflection, minus the glasses and with slightly neater hair. He was a little taller, broader, and, well, more adult-looking, she supposed. But he was most definitely a Karim.

And, god, did he smile like George, too.

It was the same kind of smile that George showed when he was proud of something - full of teeth and elation, with a sparkle of dark eyes to top it off. If it had been George smiling at her like that, her knees would’ve buckled and her heart would’ve threatened to beat out of her chest, but there was something different about Sam’s variation of the smile. Something extremely fraternal.

George ushered his brother in, scooting past (name) with barely any room thanks to the narrow hallway. Her heart lurched at the feeling of his arm brushing against hers as she hurried to move out of the way.

“Oh, Georgie,” Sam said, smiling at the decorations covering the walls, “you’ve been holding out on me. If I knew you stayed in a house like this…”

He plucked the nearest mask off the wall, scrutinizing it, and Lockwood looked as if he wanted to tell him off, but he refrained after the warning look George gave him.

(name) could understand that. He wanted to impress his brother, especially after years of feeling excluded from his family simply for pursuing a life revolving around ghosts rather than engineering.

She just hoped that he knew he impressed her regardless.

The five of them sat down in the living room, the coffee table laden with mugs of steaming tea and plates stacked high with biscuits and doughnuts. Sam plucked a Hobnob from one of the plates and chewed on it carefully, glancing around the room like a child at a theme park. He had a look of wonder in his eyes that (name) so often saw and admired in George’s.

“You’ve met Lockwood before,” George said from beside his brother. “But this is Lucy, and that’s (name). They’ve both been here a year and a half now.”

“Oh. This is the infamous (name)?” Sam’s smile was dazzling despite the scathing look George gave him. “Wonderful to meet you.”

(name) and Lucy shared a look. Lucy looked like she was trying not to smile as she caught Lockwood’s eye. It seemed like the two of them knew something that (name) didn’t, and it had her feeling a little uneasy.

“Nice to finally meet you, Sam,” she said, offering up a smile.

The conversation went well enough thanks to Lockwood, who started asking Sam about his university life and how classes were going. Most of what he said, however, was just confusing to them. As agents, they hadn’t gotten the chance to experience much of a school life, so all this talk of complicated maths and big, fancy words went straight over their heads. Sam didn’t seem to mind. It appeared that he just liked having people he could sound incredibly intelligent to.

Definitely related to George. Although George was much more willing to simplify what he was saying so that the others understood.

Not that (name) minded. She could listen to George speak in his overly-complicated way for the rest of their lives and she’d be grateful.

An elbow dug into her side. “You’re staring,” Lucy murmured, leaning close.

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring. At George. Hard.”

(name) blinked. “No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No! Look, over his shoulder, there’s a tear in the sofa cover. That’s what I was looking at.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, with lovey-dovey eyes, huh? You can’t even give a half-decent fib.”

(name)’s face felt awfully hot, and she couldn’t even get herself to look in George’s general direction. She hadn’t been staring at him, right? She had just looked for a moment, finding herself particularly fond of how his hair flopped over his forehead in soft curls; how his fingers fiddled with the loose threads from a rip in his jeans, and -

With a silent curse, she realised that, yes, maybe she had been staring.

At least it was Lucy who had noticed and not George. Although, she likely would have to deal with incessant questions at night when she was trying to sleep.

The conversation carried on for a while longer before Sam sat his empty teacup on the table and rose from his seat on the sofa.

"Alright, that was lovely, but I’m going to head off for a bit. I have some friends in the city that I haven't seen in a while", he said, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Lockwood stood up as well, brushing some imaginary dust off his trousers as he so often did. "Will you be back for dinner?"

"(name) is cooking", Lucy added.

Sam turned to (name) and shot her a smile. "Well, in that case, I'll make sure I'll be back. Wouldn't want to miss that."

(name) lowered her head, embarrassed at the attention that was on her now. "I'm not even that good,” she mumbled.

"I think you're great", George blurted out, though if the slight pink tinge to his cheeks was anything to go by, he hadn’t meant to say it.

(name) was sure she was blushing now. She knew George appreciated her cooking, but considering his cooking skills, she sometimes wasn't sure if he didn't just say so to make her feel better.

Sam left the house a few minutes later, and any indescribable tension that had built up dissipated. Lockwood and George started up a conversation while Lucy and (name) grabbed the dirty mugs and took them through to the kitchen.

"So… What do you think of him?" Lucy asked as she dumped the dishes into the sink.

"He's nice", (name) replied, adding the dishes she was holding to the pile in the sink, though much more carefully than Lucy. She frowned at a chip in the top of one of the mugs. "But I didn't expect anything else. After everything George has said about him, you know, I half expected the sun to shine out of his ass."

Lucy snorted, leaning back against the counter. "George seems a little on edge, though, don't you think?"

(name) wasn't sure where Lucy was going with this. "He's probably nervous if we'll like him. He's family after all."

Lucy looked at her for a moment with an unreadable expression. "That must be it,” she finally said, before leaving the kitchen to retrieve the rest of the dishes that were still waiting in the living room.

----

(name) was quietly humming to herself as she sliced some tomatoes, periodically checking if the water in the pot on the stove next to her was boiling already. The house was still and quiet, just how she liked it. Sam was out with his friends, Lucy and Lockwood were out doing whatever - they had been gone since lunch - and were, in all honesty, probably fawning over each other in that way they so often did, albeit obliviously. George had buried himself in the library since Sam had left, mumbling something about 'important research and experiments'. (name) had the sneaking suspicion that that meant he was doing something with the skull, but what exactly, she didn't really want to know. Based on the faces the skull always pulled after a day like this, his expression more horrid than ever, it couldn't be anything good.

The evening sun was shining right through the kitchen window in front of her, and in her peripheral vision, she saw movement in the garden. She looked up and spotted a small red squirrel running through the high grass before racing up the tree. She smiled at the sight of the animal and its simple joy in the winter garden, but a sharp pain tore her from her stupor, and she couldn't help the yelp that slipped past her lips.

Immediately, her gaze fell to her hand, where a deep cut on her finger was bleeding heavily. Shit, there was blood all over the cutting board. Without thinking, she hurried over to the sink and held her finger under the water, cursing at how cold it was. The water faded to red after running over her finger, and she could already feel herself starting to get lightheaded. The shock of the cut was wearing off, and the pain was intensifying.

It was stupid, really, that she was in such a fuss over a small slice. Nevertheless, she yelled for George in what was probably a futile attempt. If he was deep in his experiments, there would be no tearing his attention away. Lockwood had tried many things in an attempt to get his attention, so she didn’t hold out much hope.

But just a few seconds later there he was, suddenly in the kitchen doorway. His eyebrows were raised, lips parted in a silent question as his eyes found her finger in the tapstream, leaking a seemingly endless amount of blood.

"Oh shit, (name), what happened?"

“Thought I’d add a bit of my finger to dinner." She spoke through gritted teeth, joking in an attempt to ease herself, or even George. It didn’t work that well.

She’d never had any problems with blood, and she’d cared for many injuries her teammates had sustained over the last year, but her blood - that was an entirely different story. George was next to her in an instant, rummaging around in the medical cupboard for a plaster of the right size. She almost laughed upon hearing him complain that they needed to reorganise the whole thing as he tore a long strip from a box and cut it with a pair of scissors.

