#13.3k words is a lot.

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When was the first EXACT moment Linda knew she was in love with Leonard?

@thefleetsfinest -> okay, so somewhere in my brain, this concept and idea of how to detail Linda's entire relationship with love and romantic relationships, and falling in love came about and it morphed from simply answering this answer to writing a drabble that is 13,393 words long. I hope this answers your question, Mel, and I hope you appreciate this! You inspire me a lot and thanks for letting me write this whacky thing; hope it doesn't beak tumblr.

When had she fallen in love. . . . had it been with Steve? He was cute and a little plain. So, no, her first boyfriend wasn’t love. It was never gonna last, but she liked him. . . . what about with Jack? Oh, now there was someone that brought a smile and fondness in her eyes. That had a timer known from start to finish, but it was fun. Jack was good for the heart. . . . Stephen Strange came up in the blind spot and she should have known better. It wouldn’t last either, even with how that ended up. Why did it have to hurt. . . . Didn’t she get engaged? Well, yes, and she had loved him but not enough or perhaps she hadn’t been loved enough.

Somewhere, some psychologist, or pseudo-philosopher like her mother could dissect that relationship with a scalpel. Take out the lungs and liver, the problems and what good it was; look at the diseased heart, put in a jar and turn it for inspection, and call someone the fool. She hopes it was not her.

Now. . . . Leonard Mccoy. . . .

TIME MOVES FORWARD

But first she has to call a friend or she can rent a room, it’s not like she’ll be here longer than a week anyways. After the call with headquarters, she was still cleared to be boarding and joining the crew of the USS-Enterprise returned to the port of San Francisco recently. Her head is level on her shoulders, angled forward and her eyes looking ahead. There is a clear thought in her mind, the new mission and while her heart. . . .

Well, there were two types of doctors the one who put away their feelings and those whose kept them. It was what the Chief Medical Officer aboard the USS-SOLACE had said once when addressing the medical staff as they came to find the outbreak was worst than they had expected and the virus was adapting already, mutated and the variant was not responding to what they had came prepared with.

There were two types of doctors, and those that kept their feelings were going to get sick. That was okay, that meant they would need time to breathe and tend to themselves while they were all swamped with more work than any of the nurses or doctors experienced during their residencies. Linda thought she was the one who kept her feelings, and now as she’s coming onto the Enterprise, heartbreak on her coattails, maybe she would need to put them away. Onto a shelf where she could take them down again when she was ready to take them out and feel them all again, when they were needed. She could be both types.

She was here now, on a new assignment that she had requested transfer to alternate ship and mission type than what the USS-SOLACE had to offer. She gave her all during the harrowing parts on the Solace, loved her work there and did great things for people in need. If she hadn’t done what she had done for love, than she would be back there on SOLACE with its new assignment and helping more people. Linda Carter was committed to path now, she could make commitments and now a new set of people needed her. Any ship of any size would need their doctors.

That was what she told herself, and when she was met face to face with her new CMO, she would say she was HAPPY to be here. Her hand makes contact with Leonard Mccoy’s, a smile before she even looks up into his face. Green gaze meets green gaze as her name falls from her lips, and there’s a beat. A pause where nothing leaves her throat, and it’s as good as the truth that would come from her at the time. ❝ It’s my pleasure. ❞ 

She was happy to be here, to get back to work and immerse herself back into a ship and its crew. Get to know what her duties would be, as she was specially trained in cardiology and cardiothoracic surgery, along with experience dealing with viral pandemics and emergency front line medicine now would always aid her, and familiarize herself with the staff and crew.

Linda wouldn’t need to think about a broken engagement or even speak of that. The ship wasn’t gaining one researcher, Dr. Michelis, but his loss would not be missed. Her hand is still held in Leonard’s, perhaps moments held too long as her lips only pull tighter into a grin, ❝ Well, I am an open book ⸻ don’t be a stranger, we’ll work best if we work as a team and act like friends. ❞   She had meant that, Linda would humor the Chief with any questions and talk in extensive detail about her experience as Doctor Carter and even indulge in details about her father and his work.

Such philosophy would carry over to the whole of the staff here; the nurses, researchers, other doctors, and assisstants all here to maintain the health of a crew over four hundred. They would be her team, and they would act as friends. It would be a different place, a new pace, one which she would have thought had been better for Marshall. . . . now it was hers, all hers ALONE to experience. . . .

FLASH BACK

Out, get out, she has to leave the room. She looks to the Chief, and she had allowed for Linda to excuse herself. PATIENTS DYING? She got used to that; she has known death and looked in its face, held its hand as many would pass on when medicine failed them or when it was their time. Coming here and dealing with the crisis, they all faced massive losses and stood in death’s shadow as they worked tirelessly to fight against it.

It had to take one more before they could figure it out, didn’t it? DEFEATED, TIRED. Her friend, had been her best friend, who laughed with her and encouraged her in their personal lives as. . . . she wouldn’t even be dating Marshall if not for Georgie. She now lay in a hospital bed, dying. That was where Georgie had been the past few weeks, she knows now. EVERY FIBER OF HER FEELS WRECKED.

Linda had promised that tonight would be for Marshall but how could she give herself to him after the news? She wants to scream at Georgie, and then at one of the ship’s psychologists and demand they evaluate her. She can’t be sound mind for rejecting any medical care. She’s just overworked like they all have been, this situation was worse than they had expected. They had needed support, and the masses, the numbers of this outbreak had added an extra digit and it got onto the SOLACE and into its crew. Deaths were coming personally now. Unfortunately for Linda, it was now claiming Georgie and she wanted to swiftly decline, no medicine.

Marshall would understand her skipping a dinner. Would. Should, they loved each other, it should be simple. She’s at his door and entering freely. It’s cold in the room, and he fixes her with a hurt gaze. ❝ Dearest ⸻ ❞  They speak at the same time, and things wither between them in that very moment. He was angry with her, YOU JUST CAN’T PUT ASIDE YOURSELF FOR ONE NIGHT.

❝ My friend is dying! Georgie! ❞ Oh, there’s that eyeroll she despises so much, and all her tears dry up in an instant. She marches with pain in every step further into the apartment, she’s been on her feet this entire week and then the Chief’s telling her about how Georgie’s joined the quarantined and she was going to be dying. She knows he never cared for Georgie, and that was fine even though they wouldn’t be dating without her friend.

PEOPLE DIE, LINDA. ⸻ WE TALKED ABOUT THIS. YOU CAN’T PUT YOUR ONE OTHER PERSON IN FRONT ONCE?

❝ HA! ❞ She bites bitterly, and that’s how it starts. All her emotions torn up, put to tatters and shreds, and he has to push her over the brink. Linda stays on her feet, and she yells right back at him for his snap.

Georgie said they went together because they went match for match. Was this what you were meaning about us, Georgie? She would be suiting up tomorrow to see her in her sorry state.  Ask her why she was making this choice, come to her with her voice sore from yelling it out, ending this relationship from the looks of it.

❝ You are really going to start this right now? People die, but this is Georgie! Losing her fucking life, so of course I wasn’t going to be here with you tonight. Fight me! I know you don’t give a damn about her! But here’s where I thought you gave a damn about me! You know what ⸻ ❞

I DO CARE, BUT DO YOU? ⸻ DON’T MAKE THIS DIFFICULT, LINDA ! YOU HEAR YOURSELF?

She’s losing her friend and she’s losing her boyfriend, oh how she would like for this year to be over with already. Her shoes are coming off, being kicked across the FLOOR, because she’ll be damned if he makes her leave this room when she was whittled to nothing today. Her feet stomp on the FLOOR when she goes for the next round of cutting thorny words. God, everything hurts.  

The argument tears on for hours, raising their voices, back and forth; and she’s surprised they haven’t been reported or dragged out. SHE DOESN’T DO THIS. Linda doesn’t yell in arguments, she argues but she controls herself and Marshall had to chose today of all days to. . . . make her into a woman of hysterics.

TONIGHT, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ENGAGED.

❝ Don’t. Don’t. ❞ Her hand goes up, just to signal for him to go away and leave her alone. There are her tears again, and Linda wants to fall apart; lay in bed and just be an abyss of a person right now, because she was done with everything. At her limits, then torn completely down until she felt like nothing; not enough. Not enough at all. Taken lower than that.

He does it, the whole speech about her and their relationship, gets on one knee and takes her hand, forces her to stay and have her hand held. Tells her that he’ll be here when she loses Georgie, she’s going to need someone. He even has a ring, and she can’t look at him. She can’t listen to him, be told what was supposed to happen and what she should do. Her heart is pounding, hurting, she feels ill. ❝ Dammit, Marshall. ❞ Linda wants to throw up.

She’s going to pull the ring off, drop it and let it fall to the ground. Where does she go from here? ❝ I’m going to go see Georgie. ❞ Where does she go after that?  

TIME MOVES FORWARD

The first few months aboard were going smoothly; there were those moments when the medical bay would be busy and others when she could breathe. One week the replicators were malfunctioning and the food that was produced had left half the ship with food poisoning. It was immediately fixed, but the problem wasn’t known until several hours later after it had been used all day. It was in a moment like that as she’s moving through the room where she feels a little lonely despite everyone around her, like she needs a breath, and she pauses in a moment to take that breath that she hadn’t realized how badly she had needed that.

Her thoughts interrupted when the Chief pulls her attention, catching her taking that breath and she hadn’t even realized she had closed her eyes until she has to open them to look at Dr Mccoy. Greens meets greens, and she smiles to him. ❝ You don’t ever do that, Chief? Take a moment and breathe it all in? Let yourself just get lost in the room ⸻ ❞ Her hand goes to touch his arm, than to his hand and redirects his hand to his stomach. Mimics herself the same gesture, hand to her stomach and closes her eyes again. ❝ Try it, eyes close; breath and smell the room, breath again and just push yourself. Be the room, and it helps sometimes. ❞

Chief Mccoy’s been excellent to work with, and they’ve hit it off; both of them possibly taking what Linda had said to him when they met to heart. They work as a team and act as friends. She thinks maybe that was just his personality as well, to get along. He’s grumpy, in a way that makes her roll eyes with a smile; laugh over the things he says and sometimes if she didn’t have tight control on her tongue she would match back in wit with his sarcastic comments. Leonard tells her that’s part of his Southern charm, to which she had scoffed and admitted to having no idea about that at all. ❝ Not an Earth girl; so as far as I know you’re making that up. ❞  If it offends him, she laughs.

It felt good to have a friend again. He was one of her first ones here besides a few of the nurses aboard. They would have lunch together sometimes. He’s complaining about his headaches to which she knows now means two of bridge crew men of whom he’s known since the academy. They were talking about the second, Clint right now, and Linda tell him that she can handle Clint just fine. ❝ Honestly, I like him; reminds me of my brother Tag. ❞

They got into the habit of being around each other, they worked well and were fast friends, lunches together unless the Chief was called off with the bridge crew. Linda should know better, not after all the heartache she knows, but her eyes still follow him, watch and stare for a moment. Just a moment before she’s smiling back to her table mates. She does that, she knows, but it has to be nothing. There was still that gaping empty feeling left in her chest when she marched out of Marshall’s apartment. BUT Linda has eyes, and she sees him, Leonard Mccoy. His southern charm might be something after all. Except she needed it to be nothing.

Part of their friendship, their thing, comes in the form of sitting in his office on the floor together. Today, he’s inviting her in because she’s been struggling all day. Tired from the work, and then there’s her heartbreak, memories coming back to her. She hadn’t intended on tearing up in his office, sitting in front of his couch and telling him about Georgie. ❝ I never had a best friend quite like her, and I had only known her since Starfleet Academy ⸻ She could make an entire room brighten up, smile and laugh even the saddest state of that room. We needed, my god, that ship and everyone needed her. I need her. I wished I had met her sooner in life. God, Leonard, I miss her, I ⸻  I know she would tell me now, Carter, you can’t go fussing about me. Go make friends, live life, get married, help people dammit. Put yourself out there on the god-fucking star map. Excuse my French. ❞ She hadn’t even realized she had called him Leonard, but when they were in here, just being friends who listened to each other than why wouldn’t they use their names?

She hasn’t talked about Georgie, at all, not in a while. Linda had put all her feelings in jars on the shelf, and now she’s opening them with Leonard. It messes with her heart a little, trusting him and leaning into him as she does, processes again a loss she hadn’t been over thinking about.

There’s more than just Georgie feelings being felt there; after all, her best friend had been responsible for her dating her ex-fiancé. They talk for about her previous ship, about Georgie a lot more, and Marshall comes up which he asks about Dr Michelis because he was supposed to be aboard as well, and with her. She’s curt about him, that they had been together as that is what would have been on their transfer documents, a couple. It’s over, all over now, and here she was. ❝ I am glad to be on this ship, and I hope the ship is glad I am here as well, Chief. ❞ Is it, are you, her eyes wanting to ask.

FLASH BACK

DARK EYES, ALMOST LIKE VOIDS, HOVER OVER HER. A part of her wants to shove his face aside, but another part of her shivers as Jack’s lips part in that smile that he’s always got on. Wants those lips to be all over her. Her hand does go up to his face, he is turning his head and kissing at her thumb. WE ARE GONNA BE LATE. Yeah, she definitely wanted to shove at his face now, but she doesn’t.

❝ And whose fault would that be, Jack Tryon? ❞ She quips, and maybe her hands are dragging down to his chest because he was hers for the taking; and Linda thinks he was being ridiculous.  WELL, YOURS. ❝ Well, I wasn’t going to have you meet my parents. ❞ She admits to him honestly, with a smile and there’s no wound on his face to that.

They knew what this was. She was in her residency, in the same place that she had always been, and he was a ship doctor, always on the move except when the ship was currently dry docked with about fifty some crew working on this or that. It would be like that for three months, then it would be leaving again, and that is JACK came into the bar she was at one night.

He thought he was a hot shot, and they fell into bed without much work needed. Really, she had been stressed because her attending had been pulling her hairs out all week over everything. He was easy, and Linda just needed the stress relief. Jack’s all charm, and a little older, and she thinks that being on a ship for so long has led him to lose his mind because he asks to be hers for a limited time. She really thinks that he did lose it, but then she must be losing her mind too when he’s showing up everyday to pick her up, get a drink, and only some nights follow her home. Pretend like he’s the perfect boyfriend, and don’t you still have work yourself mister, she asks.

Linda definitely knows that she must have been insane as well to agree to whatever this was between them. One day, Jack points out that the natural thing for a couple as involved in them was to introduce him to her parents. ❝ And what about yours? ❞ He takes the two plants in the room, and holds them up, gives them little voices to his parents.

Jack was a good laugh; and she does introduce him to her parents. It’s a laugh, with her mother asking her father if he could perform a wellness check on their daughter to be so fast with him and she doesn’t know a thing about him. Tag’s the one who points out, and God the things that kid says sometimes, that she’s advertising her sex toy. What’s a seventeen-year-old know about that?

Jack was a nightmare after hearing that, they don’t even get into doing anything that night because she can’t stop laughing. Making fun of what Taggart said, and all she thinks is Jack’s a good friend. Great for a laugh, but they never talked about anything serious. She needed that if they were going to be real.

TIME MOVES FORWARD

Growing older, birthdays didn’t feel as though they had mattered much. They never really had, when there was always more on her plate. That wasn’t to say that Linda wasn’t proud of her age, that she didn’t wear the lines that would form on her face as she showed her maturity with pride. She did. Forty was the next threshold in her life to cross. She’s made herself comfortable on the ship over these ten months. It was starting to feel like her place that she was meant to be, faces becoming recognizable. It was a marvel to simply be tending to people, to be their doctor, familiar and kind. The Enterprise became home, took her on this journey, to new and unknown places with good people. It’s exciting, and its different work than the Solace but she was liking all the same.

There’s someone that comes to mind these past few days that gives her an old feeling of a good friend, of a best friend. He’s got green eyes, tall, sarcastic wit, and Southern charm. The Chief Medical Officer has become what Linda would say is her best friend, and she would know what one of those felt like from Georgie and even a little bit from Jack. Leonard’s something else, and what was she to do about the other feeling? They fall into place, work side by side well together, share odd hour chats in his office. Although he’s been a terrible influence on her own bedside manners, especially when Clint’s come in to make his wisecracks, she’ll snip right back like Leonard does or visibly roll her eyes at him.

Which if she already feels this way about him, why wouldn’t she feel more? Shouldn’t she have seen it coming that her friend, who could look at a file and see when her birthday was, make a big deal about it. It’s what for friends were for, would do, they were just friends, to make each other feel special and take care of each other. So why did it throw her heart for skipped beat when he surprises her for her fortieth birthday.

You are not going to cry, Carter, put those feelings back on the shelf. Linda’s all smiles at the room of people, through the festivities and being celebrated which feels different than the last celebrations had without her best friend, Georgie; but maybe Leonard’s been left for her to be that her best friend now. It’s sweet to do any of this, when she would have settled just fine for well wishes and nothing more. Yet he went and did this, and she bickers with him at the end of the party about going to bed. As it becomes just the two of there, Linda notices something about that, about him, then his green eyes, and his smile.

Leonard’s telling her to go enjoy a good night of rest after her birthday party. That shouldn’t make her tear up, and maybe one of jars had come off the shelf without meaning to. Her feelings were being had and felt, and he only makes it worse on her heart because he had to be sincere, worried at the tears. ❝ I ⸻ No, I’m amazing, this was. . . . you’re, thank you so much for this, and being my friend. ❞ My best friend, and she knows that looking at him that she’s let her heart get away from her again. Should have kept it in its jar, left it to the highest shelf, because she can’t go crushing on (falling for) her superior officer, for another doctor when she’s. . . . ❝ Turn in early too for once, Mccoy! That’s my birthday wish. ❞

FLASH BACK

Her finger moves in a slow circle over a bare chest, and she had gotten into this habit. Linda was focused on her courses at the Starfleet Academy and maybe she had been foolish to think that Jack would show up again out of the blue after years. They hadn’t been anything, but he had left her thinking and now here she was late night with another doctor. He outranks her, technically an authority on her but not for another two years would they be working with each other.

A finger goes up her back, shiver along her spine, and she doesn’t even know what she likes about him. He’s arrogant. She rejected him three times, but then the fourth time he asks, she says once. Linda rejects his offers and attempts at guidance in all things Starfleet. This non-relationship, all it really was Linda being shown around San Francisco and sleeping with him. That ONCE was eight months ago now. ❝ You shouldn’t lie to a doctor. ❞ She could tell that there was something on his mind, that he was lying about being absolutely fine.

They talk in soft voices, and she doesn’t kiss him when they part in bed. It’s how they were, he’s dry and dark, and she’s got Starfleet dreams in front of her. They aren’t so affectionate with each other. She had her life to be focusing on, and so she gets up, to dress herself and get back to her roommate.

GET A DRESS AND JOIN ME TONIGHT

❝ You want to show off your new girlfriend? ❞  She asks tying her hair up, and he tells her not to flatter herself and then she leaves him to his bed. If there’s a smile to her face, she can lie and say it’s a number of other things than Stephen Strange wanting to show off his girlfriend.

TIME MOVES FOWARD

❝ I am going to try pulling a page from Mr. Barton’s book, Chief ❞   Linda begins to chide softly as she is pulling him aside the moment that he was aboard the ship again. His arm had been stuck in a torpedo, of which they only recently found out what was inside of them much to everyone’s shock and some’s horror. Her hands are gentle on his arm, and she can breathe a little easier now that he’s in her sight and seemingly fine. ❝ And apply some humor to defuse a tense situation. ❞

She was worried about him, and the doctor isn’t going to curb her own personal feelings for once with that. ❝ You got your arm stuck, what were you thinking? That you were Jim? ❞  Her eyes search his face, and this whole thing has been one of the more stressful and he could have ended up a blast stain if he and Dr Marcus had been a second slower in what they had been doing. ❝ Lapse of judgement like Clint always has? ❞ 

Broken skin, bruising, and it could have been a lot worse. She actually feels her chest go tight at the thought of that, and he catches her holding her breath. She exhales, ❝ You’ll be okay, Chief, no death or amputation. This should help. ❞ Linda gets him with the hypospray, adjusted for painkiller and for boosting natural bruise healing.

Even putting aside the feelings that cause her heart rate to raise when he’s close, he had become her best friend. To which she knew she wasn’t his, and that’s fine. He was the closest friend she had aboard of the ship, and to lose him or to have something happen to him. . . . Her heart couldn’t take that again. Linda couldn’t lose him, as her friend or as the guy she won’t make a move on. He’s not looking anyways.

FLASH BACK

She’s a fresh-faced medical student, and she’s already a quick study (how could she not be her father is head of the cardiac department on the base’s main hospital) and performing top of her marks. Linda was polarizing, liked and disliked in equal measure but she kept herself none the wiser to any who looked on at her.

Except that she would be blind or a fool, if she didn’t notice how one of the doctor’s eyes followed her. She knew most of the people here, after all she was a Carter and at least a quarter of the doctors and professors she was now studying under would appear around her father’s poker table for a night of cards and gin. A table she’s visited and been at since she was little. Linda knew why others were jealous of her, it was because she had that leg up.

This doctor was unfamiliar to her, and his eyes follows her around every corner that she turns. It would go on like this for weeks, until one day she would turn a corner and march right over to him to request he either give her his name or stop looking at her so intensely. STEVE STUART.  He gets called away right as they finally get somewhere, and she shouts her name at him, Steve looking back to her twice more before he has to turn the corner and look away.

Steve Stuart doesn’t stop with his staring; in fact, he keeps looking at her, but they never seem to catch more than a moment to say anything to the other than the first word that comes out at hello. She’s a medical student, in her twenties, but that doesn’t make her naïve. It’s not as though she doesn’t get why anyone would be looking at someone like he looks at her. Linda knows she was a pretty face, but she’s been focused on degree, on becoming a doctor that her family could be proud of. THEY WERE ALREADY PROUD. It's more that she had a legacy name to live up to and Linda couldn’t let anyone or herself down. The young Carter was focused and not looking back.

One afternoon, she manages to shave off a few extra minutes, having figured out when Steve Stuart does rounds and get a look at him herself; her friend Gwen was right that he was something to look at, good looking. She doesn’t know him though, but she could if someone makes the change from looking to talking. When he catches her looking at him now, he waves with a smile and Linda decides she going to take the chance to go over. ❝ So, what are you looking at? ❞

YOU. I ALWAYS THOUGHT ALL THE ANGELS WERE UP IN HEAVEN.