"Can you turn off the water?"

(name) did what he asked. Before she knew it, one of his hands was gently holding her wrist, bringing her hand closer to inspect the cut. It wasn’t as deep as it had appeared at first glance, just long and thin, but it was still oozing blood. Most of the issue had been the sheer shock of it and the throbbing pain that filled her whole finger.

It was easier, though, to forget about the pain when his skin was touching hers. He held her so softly, dabbing blood away with such care that her heart swelled as she watched him, brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to avoid the cut itself. He pressed slightly too hard, and her breath caught.

"Sorry, I'll try and be gentle,” he promised.

He led her over to the kitchen table, where she could rest her arm atop the scribbled-on cloth as he worked away. He was quiet as he took the plaster off the paper, slathering on antiseptic cream before wrapping it carefully around her finger. Something in his cheek twitched.

She watched as the concentration moulded his face into some softer version of a frown, the kind of one he often donned when working away in the Archives on a more complex case. Delicately, he stuck the remaining side of the plaster down before relaxing a little. His hand rested on hers, enveloping it in comfortable warmth, and she had to question if the lightheadedness she felt was still from the blood or just from the way he smiled at her.

For a wonderful moment, neither of them moved. His hand squeezed around hers ever so slightly, and his eyes found hers; his gaze encapsulating her very soul. She couldn’t look away, trapped in eyes that no artist could ever replicate, and found a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She could’ve stayed like that forever, would’ve given anything for this moment to last just a little longer, but it didn’t.

George cleared his throat, pulling his hand back and tearing his gaze from hers as he stood. (name) looked down at her finger, wrapped snugly in its waterproof plaster, and hoped he couldn’t see the blush that was staining her cheeks.

"I'm going to take over dinner", George said, shuffling awkwardly. "There is no way I'll let you cook with your hand like this.”

“But -”

“Research can wait before you say anything.”

And that was that.

(name) reluctantly did what he said and stayed in her seat, watching as he washed off the cutting board and then continued where she had left off. It was frustrating how much neater he sliced tomatoes than she did.

The pain that had momentarily subsided had come back worse, and her whole finger was pulsating with waves of dull pain. She tried her best to keep up a conversation with George, and not let on how she was feeling. No need to make him more worried than he already was. But it was clear that he was still concerned, what with his short glances back every two minutes. She had to fight back a little smile at that.

A bang sounded, signalling that somebody had just come in the front door, and she turned to look through the kitchen doorway to see who it was.

Sam, upon seeing the kitchen door open, made his way down the steps after taking off his jacket, smiling as he entered.

"Man, that was exhausting", he said, making himself comfortable on one of the seats - Lockwood’s. He wouldn’t be happy about that. “Forgot how big London is.”

"Do you want something to drink?" (name) asked.

"That would be great."

She squeezed past George, half-annoyed at the small walking space in the kitchen and half-grateful that she had another excuse to be closer to him, and reached up into one of the cupboards for a glass.

"What happened to your finger?" Sam asked, gaze fixed on the plaster as she filled the glass with water.

"Just a little cut", she said, plastering on some semblance of a smile. The pain was worse now after bashing it on one of the shelves. “Nothing much.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in a way that looked so much like George. "That doesn't seem like just a little cut", he said. "Can I check it?”

(name) didn't know what to do. She looked over to George, who was busy stirring the contents of the pot, seemingly not listening to their conversation.

“Oh, no, George has already patched me up. I’ll be fine.”

“George is about as good at first aid as our dad, which is to say shit. I insist. It’ll be quick.”

With one more glance at George, she sat back down, setting the glass in front of Sam. No harm in letting him check, she supposed.

He shuffled his chair around, sitting so that her legs slotted in between his, then took her hand and inspected the plaster. A shadow of blood was already peeking through.

"I'm going to take this off and see how bad the cut is, alright?"

(name) nodded in agreement, already dreading the pain this was surely going to cause.

George had turned down the heat of the stove and now leaned against the counter to watch them, his arms crossed. There was something in his expression, a sliver of unfamiliar emotion hidden in his eyes and the slight downturn of his lips.

"Is that really necessary, Sam?" he asked, his voice unusually sharp.

Sam moved closer to (name), slowly peeling the plaster off and revealing the cream-covered, blood-stained finger that had her feeling lightheaded again.

"Oh, it’s necessary. After that one time you tried to patch me up when we were younger, I wouldn’t trust you with a paper cut.”

George huffed. “I was eight. It’s not like I was going to be an expert. Besides, you’re an engineer, not a doctor.”

Sam only hummed, glancing at his younger brother for less than a second. A shadow of a smile haunted his lips.

(name) shuffled uncomfortably, gaze flickering between the two. Tension was rising for some reason unknown to her, and she had a feeling that she was the root of it. But why? She’d only cut her finger. That shouldn’t have been a cause for anything.

“Just as well I’ve checked,” Sam murmured. “That’s definitely more than a little cut.”

“It barely hurts now,” (name) lied. “Seriously, it’s fine.”

And it was. It had been. She had liked it when George had held her hand so tenderly, making sure not to hurt her. Sam doing the same wasn’t necessarily bad, but it felt wrong. Especially with that look on George’s face. He looked ready to kill.

That look alone had a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. Did it mean he felt the same as she did, even just a little bit?

No, she told herself. This was George. George loved his books and scribbling insults on the thinking cloth for Lockwood to find later and reading away in the Archives. There wasn’t enough room for her to fit in his heart. Surely.

Sam was quick to put a new plaster on, this one more neatly cut than the one George had rushed to tear, though there had been an essence of care in it. In reality, she preferred his jagged edges over Sam’s cleaner ones.

She wasn’t entirely sure if she was thinking about plasters now.

“Thanks,” she said, taking her hand back out of Sam’s grip. “Uh, George, how’s dinner coming?”

For a moment, there was no reply. Then George seemed to remember that there was a world beyond the little bubble that had encased the three of them and hurriedly glanced back at the boiling pan of vegetables.

“Fine,” he said eventually.

“Hope you’re better at cooking than you are at first aid, Georgie,” Sam jested.

It was clear he meant it to be a joke, but whatever had soured George’s mood had twisted it into something different. He all but scoffed as he turned back to the pan, stirring methodically.

“George is the best,” (name) said. “If we didn’t have him, we’d be living off of Lockwood’s toast and jam.”

George’s shoulders eased slightly at that. “Either that or spag-bol every night. There’s only so much of it I can eat.”

(name) laughed and so did George, albeit breathy and quiet. Even still, it had the pressure building in her chest ease off a little and had her heart aching to hear more.

Sam’s eyes flickered between the two of them. “So, how long have you two been together?”

Dead silence. There it was again - that suffocating tension. (name)'s heart felt like it had stopped in her chest entirely, and George had ceased every movement. The wooden spoon in his hand hovered over the simmering water, dripping and dripping and dripping until the sound became unbearable and, somehow, too loud.

Did she mind someone assuming she was in a relationship with George? No, of course not. She couldn't imagine anything better for herself. But the hesitation in his movements, the way he looked back at Sam with what could only be described as acute disbelief, had her lunch making its way back up her throat. That tiny sliver of hope she’d felt earlier? Gone.

“No! We’re not - ” George stammered helplessly, eyes wide.

“Oh, my mistake,” Sam said nonchalantly. There was a glint in those dark eyes of his. Mischief. “Just from what I’ve seen today, and how much George talks about you, (name), I kind of assumed…”

“Sam!”

Sam closed his mouth, apparently unwilling to be further berated by his brother, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his smile.

- - - -

Dinner, to begin with, went as smoothly as it could after the bomb Sam had dropped. Lockwood and Lucy returned from their escapades, rosy-cheeked and laughing, but their demeanours soon shifted upon feeling the tension filling the kitchen. With nothing more than a look, Lucy seemed to gauge the situation and began talking about some of the strange stuff she and Lockwood had encountered on the streets of London.

Well, to her and (name) it was strange. To the native Londoners, it was an everyday thing. But truth be told, (name) was much more concerned about George… it was strange seeing him behave like he did.

George was often quiet, unless he was talking about a topic he was particularly enthusiastic about or insulting Lockwood or the Fittes team they’d dubbed their rivals. Yet there had always been a sense of peace in those silences, a comfort that allowed (name) to know that he was okay, either just listening or pondering away in his own little world.

Now, though… This silence was new and different and she knew that it was caused by the implication that they were acting like a couple. (name) tried to think over everything they’d ever done to make it seem that way - the lingering touches and long-held gazes, the time spent together and the happiness they always seemed to feel around each other - and she could see why. And if Sam had been telling the truth, George had talked about her to him in what she had to assume was a positive way.

So why was he reacting like this? Why did he seem so distressed by the thought of her?

It was halfway through dinner when she decided she couldn’t bear it anymore. He wouldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t answer her questions on how his research was going. Wouldn’t listen to Lockwood droning on about heaven knows what.

She stood from her chair and moved away from the table. “I’m going for a walk.”

That seemed to perk everyone up.

Lockwood frowned. “You all right?”

“I just need some fresh air,” she said. “It’s stuffy in here.”

Sam shifted in his chair, making to stand. “I’ll come along. I know some good places to clear your head -”

“No, it’s fine,” (name) insisted, and her voice came out rather firm. “I’ll not be long. Just a walk around the block.”

And then she was gone, fighting not to look back to see if George was concerned or unbothered.

Why did she care so much if he was? He had practically ignored her throughout the whole of dinner, despite her effort to have a conversation, all because his brother had assumed they were a thing. Was she truly so inadequate? Was the mere prospect of being with her so terrible?

It didn’t matter. She’d be just fine on her own. She’d managed it all of these years, and she’d do just the same regardless. What did it matter whether or not he liked her?

But, as she strolled through the wintery streets, it became abundantly clear that no matter how hard she tried, it would always be important to her.

(name) loved George more than anything she had before. She would give him the world if she could. And part of her wanted to believe that, even if he didn’t feel the same, she would always hold on to those feelings.

But that sentiment was just for the romantic movies and sappy novels she spent her free time reading. In reality, she didn’t have it in her to give and give and give and get nothing in return.

The cold air bit at her cheeks, and she crossed her arms as she walked, trying to preserve any warmth that she could. Maybe she should’ve grabbed a thicker jacket on her way out, or changed from her trainers into the pair of boots she’d left out because, god, the frost was seeping through the canvas material.

She almost jumped out of her skin when something wrapped around her neck.

In a burst of fear, she whirled around and stumbled backwards before realising that the thing was soft, and it was warm. And the person who had wrapped it around her was someone extremely familiar.

“George?” she asked, frowning. Her hand reached up to the thing he’d wrapped around her, nails catching on the knitted fabric. “You brought me… a scarf?”

George, who looked mildly shocked by his actions, nodded. “Uh, yeah - yes. You, um, you left without it. I didn’t want you - didn’t want you getting cold, you know?”

“Uh, thanks.”

And for a moment, she lingered, waiting for him to say something. George stood still before her, looking at her in a way she was sure he had never before - slightly wide-eyed, awe-like - but he tore his gaze from her and looked at the ground.

It was then that the feelings she’d been consumed by just moments ago began to creep back again. Why was she still standing here? So what if he'd brought her a scarf? He hadn’t even been able to stomach speaking to her after Sam assumed they were together.

The thought was enough to convince her. With a tight, thin-lipped and awkward smile in his general direction, she turned to continue on her walk. She’d come out to clear her head, and although she was grateful for the scarf, George was jumbling her thoughts again, just as he always did. And, well, if he wasn’t going to say anything, then she was just going to continue her stroll.

“(name), wait.”

She was half-tempted to keep walking, but the tone of George’s voice was enough to stop her feet from moving. He was nervous. Yes, sure, she had seen him nervous many, many times, but this was different. With the slight tremor in his voice, so very subtle, he had all the power at that moment to stop her.

Slowly, she turned to face him again, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “Yeah?”

There was a look in his eyes, unlike anything she had ever seen before. They had softened considerably from when he had been talking to Sam, and there was a crease between his eyebrows that showed a hint of worry she would usually have to search for in his movements. Never did he show his anxiousness as clearly as he did now.

“I -” His voice caught, and he tore his eyes from her face, instead looking at his muddy trainers. “I’m sorry. About how I’ve been acting today.”

She shrugged. “I get it. Your brother’s here. You want us to like him, but he’s getting on your nerves. It’s what siblings do. None of us mind, George. Sam’s nice.”

“That’s not…” It wasn’t what he had meant, and it was clear that he knew she was trying to avoid the topic. “Sam is a lot of things, you know. He’s annoying and insanely smart and kind and -”

“I’ve met him,” (name) said, not unkindly. “I know.”

George ran a hand over his face. “I know, but what I mean to say is that he isn’t a liar.”

Usually, George Karim was not someone to beat around the bush. It was one of the things that (name) admired about him. If there was something he wanted to say, then he would say it, straight and upfront. But to see him now, fumbling over himself and avoiding the point…

“You’re making no sense,” she said.

“What he’s been saying about me… me talking about you a lot.” There was a brief pause. “He’s not wrong. I do talk about you a lot. I think my mum knows more about you than about me.”

A smile tried to fight its way onto her lips, but she held it back. If this was going where she so desperately hoped it would, it wouldn’t hurt to have him say it directly.

“I suppose that’s what friends are like,” she said. “Growing up, my dad knew every detail there was to know about my best friend.”

If one were to describe George Karim, bold would not be a word they would use. Smart, of course. Sarcastic, yes. Awkward, yes again. Bold? Absolutely not.

But there was no other way to describe his actions at that moment. The certainty he stepped forward with, the soft yet assured feel of his hands wrapping around hers. God, he was so close now that she could feel his warm breath ruffling her hair. And his eyes, lord, his eyes. Despite the slow-creeping darkness in the evening sky, his eyes only seemed to grow brighter. She could see the anxiety creeping beneath the surface, whether it be for the actions that may follow or her possible reaction.

“I don’t want to just be your friend,” he said. His voice was barely more than a whisper, but she could hear the words as clearly as she would if he had shouted them.