❝ You know that is not as smooth as you think, Steve Stuart; you’ll have to get to know me first. ❞

Doctor Steve Stuart asks her out than and there, much to the thrill of her friends, Dolly and Gwen. They both thought he was cute, but it goes nowhere from there after a few dates because neither of them find the time for each other more than sparing cursory looks. Their schedules never lined up more than a few minutes. Things like that happen; she was focused on her future in medicine, and he was always more interesting in looks than in person. They’d always have their looks until she doesn’t notice him looking anymore; or maybe she stopped looking, stopped caring to notice.

At least someone did something, so she could know his name.

TIME MOVES FORWARD

Truthfully, she could have joined in the rest of the crew; gotten apartments and rooms, request shore leaves approved or denied by Commander Spock and go home. Yet there was nothing on Earth for her; there were only ex-somethings that she thought little of now. Her thoughts, her eyes, she had been elsewhere, and she’s moved on now. There wasn’t anything here but a Chief Medical Officer that she was worried about; deep in his grief, consumed with the death and recovery of Captain James T. Kirk.

That’s who he was looking at, Jim Kirk, and who he was losing sleep and skipping meals over. Linda watches him stay awake for hours, stay in the room longer than everyone else and refuse their insistence that he go and get some rest; that he leaves the monitoring of the comatose Captain with one of the other physicians on staff in this facility or from the staff of the Enterprise. He didn’t, and Linda knew what she had to do. She had to step in, force him out of the room whether he liked her afterwards or not.

Linda stood her ground, entering the room once she sees three of the bridge crew leave the room. There were a few, feeble attempts to speak to him over the last few days; trying to pull him away from where he was looking. His eyes are on the monitors, on the captain’s unconscious form and he’s going to fall ill from this if Leonard continues like he does. It was all that he was doing was this, trying to play God, bring his best friend back to life, and why can’t he look anywhere else in the room; listen to anyone else?

She’s worried about him immensely, takes up much of her own thoughts, and then she knows this scene suddenly. Georgie sick and dying, laying in a bed for weeks, and a cure that worked came in the difference of a few weeks. All coming too late. Georgie rejected medical care too early, something she had always felt, always thought. A doctor and their best friend; she’s stood in this room and been in his shoes. Never use Georgie’s name in vain. It’s only been a few years since her best friend’s passing.

It's a last-ditch attempt to get her friend to take care of himself before he destroys himself, what feels like a final effort to get him to look at her now. ❝ You are going to leave this room and you going to lie down, somewhere. I don’t care if it’s in the damn hallway, you have a pulse, lungs functioning, all interior processes are there and there’s brain activity. Jim’s alive. ❞ Her tone is voice is severe, because Linda doesn’t use Georgie’s name lightly. He’d know this. ❝ Your friend is going to wake up, I would have torn myself to tatters and shreds to keep Georgie alive. That wasn’t in her wishes, you aren’t going to say goodbye like I did to her. So out of this room, sleep three hours and eat something; than ⸻ ❞  Than Leonard can come back to this, and she’ll keep watching Leonard from the sidelines until something changes.

FLASH BACK

All things come to an end; and they already knew this was coming. Linda would say, at the least, she was fond of Jack but there’s something different about him, in the last two days before he’s supposed to board back on his ship and leave forever. She should have guessed that it would happen.

Life isn’t a romance novel, of second chances and surprise meetings and of resolving and confessing one’s feelings. It wasn’t like the stories of whirlwind romance that last a lifetime like her mother would write about. Jack felt like that; a character out of Doreen Carter’s novels meant to come relieve all her stresses and worries, make her feel more than enough, experience love, and last forever.

This was all plainer than that, she was working on her residency and wondering what was going to be next. Was life always going to be here? And then he’s a Starfleet doctor whose ship was in dry dock for only three months, and leaving today.

Saying goodbye was going to be that, simple, and she could say that with a smile as the words leave. He was fun, a romance novel come to life, but what did she know about him? Nothing, as much as she doesn’t think that he really saw her for who she was. It’s a fling. A short-lived friendship. Fun. What do you say, that’s what his eyes and lips were asking of her.

❝ Well, goodbye, right? That’s what we say. ❞ Linda tells him, pulling away from the hug and Jack’s got funny face put on.

“ Linda, I, you ⸻ ”  There it is, she thinks she knows what he could say. Proclamation of feelings, confession about why he did this or why her, tell her that something has changed for him. She had thought that he had done this because he had have been out of his mind, or dying, or lost; that he needed someone or something. That wasn’t going to be her, this was a three-month fling. Nothing more than that.

❝ Goodbye, Jack, you were fun to TRYON for a while. ❞  See, she remembers how he used his last name like a line, and it made her laugh, roll her eyes whenever he’s used it with her.

He chokes for a moment, on his words on what he was going to say to her; changes his mind on whatever he was going to confess, to say and thinks better of it, agrees with Linda. One more moment, and Jack’s composed himself. ” Carter, you’re gonna make someone really lucky one day. “  Just not him. Linda rolls his eyes at him, because she wasn’t thinking about that, but she’ll grace him with a smile. “ Well, than I guess this is good bye. ”

TIME MOVES FORWARD

AND SHE KNOWS HIM. Linda sees him now, listens as he sounds worn down by the year, by a single day, and then the last two weeks. His heart worn down focused on someone unavailable. She knows that feeling. Over the year, Leonard and Linda have given each other bits and pieces of each other so they knew each other. They’d done a lot, over the year, to let the other in, to see each other and to know. She watched his face fall, and she won’t regret sticking around, or the way she feels for him in that moment, and then in this moment as they sit in his apartment.

The whiskey still feels like it’s burned her throat, but he had been eyeing it with guilt; that he had swallowed too much, and Linda’s met enough people in her lifetime, to know the different walks of life to recognize the alcoholics and addicts; and Leonard she knew about, he told her too, about himself, which mattered all the more.

Linda’s here because she cares, because he could use the friend and they know enough to trust each other and Linda’s not leaving him alone. When she’s done talking, she listens to him, and it all starts to make sense. There’s a twinge, a squeeze to her chest, but her face won’t show her reactions. Linda just holds his face in her hands, holds his head and leans into his shoulder shows him that she was listening as intently, with the whole of her person.

Greens meeting green, unflinching and not judging as he chokes on words, swallows and looks away from her because the weight of his words are too much to share, to bear, so scarcely shared for him. He was carrying around so much, the loss of Pike, the day’s events and crewman lost, feelings for Jim, and then Jim dying, listening to Jim wake up to thanking Spock while he stood to the side today, and lastly drinking past his limits. Lastly, not being able to go to and share that with Clint, the friend he got sober with.

I KNEW I NEEDED TO BUT I COULDN’T, INSTEAD I DRANK

How her heart aches as he tells, sobs, he can’t handle these two weights at once, dealing with his deep feelings about Jim, toward Jim, for Jim (which maybe she knew, and she won’t admit she knows his feelings better than a listening ear, knows what it means to feel and look at someone and it is not the same, that was how some friendships were) and then drinking more than he allowed himself; why he drank and how much he drank. Linda knew that Leonard and Clint were close, and now she knew why. They got sober together, and now he’s broken that. She tries to hold his gaze as he moves to look away.

❝ Who’s disappointed in you? He won’t be, and I am certainty not disappointed. ❞ Be nicer to my friend, she thinks about him, and Linda can’t know the intricacies that he was feeling; ❝ It sounds like you’re the only one disappointed with yourself. ❞ How she knows that she cares for him greater than friendship. She could do this for anyone as a good doctor, even as a friend, console the weary. However, Linda knew she wouldn’t hold someone quite like this, look at anyone like she was looking at him.  

It all aches a little like that.  

FLASH BACK

He took her back, as she came to him feeling weary and worn, taking her best friend’s words to heart. If she could have waited a week, two more weeks, only a little more time and then she could have had Georgie here too. Linda won’t admit that she begged and that she had been wrong, and she was sorry for yelling; and she needed him, she would need him, and she loved him. It was one very bad day, one very bad night, that was all. Linda’s sorry and he was right about her; and Georgie’s help screwed her head back on the right way.

And Georgie passes, and then it wasn’t long after that they got the serum right, the vaccine, and things would change. That’s how that year had went, with her being engaged to Marshall, and he did hold her through losing her friend and he loved her, and she did love him. Linda loved him almost as much as she loved Georgie, and now he was the person she loved most (well, she still loved her career more and helping people; being needed by people). She had needed him, because that was a loss that wore down on her for months and would wear on her for many more years to come, she was sure.

The Solace is delayed in returning home, there’s been a situation an additional six months they had been away from port. The Captain and the Chief took stock of the crew and medical team; they were tired but willing, spirits not broken. They went to help, and then they could go home.

Linda’s in their shared quarters, reading a book as she waited for Marshall, they would be back on Earth soon and she would go home with him. They had topics to discuss, related to the ship’s return because these four years on the ship had worn on long for her fiancé. Linda saw he was unhappy, so maybe it was the ship, emergency and crisis, dealing with the sick that would be a lot for anyone. Linda’s toughened up because of this, but maybe Marshall hadn’t at all.

❝ We don’t have to stick with the same ship or assignment, we could transfer to one of the science ships; that could be a nice change of pace. ❞ She suggests to him, when she’s gotten him sitting with her and reaching to take his hand, to start the discussion about what would be next for and that’s where the disconnect starts to happen between them. His fingers go to toy with a notably barren spot on her ring finger, with which she knows what he was doing.

Knew what would be coming up next from his lips, so she moves to kiss him first before he can speak. When were they going to get married? ❝ Just something to consider before we even get back on the ground, and you know that I do want to marry you. ❞  That didn’t feel like a lie, because she did. Linda loved Marshall, and she would be his wife, and they would go everywhere together, everywhere that she was looking forward at. He would be right along at her side, focused on study and research, and wasn’t this what he signed up for?

He makes that sigh, looks her in the eye like she isn’t getting it and maybe she wasn’t, and it wasn’t enough, and she wasn’t enough. Looking so far forward, at what was next because she would be giving up being on ship with the people who have become her friends and family after four years; saw each other through the hardest parts of crisis. Linda was giving that up because this wasn’t working for Marshall and she saw that, but she wasn’t stopping at what she was, who she was; being on a starship and being a doctor. It’s too much of Linda now to stop after one starship, one assignment. She would give up the Solace as home, the crew as family, for Marshall to find a better place for both of them.

❝ We’ll keep talking, and I’ll handle all that ⸻ okay, I love you, Marshall, come on, I’ll show you how much ❞

TIME MOVES FORWARD

It only takes them an hour longer before she manages to get Leonard out of his apartment, off the floor, and gotten him to finish a glass of water. Linda puts on a smile, it can be hard to do that and to be disappointed with yourself, to be coping and dealing with loss; she’s dealt with a lot, and she knows that at some point forward had to be looked at and it would take a lot longer after these last two weeks. She can smile for the both of them, look forward.

Linda knows what it was like to feel that way, to feel alone, to feel not enough; but now she’s got her head on her shoulders screwed on the right way. She knows how to sweep herself off the floor, and right now he needed the hand in getting up off that floor. A good start to dealing with everything was to start at the beginning of the day and that meant breakfast. Linda holds out her arm for him, holds out her hand for him and they would go find somewhere to have breakfast. ❝ Come on, we’ll walk together. ❞

She figures that was as good as any of a way to start, to help Leonard carry on and her heart may ache for him, over him; and there’s a lot more she knows about him that she will think about. Later, she’ll think about herself and that later, right now he mattered more. He’s barely eaten more than he absolutely had to, and almost had a whole whiskey bottle. Leonard needed food, rest, to breath and find something to focus on. Smile a little.

❝ We’ll find a place that serves toast and jams, that’s always been my cure after terribly awful night. I’d sit at the breakfast table with Tag, and we’d eat an entire stack of toast until our stomachs felt like bursting and try a different flavor of jam on each slice. ❞

Then they would carry on with the day, then the week, and figure everything else after that. She would have to figure out what she was going to be doing with her time, where she would be staying while the ship was in repairs. They’ll talk about that over breakfast, what to think about forward and start figuring out how to heal.

FLASH BACK

Her things are being packed, how this had happened that she would end up with him where her things would migrate from her apartment with Georgie than end up in Stephen Strange’s. It was better this way; she’s telling herself as the feeling of anger and shame follows after her, because she would be graduating from Starfleet this year and she wanted to take an assignment on a starship; and it was like the relationship with Jack except this one had lasted longer. It would have to end. However, it had gone on long enough that they were going to have admit there was feelings between the two of them. At least, for Linda, as it turns out.

However, that was where she was feeling like a fool for making a home in his sanctuary and laying on his chest after they had sex, talking in whispers when they found the time and she’d dress up for him; be on his arm and shown off as his new girlfriend. Caring for him, and for them.

Now there was a Clea Strange at his door, that he hadn’t ever mentioned before, and Linda had better things to do with her time; better places to be. Linda’s marks at the Academy were all at the top, and she should keep it that way and it’d be easier without being the other woman. She wasn’t even the only other woman; she was just the one who. . . . She doesn’t even know what she was to him if anything; he gave her names, they were Sherlock and Watson, and they had their things, and now all she thinks is that she was a fool to him.

Clea’s sweet, talks to her and tells her that they had been separated, and Linda being there hadn’t hurt her. She left him because of his infidelities, because he couldn’t handle his problems and it doesn’t help Linda. So, what was she? His next mid-life crisis? She was a lot better than that. Clea’s incredibly sweet to help her, and they talk more than she expected. Clea’s the estranged wife of Stephen Strange, but Linda’s not a fan of feeling like the mistress, and what was Clea doing back anyway?

That catches on Clea’s face, and Linda doesn’t need her to answer. Oh, well, she missed him, and she wanted to give him a chance. Linda was evidence he hasn’t changed much in the time she had left. Clea smiles to her, gives her a squeeze to her hand and tells her that she owes her, if there was anything she ever needed than she could call either of them.

Linda thanks her, and she doesn’t know why when the wife feels like a slap in her face. It would be later when she’s back at her apartment with Georgie; that she would be angry and hurt. Be in hysterics like she hasn’t before, but most of that comes from feeling like a fool and being disappointed with herself.

TIME MOVES FORWARD

Linda was going to stay with some of the crew who were in the same boat as her, not sure where she was going, and her home wasn’t here on Earth; and it’d be lonely to explore the planet by herself anyway. She thinks that right now was the first moment that she has been alone, truly alone, sitting with herself and she’s requested the same amount of shore leave as everyone else, but she wouldn’t even be leaving the port of San Francisco, until. . . .

Leonard Mccoy catches her, and he looks like he’s been getting some rest now and clearing of his head. OH, heart sings at his sights. It’s good to see that after the last few weeks, feels good to see him in a better-looking state. He’s got something to ask her, which wasn’t what she was expecting from him with where he was going finding her and what he had to say. Linda’s got the words on her lips, rolling over her tongue and ready to release as much as she knows the pang it causes in her chest. WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR? She would say if he thanked her. Leonard was her best friend, and so of course, she was going to care and be there for him. Linda would do that without question.

There was a thank you, but that’s not the only thing that he had come to her to say, had come to her to ask. He’s telling her how he was going home, to Georgia, he needed some Jojo time, and he was inviting her to come, that he’d like for her to join him on the leave. She hadn’t any plans, she had confessed with laughs because she wouldn’t be one of the ones going home or seeing her family. Her friends the Academy were in different places, the only people in this city were ex-somethings if they were still here. Her family was on a whole Starbase in another quadrant of space, far away.

Linda can’t quell the feeling that bubbles up when he asks to come, because its time and closeness with him, and she says yes without much of a thought. So, she’ll take the time off with him than. Go with him, and like that she had a place to go, it may not be her home, but it was with her dearest friend and his friends, though Peter and Clint were closer to friends for her as well, and she would love to meet the family that he has talked about.

On the way there, she sits with him. Looks at him when he’s not looking, and she’s endeared by the fact that Clint and Peter were joining them on this leave. There are feelings that swell in her stomach, churn in chest, that were familiar and unfamiliar in equal measures. It’s a contrast seeing him now to a few weeks ago. And maybe he’s told Clint and maybe he hasn’t yet; to sitting on his apartment floor and listening to him heartbroken (how her heart cracked in the same ways in sympathy) over what he and the pilot shared that he had broken; the disappointment in himself.

Sitting here with the three of them, Leonard talking with Clint. Watching that was why she liked Leonard, that was what she had liked him for, that he was bringing them too and opening his home, his family, taking this time with them. It had meant a lot to Linda, to see that was who he was. Inviting.

Georgia is a good time, and Jojo’s a sweet kid. She’s always been good with kids, the whole family joked she raised baby brother Tag herself; Linda always wore being an older sister as her proudest achievement. She likes Georgia, seeing another side of Leonard and meeting the Mccoys made her feel like she was home with the Carters. It’s going to be awful on her heart, isn’t this? It’s not going to help with the thoughts that she needs to be letting go, moving on, and accept that she would be happy to live in friendship with him.

One night, it was just the two of them enjoying the night air and she was at his side, and she tears up. How many times is she going to cry with Leonard? There are tears because she hadn’t a place to go and he invited her to come with him to his place to go, opened his home and family. Linda hadn’t seen her family in person in a long while, hasn’t been on Starbase 515 since four years of academy, four years on the Solace, and then she boarded the Enterprise. He doesn’t know how much it means to her, doesn’t know what being hugged in his arms means for her either.

Say something, say something, say something and she doesn’t. What holds her tongue is not something that Linda think about.

On the trip from Georgia back to the Enterprise’s port, she was sitting next to him again and there’s chatter around them, but she’s quiet. Her eyes on a book, green gaze throwing glances to Leonard now and again, and she has to say it, right? She has to admit this, at least once, because she feels it in her chest; like she has never felt before with anyone else. Her lips don’t move, her voice doesn’t make a sound at all. Nothing moves, none of it comes out, and he is none the wiser to her thoughts or feelings. Linda can’t avoid admitting that after the weeks in Georgia with him and doing nothing about her feelings were small or ever to go away, that she has to say it to herself at the very least.

She has to say it to herself first, admit it to her person and acknowledge the feeling; know it and then she should think about saying that thing. She could go about no longer just looking at him, and noticing how her friend, best friend, was someone more than that; and maybe Linda wanted to give herself, give the old heart in the jar another chance. Tell him, make the change, sink or swim; but first she has to say to herself anyway.

Linda looks at him, pretends to know what she was laughing along with as she thinks, as she feels it that she has FALLEN IN LOVE with Leonard Mccoy, and oh how she LOVES HIM DEARLY already as a friend and it is felt more than that.

They’ll get back on the ship soon, get back into the work rhythm, and when things feel healed after what happened with Khan and Admiral Marcus. All settled down than Linda will think about what she does with her feelings. What does she do with them? Give it time, and maybe she’ll figure it out. Risk telling him.

FLASH BACK

THIS WAS THE WORST FEELING. She’s never known a heartbreak like this one; and Linda felt herself break when she knew she failed and found herself responsible for a patient’s life being lost that first time. Thirty-eight lives lost under her care the first week that they were here, and yet that was nothing to this feeling now that she didn’t know what to do with.

Now she knows what happens when people don’t know what to do with their feelings. She didn’t know what to do with herself or with hers. Marshall wanted to marry her, but than his words hurt and cut her deep; left her feeling beaten down when she was already kicked to the ground.

Georgie hadn’t been avoiding her for. . . . Georgie had been avoiding her because she had gotten sick, and it got to her quick, and she’s been lying in a hospital bed, wanting to hide this from her. Dying alone, and Linda can’t yell at her, for the stupid decisions to do that, for dying. Linda wants to know why she wants to feel it all, no medicine, and die in that way. What the hell was she thinking?

Her heart was breaking in two ways, and she didn’t think that was possible for it to be torn to shreds. Some doctors put their feelings away and some keep them, and she wants to throw hers up as she enters; finds herself sick as she sees her friend not looking her best.

If the hours of argument with Marshall left her dry, empty of all her tears, voice aching and weak; simply seeing her best friend like this had left her completely filled to the brim with tears and they were already spilling over. Linda holds her hand in hers, touches her gloved hand to her cheeks and asks her what she could do for her, and she can’t help herself; what happened and how? That spills her lips as loosely as her tears flowed. Why and then what the hell are you thinking?

She begs her to hold on, and then Georgie shakes her head; maybe she’ll help beat this, her dying being the key to figuring out the cure to this mutation (it was like a living learning creature). They talk about everything after that; and then Linda is telling Georgie that she thinks she was single now, and how Marshall was going to propose.

That she was so tired, and hurt, and angry; doesn’t even get to telling her friend what they had argued about, all the nasty things that both of them had said to each other. Georgie tells her that she had helped Marshall out with that, and she was glad to hear that he was going through with it; that he had wanted to go through with asking her. She knew weeks before, and she asks Linda if she could salvage this. Georgie thought that they looked good as a couple, and that must be a nice thing to be wanted and needed and loved like Linda was.

It was Georgie who tells her that she still had her chances, that she could go and salvage it. Apologize, because people needed people and she wasn’t going to have Georgie anymore. How it all hurt. Linda didn’t know what to do, and she’s asking her what to do with her feelings, with Marshall, and everything because knowing she was losing her best friend wasn’t helping her. She listens to her, every word Georgie says, and it’s her guide as she goes back tail between her legs to salvage her relationship with Marshall. You loved him after all.

Watching Georgie go, day by day. It was the hardest thing Linda had been through. And then the doctors, the scientists figure out the serum, the right treatments and cure but it’s all too late.

FLASH FORWARD

Time passes on, and Georgia is still on her mind, and time continues on that. The ship’s been repaired, most of the events they all went through swept under the rug and a new truth is spun. Beyond the dead, there are crew who leave the ship and so there are new faces aboard the Enterprise, all required to pass through the medical bay and be seen by the Chief or any one of his staff. They’ll come to know them, as they would be out on a five-year mission and that felt like a high honor.

It is slow the first few weeks to find the new rhythm of things, but things were healing as all things do and start to resume back to the pace that she had gotten used to over the past year and months on this ship. She’s glad to be here, to be a part of this crew.

Today was a quiet day, the chance to take a breath and her eyes find herself looking at the familiar faces, processing everything all over again. Georgia the place, being there with him and what she had realized, what she admitted to herself about her feelings for Leonard, and Georgie the person was on her mind as well when her eyes settle down on Leonard Mccoy in conversation with Ms Carol Danvers across the medbay.

Okay, what am I doing here, Georgie?

Let’s break this down, so what is going on?

AFFLICATION: okay, starting from there. It’s my heart and not the kind of issues that I studied in medical school. See him over there. Leonard Mccoy. Chief Medical Officer. Are you hearing the problem? Another doctor, are you keeping count of how many that is for me? Along with he is my Chief Medical Officer, remember Stephen and technically Steve could have been in charge of me too. Weird how it was those two, and Marshall was older than me, and ranked higher. I’m not even done, the affliction is in my heart; I like him and maybe I’ve already fallen for him more than that, in love or love him. I’ve never liked my mother’s poetry, but I could think in poetry about him.

So, you have a type, you always knew what you wanted, Linda.

Not now. Not now do I. Stephen and Marshall broke my heart. Torn me down. I don’t know if I want to handle that. If I can handle that again.

What makes you think it will be the same thing as all the rest?

VARIABLE: Well, he is divorced? I know that doesn’t really bother me, but I have to count all the facts. Alcoholic, which doesn’t bother me either. We all have our things, and mine is this right here. My last two relationships ended, and Marshall was right about all the things he said about me. I am too focused on what I want, and I love moving forward, I love being a doctor and challenge. I fell in love with being Starfleet actually, and it’s hard but it’s exciting. Okay, okay, so I could screw it up. Really screw it up, I do that. Great doctor, terrible girlfriend. He could want something from me that I can’t give. I couldn’t be whatever Jack wanted me to be, too short of a time to know him, and I don’t know what Stephen wanted me for. Marshall wanted a wife, and I kept prolonging that. It never happened. I’m not enough, and what if he wants something; or he asks me later down the line to chose him. God, I really think he's incredible Georgie, and I am in too deep, and I don’t know what to do. The rug could be swept out from under me, it always does when my heart runs away from me. Tell me what to do, Georgie.

Come on, Linda, you always know; you don’t need me to tell you.

P.O.A: No, I really don’t know what to do, there’s no plan of action here. I know that I should say something or try to move on. I could try, but then I love his and mine’s friendship too, and maybe sometimes that isn’t worth the risk. You chose to die quicker and in pain. Was that worth it? My two options are saying something or nothing. Move on or not, maybe just living in these feelings and friendship is enough. I thought he might have said something, once, but. . . . Maybe I should just give up.

Linda inhales, holds her breath for a moment before she lets out a sigh, looking away from the man at the other end and looks back down to what she was doing; engages herself in conversation with the nurse on duty and shakes her head to get the thoughts out of her mind to carry on. She was still figuring it out.

FLASH BACK

Linda doesn’t understand what was happening. As she was telling Marshall about all the things that they to do now that they were shipping out, on their new assignment, the Enterprise, and they needed to get their security clearance for going aboard among other things. She’s abuzz actually, to get back to working and caring for people. This all mattered to her, and it was the start of the next great adventure, and it will be with her Marshall at her side, and he must be looking forward to this as well.

NO.

❝ I am sure by moments before we are on board, you will be as well, dear. ❞  That doesn’t change his expression, which wasn’t readable to her as she’s putting her things down with confusion on her face.

❝ Well, when ⸻ ❞

WE AREN’T GOING. 

Hold on, what that was a load of bullshit. They got their assignment for the Enterprise, they’ve been jumping through the necessary requirements for boarding any starship and ⸻ what? What was going on? What did he know, and why hadn’t she heard anything?

❝ No, we are. Nothing’s changed. ❞

DO YOU WANT TO MARRY ME?

❝ I ⸻ of course, I do. . . ? I do want to be your wife, Marshall, we aren’t starting this again. You know that I ⸻ ❞

WE AREN’T GOING. QUIT. QUIT WITH ME. MARRY ME NOW AND WE MOVE TO BUENOS AIRIES. WE COULD GO TOMORROW.

That gets Linda getting up on her feet, a panic rising up in her chest because that has not been what the plan was yesterday, and they go out in less than a week. This can’t just happen like that, was he sick or ⸻ she was short for answers. She goes to open the door to their balcony, going to look out and get her breathing under control, try to figure out what was going on here and process her feelings as they were coming to her.

YOU CAN’T BE MY WIFE AND BE A DOCTOR.

He has a speech for her, so many points to be made about her, about her and him; and Linda has to admit to herself that she is barely listening. He has a whole plan, everything worked out for them, her whole plan and all she can focus on is how he wants her to quit everything, Starfleet and being a doctor. Her dreams, career, who she was being stepped on. She bites her lip, as he talks to her, talks down to her like he often does, talks like when they got engaged but Linda can’t reach inside herself, in her heart to fight back against him this time. Yell at him like they had before, like he had hurt her. She leans against the railing.

❝ I don’t understand. ❞  is all she can say when he was done talking, and she flinches again pulls her arm away and walks to the other corner of their balcony as he reaches to touch her.  Where was all of this coming from? She can’t be a wife and a doctor?

NEITHER DO I. I’M OFFERING YOU A GOOD LIFE, LINDA. YOU CAN STAY WITH ME AND NEVER HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT ANYTHING AGAIN.

His hand connects with her arm and pulls her to look at him, forces their eyes to connect and she is frowning at him, confusion and hurt in her eyes but she won’t cry or yell.

FORGET STARFLEET. FORGET MEDICINE. CHOOSE ME.

❝ Marshall, I can’t. Those people need me. ❞ Her career, her dreams, what she loved doing more than any person. She would be caring for people; a ship of that size needed its full team of doctors. Linda liked being needed as a doctor, liked her career and her role in life, in the entire universe. They were expecting her to show up. Marshall and she had talked about this, they had planned this together. She gave up returning to the Solace for him, was going to be his wife one day.

I NEED YOU. YOU WILL NEVER BE HAPPY THERE, LINDA. YOU’VE CHOSEN A VERY DIFFICULT LIFE, AND YOU’RE GOING TO BE DOING IT ALONE.

She feels alone right now, hollow too. Definitely not happy. And then there’s that word again, his favorite word to use with her was difficult. Linda stares at him, and just goes mute. What was she going to do? She had even been wearing his ring, and he sighs at her frustrated. Linda pulls away from him, quick and violent, and her hand goes to pull off his ring. She sets it down, on the little table on their balcony where she had enjoyed her morning coffees and a good book.

❝ Give me an hour and I will be out of here for good. ❞   He pinches his nose, considers what she had to say, and she follows him to their front door.

THEN IT’S GOODBYE. I JUST HOPE AND PRAY YOU’VE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE. . . . FOR BOTH OF US.

He had to say that one last thing, to try to get under her skin. Make her doubt herself, not feel enough, and try to get her change her mind, regret it. I think you were wrong about this one, Georgie. What was she going to do? It’s not as though she has Georgie’s apartment to return to anymore.

It was like the rug was pull from under her feet. All Linda knew right now was that she was a Starfleet officer and was boarding the starship, USS ENTERPRISE, in less than a week. Actually, she needs to call to make sure that was the case and Marshall hadn’t done something about that. Her heart was breaking, and she had no idea what to do about that or with anything at the moment. WHERE TO GO UNTIL THEN?

TIME MOVES FORWARD

THE ENTERPRISE WAS HOME, THE CREW HER FRIENDS, AND THE MEDICAL TEAM HER FAMILY.

Linda’s always been qualified for field and away team, her experience from Solace has always served to be entirely valuable. She knows that the Captain had favoritism toward the Chief coming on these things, but today would be her time to shine.  Linda had looked in Leonard’s eyes with a smile to her eyes, and there is that fluttering in her chest as he expresses his concerns to be careful. Still, she hasn’t done anything about her feelings for him, and they haven’t easily gone away though as she tries as she might.

In fact, he and her have been as close as ever; maybe closer since what happened in San Francisco.

This was going to be fine, Leonard, but I will be. She meant her promise to him, truly she was being careful and intended. The civilization they had contacted, after they had hailed the Enterprise, was a matriarchy and to respect that, they were getting the lady doctor or Dr Carter instead of Dr Mccoy to aid and perform an exam.

There was something in there, that they had been missing, but no one thought of that until it was too late.

Linda’s in a room alone with a gentleman from the people here and accompanied by two women who were his bodyguards. Outside the room, on the other side of the door she had knew that Clint Barton was there while Spock and Kirk were talking with the leader of this sector.

The doctor smiles to him, holding up the tricorder for medical exams to start checking him on, and there’s something quite not right. First the talk between them was a doctor meeting a patient for the first time, but than the gentleman starts asking her questions and holding her attention from what she was supposed to be doing.

What throws her off is when he asks if she loves someone, and he specifies deeply. Linda doesn’t want to answer, but she feels complied to tell the truth with him.

❝ Yes, I do love someone deeply, dearly. ❞

He considers that and asks her if she has told them lately that she loves them.

❝ Actually ⸻ ❞ Linda, why are you being honest? ❝ I haven’t told him at all, that I love him in the way that I do. ❞ The compulsion grows as he asks why. ❝ Well, I’m a coward, just a frail and pathetic woman, and I keep planning to make my feelings known but ⸻ ❞

Without realizing it, he has started to rise to his feet asks her what his name was.

❝ Leonard Mccoy. ❞

“I will make sure someone apologizes to him than.” He moves quicker than Linda can process what was happening, a cold metal pain jets into her gut and at least she remembers to scream loud enough. Sharp jabs of pain, and where’s this blood coming from?

There’s a shout, Clint’s, and all of hell breaks loose as Linda loses all sense of what follows after that.

FLASH BACK

Good news for her, Linda would be on the Enterprise at the end of week.

As she was standing on the balcony, figuring out what the hell she was going to do and Linda thinks she should be crying. Her fiancé, a relationship she has invested years in, and had given up much for; Marshall had given her an ultimatum and left her.

This was his apartment now, so she would have to get out. Her eyes go back to the ring on the table. Linda finds herself all alone, there was interstellar communication to her family but other than that; she hadn’t seen them, and they were in another quadrant on a starbase. There was no going to them, and it has been eight years since.

Georgie was dead, has been dead, and for all she knows all her friends from Starfleet academy were on their own assignments; no one on Earth or in San Francisco. Well, there were people that started to come to mind, an owed flavor promised to her, but it has been years since that had been made. Was it even true, were they even still there? It was a long shot, but her only shot.

What the hell happened, Linda Carter? She can’t work out why she wasn’t crying, perhaps she was still in shock. That was a very likely variable. Linda does feel broken, like she wasn’t enough; it wasn’t enough to be loved and have her dreams. Could she only have one? Would she be ALONE AND UNHAPPY? Was she really choosing what was DIFFICULT? Really, was that all her personal life would ever amount to?

She can’t be crying when she meets her new crew, her new superior officer. SO, CRY NOW DAMMIT! She can’t find the tears, and the hour will be up soon, and Linda really doesn’t want to see Marshall again. CRY.  Otherwise, she would be a ticking time bomb for those tears. God, she wanted to yell at the top of her lungs because how was this happening?

Carter, you’re gonna make someone really lucky one day.

HA, YEAH, RIGHT.

A plan does start to formulate for her, in her eyes and she gathers her things that would be coming with her. It would be humiliating when she was already feeling so low if she cried when found out where she was staying, when she boards the Enterprise and meet dozens to hundreds of people.

It would be awful to break down in front of all those people, so she envisions a scalpel in hand and cut out her imaginary heart, the one that held all the feelings. There were two types of doctors, the one who put away their feelings and the ones who kept them. She would take out her poor heart, THE FOOL, which must be diseased at least at this point and put it in a jar, put it away on a shelf, and get through these next few weeks.

Linda could let her heart sit up on a top shelf, heal from its afflictions, and then when she was ready, she would take it back down; then she could feel all the feelings. Put her foolish heart back where it needed to be later, because right now she needs to compartmentalize and focus on her career, on her path ahead, on the future ahead. She’d be meeting hundreds of new people by the end of the week. She can’t go there feeling like a frail and pathetic version state of herself, with tears streaming down her face.

She would be alright, and taking out her parts right now would help if that favor was still withstanding. After all, it had been years since she had met the Stranges, since uncomfortably sitting in one of Stephen’s lectures after their breakup and wondering. She found out later, he hadn’t been faithful to her either even, along with not telling her he had a wife. Linda makes the call anyway, and it picks up, it was still them and thankfully it was Clea on the phone.

❝ You may not remember me, Mrs Strange, but it is Linda Carter. ❞

“I do remember you, is this about that favor?”

❝ Yes, actually. I am intended to ship out on a starship in less than a week, and I need to place to stay in that time. ❞

“I think we could be that place for you. That’s not too much to ask. We are still in the same place. Are you okay, or are you sure you’ll be okay?”

❝ I am fine, okay, eager to get starbound again is all, and it will be okay. I am over that, kind of had to be when he would guest lecture in some of my final year courses. I am okay. ❞

Diseased heart on the shelf and still feeling like a fool. I am difficult, I am unhappy, and I am going to end up alone.

#ships; thefleetsfinest; breathe in and come close and feel this and feel me and feel it all (Len and Lin) #verse; linda carter; to heal across the stars (thefleetsfinest) #saved posts; drabbles #thefleetsfinest #long post #long post cw #very long post warning ( like seriously ) #kudos to anyone who reads this whole thing #i am nervous about sharing it but here we go what i've been working on these past few days #and why im forcing a break on myself #13.3k words is a lot. #i HOPE this is good and like my vision is achieved and seen #linda carter; thefleetsfinest #about; linda carter #all headcanons tag

[toruro]

— ✧ flight of the stars

"It’s funny; Minghao’s whole career is about being in the driver’s seat but somehow when it comes to you, he doesn’t know when to press on the gas or hit the brake."

you go following flights to the stars, and these cars can get us home (zayn)

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), f1 au, brief high school au, angst, fluff

description: being a doctor, you think you should feel guilty when you start to enjoy the presence of a “regular” a little too much, but who can blame you for missing your patient when he's xu minghao. you know—the xu minghao: crown jewel of SECTOR Racing, top pick of the season, and possibly the one person who knows more about you than anyone else in the world.

tags: character death (not reader / hao), discussion of medical issues, descriptions of pain, pining, racer minghao, physiotherapist reader, probably inaccurate representation of physiotherapy, also featuring kwannie, sollie, cheol, wonu, & hannie

w/c: 13.3k

fic playlist

a/n: oh. always thank u to @gyuswhore for helping me w this, and special smooches to han for going over this w me too ^^

smut tags. oral (m receiving), pet names (baby)

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Cheol is going to kill Minghao when he finds out he somehow managed to screw himself over while training. Well, only if Minghao doesn’t kill himself first.

It was just supposed to be a regular session, doing some standard neck exercises with Wonwoo, his training partner. General training shit—you know, the stuff Minghao needs to do so his neck doesn’t snap in half the next time he races and then—pang! Pain flares up in his muscles when Wonwoo adjusts the controls on the harness around Minghao’s head a little harder, the latter losing his form in a moment of unexpectancy.

His hand flies up immediately Wonwoo stops, shutting off the controls and loosening the tether attached to Minghao’s harness, releasing all the tension. “Are you good?” he asks, taking a step closer as he takes in the sight of the racer.

Wonwoo’s heart sinks into his chest when he finds Minghao’s head and neck unmoving, staring straight down as his breaths begin to grow shaky, and—crap, his eyes are glossy and—oh fuck, Wonwoo might just shit his pants.

“Hao—” Wonwoo calls out again, this time his voice drenched with worry as he reaches out to try and untie the harness from around his friends head, but as his hand brushes over the back of his neck, Minghao shifts a little and that’s when Wonwoo hears it—a sharp gasp following by Minghao muttering under his breath:

“G-get the medic.”

His voice is labored and Wonwoo knows exactly what to do and nothing at the same time. His mind is racing because holy crap, SECTOR probably just lost their best racer for a few months, if not the entire racing season, and it’s all because of this stupid neck training session, and—Wonwoo stops himself from thinking about what this means for Minghao’s work and forces himself to scramble back, running out of the training room and down to the nursing hall.

Five minutes and several phone calls later, Minghao is being loaded into a stretcher. He doesn’t say a word though, doesn’t know what to say.

Five hours and even more phone calls later, Minghao is sitting up with a brace around his neck, and his manager and friends around his hospital bed (Wonwoo and Hasnsol are to his left while Seungcheol stands on his right).

“So you’re telling me I won’t be able to compete for the rest of the season?” Minghao finally scoffs out after a couple minutes’ worth of silence in tense air.

“We don’t know that yet,” Cheol responds, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the racer carefully. Minghao’s lips are curved down in a heavy frown but his eyes remain unwavering as he finally looks up at his manager.

“Fuck,” he breaths out.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Hansol asks worriedly, and Minghao knows that his friend is only just concerned for him but all the pain and frustration is already starting to bubble up inside of him.

“Like a bitch,” he mutters bitterly.

Seungcheol sighs deeply, stepping closer to the bed. He knows the situation isn’t easy for Minghao—it isn’t easy for anyone—and he’s aware of the stakes involved for the team. “Hao, you know we’ll do anything to get you back on the track as soon as possible.”

Minghao scoffs, not meeting the eyes of his manager. “Yeah. I know.”

Wonwoo nearly flinches at the stillness of his friend’s voice. “I’m sorry,” he finally says loudly, causing the other three in the room to look at him. “I messed up with the controls—it’s my fault, and I—”

“It’s fine,” Minghao huffs, tearing his eyes away from his friend. “It was an accident.”

It’s not fine. It’s not fucking fine at all and—

Deep breaths, Minghao reminds himself, but when he actually starts to think about the ache that blooms from his neck and down his spine, it gets harder and harder to keep his cool. He feels like he’s ‘bout to pop a vein from all the blood that’s rushing through his body, the only thing snapping him out of his trance being Wonwoo’s voice.

“You’ll start seeing a physiotherapist tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Best to start the recovery process early, Minghao thinks to himself, mildly calming his irritation. He purses his lips, trying to navigate the cluster of thoughts that plague his mind until he finally musters up the courage to ask, “How long is it gonna take? T-to heal?”

His friends look at him solemnly, and Minghao feels his heart sink right down to his stomach.

“We don’t know.”

“You already sa—” Minghao stops himself from saying something he might regret. “Could I actually be out the whole season?”

There’s silence until Cheol finally decides to speak up.

“There’s a chance.”

Minghao thinks he might scream.

“Hey Seungie!” you chirp, walking into the reception of your office with a bright smile. Your best friend greets you with only an eye roll as you approach his counter at the front, peeking at him from over his monitor.

“I told you to stop calling me that in public!” he whines, nose scrunched up as you laugh at the way he’s pouting.

“No one’s even here, no one’ll hear anything,” you try to reason as he huffs and turns away, refusing to look at you.

“Still!”

You sigh, putting down a brown bag on the floor before raising your hands up in surrender. “Okay fine, I’m sorry.”

“Are you really?”

This time, you roll your eyes. “Yes … Seungie—”

“I hate you!” Seungkwan roars as you double over laughing. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! I’m officially disowning you as my best friend.”

You gasp, stepping back and picking up the brown bag again. “Are you kidding me? And here I thought I would’ve liked to share one of my Americanos with you but I guess not …” you sigh dramatically, starting to walk away as you lift the bag to wave it in Seungkwan’s face.

“I was just joking! Come back! How could I disown you as my best friend—c’mon, you know I was just joking,” he pleads from behind you.

You grin as you turn around and walk back to him with a grin. “You’re horribly unpersuasive. Like your acting skills are actually an abomination,” you tell him, pulling out one of the cups of the cold drink and handing it to Seungkwan. “You’re lucky I love you,” you continue, laughing a little as Seungkwan snatches the cup away hastily with a bashful “thanks” under his breath.

“Okay, well ditto to you too,” he barks back. “Who else would put up with you and your ugly crying over Taylor Swift music videos?”

“Hey! Wildest Dreams is a lyrical, musical, theatrical, melodcial masterpiece! ”

“Okay, first of all, melodical isn’t even a word, and even if it was—” Seungkwan is cut off by the ringing of the office phone line. “I probably need to answer this but we are not done with this conversation,” he shoots at you.

You giggle, waving him off and heading down one the hall to get to your office, barely catching what Seungkwan is saying, or who he’s even talking to. It vaguely crosses your mind that it’s a bit too early in the morning for your office to be getting work calls, but you brush it off as you slip past your door and into your little room.

It’s a nice little space you’ve made for yourself; your physiotherapy firm was set up a few years back, and you’d even recently gone through a certification process to belt yourself as one of SECTOR’s physiotherapists. Pretty exciting stuff when you think about it—being able to work with such top-notch racers (albeit under rather unfortunate circumstances), and you get to do what you love at the same time.

Now, you haven’t actually gotten any big-shot patients yet, and you’ve started to appreciate that more recently. It’s not as stressful, and you don’t have to navigate a possibly awkward doctor-patient relationship with someone who’s dealing with what might be a career-changing injury.

You wonder when you’ll stop forgetting that your luck ran out years ago.

Just as you set your bag down and slip into your chair to answer some emails, Seungkwan is knocking on your door and walking in. “Hey, uh, this is kinda important,” he tells you, pointing behind him at his desk where he was taking the call.

“What’s up?” you ask, slightly worried by Seungkwan’s quick change in demeanor from playful to serious.

“Some doctor at SECTOR’s facility just called and—” Crap, you know where this is going already. “—Xu Minghao just fucked up his neck. Like yesterday. And he’s getting discharged from the hospital in a few hours hopefully and they’re gonna send him over right away so you can take a look and start working with him.”

You press your lips together tightly, head going slightly dizzy at the mention of his name. Of course, when you finally got yourself licensed to practice under SECTOR, you were aware of the possibility of working with him, but this feels a little too real and a little too fast.

“You good?” Seungkwan asks, snapping you out of your haze. “Lost you for a second—it looks like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Sorry, just zoned out,” you laugh stiffly, turning on your computer and taking a shaky breath. “I’m a bit nervous I guess. I’ve never worked with a professional like him—at least not yet,” you continue to say, and it’s not entirely a lie.

You are nervous, and in any other situation you would try your best to just not think about the situation but given Xu Minghao is going to step into your office in a few hours, you figure you should get to work right away.

Seungkwan steps out soon, saying, “You got this. Seriously, you’ve been working so hard for so long and you finally get to work with one of the big shots!”