She had known the words had been coming or had hoped, but hearing them was an entirely new thing. She could feel her heart swell with joy and relief, feel the smile that had so badly wanted to break free rise onto her lips. Her hands shifted carefully, cautiously, until her fingers could fit in between his.

“I’m sorry again about how I’ve been acting.” His words were beginning to rush out the way they did when he had too much to say. “I hadn’t felt ready to tell you, and Sam kept pushing and pushing. I thought if I ignored him I could sort my feelings out, but then I got too nervous and couldn’t even speak to you. God, you make me nervous. Did you know that?”

Her face scrunched with delight. “Georgie?”

He looked a little out of breath. “Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Judging from the look of pure shock on his face, he had not expected such a straightforward request. He didn’t speak, but he nodded.

(name) grinned, slowly pulling one of her hands from his grip to push his glasses up his nose before placing it on his shoulder and leaning forward.

As a child, she had not liked to watch the kissing scenes in movies. They had always felt awkward and, at the time, she had never been able to imagine sharing an intimate moment like that with anybody, nevertheless enjoy it.

But here she was, kissing her best friend, and loving it.

It was a little stiff to begin with but after a moment, they relaxed into it - into the feeling of fireworks and butterflies and warm lips. George’s hand squeezed hers, and his free hand slipped around to her back, pulling her a little closer.

The kiss didn’t last long, no more than a few seconds, but (name) found herself unable to compare the breathtaking moment to anything she had ever experienced. And, well, the look on George’s face told her that he felt much the same.

“I don’t want to just be friends either,” she said, finding herself feeling somewhat shy after such an uncharacteristic moment of confidence. “If that’s okay with you.”

George nodded with such vigour it was a wonder his head was still attached to his neck. “Okay with me.”

thank you for reading!

#lockwood and co advent calendar #george karim x reader #george karim #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood and co x reader

102 notes · View notes

cosmicstarlatte · 11 months

Text

Customer Service (Obey Me!)

━━━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━━━

They try contacting customer service. 🤷‍♂️

»Characters: Demon Bros

»Tags: Certified Shitpost™️, Pathetic Lucifer is my favorite Lucifer

»Notes: It's been a while since I've done a shitpost bulleted fic so ♡reblogs♡ are appreciated. I've had this wip since March apparently? 💀

Lucifer:

A hand on his hip and the phone in the other

This man means business

"Don't talk to me, I'm trying to keep my level of anger"

Held onto his anger for two hours waiting for the next agent

The annoying hold music only fueled him

Tried to be reasonable with the agent when he got patched through

But they were new

"Look, just get me your manager."

Waited another half hour for them

The problem got fixed rather quickly actually

smirked in satisfaction...Lucifer always wins.

If only he noticed the two stuck pages in the manual, he would've not wasted his morning

Mammon:

If he wasn't broke he would've paid someone else to make the call

Waited for an hour but it felt like eternity

"Yeah ain't there a satisfaction guarantee on this anyway!? The customers always right!"

Tried to get a replacement for his earbuds

And a refund while he was at it

Scammy? What?? Nooo....

"They fell in the wash! It's not my fault! Did I get insurance? Who has the money for that?"

Him and the agent went back and forth for a while

The agent finally caved and promised to replace the earbuds

"Finally! Ya better send 'em quick! -click-"

...

He realized he never gave the agent his address & had to start the process all over again

Levi:

Lol

Tried online chat but his specific issue needed a real agent because...of course it would

Tried to pay one of his brothers to make the call for him

They rather stab themselves or wage war against Diavolo than call customer service

Took anxiety medication before trying to call

Waited three hours on hold but played something soothing in the meantime

helloooo ruri and friends crossing

He stopped when he heard the hold music stop

"Hello thank you for calling Akuz-"

click

"It's not that important."

Satan:

This is how a pro does it.jpg

Drank his little coffee and ate his fresh little pastry

See, he set an alarm to call customer service right when they open their lines

Had the number typed and ready to go with a press

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP

Finally!

-dialing tone-

"Hello. Your wait time is 2 hours and-"

...

Slammed his phone on the floor and it broke

Went to go fight the company in person

His issue got fixed

The company had to tighten their security after this incident

Asmo:

Is that one lucky demon that happens to get patched through quickly

He was having problems with his devilgram account verification

Just as he started speaking about his issue the agent freaked out

Turns out they were a huge fan and could automatically tell it was the REAL™️ Asmo speaking

The issue got fixed and Asmo stayed talking with the agent because they sounded really cute

One thing led to another and...it went from a customer service hotline to a phone sex one real quick

This always happens when he calls customer service akskjfksls

Beel:

Collected all the snacks he had

Even cooked an entire feast

He needed everything he could get before making the dreaded call

After an hour of waiting (and barely any snacks left) he finally got to an agent!

It was a pleasant experience for both sides

Beel is getting sent replacements for his shoes plus a discount voucher for his next purchase

güd boi™️ as usual

Belphie:

Almost fell asleep while waiting

The music soothed him, they had classical music playing

He's not really sure how long he waited if he's being honest

When he finally got to the agent he sounded so weak the agent was concerned

"Mm? No I'm always like ...losing... consciousness ...it's normal...zzz..."

The agent was still so concerned they sent someone to the HOL to check on him

Beel ended up making the call for him

⬦You might also like: Coconut︱Devil-Mart⭐︱Waffle House

#HIS OWN DADDY put me on this earth to bless everyone with pathetic lucifer AMEN #shitpostcifer #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me shitpost #obey me crack #obey me humor #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #◇˖・ﾟ— › cosmic obey me . ⊹

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bradshawsbaby · 1 year

Text

to the nines

pairing: rhett abbott x childhood friend!reader

author’s note: this was originally supposed to be a drabble, but it got away from me slightly and turned into something a little longer (surprise, surprise).

based on this prompt from @therebeccaw. i also tried to incorporate a request from @mermaidxatxheart about the moment when rhett decided he wanted his relationship with his childhood friend to be more.

special thanks to @luminousnotmatter for being the best outer range viewing buddy™️ (even when i jumped a couple episodes ahead of her 🤭) and @whisperofsong for not being mad at me for falling in love with her man 😉

warnings: some brief language, mentions of alcohol, and fluff sprinkled in for good measure.

You and Rhett were friends.

You always had been friends.

You always would be friends.

Just friends.

“He’s just a friend,” you’d insisted hotly in the seventh grade when some of your classmates had been teasing you about your “big ol’ crush on Rhett Abbott.”

“She’s just a friend,” Rhett told the boys who had been ribbing him and making lewd comments when they found out he was taking you to the junior prom.

“We’re just friends,” you’d chorus together whenever you happened to travel with Rhett to cheer him on at an out-of-town rodeo and elderly women in the crowd commented on what a cute couple the two of you made.

So, like the good friend that he was, Rhett had been gracious enough to agree to attend your former college roommate’s wedding as your plus one. You knew all the other friends and acquaintances who’d be attending would have boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, and wives on their arms, and the thought of showing up alone had been too wounding to your pride to even contemplate. You and Rhett always had a good time together, and you knew he’d make sure the night was memorable.