Chuckling at his optimism, you finally open the email application on your monitor. Your inbox is flooded with emails, most of which are a series of X-rays and MRI scans of your soon to be patient, and so taking a deep breath, you dive in.

“Hey Hannie, did you sanitize Room C?” you ask one of your (few) employees as he steps out from the supply room behind the reception.

“Shoot, was it supposed to be C? I’m sorry, I cleaned up B, but I can go to C and get it sanitized right now—” he starts to say, turning towards the supply room at the end of the hall.

“Hey wait no it’s okay, I just asked for C ‘cause it’s a bit bigger but it doesn't really matter. Don’t worry about it—have you had your lunch break yet?”

“Nah not yet, I was just about to step into that with Seungkwan, but he’s taken a moment to grab coffee from the cafe across the street.”

You chuckle, “Already? I got him an Americano only a few hours ago …”

Jeonghan laughs out loud at that, slipping off his cleaning gloves and patting his hands down on his scrubs. “You know how Seungkwan is with his Americanos.”

“Don’t remind me—he’s crazy. I don’t know how he ingests that much caffeine and still functions like a normal human being but—”

Seungkwan’s voice cuts you off. “I know you guys are talking about me but I’d suggest you take a break and go get ready because I swear I just saw a car with SECTOR’s logo on the back pull up onto the street right up front.”

Oh fuck. You’re already starting to feel awfully nervous.

“Shit, really? I didn’t think they’d be here as early as noon,” Jeonghan says quickly, tossing the gloves and turning to you for instruction. “Anything we need to do?”

“Guys, just chill,” you say casually. Ironic, you think to yourself, because you feel like your heart might pound right out of your chest any second now. “Just handle this like you would any other patient. I’ll probably have to talk to his manager, but while we’re doing that Jeonghan can take Xu into B and just ease him into things. Lay off the tension, you know? He’s probably stressed out as is.”

“Noted,” Jeonghan nods as he walks down the hall, and then you turn to the door of the reception where you see a group of three people walking up.

You try to make out their figures; that one on the left’s probably one of SECTOR’s health directors, and the one on the right is … that’s Choi Seungcheol isn’t it? The one who sent you the emails? He’s Xu Minghao’s manager, you’re pretty sure of it.

You straighten your back when the front door opens, clutching the clipboard full of prints of the scans you were sent earlier. Setting your eyes straight, you take a deep breath and finally take in the sight of the three people filling into the reception.

Yup, there’s Choi Seungcheol … and then Cho Miyeon following behind and she’s pushing a—shit, it’s Xu Minghao in all his glory.

Well, you’re not sure how wondrous he feels right now in that wheelchair, eyes cold as he stares at the floor. His neck’s held up in a thick brace that you can see reaches down under his shirt and over his shoulders; he doesn’t look up, and for a moment you’re grateful.

It puts off the question though, the words that linger in the back of your mind.

Will he recognize you? Well, more importantly …

Does he even remember you?

You rid yourself of the personal thoughts when Choi Seungcheol approaches you, holding out his hand to you. You shake it, strong and firm as he smiles awkwardly. “Nice to meet you, thanks for making time for us today.”

“No problem,” you reply with a nod as Jeonghan comes in from the hallway. “My assistant, Jeonghan here can take Mr. Xu to one of our rooms while I talk with you two about a few things. Does that work?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Seungcheol nods, motioning Jeonghan to Minghao in his wheelchair behind him. The racer keeps his head down as Jeonghan brushes over and starts pushing him down the hall to Room B. You wonder if he’s even noticed you.

As Jeonghan goes off, you turn back to the other two still in the reception and point at your room. “Shall we?”

Once the three of you settle down, Seungcheol and Miyeon sit across from you, the former speaks up. “Thanks for seeing us on such short notice—this all happened really quick and if you can't already tell, we’re kind of desperate to get him back in the driver’s seat as soon as possible.”

“No worries, please. These kinds of situations are exactly what I’m here for,” you tell them, and they both seem to crack a small smile of relief. “Now I spoke with the doctor that examined him at the hospital, and then briefly with Ms. Cho,” you say, motioning towards the woman on your right, “And there’s a general understanding that Mr. Xu’s suffered a pretty serious strain in his neck muscles.”

“Yeah, uh—how long is this going to take to heal?” Seungcheol pops in, and you sigh.

“I can give you a range, but it’s not so definite … I’d say between three to five months,” you tell him. “But again, it’s different for every patient. Muscle strains aren’t like a clean break or fracture where we can determine almost exactly when it’ll be healed … this stuff is going to take more time and it varies from person to person as well. It all kind of depends on Mr. Xu’s body, and that’s what I’m here for—to help figure out what works for him.”

“We understand that, thank you,” Miyeon nods, sitting straighter in her seat. “How often should he be coming in?”

“Hm, I’ll give you a definite answer after checking in with him today, but to estimate, I’d say around 2-3 times a week, while also using my suggestions outside of our sessions.”

You finish the conversation with the two after that, excusing yourself as you let them back into the reception before knocking on the door to Room B. Jeonghan opens the door from the other side and quietly closes the door behind him before pushing you a little deeper into the hallway.

“He seems like, really sad, so—”

“Well, duh. It’s a serious injury,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jeonghan clicks his lips and nudges your shoulder.

“Whatever. I’m just telling you to tread carefully,” he says as you make your way to the door. You don’t respond to Jeonghan as you slip in. Minghao’s turned away from you as he sits on his wheelchair in the middle of the room you purse your lips before taking a deep breath and nodding.

You got this. Seungkwan was right—you’ve worked too hard for too long to be rendered anxious ‘cause of a silly little overlap of your past with your patient.

“Hi Mr. Xu,” you greet, making your way to the table right by where he sits, finally seeing him up close. He doesn’t look at you. “I’m pretty sure you already have heard enough about what’s wrong with your neck right now, so let’s talk about how we can make it better, yeah?”

You hear a gruff, “Sure,” escape his lips, and you figure that given his circumstances, it’s understandable.

“The report says that when you first started feeling the pain you couldn’t move your right arm even a little without it hurting in your neck, right?” you clarify as you sit at the chair between him and your table.

“Yeah.”

“Is it better now?”

“A little. Can move my forearm but moving my shoulder still hurts.”

“Okay, this is a good sign actually—you’re getting through the initial stages of healing just like normal. The first week or so of strain like yours might be pretty painful, but it’s over quickly and the pain after that should be pretty bearable, although it’ll take more time for it to heal.” You tell him, looking away to glance at the scans.

As he stares at the ground, Minghao wants to scream. Good sign? What the fuck are you talking about—he can’t even lift his goddamn arm without it feeling like there’s daggers plunging into his neck, and you’re here sitting all calm faced, pristine, acting like this isn’t his fuckin’ career on the line. Acting like your words are gonna make a difference as long as he’s in this stupid ass brace with this stupid ass injury in this stupid ass room with—who the fuck even are you?

His head hurts, and Minghao thinks it’s partly because of his neck, but it’s mostly because he can’t stop thinking. Thinking about the worst possibilities, thinking about everything that could go wrong and—well shit, he chides himself for letting his anger get the better of himself, even if it was just in his head.

Shamefully, he presses his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before finally lifting his gaze and turning to face you. When you look up from your paper and finally turn back to him, you’re met with the sight of pretty brown eyes staring right back at you.

“I—” Minghao starts, but it sounds like the air got stuck in his throat as he finally takes in your figure, and then he purses his lips together and turns back away. “Nothing.” the possibilities of what he could have been thinking ruins your mind just a little.

You can see it in his eyes—Minghao remembers. Still, he doesn’t say anything about it, and you wonder if you prefer things to stay that way.

“What time is Xu scheduled for on Wednesdays? He’ll be coming in on Wednesdays, right?” Jeonghan asks as he steps into your office.

“Uh, he’s coming in for a session from 11-2 today—which, by the way, could you set up Room C for that? I can’t remember if I already put that on the to-do list.”

“Yeah I did it yesterday after our last patient of the day, I was just wondering. You’re gonna lead it with him this time, right?”

“Yeah, since it’s the first session. You were right about him being … apprehensive—”

“Sad,” Jeonghan corrects you. “A sad, sad boy.”

“Yeah well, go figure,” you sigh out of sympathy. “Anyways, like I said, it’s understandable for him to be frustrated, so I’ll work with him at first to ease him into things and stuff. You can start taking over more of the sessions once he warms up to the whole process, and once we figure out and set a routine.”

“Okay great. Does this mean I can go out for my lunch break at 11:30?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” you reply with a casual shrug as Jeonghan thanks you and slips away. You shift your attention back to your monitor before glancing through the initial medical reports you were sent by the hospital, and then the results of your own tests you ran during your first session with Xu Minghao.

It’s a shitty injury, you’ll have to admit. A neck strain on the muscles closest to his right shoulder, not only rendering his neck immobile for a period of time, but also hindering his abilities to move his right arm.

Must hurt like a bitch—physically and mentally—and the image of him staring down at the ground burns in the back of your mind.

With a sigh, you silently wonder if you could offer him the same solace he gave you.

Xu Minghao shows up to your office two hours later with Choi Seungcheol pushing him inside on his wheelchair, and you’re thankful to see that his stature looks much more relaxed than before. “I’ll come by at 2, right?”

“Yeah, that’ll be great. Thank you,” Jeonghan tells Mr. Choi with a smile before taking control of Minghao’s wheelchair and strolling him into the room. You’re already there and waiting for him, standing up to greet him with a smile.

“Hi Mr. Xu,” you say, thanking Jeonghan as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

“Morning,” he says quietly, not quite meeting your gaze. The air isn’t as thick as it was the first day, but there seems to be some invisible barrier between the two.

“How’s the pain right now, Mr. Xu?” you ask, pulling out a notepad on your computer to jot down some notes.

Your patient’s eyebrows furrow, and for a second you have a feeling this might be harder than you thought, but his next words are more comforting than anything. “Uh, can you just call me Minghao? Mr. Xu is … it’s weird.”

“Y-yeah of course, sorry about that, Minghao,” you nod with a half smile. “So could you tell me how things are feeling?”

“I guess it hurts less. I don’t really move that much so I can avoid hurting myself though—kinda in this thing most of the time anyways,” he replies gruffly, hitting the left side of the wheelchair with his palm.

“Do you stand up? Walk around at all?”

“Not often.”

“Okay so I think we’re going to try and change that soon,” you tell him. “We’ll do some mobility checks today but if it doesn’t hurt to move your shoulder a little, then I think it’s best you move as much as you can without pain. Honestly, you’re going to be injured for a while and—”

You pause when you hear Minghao inhale sharply at that, making a mental note to soften your words a little.

“—and we don’t want you to be immobile. If you can move, try to. We’ll try and get you out of the wheelchair within the next two weeks, how does that sound?”

Minghao’s ears perk up at that. “Two weeks? Only?”

You nod happily at his sudden energy and the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Yeah, you know the wheelchair is just so you don’t move your upper body too much but like I said the last time we met, the initial stages are pretty painful but once it’s over, you’ll be more mobile. Of course, you won’t be able to get back to racing and training right away, but you’ll be able to be a lot more active than you are now.”

“How long will it take before I can start training again?” Minghao asks curiously, finally looking you straight in the eye with parted lips.

The desperation is painful to watch.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, watching his shoulders deflate. “At least two months.”

“Two months?”

“At the least,” you say with a held breath.

“At the most?” Minghao asks hopefully.

You purse your lips. “At the most? … A year?”

“A year? That’s more than a whole racing season!”

“Yes but neck strains are fickle and we can’t let anything go wrong, and due to the nature of your sport, you really—”

“I think I know the nature of my own sport,” Minghao scoffs, and with the way he says it, you don’t know if you should be mad or sad or disappointed or a mix of all three.

“I—” you pause, “I understand your frustration Mr.—Minghao, but my job is to make sure you’re one hundred percent healed before you set foot on the track again, so please be patient and allow yourself to heal.”

Something about those last few words rings in Minghao’s ears, and he zones out for the rest of what you’re saying.

Allow yourself to heal. Fuck.

Minghao stays pretty much silent for the rest of the session, and you’re not quite sure if it’s out of complacency or indifference. You go through some slow mobility exercises, and figure out a good range for him to stay in for the next few days.

“Make sure you practice those movements every day,” you note once you near the end of today’s session. “I’ll send you an email listing all of them with instructions so you remember. Please try and do them every day, and it’ll hopefully speed up the recovery process.”

“Thanks,” Minghao murmurs as he carefully sits back down in his wheelchair.

“Is there anything else you’re doing in your free time right now?” you ask, trying to make casual conversation as you start to type up your list.

“Not really. I watch practice videos and stuff, I guess.”

You hum, not really responding until you finally finish the list and send it to his email. “I sent the list, you should start using it tomorrow. Anyways, I think you should try crocheting,” you tell him casually.

Minghao gives you a sideways glance as he raises an eyebrow. “… Crocheting?”

“Yeah,” you say with a shrug, finally turning around to face. “You know, with yarn and stuff.”

“I know what crocheting is.”

“I-I know,” you say awkwardly, slightly thrown off your game by his bluntness. “You won’t have to move your shoulders, only your forearms, so it’s fine.”

“But why?”

“It’s fun. And a nice way to pass time, especially when you can’t move around a lot. Plus, it’s always good to have something to distract yourself from—” You pause, thinking about how to finish your sentence. “—from shitty stuff, y’know?”

Minghao chuckles, and your heart swells a little when you finally see him break a smile. “Yeah, I guess.” There’s a long pause. “Shitty stuff, huh?”

You laugh, nodding. “Yeah. Shitty stuff.”

“You and your stupid Americanos,” you sigh, watching Seungwkan grin as the barista hands him his drink.

“Stop acting like you don’t indulge in me too. Getting me all those Americanos in the morning … I should blame you for this addiction!”

“So you admit it’s an addiction!” you exclaim triumphantly, waving your hands in the air. Seungkwan rolls his eyes, leaving you to sit at a table in one of the corners of the cafe. Laughing at his silent admission of defeat, you wait for your drink patiently.

It’s only a few more moments before the barista is back at the counter, calling out, “Honey lavender latte!” With a smile, you walk over, about to reach for the drink before a hand beats you to it.

Frowning, you look up at the man who’s holding your drink before you say, “Hey, I’m sorry, I think that’s my drink.”

“Uh, honey lavender latte? I’m pretty sure I ordered this,” he says. You look at him with a funny expression on your face, eyes darting between the drink you ordered and the drink that’s in his other hand. He catches your suspicion and shakes his head quickly. “It’s for my friend, I ordered for the both of us so I could get us a spot.”

“Oh,” you breath out, figuring that it probably isn’t a lie. “S-sorry for the misunderstanding. I just—” you chuckle, watching some of the tension from the man’s shoulders wither away. “I ordered the same thing—”

“Oh sorry, I—my friend isn’t here yet so you can just take this and I’ll wait for the other to come out,” he offers, watching your face, and you see something in his expression change. “Hey wait, you look really familiar,” he murmurs.

Your eyebrows furrow as you silently thank him when he hands you the drink. “Uh, are you sure? I’m sorry, I just—I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before,” you admit with an awkward chuckle.

The man shakes his head and laughs quietly to myself. “No, I swear I’ve seen you somewhere, but I’m just blanking on it right now—sorry this is probably so weird but—” The bell of the front door rings and he shoots his head to see who’s coming in, eyes lighting up. “Oh hey, Hao! Was just waiting for you!”

Hao? Mingh—

You lock eyes as soon as he walks in.

The man from before beams as he walks up to him as your eyes finally break away, and Minghao turns to his friend. “Hansol,” he greets with a small smile, and it’s a pleasant sight to see your patient—who’s more often monotone than not—seem a bit more at ease than before.

“How’re you doing? Was just waiting on your drink and—” the man—Hansol—points at you with eyes as wide as saucers, “—oh by the way, doesn’t she look really familiar?”

You chuckle nervously, breaking out an awkward smile and waving at Minghao who returns you by raising his left arm in a sort of half-wave before turning his attention to Hansol to give him a blank stare. “Yeah, she’s kinda like my physiotherapist dude.”

This time, you chuckle a bit more genuinely, eyes darting between the amused smirk that’s just barely there on Minghao’s lips, and Hansol’s agape stare.

“Ohh shit, yeah that’s where I saw you! Cheol and Miyeon were talking about you when they were booking you for Hao at the hospital, and I saw your picture on the screen,” Vernon explains as the realization hits him.

“Oh,” you laugh lightly. “That’s funny,” you reply as you turn your attention to Minghao, “Good to see you’re getting out of that wheelchair. I bet it feels nice to finally stretch your legs and stuff,” you say. If Minghao could move his neck without eruptions of pain, he’d nod his head.

For now though, he settles on smiling and saying, “Yeah, it’s refreshing.” His eyes wander around you, taking in how you aren’t dressed in your usual work attire, but rather clad in a cute outfit. “Is that my drink?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he points at the coffee you’ve just taken a sip of.

Hansol laughs and shakes his head. “You two got the same drink so when it came out, I just let ‘er have it, since you weren’t here yet.” He glances around before putting his drink down at a nearby table. “Shit, I think I left my laptop in my car,” he murmurs, looking at his friend. “I’m gonna go get it so I can show you those videos I was talking about.”

“Yeah, that’s chill,” Minghao agrees. Hansol smiles at you and then his friend before quickly retreating from the cafe to get to the parking lot, leaving you and the tall man standing in silence. It’s a few passing moments where you awkwardly sip on your drink before something pops in your mind.

“Hey, it’s actually really funny that you’re seeing me right now because—well it’s not funny funny, but it’s a nice coincidence so I guess that counts as funny but—anyways, look, I crocheted this cardigan.” You smile, lifting your arms a little so he can see the dark, navy blue fabric you made yourself, before turning around to show off the light blue, striped pattern on the back. “Cool, right?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty. Nice color scheme and all,” Minghao agrees.

“Thanks. Have you started crocheting? I can send you some videos to get you started,” you offer. Just as Minghao is about to reply, the barista from behind you calls out another order of your drink, causing both of you to glance back. “Oh, you wait there; I’ll get it,” you say, putting your drink down on the same table Hansol did before walking over to grab Minghao’s drink and hand it back to his left hand.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to,” he says as your fingers brush over each other before falling back to your side. “Isn’t your friend waiting for you?”

“Of course I have to. I’m your doctor! I can’t make you do that,” you reason before pointing back at your best friend. “And are you talking about Seungkwan? Looks like he’s having the time of his life doing—” You turn your head around to glance at him before looking back at Minghao, “—doing god knows what on his phone and—”

“Are you talking about me?” you hear Seungkwan’s voice calling from a few meters away, and the way you cringe has Minghao stifling a giggle. “All good things I hope!” he continues.

“You know it!” you shoot back sarcastically, only to be followed by Seungkwan’s rolling eyes. “That little shit. I pay his bills!” you exclaim, a faux frown making its way onto your face.

Minghao laughs, his head throwing back a little. The small movement flares up a bite of pain in his neck, causing his breath to get stuck in his throat, eyes widening as he slowly shifts back into a comfortable position.

“Sorry,” you murmur sheepishly.

If Minghao could shrug without feeling like his neck would snap in half, he would. Instead, he raises his eyebrow playfully when he says, “Are you seriously apologizing for being funny?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m retracting my apology.”

It’s been around three weeks since you started working with Minghao. He’s warmed up to you a fair amount, and ever since you saw him at the cafe, the air around you two has been lighter.

It’s still a bit awkward at times—skitting around the moments where you wonder if you should say something about the elephant in the room before shaking your head and biting your tongue. Then again, given how often you see Minghao, you’ve gotten used to it.

Seungkwan stops by your office this morning when he walks into work. “Morning,” he greets, dropping a small brown bag by your desk as you file through some papers.

“Ooh, thank you,” you tell him gleefully, taking a break from your task to glance at the chocolate muffin that sits inside of the bag. “I’ve been craving this,” you admit, reaching in and picking out a small piece to stuff into your mouth.

“Your welcome,” Seungkwan sighs, sitting down on the seat in front of you. “Anyways, I found something cool that I don’t think you told me.”

You raise your eyebrows at him skeptically. “Yeah? What is it?”

“You and Xu Minghao are from the same hometown!”

You roll your eyes. “Why do you still keep calling him Xu Minghao? He’s told us to just say Minghao, and even if he didn’t, it’s awkward when you say his full name like that.”

Seungkwan scoffs at you, reaching his hand over to try and flick your forehead but you dodge. “Because he’s Xu Minghao. I can’t believe you aren’t still jumping up and down for getting to work with him, seeing how much you love SECTOR.”

“You want me to be happy that the best racer from my favorite team is injured?”

“Ugh, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Whatever,” you shrug, a small hint of a smile peeking from your lips.

“Anyways, you didn’t answer what I actually said. Why didn’t you tell me you guys are from the same area? That’s so cool!”

“I mean I guess,” you say with a shrug.

“And you guys are the same age so—wait, did you go to school together? Oh my god, are you guys like—I don’t know, long lost best friends or something?” Seungkwan’s eyes widen. “Oh, that’d be so cool—I could totally see a movie on this and—wait! If he’s your long lost best friend, where does that leave me? You better not replace me with him!”

You laugh at the progression of his thoughts, almost choking on your second bite of the muffin. “We did go to school together,” you admit. “It’s not like we crossed paths though. He kinda just, I don’t know, existed back then. So no worries for you, you’re not getting replaced any time soon … unfortunately,” you add with mischievous giggle.

“Better not …” Seungkwan huffs.

Minghao comes in a few hours later for his afternoon session. Jeonghan works with him for the first two of the three hours, and you walk in for the last hour. You go over some more mobility exercises, before finally sitting down so you can discuss his progress.

“So things are going really well,” you start to tell him, beginning to list off a couple signs of development which stood out to you. You’re about to commend him on keeping up the exercises everyday, when you notice him staring at the floor with a blank expression. “H-hey, Minghao?” you ask, clearing your voice when he doesn’t respond. “Minghao.”

His eyes shoot up to yours, shoulders tensing for a second before he lets out a deep breath. “Sorry, zoned out for a second.”

You chuckle nervously, wondering if it’s okay if you probe just a little. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Minghao replies casually, but you catch the way he doesn’t meet your gaze. “Just thinking about last night’s race.”

“Oh, Singapore?”

“Yeah.”

“I was able to catch a bit of it last night, but I passed out. It seemed intense though—you see Kim’s pit stop?”

“Yeah, it was kinda insane,” Minghao says breathily. His expression is unreadable, but he’s continuing to respond and so you choose to let things go on naturally. “He’s been living up to his talent now that his shitbox is back to what it’s supposed to be.”

“Can’t imagine how frustrating it is.” Fuck, when Minghao’s shoulders drop, it feels like you said something you probably shouldn’t have.

I can imagine, Minghao thinks after hearing your response, but he bites back the words. “Yeah,” he says dejectedly instead.

Silence. This seems like a good chance to change the topic.

“Uh—” Sorry, you want to say, but you choose to hold your breath instead. “I have good news.”

“Oh?”

“We can get you out of the neck brace today,” you tell him happily.

Minghao’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“Yeah, your progress has been great. Didn’t want to tell you earlier to get your hopes up, in case something went wrong, but everything has been looking really good and you’re at the point where we usually take any supports like braces off.”

Minghao grins, and it’s a stark contrast from the grim shadow cast on his face just moments earlier. You take a few moments to go over the procedures with him, helping him out of the foamy, firm brace with gentle hands and watchful eyes.

“How’s it feeling?” you ask, setting the brace down by one of your counters so you can dispose of it later.

Minghao lets out a low groan of what you can only assume is relief when he looks up. “Like my skin can finally breathe,” he sighs heavily, a bright smile taking over his features as you turn to face him.

“I’m happy for you,” you tell him, before beginning a quick examination process of the area under the brace and going through some quick motions.

“All done?” he asks. When you nod, he continues. “Kinda early, huh?” he say pointendly, and you both quickly glance at the clock on the wall: his session is supposed to end in 43 minutes.

“Oh yeah, uh—actually … I was wondering if you wanted to try something?” you ask tentatively, and Minghao senses your hesitation. “If you have the time.”

Raising a brow, he nods. “Yeah I don’t mind, what is it?”

“One second,” you tell him, getting up and leaving the room to grab something from your office. Shyly, you walk back in and to your seat, all while holding up a brown bag. “Just some old crocheting supplies I thought you might like,” you murmur, placing it down on the counter.

Minghao presses his lips together tightly, not expecting your words. “Oh, uh—I haven’t really … I haven’t taken up crocheting yet. Sorry, uh—”

“Oh yeah,” you say quickly, holding a hand up, using the other to show him the contents of the bag. There’s some balls of yarn and hooks in a little mess, and you reach in to take some out. “I figured—it’s pretty intimidating to take up by yourself but,” you sigh. “I think it’ll be really nice for you. I recommend it to a lot of my patients who can’t do their regular activities and hobbies … and now given your brace is off, your vision will have more range and it might be really fun for you. No pressure if you don’t like it, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to show you the ropes,” you admit, holding up a ball of blue yarn.

Catching onto your pun, Minghao chuckles and replies, “Sure, why not.”

“Okay great,” you say excitedly, dropping the bag and pulling your chair up in front of him and next to the table, pulling the supplies out.

Minghao is patient as you show off the different yarns and hooks, explaining the very basics in great detail. You can’t quite tell if he’s being so obedient out of genuine interest, pity, or simply polite compliance, but for whatever reason, you’re thankful. Soon, you’re showing him how you do it yourself before handing him one of your spare hooks and the ball of yarn, letting Minghao test the waters for himself.

“Yeah, just do that and—wait,” you mutter, reaching over to adjust the way he’s holding the hook. Your soft fingers gingerly brush over his knuckles, and Minghao finds himself getting lost for a moment. As you innocently fix the position of his fingers, his stomach churns in a manner he can’t quite name. “You got that?” you ask him suddenly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry, zoned out again. What was that?”

“Singapore really got you thinking, huh?” you muse before shaking your head and laughing it off.

“Sorry, I—”

“Don’t worry about it. Here, I was just saying you should position your thumb like this or else you might start to cramp up really fast. Happens to me like crazy but I didn’t fix my habit and now I just gotta crochet through the pain.”

Minghao looks at you with an odd expression. “Crochet … through … the pain?”

“That sounded cooler in my head, my bad.”

Minghao laughs. It’s not a tight chuckle, or a soft giggle, it’s a laugh. And it’s bright and full and tugging at your heartstrings in a way you’d rather ignore. “It’s okay.”

“Anyways … here, I’ll show you how to start off with a slip knot and then we’ll take things from there,” you instruct.

Slowly, you walk him through the steps. You learn that Minghao is a good learner. He’s intuitive, but it’s not that you expect much different—you figure no one can get to the level he’s at without being quick to pick up on things.

You’re soon showing him how to start a simple chain, the yarn and hook still in his hands as you work him through the process. “Yeah, now you just gotta yarn over like this—no, the other way, just like that … and—yeah … yeah!” you exclaim excitedly when Minghao slips the hook right through, lengthening the chain. “You got it!”

“Really?” Minghao asks. “Simpler than I thought,” he admits aloud, and you nod vigorously.

“Yeah … crocheting looks hard from afar but once you actually get the hang of it, it’s as easy as breathing,” you explain, softly taking the yarn and hook from his hands and showing how it looks once you build in more loops.

He watches you carefully—the way your fingers so gently, with such precision; how your eyebrows furrow ever so slightly as you focus in on the task at hand, tongue unconsciously sticking out from the corner of your mouth, and— 

“You’re really good at this,” Minghao murmurs quietly, and you swear he’s so close, his warm breath fans down on your cheeks. You gulp, pausing what you’re doing to look up at him.

“My mother taught me. It’s been a casual hobby ever since.”

You feel Minghao’s eyes bore down on yours intensely, wondering if he’ll respond. Something is screaming at you to pray he’ll keep his mouth shut.

Minghao doesn’t say a word, thankfully. Still, the possibilities of what could be running through his mind haunt you.

You think you should start feeling guilty. You think you should already be feeling guilty when you start to look forward to seeing Minghao. He’s your patient for fuck’s sake—you should be happy he’s not holed up in here everyday.

Still, there’s a weird feeling that festers in your chest when you think about him.

Minghao, and the way he’s so persistent, so patient, so attentive with all the exercises and information you tell him. Minghao, and the polite smile he throws your way at the beginning of each session. Minghao, and the way his eyes light up.

“We’re going to try some new mobility exercises today,” you tell him today with a grin, standing up from your seat. Minghao’s ears perk up as he catches the bright look on your face, and something inside of him swells with hope.

“Really?”

You smile and nod in return. “Yeah! I mean your recovery has been really great so far and I think this is a good point to move on and see if we can test out an even wider range of motion.” Minghao doesn’t really say anything in response, but the way his eyes light up when he watches you explain the exercises tells you enough.

In the hour that follows, you two walk through the exercises, trying out each one, and you’re almost three quarters through all the motions you planned today right before you show him how to angle his shoulder before a new exercise.

“How are things feeling? Anything hurting? Anywhere?” you ask anxiously as Minghao comes out of the last stretch you showed him with a pleasant look on his face.

“No, not like pain pain,” he says casually, leaning back into the chair. “Not the kinda pain from the strain, but I feel a bit of tension on my shoulder from keeping it in that position for too long.”

“Okay great,” you say, typing it down onto your digital notepad. “We’ll try and switch up that one next time so your body is completely relaxed from now on.”

“Thanks. What’s the next exercise?” Minghao asks curiously upon taking in the information. You vaguely think to yourself about how you enjoy his growing warmness—he’s been a lot more positive these past sessions with his rapid progress, and it’s bringing a much lighter atmosphere to Room C.

You explain the movement to him, explaining to him how to lift his shoulders just enough to circle them backwards without too much movement. It’s going pretty smoothly like the other exercises; you explain, Minghao listens, you adjust, Minghao lets you.

Right now you’re about to lean in, hands brushing over his shoulder blade to guide them to a more steep angle, explaining to Minghao how to fix his posture. Your fingers brush over his collarbone and jaw a few times in the process, your eyes keeping steady on making sure he doesn’t make any abrasive movements.

“There we go,” you tell him after showing him how to do the circular movement with his shoulders. “Why don’t you try it by yourself?”

Shooting you a thumbs up, Minghao complies, lifting his shoulder forward first slowly. He’s going through the motions of everything pretty normally—after all this is just like any other exercise so he doesn’t really worry that much until—fuck.

Holy shit, that quick but sharp pain stings so bad.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly when Minghao stills, his eyes widening.

So much. So fucking much, Minghao thinks to himself.

“Talk to me,” you say, moving closer to him so you can move your hands over his shoulder and lead them back down to a natural position.

“It h-hurt for a second. Really bad, but then it was gone,” Minghao says breathily. You purse your lips together and Minghao feels his heart sink to his chest when you turn around and type some stuff he can’t read from where he sits. “Is this like—” He needs to pause to collect himself so the nerves don’t get to him. “—is it bad?” When you hesitate to respond, Minghao already knows his answer. “Fuck.”

“Look, it’s just hurting in that spot for this exercise. The rest of your progress is amazing, but we’re just going to need to take it slower since you’ve probably just overexerted the muscle a little bit.”

“So I’ve been set back, basically,” Minghao says bluntly, his tone doing a full 180 from just a few moments earlier.

“Not a setback …” you sigh. “Just a sign that we need to go slower right now.” You watch him worriedly when he presses his lips together and doesn’t meet your gaze.

“So a setback.”

You gulp. “You can’t think of this like that. I told you from the start that progress is never linear and—”

“I don’t give a fuck, okay?” Minghao breaths out, and something about the way he says it with such a curt, tense tone almost makes you lose your composure. “This is—fuck, this my career okay? I can’t afford any setbacks.”

“I know that and that’s why I’m your doctor, okay?” you say, a bit more harshly than you intended.

You don’t understand why you’re letting his hostility get to your head all of sudden—it isn’t like you haven’t had frustrated patients before. Fuck, you’ve had people cry, sob, break down in this same room over slow progress but something about the way he looks so disheartened has your heart clenching.

“I’m here to help you,” you reiterate, your tone more composed than before. “But I can only do that if you let me.”

Minghao eyes flicker between your wide eyes and his hands in his lap. There’s a growing knot that ties in his throat, and he’s too afraid to open his mouth to speak, too afraid of what he might say. Instead, he just huffs and stands up.

“Sorry,” he finally musters up, eyes trained on the ground as you watch him carefully for his next move. “I’m leaving.”

You don’t stop him as he walks away.

When Minghao walks into the reception a few days later, he’s not surprised to see that you aren’t the one greeting him. He thinks back to the way your lips were pressed into a tight line when he walked out last week. It was the last time he’d seen you in the past few days, and some weird mix of worry swirls in his stomach.

Were you avoiding him? He wouldn’t blame you if you were, but he feels guilty for thinking that way. You wouldn’t let something personal get in the way of your work, Minghao knows that for sure.

Still, he bites his tongue when he briefly considers asking Jeonghan where you are. Would that be overstepping? It’s not like there haven’t been sessions where you weren’t there, but something about the thickness in the air around him tells Minghao that there’s something he should be worried about.

As if he could read Minghao’s mind, Jeonghan speaks up. “Doc’ll come in around the end. It’s her mom’s birthday so she’s out for most of the afternoon, but she’ll be back for the last half an hour,” he says casually, not really expecting to turn around to see Minghao looking at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

“H-her—” Her mom? Minghao wants to ask but something stops him from saying it. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re not here. Something feels wrong. “That’s fine,” he mutters, pursing his lips before looking at the ground.

He can feel Jeonghan’s curious gaze burning into the back of his skull, but Minghao only doesn’t move as he keeps quiet. They soon fall into the regular pattern of starting off with mobility exercises before doing a check of his range of movement.

It’s nearing the final hour of his session when Jeonghan excuses himself for a moment. Only two minutes passes before there’s a knock at the door, and then some footsteps leading in.

“Good afternoon Minghao,” you greet softly upon walking in. The man glances up at you, eyes widening when he takes in your figure.

“Oh—uh, hey.”

Minghao wants to bash his head into the wall. Hey? Seriously? That’s all he could muster up? Hey?

“Jeonghan gave me the rundown,” you tell him, looking away as you lift a clipboard and squint to read the tiny text. “No more sharp pains … returning mobilily …”

You hum slowly as you read off the notes your assistant left for you, not meeting Minghao’s gaze. He wonders if that’s what you intended. “Seeing as things are going smoothly for now, we’ll continue with the low-risk exercises and—”

“I’m sorry,” Minghao blurts out. He wonders what compels him to do it, but when you finally meet his gaze, he realizes that he just wanted you to look at him.

“Mi—”

“I’m sorry for how I acted last time. I shouldn’t have said that stuff to you. I was frustrated and took it out on you, and that wasn’t okay. I’m sorry.”

Your lips are pursed by the time Minghao is finished. He’s said enough, but when he peers up at you, his eyes speak a story of their own.

“It’s okay,” you respond with no hesitation, before turning back to your clipboard, scanning over it a few more times and then setting it down.

You smooth your hands over your lab coat, and for a moment Minghao wonders what it would feel like to have your palms run down his neck, pressing into his skin so gently yet with such fervor, fingertips ghosting over—

Minghao shouldn’t think like this.

“Jeonghan told me that it’s your mom’s birthday,” he finally breaks the silence. It’s the first time either of you have actually brought it up, and the reality of it all—fuck, it’s hitting you so hard that there’s already tears pooling in yout lashline.

You silently curse yourself for forgetting to tell Jeonghan not to tell Minghao anything. It’s okay, it isn’t like he knew any better, you tell yourself as you blink rapidly, trying to shoo away the tears.

“Mhm,” you hum, hoping he doesn’t probe any deeper. You aren’t sure what you should say.

You’re silent, and Minghao itches to reach forward, to rest his hand on your shoulder, to smile at you, to say all the things he’s been thinking about you but he just can’t. All he can manage is to clear his throat, causing you to look up at him expectantly.

Fuck, what should he say? “I’m um—I’m glad. Glad that she’s uh—that everything worked out.” That’s fine, right? There’s nothing wrong with that statement, Minghao’s almost sure of it so … so why in the world are you crying?

Shoot, did he fuck up? You’re sitting in the chair right next to him, head in your hands as you cover your face and turn away; your cries are soft but just loud enough for Minghao to hear over the rush in his ears, just loud enough for him to feel the ache, just loud enough for him to get the message.

Oh.

The first time you meet Xu Minghao, you’re in middle school. Seventh grade and walking into Algebra, going to sit down on your regular seat. Five minutes into class and a new boy walks into the room, handing your teacher a slip before being directed to sit down at a spot a few tables over.

He’s got short, dark hair, cat-like eyes, and a bit of tall, lanky figure as he slinks down into the chair. Your teacher claps her hands together and announces that there’s a new student in class. His name’s “Xu Minghao,” she said.

You don’t really remember his name at first. It isn’t uncommon for there to be new students on campus. He’s not in many of your other classes you realize as the day goes on, and so he slips your mind. Maybe you work with him for a few assignments throughout the year, but not enough for you to wave at each other when you pass the other in the hallways.

Five years later and you’re in your final year of high school. Time has passed, you have changed, Xu Minghao has changed, but what remains the same is what you are to each other. Strangers.

You’re paired with a stranger for your final senior Literature project.

“Do you want to write a paper, or do the poster?” you ask as he sits down next to you once the pairing assignments. Your teacher had given you two options on how to go about the project. “I don’t really mind either or,” you admit.

Minghao hums, setting his copy of Macbeth on the table before turning to you. “Poster? I think I’ve done enough writing in this past year to last me a lifetime,” he tells you with an obvious sigh.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Were you in Biology?”

He nods. “Regretfully.”

“Oh so you also had to write that whole research paper. Damn, that thing had to have shaved at least ten years off my life.”

“Ditto,” Minghao grumbles, running his hands over his face. “Oh god, just thinking about it is making me queasy. I’m so happy we’re in our final semester.”

“So we agree on no paper, just the poster?” you finalize.

Minghao agrees, “Yeah, that’s great.”

One week later and Minghao is at your doorstep. “Cool set up,” he notes, stepping into your room, looking down at the poster splayed out with markers all over.

You grin. “Thanks—I kind of like being artsy and stuff sometimes so I was pretty happy to do this when you said you also wanted to do the poster.”

“Seems like I made a good choice then,” he replies, sitting down on the opposite end of the poster and pulling out a notebook and his book. “I did some work and got a bunch of lines that we could use as citations in different parts.”

“That’s great,” you say, picking a pen. “Let’s get started then?”

You two get straight to work, and all goes smoothly. Minghao is a good worker, you’ve noticed. His friends are quite fun—you’ve seen him with them in the hallways sometimes—but you start to realize that Minghao doesn’t let himself sacrifice his work ethic for fun.

You make quite some progress over the next hour or two, and you’re just about to bring up one of your ideas. “So over here, I was thinking we could write out the context of the play and then—” You’re cut off by the voice of your older brother at your door. He’s looking down at his phone with his lips pressed into a tight line as he speaks.

“Mom’s starting another cycle of chemo this Thursday so—oh, sorry,” Beomgyu says quickly upon looking up and seeing you have a visitor. “Come to my room when you’re done,” he mutters before turning on his heel.

The silence that envelopes your room is deafening.

You don’t say a word as you take a deep breath and pick up a different colored marker. You clear your throat. “So back to what I was saying …”

The next time you work on the poster, it’s at Minghao’s house.

You wear a blue gown at graduation. It’s a sunny day in June, and you’re sweating a little through the silk fabric, but it’s okay.

Your father and Beomgyu are there in the stands, but your eyes can’t help but be pulled to the empty seat next to them. Your mother said she’d try to make it, but broke the news last night that it was a dream too high up to reach.

It’s okay, you had told her, but as you clutch your diploma close to your heart, all you can think is, no it’s not, no it’s not, no it’s fucking not.

You sit through the rest of the ceremony with a silence and all around you, you see your peers’ smiling faces, the encouraging words of the dean, the cheers of the crowds, and somehow you feel so lost in it all. When you’re finally dismissed, everyone claps and revels once more, but somehow you can’t find the voice in your throat to join them.

Slipping through the crowds of people who line up to take pictures with their friends, family, and all the sort, you slip out of the small stadium and into some hallway.

“Fuck!” you finally cry out, raising your hand up and whipping it forward towards the brick wall. You wince, bracing yourself for the pain, but the sting never comes. Something warm envelopes your wrist, and when you finally blink your eyes open, you see a stranger.

“I don’t understand what you’re going through,” Minghao finally says. “I won’t pretend I do either, but it’ll be okay.” He hugs you and your face is pressed into Minghao’s own blue gown that is about to turn a few shades darker.

You cry. You cry harder than you think you’ve ever cried before.

You don’t know what it is about the way he speaks. Maybe it’s the way he holds you. Maybe it’s the way he smells. Maybe it’s everything, but whatever it is or isn’t, you don’t stop crying and for a gracing moment, you bask in catharsis.

And then, you hear Beomgyu’s voice calling for you from a nearby hallway, so you pull back. Minghao presses his lips together and lets you go, hands dropping to the side as you wipe away the tears. There’s a darker blue splotch in the middle of his chest, but he says nothing of it.

You don’t say a word as you step back—the only communication you share is a nod, but you swear on every last star in the sky that he has said more words to you in that moment than anyone has told you in your entire lifetime.

You don’t see Minghao’s face until it’s seven years later and he’s plastered on the screen as SECTOR’s newest recruit. He’s got phenomenal potential as an F1 racer—greatest new talent in a while—you hear the host of the channel say, but as you look at his picture on the screen, all you see is the face of a stranger who’s held you tighter than anyone before.

The last time you saw Minghao, it was through tear-blurred vision as you scurried out of Room C—you had to tell Jeonghan through broken sniffles to wrap up the session with Minghao—that the weight of the day had gotten to your head and that you needed to take a breather.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. You retreated to your office soon after, staring at the photo of you and your mother that sat at the corner of your table, and then you cried a little more.

It’s the next day when you’re back in the office. Two patients had just finished up, and you’re sitting in your office, filing through some emails when you hear the familiar ringing of the front door opening. You furrow your eyebrows to yourself, not recalling having any other patients scheduled for at least another two hours.

Had Jeonghan and Seungkwan taken their break earlier than you thought? No, that can’t be possible because they always let you know when they’re heading out and—

“Doc!” you hear Seungkwan’s voice call out to you from down the hall. “Could you come here for a sec’?”

Frowning, you close your laptop and stand up, walking out the doorway and down the hallway towards the front entrance of the clinic. “What is i—oh.” The question dies on your tongue when you see Minghao standing in the reception.

Something in your stomach churns at the sight of him—eyes slightly blown out, lips parted but somehow curved downward in a way that has your own lips frowning. The events of the past few days crashes down on you, and you bite down on your bottom lips in hopes that it’ll ground you in reality.

Seungkwan stands behind the main desk, looking at you with some sort of awry expression, and you catch Jeonghan coming down from the other hallway to catch the odd situation. Minghao doesn’t seem to mind though, eyes zoning in on you.

“I need to talk to you,” he says. You feel Seungkwan and Jeonghan’s gazes burn into the back of your skull.

Glancing at them, you point to the door. “You guys can take your lunch break now,” you tell them before turning your attention to Minghao. “Let’s go to Room C?”

He follows you in an instant, slipping into the seat that he always does as you close the door behind you and walking up to stand in front of him.

You can hear the words already coming together on his tongue—I’m sorry—and so you open your mouth before Minghao can even say it.

“I’m sorry,” you say, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have stormed out like that.”

“No, I—I shouldn’t have said anything. I had no idea you—” Minghao stops himself. He doesn’t know how much is too much.

It’s funny; Minghao’s whole career is about being in the driver’s seat but somehow when it comes to you, he doesn’t know when to press on the gas or hit the brake.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he says. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since graduation.”

“Me too,” you respond in an instant. “I see so much of myself in you,” you tell him.

“Stop, I—our situations aren’t comparable and—”

“Let me be the judge of that, yeah?” you cut him off with a small smile and through tears, cupping his face. The skin over his cheek bones are soft when you run your thumbs over them. “When everything is going wrong and you’re so angry, and you’re blaming all the wrong people but you can’t help it, and it makes you feel worse and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.”

“Yeah.”

You inhale steadily, feeling hot water meet your hands and trickle down to your wrists. Minghao is crying, and suddenly you are hit with waves of deja vu. “I get it, okay?” you tell him, even though you know that Minghao already knows. You get it better than anyone. “It’ll be okay.”