What you hadn’t known was that he was going to take your breath away and make it damn near impossible to concentrate on anything beyond the sight of him in that suit.

You’d known Rhett Abbott for almost your entire life, and never had you known him to get as dressed up as he was tonight. The closest he’d ever come was when Cecilia managed to wrangle his butt to church on Sunday and force him into a respectable button down. Hell, even when he’d taken you to the junior prom, the most he’d managed was a “clean pair o’ jeans and my nicest flannel,” as he’d put it.

But tonight.

Tonight, Rhett Abbott looked like one of those Hollywood actors the ladies at the hair salon in town loved to swoon over as they flipped through their magazines while waiting for their dye jobs to set.

Dressed to the nines, he looked like a million bucks and you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him.

You’d nearly tripped and fell down the damn stairs when he’d come to your house to pick you up earlier, the sight of him in that crisp black suit and tie, with his hair slicked back and his eyes somehow looking bluer than you’d ever seen them, enough to rob you of all coherent thought.

Rhett had just chuckled in that easygoing way of his. “It’s a monkey suit, I know,” he grimaced, holding out an arm to you as he walked you to where his truck was parked outside your family’s home. “But when you told me the wedding was gonna be in Laramie, I figured a clean pair o’ jeans and my nicest flannel wasn’t going to cut it,” he added with a wink, helping you up into the cab of the truck.

“You clean up real nice, Abbott,” you managed to get out past lips that suddenly felt as dry as sandpaper.

Real nice? He’d never looked better and you’d never wanted him more.

For all that you’d spent years trying to convince everybody—especially yourself—that you and Rhett were just friends, you knew in your heart of hearts that it wasn’t true. You wanted more. You’d always wanted more.

You wanted him to be your real plus one, not just the childhood pal who’d agreed to tag along so you wouldn’t have to go stag.

As silly as you knew it was, you couldn’t help the rush of pride you felt when your former housemates and classmates from your college days rushed to bombard you at the reception with questions about your “sexy date.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Where did you meet him?”

“Does he have a twin brother?”

“Is he as good in bed as he looks?”

You laughed and shrugged and hoped your embarrassment wasn’t too apparent as you told them, “Oh, no, we’re just friends.”

Lucy, who had been one of your housemates during your junior and senior years, arched a skeptical brow as she sipped on her Dirty Shirley. “Please. You have not been able to stop eye fucking that guy all night. Just friends my ass.”

“Lucy!” you gasped, feeling your cheeks and neck grow warm in mortification. You glanced around sheepishly, praying that Rhett wasn’t within earshot. He’d gone off to the bar to get the two of you a couple of whiskey sours.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Lucy smirked, swirling her straw around in her glass. Then she suddenly leaned in closer. “But don’t be embarrassed, sweet pea,” she whispered conspiratorially. “That boy hasn’t been able to keep those gorgeous baby blues off you either.”

Before you could fully register Lucy’s comment, let alone unpack its meaning, your friend was stepping back and grinning, her gaze landing just beyond your shoulder. “Oh, heya, Rhett.”

Stiffening slightly, you turned and met his blue gaze, warm and steady and quite determinedly fixed on you. You instantly felt your mouth dry up again. Damn this man and that damned suit.

“This little sweet pea and I were just talking ’bout how much we wanna dance,” Lucy went on, slinging an arm around your shoulders and nudging you pointedly. “So I better go find my husband before he finds himself another partner,” she added with the exuberant laugh she had always been known for, flouncing off and leaving you torn between wanting to strangle her and wanting to laugh at her tenacity.

Left alone with Rhett, you looked up to find his gaze still fixed on your face, his lips upturned in a smile that almost looked shy. But when had Rhett Abbott ever been shy around you?

Setting down the whiskey sours he’d obtained, still untouched, on the table, he held out a hand to you. “What do you say then, sweet pea?” he drawled, teasing the nickname Lucy always used for you. “Wanna dance with me?”

Trying to pretend your stomach wasn’t currently doing about fifty consecutive somersaults, you just nodded and slipped your hand into his. It was rough and calloused and absolutely perfect.

Just as Etta James’ At Last started thrumming through the speakers, Rhett pulled you onto the dance floor and tugged you into his arms, one arm wrapping around your waist as he maintained his grip on your hand with the other.

“Just like junior prom,” he grinned, his thumb gently brushing against the back of your hand as you swayed to the music.

Funny, you didn’t remember feeling like every nerve ending in your body was on fire when you were at junior prom.

“Mhm, though I have to say you clean up much nicer tonight,” you laughed, resting your free hand on his shoulder as you gazed up at him.

“I’ll have you know that was the nicest flannel I owned at the time,” Rhett scoffed, feigning hurt.

You just giggled in response, which made Rhett’s facade crack as his face split into an amused grin.

“You looked beautiful that night,” he murmured suddenly, his grip on your waist tightening by a fraction. “But I think you look even more beautiful tonight,” he added, his expression suddenly serious.

It was strange how your mouth managed to feel like the Sahara, while your legs felt like water.

“Thank you, Rhett,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your brain was so addled that you weren’t even able to come up with a teasing response.

“County fair’s coming up soon,” he said, abruptly changing the subject, though his piercing blue eyes remained trained on your face.

“Mhm,” you mumbled, nodding slowly. “I think my mama’s gonna get a booth.”

“I was thinkin’ you and me could go together,” Rhett said, his voice suddenly sounding even lower and deeper than usual.

“Of course,” you nodded, not phased in the slightest. You and Rhett had been going to county fairs together since you were kids.

What did phase you was the way Rhett leaned in close and brushed a loose lock of hair away from your cheek, his lips skimming your skin as he whispered in your ear, “I don’t want to go as your friend.”

Your breath caught in your throat instantly and you were immediately grateful that he was holding onto you so tightly. “A date, Abbott?” you questioned, peering up at him as your pulse pounded in your veins.

“A date,” Rhett nodded, not a single trace of hesitation or ounce of a waver in his voice.

“You sure?” you asked, a slight tremor in your voice. There would be no going back if you did this.

“Never surer,” Rhett replied, his fingertips gently pressing into the small of your back as he pulled you closer.

“Alright then, Abbott,” you smiled, barely able to contain your excitement. “It’s a date.”

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett x reader #x reader #x female reader #outer range #lewis pullman

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ae-azile · 1 month

Text

Kind of have a Chan/Big one-shot in my head that I am thinking about writing but have no time for. I'm going to bullet point it here to have on hand for later.

Big still takes the bullets for Porsche. When Kinn arrives, he initially thinks he is dead. Tawan still presses the button and kills himself. However, the bombs Tawan placed end up being duds and the effort was for nothing.

Once they realize the place isn't about to blow up, they go back inside to get Big's body. He turns out to be unconscious but alive. They rush him to the infirmary and he miraculously pulls through, but is going to be there for a while.

Despite the Drama™️ going on, Kinn, Porsche, and his fellow guards visit him. Kinn is very thankful and sorry, Porsche is thankful as well but feels like Big should value himself more highly and tells him as much, and the rest are trying to be present.