The echo of his words from all those years ago crashes down on you, and suddenly Minghao pulls your arms down causing you to hunch over so your face is right in front of his.

“I’ve thought about you everyday since then.” The words come out of your mouth in a soft whisper. “Even when she passed away a few months later.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he mutters, eyes closing and head titling forward so that your foreheads press against each other. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him, stroking his cheek. “You don’t have to be sorry—you were right. Everything’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

“I—I’m sorry, I just—”

Something about the way Minghao says the word sorry not from his throat, but from his stomach, has your mind twisting in ways that you can’t comprehend. The sound is so guttural and heart-wrenching, and this time you want to cry because he’s got nothing to be sorry for. Not a thing.

And so you kiss him.

You kiss Minghao because he is no longer a stranger. Because he is crying for you and you might as well cry for him. Cry for him, but you have done enough crying to last you a lifetime and so you kiss him instead, because they speak the same words: I love you.

And his lips are soft, his tongue warm, his hand ghosting over your arm is gentle, and you can hear it. You hear it in the way he moves against you—he understands and you want to cry again because he’s always understood, and so you don’t cry but only kiss him deeper.

“I made you something,” he admits. “It’s in the car.”

You’re thankful you sent your two coworkers out when you did, sparring all four of you the awkwardness when you and Minghao slip out of Room C and out the clinic towards the parking lot and to his car.

He pulls a blanket out from the passenger seat. It’s hardly big enough to cover your lower half but it’s bright and blue and warm, and somehow you feel your eyes well up with tears that you can’t seem to stop this time.

“Did you—did you make this?” you choke out as Minghao stands in front of you, handing the cloth over as you run your palms over the loose threads and yarn that poke through.

“Crocheted it myself,” he tells you, standing from a couple inches above, as you marvel over his work. Minghao thinks he’s done a poor job—you could probably do better—but you clutch the blanket with such vigor that he doesn’t have the heart to tell you. “You’ve helped me so much,” he says instead.

“Fuck,” you mutter over harsh breaths. “Y-you made this.”

“You taught me,” he corrects, and that’s when the dam breaks.

And this time Minghao hugs you, and you can tell he’s being careful about his neck and in all your frenzy you almost want to push him away and say, “Don’t move so much!” but then his arms fold in on you like a blanket of their own and you crumble.

You crumble into happiness because through everything you’ve ever been through, Minghao still holds you tighter than one holds onto life itself.

“I don’t think I can come here on Sunday next week,” you tell your boyfriend as you peer down at your phone. You’re leaning over his kitchen counter going between looking at some emails and glancing at the screen.

Minghao groans, and you bite back a smile. “Are you serious? Why?”

“Yes I’m serious,” you huff, rolling your eyes playfully. “My brother’s visiting town for a bit.”

“And I can’t meet him, why?” Minghao asks with a raised brow.

You laugh. “Good point. I haven’t told him I’m dating yet though. Might be too big of a ball drop if I tell him I have a boyfriend right away. A boyfriend who’s SECTOR’s best racer, might I add,” you say, pouring yourself a glass of water from the fridge before joining Minghao on the couch.

“It would be a good surprise though, right?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah yeah, whatever floats your boat,” you shoot sarcastically. “But seriously. I’ll see if I can get you two to meet, but I really can’t see you on Sunday. I have to pick Beomgyu up from the airport.”

“Got it,” Minghao agrees, shuffling closer to you as you both focus on the TV. A live interview with Kim Mingyu plays on the screen, the young man talking about his recent rise in recognition. You two sit in silence for a couple of minutes before Minghao speaks up.

“I fucking hate not being able to do anything,” he groans, shifting onto your shoulder slightly. His condition’s gotten exponentially better in past couple of weeks, but you instructed for him to wait at least two more weeks before fully getting back to training.

He’s been restless ever since, you’ve started to notice. “Do I really need to wait?” he mutters, lips close to your ear as you cuddle into his embrace.

You pull back slightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “Yes! I told you—it’s a part of the process.”

“Fuck the process, I wanna drive again!”

“Too bad I guess,” you say with a shrug, turning your attention to the TV. The channel moves on from the interview to talk about some updates, and eventually somewhere in the mix, Minghao’s name comes up, and you hear the man next to you curse under his breath.

Chewing on your tongue, you debate for a few moments on what to do before reaching for the remote to shut the TV off.

“Hey! I was watching th—”

“Do you ever stop complaining?” you huff, stepping out of his embrace much to Minghao’s dismay. “Stop moving,” you order him, sliding down onto your knees in front of his legs.

“What are you do—oh.” You hear the words dry on his tongue when you nudge your body between his thighs, inching closer to his groin.

“You’re so restless,” you hum, trailing your fingers from his knees, over his thighs, and finally let the ghost over the growing tent under his sweatpants. “Let me take care of you, yeah?” you suggest, toying with the elastic waistband of his pants and boxers.

“O-okay,” Minghao agrees, and you grin at the way you see his cheeks flush pink when you inch the fabric off of his pants. His cock springs out, hardening under your gaze as it slaps against his lower adobe that’s still covered by his shirt.

You think for a moment to help Minghao out of his shirt too, but with the pretty pearl of precum dribbling off his slit, veins pressing up all against the length of his cock—all of him aching just for you—you start to feel your mouth water, forgetting about anything that isn’t having Minghao’s cock in your mouth.

“Careful with the right arm, ‘kay?” you tell him, a sly smirk tugging at your lips when you bring them down, dragging them over the base of his length all the way up to the glossy tip where you place a wet kiss.

“Y-yeah—fuck baby,” Minghao grunts when you envelope your lips around his throbbing tip, tongue swirling over the slit at the top as you do so. His left arm makes its way into your hair, fingers digging into your scalp when you pull back to take a deep breath.

Saliva drips down the corner of your lips, and as you look up at Minghao with wide, glossy eyes, he thinks he might bust in on the spot. “Go on baby,” he murmurs, using his firm grip on your head to nudge your lips closer to his pink tip. “Put it in …” he instructs, and when you grin and open your lips wide once more, Minghao knows he’s too far gone to be saved.

“You’re so hard Hao,” you whisper against him, tongue tracing constellations over the base of his cock when you reach to cup his balls, massaging them under your palms.

“Fuck, just like that baby,” Minghao moans, and the sound is so guttural it has your own pussy clenching around nothing. Your skin burns when you take him into your mouth again, cock sliding further down your mouth than before.

He’s so thick, and you feel every last curve of his cock, every last vein, against your cheeks, pressing against your tongue—Minghao is all you can taste, and you might go drunk on the sensation alone.

And he isn’t faring quite well above you either—his hand in your hair has got a firm hold but if anything, Minghao is losing touch with reality. Your mouth is so soft and so warm, your tongue so meticulous with the way it’s swirling around his tip when you slip off his cock before pushing your mouth back down on him—he’s going fucking crazy.

“Baby—oh baby,” the words rumble at the base of his chest, egging you on. With every bob of your head, you start to take him down further until his fat tip is battering against the back of your throat and yeah, it’s got tears pricking at the corners of your eyes but he’s moaning and grunting and squirming all for you and you just can’t seem to fucking stop.

“Shit, shit, shit—baby, ‘m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he warns when you deep throat all of him, your nose nearly pressing against his pelvis as you press your eyes tight and revel in the sound of his moans, the feeling of his hands in your hair.

You take his slice of warning as a token of advice, pulling back for only a breath before attempting to do the same thing again, shoving his cock into your mouth and down your throat, rubbing whatever you can’t with your palms as wetness smears all over your lips and cheeks.

“Oh—fuck, I’m—”

When Minghao cums, it’s with his chest singing your name. Breathy moans—calls for you—as you suck him through the high, hot white painting the inside of your cheeks and tongue. You pant heavily when you finally pull yourself off of him, swallowing all that is left of him in your mouth, and then he looks at you with flushed cheeks and you both grin.

And when you climb up, Minghao hugs you. He hugs you like a blanket—like the blanket he made you, the blanket you taught him to make—and you two bask in this moment because Minghao is no longer stranger, but he is here and he is in your arms and you are in is, and there isn’t any other place you’d rather be.

a/n: mika ramble time! whatever demonic sickness has been haunting me for the past 5 days will NOT get the best of me. i have been aching to get this fic out since like september and it was initially supposed to be posted on hubbie's bday but :/ unfortunately i was a bit late bc life gets in the way ;c overall i'm really happy w it! personally, i think this is among the most emotional fics i've written, and i am extremely proud of myself for some parts of this so !! yea !! if u enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it, pls feel free to leave comments / reblogs >_< they mean the world to me ^^

#seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #svt angst #minghao smut #minghao x reader #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao smut #xu minghao fanfic #xu minghao angst #minghao angst #the8 x reader #the8 angst #📝 writing #flight of the stars

[angelicyoongie]

lovesick (XVl / finale)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 13.3k — warnings: yandere, obsessive behaviour, explicit sexual content unprotected sex, breast play, fingering (vaginal), VERY mild d/s, consensual punishment (spanking), consensual voyeurism (jimin watches like the freak that he is). — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late. — a/n: please read the author's note at the end of the chapter!

Previous - Masterlist

It takes six months before you finally hear the words you've been waiting so desperately for.

"Sunshine, we've been talking and we think it's time we relocate to somewhere else." 

Your fork clatters to the table, clicking loudly against your plate. You wonder for a moment if you're dreaming – if your brain has started to hallucinate scenarios to make up for how suffocated you feel in this cabin – but Jimin's hand squeezing your knee is too real to be made up.

"What?" You breathe, shocked. 

"We can't stay here for much longer, baby, the station uses the cabin sporadically throughout the summer months," Jimin says. He takes a bite of his food, shrugging as he admits, "Our stay here so far hasn't exactly been legal. I'd rather not get us all in trouble for using the place unauthorized." 

"We know how cooped up you've been here," Seokjin adds, giving you a sad smile, "We never planned on staying here this long but we had to figure some things out first. We wanted to find a place that was perfect for us, somewhere that could be our home, so we couldn't rush it." 

You drop your hands into your lap, clutching them together tightly. You hope it's enough to hide how badly they're trembling, blood pumping loudly in your ears as it dawns on you that this is your ticket out. You might not be able to escape, not in the way you attempted so many months ago at least, but it's a start. The boys wouldn't make this decision if they didn't trust you, if they didn't feel confident enough in your connection that you won't try to run away from them. 

And you won't. 

You've come to terms with your situation; that your soulmates need you to get better. 

Though you haven't had much of a choice, you have decided that you're going to stay until the bond settles, just until they stop being so obsessive and paranoid. Maybe then you'll be able to go back to the life you had before and do everything right with them this time.

The you from six months ago would've been disgusted that you're even entertaining the thought of giving them a second chance, but you know better now. Your soulmates are sick. Perhaps with time, and a lot of therapy, they will be able to understand what they've been putting you through and try to make amends for it. 

You know that the healthy thing to do would be to run away without a backward glance but you can't. Try as you might to hate it, your soul – your heart – has long since accepted them. You can't quite call it love, not with the circumstances of how those feelings came to be, but you do like them. 

"It's some hours away but it's a quaint home, just big enough for the eight of us. It's on the outskirts of– the city! So it has a big garden and a lot of picturesque trails around it," Seokjin's voice cracks as he almost lets the town name slip, Namjoon elbowing his side with a low hiss. 

"It's perfect for taking Yeontan on walks!" Taehyung pipes up with a grin, sneaking the whining pup at his feet a piece of sausage. 

You're not surprised that the boys aren't willing to share any information about the new house and place you'll be moving to. They may not be as paranoid as they were at the beginning but that still doesn't mean that they have full faith in you just yet. But you expected that. You just need to play your cards right – stay at the house until they let their guards down and then, maybe, you'll be able to slowly lay down the foundation you need to convince them to let you go back to your home. 

"That sounds lovely," You smile, glossing over Seokjin's blunder. 

Needing to act as normal as possible, you once again pick up your fork and try to resume eating your dinner. The piece of chicken you shove into your mouth doesn't taste like anything, your nerves making everything bland and tough to chew. But you push through, moving around some rice on your plate as you nonchalantly say, "But what about your jobs? Jungkook's degree? I would hate for our move to affect you like that." 

"You don't have to worry about that," Jimin squeezes your knee, "I'll be commuting with Seokjin hyung and Hoseok hyung. Namjoon hyung has been hired at the library in the city we're moving to and Jungkookie is going to finish the rest of the semester online." 

"Taehyungie and I can work a lot from home, so we're planning on doing that. We might have to go into the office now and then, but that's no problem," Yoongi supplies. He gives you a fond look as he says, "We're hoping it'll make the transition into the new house easier for you since some of us will always be home to spend time with you." 

And it'll be easier to make sure you don't do anything stupid. 

"Ah, I see, that's nice," You say. "Thank you for thinking of me." 

"Always," Namjoon grins sweetly, his dimples indenting his cheeks. 

It might not be a lot to go off, but the fact that the majority of them are planning on commuting every day must mean that the new city can be too far away from your old one, even if you don't know exactly where it is yet. An hour, maybe a little more, if they're being extra careful. You can work with that.

Hoseok catches your gaze from across the table, his expression earnest as he says, "We want you to be able to have a normal life, Y/n. With us."

"I know our methods have been a bit..." He trails off with a small grimace, no doubt thinking about what transpired in his shop and everything that followed. You can't exactly say that Hoseok looks remorseful, none of them do, but there is a touch of shame in their faces that hasn't been present before.

"I won't apologize for what happened because that's what led us here and gave us the chance to grow closer like we were supposed to all along. But, we want to do better by you and we're going to do our best to make sure that happens." 

The others voice out their agreement, nodding along to Hoseok's words. 

You shove a mouthful of rice into your mouth to dampen your sigh.

You're not even sure why you feel disappointed by the fact that the boys refuse to apologize for what they did to you, you already know they don't feel bad about it. Still, perhaps the part of you that likes them was hoping for it nonetheless. Maybe it would be easier for you to accept everything that has happened if they did – if they admitted that they had hurt you and wanted to repent for it. But, you're probably going to have to wait a very long time before that day ever comes – if, it ever comes.

Swallowing your food, you try to shake off any useless thoughts. You need to focus on the future, on the fact that you'll be regaining a sliver of freedom soon. 

You move one hand under the table, covering Jimin's hand with yours. 

Squeezing it, you hope you don't sound too eager as you ask, "So, when do we leave?" 

Two weeks. 

You figured the move would happen soon, but not that quickly. The boys must have planned this for a long time, far longer than they let on, because there's no way they could have closed on a house this fast. 

The day after they told you of their plans, Namjoon had already begun moving some of his books out of the cabin. Truthfully there wasn't much any of you needed to pack up, only a few random personal belongings and decor elements that had been placed here and there to make your stay a little more cozy. In the end, it all fit into three boxes placed neatly by the door.

A few days before the move, the boys spent an hour rearranging the furniture back to how it was when you had first arrived, erasing any trace of the last six months with it. It was as if no one had ever been there in the first place, as if it hadn't served as a prison for half a year.

When you first arrived you wondered if you would ever be able to leave, and now, you're about to do just that. 

"Y/n."

You turn around as Yoongi calls your name, watching as he steps closer with a piece of fabric between his hands. Yoongi unfolds it under your gaze, revealing it to be a black opaque scarf. 

"We're all ready to go, love, but you have to cover your eyes with this," Yoongi frowns apologetically. "We want to trust you, but for everyone's peace of mind, this is the best thing to do. It's just until we arrive at the house." 

You eye the scarf for a moment, flashing Yoongi a weak smile as you say, "It's okay, I understand." 

He steps closer, bringing the fabric up to your face. The material is soft, and cool, as it covers your eyes, blocking out any semblance of light. The scarf is wide enough that it covers everything from your eyebrows to the tip of your nose, removing any chance you might have had to tilt your head to peek at the outside world. You should've figured they would've been prepared for that possibility. 

Yoongi's hands are careful as he ties the scarf behind your head, making sure he doesn't tangle or tug at your hair in the process. You can feel his breath against your cheek as he binds it securely, double knotting it to make sure it's not going to come undone. 

"All done," Yoongi announces softly, curving one hand along the back of your neck. He tilts your head up slightly, just enough for his lips to brush against yours. Your eyes fall shut despite the darkness already hindering your vision, leaning forward to catch his lips in a proper kiss. 

Yoongi indulges you for a few seconds before he steps back, removing his hands. 

"Come back," You pout, your fingers searching blindly for his coat. 

"We're going to be late, love, the others are waiting for us," You can hear the smile in Yoongi's voice as he grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

As if summoned, the cabin door flies open, Jungkook's voice echoing slightly in the near-empty cabin as he asks, "Are you coming, hyung? Y/n? We're all ready to go." 

You let Yoongi lead you forward, your steps a little unsteady despite his promise that nothing is in your way. Jungkook grabs your other hand as you near the door, chattering excitedly about how he brought some of your favourite snacks for the trip as they both help you down the stairs. 

Your heart jumps, picking up speed, as you hear the steady thrum of a car motor running. You can't believe this is actually real – you're truly leaving this place for good. You know that Taehyung, Jimin, and Namjoon have already left, the boys eager to get everything in order at the new house before your arrival. 

You're maneuvered into the car without too much trouble, Hoseok clicking your seatbelt into place as you're placed between him and Jungkook in the backseat. You find a bag of sweets dumped into your lap the moment you're situated, Hoseok chiding Jungkook lightly for startling you. Yoongi has taken his place in the front seat, groaning loudly as Seokjin declares that as the driver; he's going to be responsible for the music and that no one is allowed to complain about his choices. 

You lean back in your seat, getting yourself comfortable between Jungkook and Hoseok. Their bodies being flushed with yours in the cramped car feels grounding, the feel of their strong thighs pressed against yours being something you can easily divert your focus to with your sight momentarily blocked. Seokjin and Yoongi bicker as the car begins to pull away from the cabin, the gravel road crunching loudly under the wheels. 

Finally.

Knowing there's no chance of you catching a glimpse of the surroundings on the way there, not with the blindfold so securely wrapped around your head, you slump to the side, resting your head on Hoseok's shoulder. Slender fingers wrap around yours as Hoseok takes your hand into his lap, his thumb moving soothingly across your knuckles. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to zone out and daydream about all of the possibilities ahead of you. It's not like the boys are going to magically become more trusting the moment you arrive at the new house but the move will open new doors for you – give you more opportunities to show them that they can lower their guards and trust the bond without any consequences.

They don't have to worry about you running away anymore.

The boys seem content to let you rest on the drive over to the new house, filling the silence between songs with jokes and lighthearted bickering. You easily accept the pieces of candy that are pressed to your lips at steady intervals, smiling at Jungkook and Hoseok's pleased words whenever you accept their offers. Before you know it, the car begins to slow down and you hear Seokjin exclaim, "Ah, there it is!" 

The door on Hoseok's side is opened the moment the car stops, Taehyung whining loudly about how long it took you to get there. You follow their lead out of the car and inside the new house, placing one foot blindly in front of the other. 

"We'll show you the outside later, babe," Taehyung promises as he steers you forward with both hands securely placed on your shoulders, "We just want to see your reaction to the inside of the house first." 

Namjoon helps you slip off your shoes as you step into the house, the smell of a freshly cleaned floor hitting your nose. Taehyung urges you to walk forward a bit more before he stops you, his hands moving from your shoulders to untie the knots behind your head. 

"We hope you'll like your new home, darling," Namjoon says, revealing a hint of nervousness in his tone. 

You're practically bursting with anticipation as Taehyung undos the first knot, the wooden floorboards under your feet giving you the impression that this is likely an older, more traditional, house. You blink as the blindfold finally falls away, the sudden burst of light stinging your eyes.

Your lips part in surprise as your vision adjusts, taking in the space in front of you. 

You're standing in the middle of a large entryway, the area opening up into a big combined living and dining room. One wall is practically filled with windows, letting lots of beautiful sunlight stream in and warm up the space. You notice a massive couch on one side of the room, the size of it definitely big enough to comfortably seat eight people at once. It's facing the built-in fireplace in the wall in front of it, a big TV hung above it. The dining room portion has a lovely intricate hardwood table with eight matching chairs pushed up against it.

You notice that one of the smaller walls has a bookcase spanning the entire width of it, already half-full with what you can only assume to be Namjoon's books. You do recognize little trinkets here and there that the boys kept at the cabin, and even a few larger plants you eyed when you visited Seokjin's shop way back then. 

"I love it," You gasp, stunned at how well they've designed the living room. 

It does feel cozy – home-y, even. 

"I told you the couch was the right choice!" Taehyung walks into the room, grinning smugly at Jimin. 

Jimin rolls his eyes, "It would've looked too out of place if it wasn't for the rug that I found to go along with it." 

"There they go again," Hoseok sighs behind your back. He nudges your shoulder gently, voice low as he says, "They're going to keep doing that for a while. Why don't we go look at the kitchen in the meantime?" 

"Please," You nod, excited to see if the rest of the house looks as good as the living room. You follow Hoseok's lead back to the entry and through the open door on the left, the rest of the boys trailing behind you. 

"The kitchen needed an upgrade so we let Seokjin hyung and Yoongi hyung design it since they do the majority of the cooking," Hoseok scratches his neck, a little sheepish as he pauses next to the large island in the room.

The kitchen is sleek and modern, definitely newer than what you've seen of the house so far, but not out of place by any means. It just feels inviting and bright, like a breath of fresh air. Maybe cooking won't be so bad if you can do it in a kitchen like this. 

"It looks great," You comment, walking around the island to marvel at some of the fancier appliances that are out on display on the counters.

"Thank you, angel," Seokjin preens. He shares a pleased look with Yoongi over your compliment, the younger man's cheeks flushed from the praise.

You catch sight of the pretty, colourful garden outside as you walk past the sink. Looking outside the window above it, you find that spring is already in full bloom here. While you had noticed a few more wildflowers around the cabin a few days before you left, it's nothing compared to the abundance of flowers and shrubs that are blossoming here. 

The view makes you smile. You know your stay here isn't permanent but it does make your heart flutter to know that you're going to be spending your foreseeable future here – in a lovely house with a pretty garden – and not an old cabin in a dark forest. The boys did well by picking this house, it's the type of place you actually would like to live in. 

"Y/n, let's go have a look at the downstairs bathroom and study before we move upstairs," Seokjin says, gesturing to the hallway.