Even Tankhun visits him. He usually talks about how he should put demands on Korn to change up the decor of his room. But occasionally, he tearfully thanks Big for saving Porsche. There is also one time that he tells Big he deserves a better ending than the one he tried to give himself. That he may not have leading man energy, but he could totally be half of a secondary couple in a K-Drama if he just found the right person.

"And sometimes the secondary couple is more interesting anyway!"

But out of everyone, Chan visits the most frequently and has been putting the most work in when it comes to Big's care.

The thing is, Big notices two guards aren't around: Pete and Ken. The guards tell him Pete is visiting his grandmother, and they sound believable enough when they say that, even though it seems like strange timing. But they won't meet his eyes when he asks about Ken, and their stories never line up.

Chan eventually tells him. While the truth paints Ken as a traitor and there is no getting around that, Chan tries his best to empathize with Ken by telling Big that Ken was likely approached by Gun with an incentive to be a double agent. If he would have refused, it would have cost him his life a lot earlier on. He says it to let Big know it's okay to mourn Ken. Ken was still his roommate and his friend, regardless of what he did.

They become closer after that night, and Chan talks to Big in a way that is less gruff and more gentle. Big finds comfort in him, and has prior to this. Chan was the one who made sure Big took an extended break after his father died. He drove an hour each way to check on him at his mother's house back when that happened. So Big has felt comfortable coming to Chan in his moments of worry or doubt, and he has always viewed Chan with respect and affection while the other guards tended to be more intimidated by him. But something feels different now.

He doesn't know who to talk about it with though. Ken is dead, and he probably would have teased him and said he had a crush on their boss.

Does he?

Chan is at least ten years older than him. He probably shouldn't have a crush on him. He's also actively taking care of Big, and Big has a long recovery in front of him. He's setting himself up for unrequited love. Again.

Speaking of, Kinn is continuing to visit. He does so frequently, and Big can see that he's wracked with gullt. Big still feels his heart beat a little faster whenever he walks into a room, but that is starting to feel different too. Kinn almost feels like a friend now. That's probably inappropriate as well, but on a lesser level.

So he holds it in. He plans on doing so forever until he wakes up gasping from a nightmare. Chan had fallen asleep in the chair, but woke up when Big did. Instead of telling him it was just a dream, he scooted closer to comfort him, stroked his hair, and held his hand until he fell back asleep.

Big ends up telling Pol, of all people. It just slips out. Pol doesn't seem like the right person to tell, but not the wrong person either. He manages to strongly empathize with and defend Tankhun, while most of the guards tend to steer clear of him, so maybe he will understand this insanity.

Pol is actually nice to talk to. While he doesn't completely understand a potential crush on Chan because Chan is intimidating, he gets having a crush on someone a good bit older. He thinks he might be into a bartender friend of Porsche's, and she has several years on him.

The conversation doesn't give Big any answers, but it does make him feel a little better. He's able to be around Chan and not feel like freaking out.

That is, until Korn "dies" and the attack approaches. Chan has Big moved to a more secure location a day prior. Big wants to stay, Chan won't let him. Big only feels okay about leaving when Chan says he will command from the armory while Arm sends out remote attacks, that he won't be a frontline guard.

Chan lied.

Does he die? Does he miraculously live like Big manages to in this canon divergent fic or like Vegas does in canon? Depends on how much I want to torture Big, I suppose...

Jk, I want them as infirmary roomies falling in love, all while Pol wheels in to visit while he heals from his less serious injury. I also want Chan to be finished with Korn altogether after everything he pulled.

#chanbig #bigchan #kinnporsche fanfic #chanbig fanfic #chanbig fic #chanbig fanfiction #and they were (infirmary) roommates #kinnporsche plot bunnies #fanfic plotting #plot bunnies

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allthefakepeople · 2 years

Text

wait ok ok

everybody come with me on this

i don’t have the physical evidence of this BUT i noticed something about certain simon/wilmon scenes this season that added a different meaning regarding costuming (also i have no idea if someone else has already noticed/mentioned this, but if you have i am sorry)

i wish i could provide the evidence but for now you’ll just have to trust me and go back and rewatch s2 hahah and it’ll probably get a bit long so i’m sorry about that

as we know, the costume department had simon wearing purple in scenes where simon’s feelings for wille were growing, while orange kind of represented when they felt further away but but but

there were multiple scenes this season where simon was wearing orange OVER something purple (and there were a few scenes where he was noticeably wearing purple) which was super interesting for me

the most notable one was when simon goes to marcus’ to hook up with him that first time. he’s wearing orange but you can see a hint of a purple shirt under it which could represent how even though simon is trying to move on with marcus (the orange) his love for wille will always be an undercurrent in their relationship/scenes together (the purple)

another one i can think of is when first assigned they’re book and wille is talking to simon about marcus and simon admits that they’re hanging out but not together. yet again he’s wearing a hint of purple underneath something orange which hints at the fact that he’s feeling conflicted because he still loves wille but he feels super far away from him

another scene is when wille is thought to be leaving hillerska. the scene where they come to take wille, simon is wearing a purple shirt over his yellow/orange one

follow this scene by when he goes to train with rosh, where he’s wearing the Purple Hoodie™️ for the first time all season and he literally says to rosh “i don’t know why i can’t fall in love with [marcus]”. the purple hoodie being a focal point in this scene is almost declaring the reason why he can’t fall in love with marcus is his love for wille

another important Purple Hoodie™️ moment this season (let it be known that i’m pretty sure he only wears that hoodie like 2 times this season) was during the iconic book project scene where they’re essentially confessing to each other through it.

ALSO the fact that maroon is shade of purple and simon was wearing his school uniform (which is kind of a redish purple) when him and wille kiss for the first time

i’m sure there’s more scenes but these were just the initial ones i noticed on my rewatch (if someone wants to somehow provide the evidence that would be so wonderful but i promise i’m not going insane)

ANYWAYS this post was just thought up to prove that despite how fractured and far away wilmon seemed at some points throughout this season, simon was still feeling that love for wille throughout even if it wasn’t outwardly showing at times

thanks for coming to my tedtalk

#pls tell me i'm not insane over this #which i don't THINK i am since everything seems intentional #these two make me lose my mind #i did love this season #young royals #young royals s2 #young royals s2 spoilers #yr s2 spoilers #wilmon #miels rambles #wille x simon #wilhelm x simon

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mrsaltieri-real · 4 months

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Good Boy, Meeks (Mickey Altieri X Randy Meeks)

Words: 2.8k

Warning/s: language, smut, slight dom/sub dynamic, handjobs, blowjob, teasing, cum eating, cum play, filming/sex tape, hair pulling, Randy’s a nervous wreck, Mickey’s a teasing ass, implied stalking, frenemies to fuck buddies.

A/N: SO this is my first fic that is two canon characters. No reader insert, no OC. Just Mickey and Randy. The Film Bro’s™️. This was ridiculously fun to write, I’m definitely going to do stuff like this more often. I love them so much. Thank you @bisexual-horror-fan for beta reading and editing! You’re such a massive help dude!

I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Mickey had always found Randy sweet.

In a lot of ways, they were the same. Film geeks with an unfiltered passion for cinema and the art surrounding it, constantly looking for a deeper meaning, both there and in real life. Then again, they were more different than similar.

Randy was a small town boy still reeling from the series of murders that rocked him a year back. He never showed it, but he lived in a constant state of unease, glancing over his shoulder and never letting anybody but Sidney in. Even then, he couldn’t talk to her about this stuff. She was healing, getting better. He was happy for her, but when she began dating Derek, he realized that he truly was all alone.

Mickey, on the other hand, was from the city. Eager, outgoing, confident. He wasn’t scared about people finding him arrogant or full of himself, he lived his life with no regrets. He was being bankrolled through college by Billy Loomis’ mother to help her finish the job he and Stu Macher couldn’t. Mickey was violent, in more ways than the obvious. His ambition made him all the more magnetic, especially to Randy.

They had a fun frenemy vibe going for a while, though they both knew it was more affectionate than anything. Mickey liked Randy, he thought he was simply adorable. Randy liked Mickey, he enjoyed arguing with him even though most of the time he knew he was just saying opposing views on cinema to get a rise out of him, like when he’d sat in front of him and blatantly said that Superman 2 was better than Superman 1. Randy could see the amusement in his eyes as he argued back, but decided to roll with it.

Anything to stretch out the conversation.

Randy wasn’t gay. He knew he wasn’t gay, he’d been in love with Sidney since before he even knew what love was. But sometimes, just sometimes, he’d glance over at Mickey in class or in the cafeteria, watch his head tip back as he laughed, the dimples in his cheeks. His eyes would drift to his strong, muscular arms, watch his huge hands run through his hair or drum against his thigh, and it was almost impossible to look away.

But no, he wasn’t gay, he wasn’t bi, he was straight. Right?

“Randy!” Fingers snapped in front of Randy’s face, and he blinked, shaking his head before his blue eyes tentatively met light brown. “You okay, man?”

“Fine, why?” Randy cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his seat and looking down at his paper. He and Mickey had been paired for a project on cinematography in horror, and it bugged Randy that the moment their names were spoken out one after the other by their professor, he’d felt his heart flutter a little.

“Well, I was talking to you and you were just… Staring at me.” Mickey’s tone was light, almost playful. He didn’t look away from Randy, his grin spreading wider as he saw the rush of colour flood to the boy's cheeks. How cute is that?

“Fuck off, Mickey, no I wasn’t.” Randy scoffed, shaking his head. “Stop fucking around, what were you saying?”

“C’mon, Meeks! Tell me what you were thinking about.” Mickey leaned forward in his own seat, his hand reaching out and playfully pushing Randy’s shoulder. Randy swatted at his hand, only making Mickey chuckle and hold his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay!” He shook his head, still smiling as he grabbed his camera from his desk, flipping the small flap open and holding it up. “Don’t wanna tell me? Tell the camera.”

“Mickey, I swear to God, fuck off.” Randy held up his hand, turning his head to the side and burying his face into his shoulder. “You’re such an ass, dude.”

“Aw, I know.” Mickey didn’t drop the camera. His eyes were fixed on Randy through the tiny screen, his head tilting just slightly to the side. His smile had changed into a somewhat affectionate half smile, watching as Randy peeked up at him. “What?”

“You like me, don’t you?”

The question took him by such surprise, Randy let out a laugh that was a little too loud, a roll of his eyes that was a little too dramatic and stood to his feet, pushing the chair back a little too hard. Mickey watched the ordeal with an amused expression and a cocked brow, the camera still focused on Randy, “I think you’re a dick.”

“And I think that you think I’m blind and stupid.” Mickey retorted, finally looking up from the small screen, his eyes settling and Randy’s awkward stance. “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t do that.”

Randy looked away, as he says, “I don’t like you. Not like that.”

Mickey presses, “Like what?”

“Like- Oh, shut up.” Randy muttered, beginning to walk toward Mickey’s bathroom.

Before he could get past him, Mickey’s large hand that Randy had so often admired shot out, wrapping around his forearm easily and holding him next to him.

“Don’t make it weird, Meeks. We can fuck if that’s what you want.”

Mickey said it so matter-of-factly it took Randy a little by surprise, his eyes shooting to Mickey, who still gripped the camera in his other hand, the band around his wrist and his arm resting beside him.

“But you’re not…” Randy’s voice trailed off and Mickey let out another laugh.

There is that infuriatingly dazzling smile as he asked, “I’m not what? Gay?”

Randy stumbles over his words as he responds, “I mean… Yeah. I’ve seen you with girls and stuff.”

“Yeah, so? What, you're a film major and think people can’t branch out a little?”

Randy frowned, this isn’t as simple as making a movie in a different genre, at least not to Randy. His eyes darting from Mickey’s hand wrapped around his arm and to his face. He couldn’t deny, when Mickey touched him, he felt an uncomfortably strong wave of arousal flow through his body and stab him straight in the stomach.

Fuck, he hated that Mickey made him feel this way. Fucking Mickey Altieri of all people. It was no surprise really, though. Randy had seen first hand, he could pretty much fuck anybody he wanted. He was outrageously attractive, magnetic and just downright charming. He couldn’t deny he was attracted to him, and had been for a pathetic amount of time. And now, here he was, telling him he wanted him.

Randy didn’t move, caught in a hesitating limbo, so Mickey helped him, tugging on his arm and pulling him in front of him.

He had no idea what he was doing. He’d thought about this, this moment more times than he cared to admit whilst he was fisting his cock in the shower, thinking of Mickey. His hands, his arms, his smile, his cock, and more often than not, his lips. He was always filled with guilt after, wondering how Mickey would feel if he knew that Randy touched himself to thoughts of him on his knees with Mickey in his mouth.

This was fucking unbearable.

Mickey’s brown eyes were fixed on Randy’s torn expression, watching the vast array of emotions pass over his face. Suddenly, it wasn’t so amusing.

“Nod if you want me.” Mickey said, his voice unnaturally soft and tender.

Randy’s final thought was simple.

Fuck it.

He nodded his head, eyes, watching as Mickey released his arm and gently palmed over himself. Randy hadn’t noticed before that he was already half hard. Did he know? This entire time that Randy wanted him this much? Did he want it as long as he did, too?

Mickey didn’t speak, but he stood to his feet, placing the still rolling camera down on his desk, the lenses facing them, a light smile on his lips as he leaned forward, his hand moving from his own aching bulge in favour of Randy’s. The two of them were wearing sweatpants, and Mickey smiled in satisfaction at how fucking hard Randy was for him. He could feel his heat, feel the throbbing before he even made contact.

Mickey’s other hand cradled Randy’s flushed cheek, finding it sweet how panicked Randy looked, as if he was afraid this was all some big joke to his expense. But this wasn’t, Mickey wanted Randy, had done since the first day the little geek challenged him in film class.

Randy found that focusing on the beauty spot just beside Mickey’s eyes calmed him down slightly, humanizing the other boy a little more.

Mickey wasn’t going to kiss Randy first, however. He felt like that was something Randy had to do, and it didn’t take him anywhere near as long as he expected.