You can still hear Taehyung and Jimin's heated discussion as you cross over the entry to look at the rooms on the opposite side of the house, the french double doors leading to the study winning you over immediately. Both rooms look like they've gotten a recent refresh, the new paint and tiles the boys picked out for the bathroom nicely complementing the old features of the home. The house is the perfect blend of rustic and modern.

Jungkook grabs your hand as you turn to follow Yoongi up to the second floor, excitedly dragging you up the stairs ahead of the others. He quickly explains that the second-floor houses all three bedrooms and an additional two ensuite bathrooms. Jungkook eagerly tells you about the choices they made for the bedrooms, from the color of the wall to the bedside tables to even the small light near the window that projects stars on the ceiling when it's dark out. 

Yoongi takes special care to point out the wainscoting he put up in the second bedroom and he flashes you a gummy smile as you praise him for the work he's done. You drag your fingers over the soft duvet on the seemingly king-sized bed in the room, a lightbulb going off in your head as you remember that there are only three bedrooms. 

"Wait, if there's only three beds, what are the sleeping arrangements going to be like?" 

Hoseok speaks up from where he's leaning against the wall, "We're all going to share, sunshine. Some of us will have to stay overnight in the city due to our jobs every so often so that should clear up some space, but aside from that, we'll be sharing beds." 

The surprise must be evident on your face, because Namjoon grimaces and quickly supplies, "We know we've been neglecting each other as soulmates. We don't feel the bond in the same way as we do with you but we are connected regardless. This... well, this is our attempt at strengthening that connection. We're trying to accept that the bond goes eight ways – not just one." 

You find yourself speechless at what you've just heard. You knew that the bond was slowly mellowing them out but you never thought that it would start affecting the connection between them as well. If that part of the soulbond starts to heal then... You might be able to get back to your normal life sooner than you first dared to hope for. 

"We still have one more room to look at, love," Yoongi touches your hip, nudging you towards the door. None of the boys seem to expect a response to what Namjoon just told you, understanding that the news has left you a little dumbfounded. 

Taehyung and Jimin must have resolved their bickering during your tour, the two of them waiting by the door to the final room, giggling at something on Taehyung's phone. The hot and cold behaviour the boys have towards each other does give you a whiplash most days but you suppose that too might become less frequent as the bond between them finally gets the nurture it's been needing for years. 

"We didn't want to complete this house without you," Yoongi explains as he pushes open the door. The last bedroom is noticeably less finished than the rest of the house, the walls a tired white and the furniture non-existent aside from another king bed. "This is your home just as much as it's ours, so we'd really like it if you want to help us design the final bedroom." 

"I'd love that," You grin, eager for a project you can occupy some of your time with. 

"We'll be collecting your things soon, babe," Jimin adds, "Your lease is up on your apartment and you don't need it anymore, so we'll take turns packing up everything and bringing it over next weekend." 

You stare at the blank wall, heart sinking in your chest. Somehow, you had forgotten about your lease. A burst of anger you haven't felt in a while bubbles up under your skin, the urge to scream and curse at them taking over your body. But what good will it do? 

In their eyes, this is your new home. The need for your apartment is now obsolete. 

You breathe slowly through your nose, quelling the flames before they can burn too hot. You may lose your apartment, your home, for now, but that doesn't mean you can't make a new home somewhere else later. You'll be fine. You're sure Heejun and Jaemin will gladly let you crash on their couch until you figure something out. For now, you just have to accept the situation for what it is and play along. 

You have missed your things, so it'll be nice to be able to make this house your own for however long you'll need it. 

"Great, thank you," You grit. 

For once, Jimin seems oblivious to your snark. He throws an arm around your shoulders, bumping his forehead against yours as he grins and says, "C'mon babe, let's go have a look at the garden. I think you're going to love it." 

You throw a glance towards the window, plastering on a convincing smile as you say, "I'd like nothing more, Jiminie." 

Time passes quickly in the new house once you begin to settle in.

The unfinished bedroom gets decorated to your liking, the walls repainted and the newly hung shelves display most of the little knick-knacks from your old apartment. As spring begins to bleed into summer, you take on the task of getting the already stunning garden ready for the warmer weather. You often find yourself outside with Jungkook or Yoongi, weeding around the plants or mowing the grass to make sure Yeontan has a nice, safe space to run around in. The pup loves to dig up anything that has been freshly planted, so someone must always watch him like a hawk whenever the soil has been recently turned. You've already lost a bed of beautiful purple hyacinths once and you don't want to make that mistake again (even if the picture of Yeontan napping in a pile of flowers was a little cute). 

Truly, it's all too easy to fall into a new routine and it doesn't take long before you know the boys' schedules by heart. Jimin, Seokjin, and Hoseok are away the most since the nature of their jobs doesn't allow them to work from home. Seokjin and Hoseok have hired more helpers to be able to spend the full weekend at home, in addition to a day or two here and there when they work on the administrative side of their businesses. Jimin, however, doesn't have that option. He often spends three days at the time in the city, his shifts too long and tiring for him to be able to make the drive back and forth every day.

You miss him whenever he's away and it's becoming quite obvious that the others do too. Jungkook and Taehyung in particular often mope around the house when Jimin is working his shifts, lamenting about how unfair it is that he has to stay there for days all by himself. Even if you're a little surprised at how quickly the bond has grown between the boys, you do admittedly find it awfully sweet to see them puppy-piling whoever has been gone for a day or more whenever they return to the house. Though, you always grow a little wary when Jimin comes back, as the days apart usually leave him a little more hungry for mischief than usual. 

You can already tell that Jimin is up to something the moment he steps into the house, his eyes sparkling with interest despite his tired complexion. Your suspicion wavers slightly during dinner with Hoseok and Seokjin, as Jimin keeps yawning between bites and resting his head heavily against your arm the moment he's done eating. He stays glued to your back as you all shuffle into the living room after, hugging you tight to his chest as he settles down on the couch. He only hums in agreement when Seokjin proposes a few rounds of Mario Kart, letting out a tired sigh as he hooks his chin over your shoulder to watch them. 

Jimin has one hand tucked under your sweatshirt, petting over the bare skin on your waist while he nuzzles his face against your neck. The gestures are innocent and sleepy, and you find your guard lowering with every round Hoseok and Seokjin play.

You snort as Hoseok gets hit with a blue shell just as he's about to cross the finish line, Seokjin letting out a whop as he races past him. 

"You're such a cheater!" Hoseok huffs, glaring at the teasing dance Seokjin does to celebrate his fifth win in a row. 

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Hobi, but you're just not as good as I am," Seokjin grins. "I never lose once I set my mind to something, you know that." 

"You're too full of yourself, hyung," Hoseok shakes his head as he gives Seokjin's shoulder a light shove. 

"And you're a sore loser," Seokjin quips, laughing as he gets pushed to the ground. He swats Hoseok's hands away as he tries to wrestle with him, his squeaky laughter filling the room as Hoseok grumbles out his protests. 

The hand on your waist suddenly stills just as Seokjin's laughter lulls. The mischief is back in Jimin's voice as it brushes against your neck, his tone taunting as he says, "Maybe it's time you brought Seokjin hyung down a peg, huh, Hoseok hyung?" 

You hold your breath as Hoseok and Seokjin both freeze, their heads slowly turning to face the couch. 

"What are you talking about, Jimin?" Seokjin, never one to entertain Jimin's antics for too long, purses his lips as he stares him down. 

"You do win almost every game we play, hyung, that's true, but you've also played more video games than all of us combined. Maybe if you and Hoseok hyung played a game that was more.. level to your experiences, it would be more fair?" Jimin proposes.

"What kind of game are we talking about here?" Hoseok asks. You can tell his curiosity is winning out over his usual disdain for Jimin's 'games', his eyes tracking Jimin as the younger brings one hand up to your jaw, turning your head to the side. 

You let out a stuttered breath as you meet Jimin's hungry gaze, his glossy lips twisting into a smirk as he looks you dead in the eyes and says, "How about a competition to see who can fuck our baby better?" 

You hear Seokjin sputter on the floor as Hoseok lets out a pained groan.

"Hyung! You almost kneed me in the balls! Are you seriously still trying to cheat?" 

"I'm not– I'm surprised!" Seokjin retorts with a squeak, "I didn't think that little devil would joke around with something like that!"

"I'm not joking though," Jimin hums as he strokes his thumb along your jaw. "Wouldn't it be interesting to see who would win – who Y/n would crown the best?" 

Jimin's gaze leaves yours for a second as it glides down to his hyungs on the floor, the corner of his mouth quirking into a mocking smile as he says, "Or maybe you're just too scared to find out who she prefers? I guess it might be better for you to give up now Hobi hyung, if you're not confident that you can beat Seokjin hyung."

Your lips part in surprise as you realize that Jimin is serious about his proposal, that he's trying to goad them into competing. It's a low blow and an obvious one too, but you don't think Hoseok and Seokjin care – not when Jimin is openly questioning their ability to pleasure you. 

Seeing Hoseok's brows furrow in thought, Jimin returns his attention to you. He leans forward to slot your mouths together, taking advantage of the access you've given him as he pulls you into a deep kiss. His tongue dips past your lips right away, curling around your own as he holds you still. You can't help the moan that tumbles out as Jimin ravages your mouth, the sounds wet and filthy as he kisses you passionately.

You slump into Jimin's arms, letting him take full control of the kiss. It's only when you start to turn lightheaded that you turn your head away, gasping for air as Jimin moves his mouth to your jaw. You glance with hooded eyes down at the floor as you attempt to catch your breath, your stomach doing a flip as you notice how affected Hoseok and Seokjin seem. They're both turned on by the little show Jimin put on for them, their bulges prominent and straining against their pants.

The tension in the room is palpable. Seokjin and Hoseok look like they're teetering on the edge between hesitance and hunger – both wanting what Jimin is proposing, but still holding themselves back from accepting it. 

You know Jimin can sense it by the way he makes you moan as he sucks your skin between his teeth, leaving his mark on your delicate throat. He lets out a low chuckle at the sharp intake of breath he hears from Seokjin. 

"If the two of you aren't going to pleasure Y/n then you better say your goodnights now. I'll make sure to fuck her twice as good as either of you ever could. Hmm.. Do you think she'll even remember your names once I'm done?" He purrs against your neck, kissing his way back up to your lips. 

"What do you think, baby? Should the two of us go upstairs, or do you want to see what the hyungs can do to you?" 

While you don't particularly agree with Jimin's methods, you can't deny the fact that you have been curious about when Seokjin and Hoseok were going to get intimate with you. You've had countless make-out sessions with each of them, heavy petting involved, but it's never gone beyond that. The boys have been giving you some space to settle in properly and get your bearings in the new house but you've reached the point where you're honestly a little desperate to be touched. You want them to fuck you. And for all of Jimin's schemes, even you can agree that this one sounds fun – hot, even. 

"I–" You shudder at the way Jimin presses his thumb against the bruise he left, eyes fluttering closed as you shyly admit, "I wouldn't m-mind, but I don't want to pressure them–" 

"Fuck," Hoseok curses, pushing himself to his feet, "Whatever, I'm in."

He sends a sharp look down at Seokjin, "You better not chicken out." 

"Yeah, hyung," Jimin chimes in, "Are you forfeiting your chance to finally fuck Y/n? Who knows when you'll be able to do it later when she has five other soulmates who already know her body so well."

Seokjin's jaw is clenched so tight it looks like it's going to break, his expression stormy as his eyes jump from person to person. His gaze lingers on you for longer, drinks in how affected you look after just a little kissing, how eager you seem to finally have your final two soulmates at your mercy. Even if he imagined your first time together to be a little more romantic and with a lot less Jimin, Seokjin can't deny that it's exciting to be able to prove himself as the best lover out of the group. 

"I'm not forfeiting anything," Seokjin huffs, standing up to join Hoseok. "I'll win this fair and square. Just don't be too sad when Angel picks me as the best lover, yeah?" 

Hoseok doesn't deign Seokjin with an answer, his sights already set on you. He brushes past his hyung with long strides, scooping you out of Jimin's arms and into his own. Hoseok rounds the coffee table to place you down on the other side, creating some space between you and the others, drawing a line he doesn't want anyone to cross.

You lean back against the table as he squats down in front of you, watching him with wide eyes as he reaches out to trace your bottom lip with one of his fingers. 

"Sunshine, don't you think you're being too much of a tease?"

Hoseok's gaze hardens as you inadvertently swipe your tongue along the line he just traced, your lip tingling from his touch. You feel the back of your neck flush as you realize what you just did, feeling bashful as you drop your gaze down to the floor.

The denial sits on the tip of your tongue, but you can't make yourself utter the words. Jimin is the one who was teasing them, firing them up, but you didn't exactly stop him either, did you? You're not ashamed to admit that you've been wanting Hoseok and Seokjin for a while now, and Jimin has practically served them up on a silver platter for you. 

"I–" You swallow thickly as you glance up and meet Hoseok's dark gaze, "I'm sorry?" 

Hoseok's mouth quirks, "I don't think you are, Y/n." 

Heat pools low in your stomach at Hoseok's astute observation, your thighs clenching helplessly under his sharp gaze.

"You deserve a little punishment for that, sunshine, don't you agree?" He hums.

The last time you were 'punished' was humiliating and not something you had agreed to at all. But this time, you're given the option to deny him, to walk away if you so wish. Despite everything they've done, you know they don't want to force you to do something you don't want to do. 

Truthfully, it does make you a little nervous to give Hoseok full control, but the soulbond will never settle until you show him that you're willing to put your full trust in him. 

"Yes," You weakly agree, embarrassed, knowing that he's looking for a verbal answer.

Hoseok gives a pleased smile at your compliance, his fiery exterior cracking momentarily until he reins himself back in. 

"Good. Get on your hands and knees, Y/n, you're allowed to use the table for support if you need it." 

The flush on the back of your neck spreads up to your face as you do as you're told. You turn around, crawling forward on your hands and knees until you're upper body is resting on the coffee table, the position naturally pushing your bottom out. You suck your lip between your teeth as you look ahead to find Jimin cupping himself above his pants, his smile wicked. Seokjin has made his way onto the same couch, his usually sweet face all stoic and difficult to read as he watches you and Hoseok. His hands are digging into his jeans, resisting the urge to touch himself and follow in Jimin's footsteps. 

You lower your head as Hoseok positions himself behind you, his hands landing on the swell of your ass. He places a hand on each cheek, letting out a low groan as he kneads the flesh. 

"I think ten should do it for your punishment this time, sunshine," Hoseok says, warming up the area by alternating between squeezing and rubbing his palms in circles over your cheeks. 

"Okay," You say, your belly swooping with nervous anticipation. 

"Hoseok," Seokjin hisses, a warning that gets shushed by Jimin.

For a moment, too wrapped up in Hoseok's dominating aura, you had forgotten that they would all feel your punishment. Just like they did back then in the cabin.

Before you can change your mind though, Jimin adds a decisive, "If our baby can handle it, then you can handle it too, hyung." 

Seokjin sighs, clearly not willing to put up the fight. "Fine." 

Both of Hoseok's hands fall away at that, leaving you exposed to receive your punishment. Hoseok's shirt rustles as he raises his hand and it's the only warning you get before his palm lands heavy on your ass, the impact knocking your breath out of your lungs. The next six spanks come in quick succession, each harder than the last. It's only a small mercy that your skin is still covered, the sting still intense despite the slight padding between you and Hoseok's palm. The noises you've been trying so hard to suppress tumble out at the seventh blow, a strangled gasp passing through your lips as he makes contact.

"Good girl," Hoseok praises, pausing his hits to allow you a moment to regain your breath. He tuts as you try to pull away from the fingers stroking over your smarting cheeks. "Don't make me add more, Y/n. Take the rest of your punishment properly and I promise I'll reward you." 

You take a few deep breaths, nodding to let Hoseok know that you'll behave. 

The final three slaps are so forceful you're sure you're going to bruise, your body jolting forward over the table as the smacks rain down on your ass. You cry out at the last one, the sound caught between a moan and a whimper as your heart pounds in your chest. 

"Fuck, that's hot," Jimin curses, palming himself harder. "Stings like a bitch, though," He whines under his breath.

Hoseok goes back to massaging your cheeks, soothing the hurt down to a more manageable level. His fingers drift up to the waistband of your sweats, hooking into the fabric before he pauses and asks, "Are you ready for your reward now, sunshine?" 

"Please," You whimper. 

You lift your knees to help Hoseok pull your sweats and underwear off all in one go, legs shaking as you barely manage to raise yourself enough from the table to remove your shirt after.

"Look at you," Hoseok murmurs, gliding his fingers all over your exposed skin. He follows the curve of your spine, only stopping briefly to thumb across your burning cheeks before he drags his hands down your calves. Your breath hitches as he suddenly spreads your legs.

You're mortified to discover that Hoseok's punishment has made you wet, dripping, without you noticing it, your cunt clenching helplessly under Hoseok's burning gaze. "So pretty." 

You gasp as Hoseok drags a finger through your slit, rubbing and spreading the wetness all over your cunt. He stills near your entrance, teasing you by barely dipping his finger in before he slides it back up to your clit. The slow rubs around your nub cause your thighs to shake, your senses overwhelmed as he repeats the motion over and over. 

"Hoseok, please," You whimper, pushing your hips against his finger as he teasingly tries to dip it in again, the movement swallowing him up to the second knuckle. 

"Are you being impatient, Y/n?"

Hoseok pushes his finger deeper, feeling along your walls before he pulls out to add another one, the slide in easy with how turned on you are. It feels good to finally have something filling you up, your cunt clenching desperately around his digits whenever he goes to pull out. 

"I'll let it slide just this once, sunshine. It seems your cunt is hungry for something more." 

The next thrust of his fingers is harder, slightly curled, and you let out a loud moan as he bumps directly against your sweet spot. Two fingers turn to three, stretching your walls out in preparation for Hoseok's cock. You keep mindlessly moving your hips back, meeting every thrust of his fingers in hopes that you'll take him deeper, feel fuller. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter and tighter, desperate for that final burst of pleasure to tip you over the scale.  

"Wait–" You gasp, throwing a look over your shoulder as Hoseok removes his fingers, your cunt empty and aching with nothing in it. 

"Don't worry," Hoseok presses himself flush with your back, his lips ghosting over your ear as he says, "I'm giving you what you want. Your sweet little pussy just needs a hard cock to fuck it good, hmm?" 

He rolls his hips against yours, the hardness in his jeans unmistakable. You let out a low keen, breathless as you admit, "Yes, yes, I need it." 

"You'll get it, sunshine," Hoseok presses open-mouthed kisses to your shoulders as he works his pants down his hips, his hard cock springing up against his stomach as he frees it from his boxers. Hoseok groans as he wraps one hand around himself, thumbing at his slit to spread the pre-come with a few quick pumps up and down his length. 

You both let out a moan as Hoseok rubs the head of his cock through your folds, making it even wetter. He positions himself at your opening, one hand gripping your waist as he pushes inside. Your walls open easily, practically sucking in half of his cock in one go. With how relaxed and eager you are, it only takes one firm thrust from Hoseok to bury the rest of him inside of you. 

"Oh gods," You groan, your fingers scrambling over the waxed tabletop for support as you desperately clamp down around his cock. 

"Are you ready, Y/n?" Hoseok places both hands on your waist, holding you still. He draws his hips back, leaving only the tip of his cock inside your cunt, teasing. You feel him twitch as you clench around him, his usually composed voice wavering just the slightest as he says, "I'll give you everything you need, you just have to ask." 

Your pride is already long gone, vanished into thin air at the first touch of Hoseok's skilled fingers. You're not above begging, not if it'll finally sate the arousal licking up the inside of your stomach. 

"Please fuck me, Hobi," You whine. 

The grip on your waist tightens, Hoseok's fingers digging into your flesh as he finally gets to hear the words he's only been dreaming about for so long. His eyes are dark are he stares down at your body, as he memorizes the way your cunt clings to his cock, aching to be filled. Not even the loud groan coming from the couch is enough to tear his gaze away, not when he has such a perfect vision right in front of him. 

"As you wish, my sunshine."

You have no way of preparing yourself for the way Hoseok snaps his hips forward, slamming into your cunt so hard it makes your back arch. Your arms give out under the brutal pace he sets, your hands fruitlessly gliding across the table for something to hold on to as he punches his cock in with every deep thrust. It's only the tight grip Hoseok has on your hips that keeps you from sliding across the surface.

Your head feels like it's filled with static, no thoughts forming beyond more, please, more, as Hoseok moves in and out of you. The harsh noise of Hoseok's skin slapping against yours causes another gush of arousal to wet your cunt, making it sound absolutely sloppy as he delivers another hard thrust, your slick squelching around his cock. 

"Fuck– Fucking hell, Y/n," Hoseok growls, the sound spurring him on as he lowers his thighs to snap his hips even faster, "Are you that desperate for cock, baby?" 

Your next moan is torn from your throat as the new angle causes Hoseok's cock to bump straight into your sweet spot, the unrelenting hammering of his length making you see stars. You can't even close your mouth properly to stop the drool that slides past your lips, your whole body numb with pleasure. 

Hoseok grunts as your walls flutter around him, his gaze flickering from the dazed expression on your face to the couch. He smirks as he sees Jimin with his hand around his cock, the younger's half-lidded eyes watching your fucked out expression intently as he strokes his length. Seokjin has finally caved too, palming himself slowly over his underwear, jeans discharged to the side. 

Hoseok grins as he meets Seokjin's narrowed eyes, his thrusts slowing down in favor of grinding his hips in deep, slow circles. One of his hands slides from your waist to your hair, grabbing a fistful of it to pull your head up. It leaves you staring straight at Seokjin and Jimin, moans and whimpers falling freely from your parted mouth as Hoseok pushes you closer and closer to the edge. 

Hoseok pats your side, voice a little mean as he says, "Did you already forget about our competition, Y/n? I need you to look at hyung while I fuck you and let him know that he won't be able to get the same pretty sounds out of you as I am." 

"Can you do that, sunshine?"

You shudder as he tugs on your hair, the faint sting traveling straight down to your cunt. 

"Y-yes," You gasp, getting your hands under your just enough to raise your head on your own, holding the position Hoseok has left you in. 

His fingers drift back down to your waist, ghosting over the skin there before he slips between your legs, grazing over your clit. The contact makes you jolt, and you both moan as it drives his cock deeper into your cunt.

"That's right, it's time for your reward, baby." 