The minute Mickey’s head ghosted over him, Randy bit the bullet, closing the space and pressing his lips against Mickey’s with a passion that took Mickey by surprise. Randy let out a shaking moan into his mouth, pushing himself greedily against Mickey’s hand in desperate need for friction, to which the other boy eagerly obliged, his hand moving to frail his fingers down Randy’s happy trail and slipping smoothly into Randy’s sweats and boxers, eagerly kissing him back as he did. Mickey tasted like mint, his lips were unbearably soft and something about them seemed like home, the rough feeling of Mickey’s stubble scratched against Randy’s face, so satisfying and just how he dreamed it would.

The moment Randy felt Mickey’s well worked hand wrap around his cock, he was worried he was going to cum then and there. His hips thrust a little as he gasped into Mickey’s mouth, feeling him smile against him as he did. Randy’s hands were fast and eager, but he was stopped sharply by Mickey, who pulled back, shaking his head.

“Oh, God I- I’m sorry, fuck, I-“

Randy began rambling, his face flushing a deep red. Mickey simply rolled his eyes, bending down to pull Randy’s sweats and boxers down before pulling his own shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. “Shut up, I thought it would be easier this way, no?”

This was the first time Randy had seen Mickey shirtless. He momentarily marvelled at the hairs on his chest, his toned stomach, and swallowed thickly.

Before Randy could reply, Mickey kissed him, deeper and with more vigour than last time. Randy’s leaking cock pressed between both of their stomachs. Mickey’s hands gripped Randy’s hips, pulling him even closer to him and forcing him to grind against him before he pressed him firmly up against the wall, his lips beginning to drift from Randy’s lips, to his jaw, to his throat.

“F-fuck.” Randy’s moan was unsteady, his hands unconsciously moving to knot in his thick dark hair, his hips beginning to grind against him by themselves. The friction felt incredible, but what felt even better was Mickey’s hand beginning to slowly pump Randy’s cock as he kissed his neck, the sensation making goosebumps rise on his skin.

Mickey used Randy’s pre-cum as lube as he allowed the boy to messily thrust against his hand, his simpering whimpers and moans fucking music to his ears.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of you like this, Meeks.” Mickey breathed into Randy’s ear, twisting his hand expertly and relishing in the gentle whines flooding out from Randy’s lips. “A leaking fucking mess just for me.”

“Just for you.” Randy echoed Mickey’s words, his hands gripping his hair even tighter as his pace began to steadily increase.

The feeling of his rough hand gliding up and down his shaft, his messy cock aching and throbbing, it was nothing like he’d had before. His first and only time with Karen Kolcheck back in Woodsboro seemed pretty much laughable compared to how Mickey was making him feel right now with just his hand. Randy knew he was close, his balls were aching, and he could feel himself ready to unload all over Mickey’s stomach, but he didn’t want to. He knew that once he did, it would be over.

Fuck, he didn’t want this to be over.

“You gonna cum for me, Randy?” Mickey asked. Randy let out a soft whine, flinching in effort to avoid doing just that.

“N-no.” He groaned out, the grip on Mickey’s hair tightening.

Mickey let out a breathy laugh, his hand slowing to a gentle pump. “Why not?” He asked.

Randy didn’t answer, his head falling forward, so his forehead pressed against Mickey’s shoulder.

Mickey wasn’t having that. He pulled his hand away from Randy’s sloppy cock, knocking his arms out of the way so he could pull Randy’s head back before gripping his chin between his long fingers.

“Why not?” He asked again, his tone a little harder.

“Because I don’t want it to be done.” Randy blurted out. He felt Mickey cock twitch against his from the confines of his sweats and briefs and felt an overwhelming desire to touch him too. Mickey looked at the hungry expression on Randy’s face and smiled affectionately, releasing Randy’s jaw and sliding his hand into his hair.

“Okay, on your knees then.”

Before the words were completely out of Mickey’s mouth, Randy was on his knees, pulling down Mickey’s remaining clothes.

Randy had only seen his own dick and dicks in porn. No pornstar cock would ever compare to Mickey’s. The only word that came to mind was mouthwatering.

After Mickey spent a little time talking Randy through it, Randy took him greedily into his mouth, moaning at how delicious he tasted, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Fuckkkkk.” Mickey groaned, his head tipping back and one hand still resting on the top of his head. He glanced at the camera, picking it up and focusing it down on the adorable sight before him; Randy greedily sucking his cock as if his life fucking depended on it. Randy made a sound of disapproval at the sight of the camera, but Mickey shook his head. “Thought you might want to watch this back when you fuck yourself thinking about me.”

A brief thought of how the fuck does he know I do that? Crossed his mind for the briefest of moments before he forgot all about it, focusing on the feeling of Mickey’s thick, heavy cock in his mouth. He bobbed his head obediently, feeling Mickey begin to thrust harder, pushing his way down Randy’s throat.

“Yeah, good boy. Look up into the camera with my cock in your mouth, Meeks.” Mickey instructed, voice heavy and dripping with arousal. Randy did just that, feeling Mickey begin to twitch in his mouth as soon as he did. “Mm. You wanna get off?” He asked, smiling at Randy’s muffled yes. “Go on.”

Randy quickly took his own sensitive cock into his hand, realizing quickly his pre-cum had dropped onto Mickey’s hardwood floor. Mickey angled the camera, zooming in on the sight and watching it intently, his hips snapping against Randy’s face urgently.

“Fuck, I’m close.” Mickey grunted, halting his movement. Randy’s nose pressed against Mickey’s skin for a moment, beginning to splutter slightly as Mickey began to release hot ribbons of white down his throat, before pulling back to fill up Randy’s mouth.

The delicious taste, along with Mickey’s gorgeous expression, his head back and his chest heaving as he came, sent Randy into a convulsing mess, cumming all over his own hand, stomach and the ground beneath him. Mickey pulled out of his mouth quickly, relishing in the sound of Randy’s gasping moans as he finished.

It was silent between them for a moment, Randy trembling on his knees, not looking Mickey in the eyes. Mickey still had the camera rolling, looking fondly into the small window of it, before he glanced down at Randy pointedly.

“You made a mess, Meeks.”

Randy let out a sigh, relieved at the broken silence, before he asked, “What?”

Mickey nodded down beneath him at the cum staining the floor. Randy blushed, moving to shakily to stand up, only to be stopped by Mickey’s large, grounding hand.

“Clean it up.”

“I- I was going to. Was gonna get some paper towels and-“

“No, Randy.” Mickey cut him off, the cheeky smile back on his face as he knelt down in front of him. Mickey’s finger dipped into the impressive pool of white, before he raised it to his own mouth and licked it. Randy watched intently, his once softened cock twitching at the sight. Fuck.

“On your hands and knees-“ Mickey stopped, moving the camera and angling it down at the mess. “And clean. It. Up.”

Randy stared at Mickey for a moment, before nodding his head, and doing exactly what he was told.

He got on his hands and knees, dipping his head down, and began to lap up his own cum from the hardwood floor. Mickey watched through the camera, teeth sinking into his bottom lip at the sight.

“Good boy, Meeks.”

#mickey and randy my darlings #no one can tell me they didn’t canonically fuck at least once #I love them #this was ridiculously fun #hope you all enjoy!#scream #mickey altieri #randy meeks #mickey altieri and randy meeks #m x m #mickey altieri smut #randy meeks smut #mickey and randy smut #scream smut

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