He starts rubbing circles against your clit as his thrusts once again turn sharper, quicker. You have to fight to keep your eyes open, to keep holding Seokjin's burning gaze as you're pounded into the table. Being watched so openly, so attentively, only turns you on more. Your whole body is shaking, muscles pulled tight, as the wave of pleasure in your belly begins to crest. You know there's no way you can hold back, not with how determined Hoseok is to make you explode. You're bringing Hoseok there right along with you though, your cunt clenching so sweetly around his cock that he knows he's not going to last very long. 

It's a particularly deep thrust combined with Hoseok rolling your clit between his fingers that finally sends you over the edge. You cry out as you reach your climax, trembling as your release washes over you. Hoseok groans as your walls clamp down around him with a vice grip, his hips glued to yours as he grinds once, twice, before stiffening as his orgasm hits. You moan weakly as you feel his come spurt into your cunt, flooding it with warmth. 

You're not quite sure when your eyes slipped shut, but when you open them, you find Seokjin practically looming over you from the couch, jaw clenched. He must've pulled his cock out at some point, the length flushed red from the slow, unsatisfying drag of his fingers. You whimper as Hoseok presses a tender kiss to the back of your neck, Seokjin darkly watching the action like he's one second away from throwing Hoseok to the side to take his place. 

"You're amazing, Y/n," Hoseok says, massaging your sides as he slowly shuffles back and slips out of you. 

You let your head drop to the table, breathing hard as you try to catch your breath. Hoseok keeps rubbing your back until your limbs stop shaking and you feel a little more like yourself.

"Angel," Seokjin calls from the couch, "Are you sure you want to keep going? We can stop if you're tired." 

You push yourself up on your elbows, biting your lip as you take in the sight of Seokjin's hand wrapped around his hard cock, squeezing the base to keep his release from building without you. It twitches under your attention, another pearl of pre-come dripping out of the tip to slick up his length even more, coating his flushed skin. 

"I'm sure," You nod, glancing up at him through your lashes as you say, "Need you." 

"Fuck, alright," Seokjin curses, gripping his cock even tighter. "Come here then, angel, and you'll get what you want." 

The simmering heat in your belly roars back to life at Seokjin's words. You carefully push yourself up until you're standing on your feet, Hoseok's hands curled around your arms for support. You can feel Hoseok's come shift in your belly as take a step forward, whining as a bit drips out of your cunt and trails down to your thigh. 

Hoseok tsks. "You better keep all of that inside, sunshine. Don't waste another drop." 

You clench your walls tight, stumbling awkwardly over to the couch as you try to heed Hoseok's warning. Seokjin has already rid himself of his clothes by the time you reach him, his strong hands pulling you into his lap, making you straddle him. 

"Hi, angel," Seokjin smiles, cupping your face to run his thumb across your cheek. He winds the other around your middle, holding you close to his chest.

You practically melt into Seokjin's gentle embrace, nuzzling into his warm hand, "Hi yourself." 

Seokjin pulls you down to connect your lips with his, the softness of the first few pecks quickly turning more heated as he slips his tongue into your mouth. You bring your hands behind his neck, gliding your fingers through the soft hair there to tug him closer. The way Seokjin kisses you, hungry yet tender at the same time, leaves your head spinning. He swallows up the moan you let out, tongue twirling around yours as he uses his grip on your waist to grind you against his cock. 

You gasp at the first contact, at the feel of his hard cock slipping through your folds, bumping against your clit. You clench helplessly as Hoseok's come begins to leak out of your hole, your walls too stretched to hold it in. The spread of your legs makes it even harder, and the grind of Seokjin's length just arouses you more, making your cunt flutter with the need of being full again. You scrape your teeth along Seokjin's plush lips, whining as you say, "I-I can't–" 

His mouth pauses against yours as he feels something wet drip onto his thigh, understanding dawning on him as he feels your skin heat up with embarrassment. Seokjin removes his hand from your cheek in favor of bringing it down to your dripping cunt, scooping up the come clinging to your cunt before he fingers it back into you. 

"So messy," He murmurs, mouthing along your jaw as he adds another finger, pumping them slowly back and forth, pushing all of it deeper inside your pussy. The wet sucking sound of your cunt eagerly accepting it all back in makes you moan, eyes slipping shut as you hide your face in Seokjin's neck. 

He lets out a low chuckle at your shyness, removing his fingers to replace them with his cock. You mewl into Seokjin's neck as he guides his cock into you steadily, the hand on your waist slowly bringing you down until you're fully seated on his length. You can feel it throbbing deep in your guts, your breaths shaky as you adjust to him. 

"Gods, you feel so good," Seokjin moans as your wet, warm walls welcome him in, your and Hoseok's release slicking his cock. He moves both of his hands to your hips, gently rubbing the red marks Hoseok left there. 

You lightly raise yourself up before you sink back down, getting yourself used to the position and Seokjin's cock. You move your hands to his shoulders, setting a slow pace that gradually picks up as Seokjin's hands begin to roam. Your hips stutter as he reaches up to cup one of your breasts, flicking your nipple teasingly before he rolls it between his fingers, tugging on it in a way that makes your cunt vibrate with pleasure. He moans at the response he gets, his dark eyes drinking you in.

"Love your breasts," Seokjin groans, leaning forward to take it into his mouth, "You shouldn't keep them covered up, angel."  

"Seokjin, fuck," You dig your nails into his back as he closes his lips around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth as he swirls his tongue around the sensitive nub. Your next drop down on Seokjin's cock is a little harsher than before, a choked moan leaving you as your pleasure once again begins to build. Seokjin gives your other breast the same treatment, steadily rocking his hips up to meet yours as you ride him. 

He gives your nipple another swipe of his tongue before he kisses his way back up to your neck, biting down in a way you know is going to bruise. He wets the skin to soothe it, repeating the motion all over your throat as you reward him with pretty, breathy whimpers. You eventually grow restless and duck down to capture his mouth, the kisses filthy and messy as you keep rolling your hips. 

"Pretty," Seokjin moans between kisses, "You're so pretty, Y/n. Absolutely amazing." 

It's only when your thighs start shaking, burning with tiredness, that Seokjin takes over. His large hands grasp your ass, keeping a tight grip on your cheeks as he raises his knees to fuck into you. Seokjin picks up the pace from where you left off, his hands moving your body down to meet every thrust, impaling you on his cock with every stroke. He grunts as you clench down around him when he reaches particularly deep, brushing over your sweet spot. 

You slump against Seokjin's chest as he truly begins to lose his restraint, moaning against his skin as he pounds into you. The sting of your red cheeks slapping against Seokjin's hard thighs with every thrust just makes the fire in your stomach roar, the pleasure pain of it getting you to the finish line faster. 

You try to meet his thrust the best you can but the way Seokjin reaches so deep into your belly leaves you feeling a little dumbstruck, floaty. It's like your muscles have turned to jelly. 

Your cunt sounds sloppy as Seokjin hammers into you, fucking you so hard you swear you can see the outline of his cock in your stomach. Moans and whines fall freely from your lips, Seokjin's name gasped out with every thrust. Your oldest soulmate is feeling more competitive than he first let on and for a half second, you worry he might actually fuck you stupid in his quest to make you come harder than Hoseok could. 

You can feel him tensing up more with every thrust, as close to exploding as you are, the sounds of your skin slapping together echoing through the room. You don't want to come too soon, not without letting Seokjin finish too, but his next words do you in.

"You can let go now, angel," Seokjin half groans, half murmurs between one stroke and the next, "It's time to fill your pretty pussy to the brim – to stuff you full just like you wanted." 

You cunt spasms the moment you get permission to come, your walls hugging Seokjin's cock so firmly he can barely move his hips as your release hits you like a freight train. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Seokjin grinds you down against his cock, your clit rubbing over his toned stomach. Your moans are unintelligible, slurred, as Seokjin keeps up his pace for another dozen thrusts. It prolongs your orgasm, your toes curling as Seokjin finally hits his own high. 

His loud moan sends another wave of pleasure crashing over you, your cunt massaging his length as he spills into it with hot spurts. Your arms are shaking like a leaf as you push yourself up, just enough to look at Seokjin's face.

He's a sight to behold with his head thrown back, his flushed chest rising and falling with every hard breath. His hair is messy from you tugging on it, his skin glowing with the sheen of sweat that has settled on you both. He looks beautiful.

You clumsily kiss his swollen lips, your body still too fucked out to work properly.

Seokjin opens his eyes slowly, grinning as he says, "There's my pretty girl." 

"Are you feeling okay?" He winds his arms around your back, plastering you against his racing heart. 

You open and close your mouth a few times, feeling dehydrated and exhausted, the words just a little too far out of your reach. 

You blink as Jimin suddenly pops into view, his smile bordering on feral as he reaches out to cup your cheek. "Oh, our poor baby is completely cock drunk," He coos.

You whine out a protest, too tired to engage in Jimin's teasing. He's also not... entirely wrong. 

"Thank you for the show, baby, you looked so fucking good," Jimin groans, adjusting himself in his sweats. He must have come while Seokjin was fucking you, too excited by the view in front of him to keep up with his comments. One of Seokjin's moans had sounded a little airer than normal, so you can only conclude that it was Jimin, hitting his own release while you were chasing yours. 

"It's a shame you're on birth control, otherwise the hyungs would've bred you so well," He pouts, his eyes shining with something wicked at the reaction it causes. 

You can't help but clench down around Seokjin, the dirty talk hot despite you not being close to ready to have kids. 

"Jimin," Seokjin warns, his cock twitching with interest inside your warm cunt. 

Even Hoseok lets out a pained groan from where he's perched on a nearby chair, his cock half-hard in his jeans. 

"Fine," Jimin huffs. He brushes his lips against yours, tone sweet as he asks, "Well then, baby, who won the competition? Which hyung fucked you the best?" 

You watch Hoseok tense up just as Seokjin's arms tighten around you, both anxious to know the result. You share a sly look with Jimin – one that makes him chuckle and shake his head – before you turn your face into Seokjin's neck, hiding your smile as you say, "Mhm.. It's a tie." 

"What do you think?" 

You smack your lips together, savoring the slightly tangy sauce. Yoongi watches you carefully, the spoon still hovering near your lips.

"It's good!" You grin, "I think it's perfect." 

Yoongi's smile turns into a pout as he glances down at the spoon, "Ah, but now I can't taste it. Hyung would kill me if I double-dipped."

"Can't you just grab–"

Your words are cut off by Yoongi's lips, a sweet kiss being pressed against your mouth. He lightly sucks your bottom lip between his own, his tongue just barely dipping into your mouth. He flashes you a gummy smile as he pulls back, nodding in satisfaction, "You're right, it is perfect."

"Hey!" You whine, lightly hitting his shoulder, "You totally set me up."

Your heart flutters as Yoongi leans in again, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he says, "Maybe." 

He steals another kiss before he turns back to the simmering pot in front of him, the spoon abandoned in the sink. You huff, stepping up behind him to rest your head against his back, your arms wrapping around his middle. Yoongi always smells like forest and warmth, something pleasant you just want to lie down and sleep in. 

Yoongi hums a low tune as you stand there, basking in the warmth of his body and the promise of a tasty lunch. He places one hand on top of yours, petting your skin, as he slowly stirs the pot with the other. 

"Hyung, I'm hungry!" 

You open your eyes to find Taehyung walking into the kitchen, rubbing his stomach with a pout. He brightens up as he sees you, the magazines in his hand thrown to the counter as he quickly rounds it to attach himself to your back. 

"Babe, I thought you were still in bed," Taehyung whines against your neck.

"Got hungry," You giggle. You lean more of your weight onto Yoongi, laughing as he complains about having two clingy brats as soulmates. You can see the fond smile on his face as you peek over his shoulder, the way he easily braces his feet to accept the two bodies practically lying on top of him. 

"Oh right! How long until the food is ready, hyung? I'm starving," Taehyung sighs dramatically. "My client is a fucking ass, he went almost an hour over time in our meeting complaining about things I can't even fix. It's not my fault his secretary is useless." 

"I'm sorry, Tae. Can't you drop him if he's being too unreasonable?" You ask.

Taehyung grumbles against your neck, his body tight with tension, "I wish. He brings too much money to the company to even consider ending the contract with him. He knows he can act like an ass and get away with it because he's practically paying us to babysit him." 

Yoongi lets out an annoyed snort, shaking his head as he says, "I hate to say it, but he's not going to be the only shitty client you're going to have to deal with. It comes with the job." 

"I know, hyung," Taehyung sighs. "But you know what's not shitty? Your cooking! And having some of your food would definitely brighten me up." 

"Brat," Yoongi chuckles. "It'll be done in five minutes, you can go grab some plates while it finishes cooking." 

Taehyung gives the back of your head a loud smooch before he skips over to one of the cupboards, doing as Yoongi instructed. 

You finally detach yourself from Yoongi's back, smiling at Taehyung's antics as you glance over at the magazines he dropped off earlier. You reach out to shuffle through them, none of them particularly piquing your interest until you catch sight of a flyer tucked between two pages. 

You carefully pull it out, excitement thrumming through your body as you realize it's for a flower parade. Your eyes widen as you catch sight of the town name, knowing it's a city that's only about an hour away from your old one. You're not sure if the house is within its limit or if it's just a neighboring one, but it does finally give you an idea of where you are. You quickly glance up at Taehyung and Yoongi, deliberately placing your thumb over the name as you notice that neither of them has seen you with it yet. 

"What's this?" You softly clear your throat, grabbing Yoongi's attention as you show it to him.

You see Yoongi's shoulders rise, his eyes frantically scanning the flyer until he sees your thumb. He motions for the paper, angling it away from you once it's in his hands, making sure the town name can't be seen.

"Ah, this," He gives you a slightly uneasy smile, "It's an annual flower parade they do in the town over to celebrate the beginning of summer. It says it's supposed to happen next weekend." 

You keep your expression schooled, tucking away that new piece of information into the back of your mind. 

"That sounds like fun! Do you think we could go?" You ask, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. "I would love to see it." 

You're beginning to border on frantic for a change of scenery, for something that isn't just the four walls of this house. The garden does help and you have been allowed on a few walks around the neighbourhood, but it isn't enough. You will go stir crazy at some point or another if they keep you cooped up here forever. 

"What flower parade?" Taehyung walks over to Yoongi, peering down at the flyer. You cheer inwardly as Taehyung's smile broadens to a grin, a pleading expression taking over his face as he says, "Hyung, that looks like so much fun. We should all go watch it!" 

You know that Taehyung has a penchant for flowers, that he loves them almost as much as Seokjin does. After all, there's a reason you always received them along with your letters. 

"I don't know," Yoongi chews on his bottom lip, eyeing the flyer nervously. 

"Hyung," Taehyung whines, "pleaseeee. You know I love stuff like this." 

"Why don't we discuss it over dinner?" You propose, knowing you need to calm Yoongi's worried thoughts before he settles on a firm no.

"We'll only do it if everyone wants to go. I would love to experience it with you guys though–" You muster up a soft smile, your heart squeezing painfully at the truth as you say, "I've always wanted to do something like that with my soulmate. It seems really romantic." 

Yoongi's gaze is unreadable as he stares down at the flyer. You're almost holding your breath by the time his shoulders finally sag, his voice defeated as he murmurs, "Sure, if that's something you want, we'll discuss it later." 

You giggle behind your hand as Taehyung tackles Yoongi into a hug, your heart racing in your chest. As long as you play your cards right, you might finally get that taste of freedom you've been wanting for so long. Luckily for you, after almost eight months trapped together with your soulmates, you know just what buttons to push to sway the boys to your will. 

It only takes some begging and a little sweet talk to win the rest of the boys over. Their unease and suspicion quickly melt away as you murmur sweetly about how romantic you find the event – and that while you are nervous about the crowds (a lie), you wouldn't mind it as long as they stick close to you. Taehyung and Seokjin's enthusiasm for it works in your favor too, as Seokjin's bubbling excitement over finally getting to experience the flower parade erases the last of Yoongi's anxieties. 

The week leading up to the parade passes syrupy slow, the days dragging on as if they're mocking you. You're a bundle of nerves by the time you're driving into the city, squirming in your seat as you get closer and closer to your goal. If everything goes well during the parade, you'll be one step closer to earning their full trust – to them letting you go. 

The blindfold around your head comes off the moment the car passes by the town sign, the boys still taking whatever precautions they can to limit your knowledge about where you are. You already know, of course, but you have no intention of letting that slip. It's better if they think that you don't.

"Here we are, darling," Namjoon offers you his hand as he opens the door for you. His grip is iron-tight as you intertwine your fingers, clearly on edge as you step out to join the rest of the group. 

There's an air of tension wrapped around them all as they flock around you, one that doesn't dissipate even when they flank you at all sides as you walk further into town. Jimin has claimed the other side of your body, wrapping one of his arms snuggly around your waist, anchoring you to him. Nervous. 

Hoseok and Jungkook keep throwing glances over their shoulders as they walk in front of you, making sure you're still there whenever you go quiet for more than a few seconds. You can practically feel Taehyung and Seokjin breathing down your neck, their steps matching yours perfectly as they hold up the back. Yoongi keeps drifting back and forth like he can't quite decide where he should be to best ensure your safety. 

It should be suffocating but their behavior is simply pushed to the back of your mind, unimportant, when you finally lay eyes on actual people, strangers, crossing the street in front of you. A lump forms in the back of your throat as you watch a group of friends spill out of a nearby shop, their laughter echoing in your ears long after they've passed you by. 

The town is loud and bustling, music seeping out from every building you pass by. They've embraced the parade to the fullest, decorating the pathways with beautiful florals hanging from every lamp post and flower archways adorning some of the more expensive shops. It's like you've stepped into an explosion of colour as you reach the main street, no stone left undecorated and flowers clinging to every possible surface. The people milling about are just as colourful, the majority of them wearing bright, fun clothing, their faces painted with different patterns and artistic renditions of florals. You've heard talk of this parade before but you had no idea it was this big of a deal, that the townspeople take such pride in the event. 

"I think there's an available spot over there!" Jungkook points to somewhere in the middle of the street, leading the group over to the area he saw. It's just big enough for all of you to squeeze into, leaving you almost first in line on the sidewalk to watch the parade.

You've barely planted your feet on the ground when you hear a couple occupy the spot behind you, the rest of the sidewalk filling up quickly as the start of the event draws near. 

You look around, taking in the sights around you, your senses a little overwhelmed with the colours and noise after so many months of nothing but your soulmates for company. Your heart is picking up speed, matching the sound of distant drums as your gaze glides from couple to couple, their bright expressions and relaxed postures nothing like the love you know. 

The couples across the street hold their lover's hand gently, arms resting loosely around their shoulders to provide a safe bubble against the crowds around them. They lean into each other's bodies for comfort, to bear the ache of standing on their feet for a long time. 

Your lovers hold your hand with bruising grips, arms wound around your body like snakes, constricting you tighter and tighter with every breath. There's no comfort in their embrace, not when they cling to you with desperation – like they'd bury themselves under your skin if they only could.

You swallow thickly, your palm going clammy in Namjoon's tight hold.  

"You okay, darling?" Namjoon asks, leaning down to make sure you hear him over the crowd. 

"I'm fine," You lie, offering him a faint smile, "It's just a lot of people." 

"Let me know the moment it becomes too much and we'll leave," Namjoon presses a kiss to your forehead, giving you a worried look. He doesn't turn away until you reassure him that you're okay, your mouth dry with the untruths that keep spilling from it. 

You can feel the sun beating down your neck, pearls of sweat forming along your back, sending shivers down your spine as they race down it. Seokjin, now in front of you, is taking pictures, capturing every little detail of the flower arrangements and different colourful species that have been grouped together along the street. The shutter of his camera sounds like bullets firing through the air, quickening your pulse with every snap. 

"There it is!" Taehyung grins, pointing down the street. 

Your vision feels like it's swimming as you turn your head to look, the drums so loud they force your heart to skip to the beat, sending it into a frenzy. You stare in a daze as people dance and cheer as they walk past you, flower petals raining down as they throw handfuls out of the baskets they're carrying. A float pauses in front of you, the florals an organized mess of every colour you can imagine. There's a particular arrangement you can't look away from, one that fills your stomach with dread.

It's them.

The tower in the middle of the float is made up of red, pink, purple, blue, green, yellow, and orange flowers, the same kaleidoscope of colors that have been haunting you for the past years. 

It's like a punch to the gut, reality suddenly snapping back into place. The cheers around you turn muffled, your mind reeling with the possibilities you've been suppressing for so long. 

Your mind flashes back to the police station you saw as you drove into town.

This city must be far enough away from your old one that Jimin won't have any connections here. The chances are slim that there are any officers here that are enamored with him, that worship him, like they do where he currently works. They might have heard of him and how he saved Jungkook, but you doubt they would dismiss your case just based on his reputation. Jimin might have already been talking to the officers in your new town, just in case you try something stupid, so this – this might be your only chance at getting real help. 

Heejun and Jaemin will for sure corroborate your story, and if the officers are quick, they should be able to secure the needed evidence. You know exactly where your old letters and gifts are stored in the attic. Hell, some of them are even displayed around the house. It shouldn't be difficult to find something incriminating. 

But–

Your gaze sweeps to the side, lingering on the boys. Jungkook's precious bunny smile is on display as he watches the dancers move around the street, a hint of awe in his eyes. Taehyung is practically hanging off Seokjin's back, pointing to everything he wants Seokjin to capture with his camera. The boys look mesmerized by the parade, their earlier tension eased by the excitement in the air. 

Your soul feels split in half, torn between what you want and what you should do. You don't want to leave them, despite everything they've put you through. They are your soulmates and over the past months, you've grown to really, really like them. The thought of leaving them hurts you, makes your heart ache something fierce, but you also know that you can never have a proper life if you stay. You are terribly worried about what might happen to them – the bond – if you go away, but you're also limiting the possibilities of ever finding a cure for their sickness if you don't. Maybe there's someone out there who can help you and them if you only look. 

Jimin's arm has fallen away from your waist during the parade, his hands around his mouth as he cheers for the performers.

You slowly ease your hand out of Namjoon's grip, hoping your smile isn't as shaky as it feels as you quickly explain, "I just need to tie my shoe."

Your knees nearly buckle as Namjoon gives you a once over, terrified that he might somehow catch you out. But Namjoon simply just smiles, showing off his dimples as he nods and turns back to watch the parade. 

You take a step back, crouching down to tie your slightly loose shoelace. Flower petals keep flitting around you, carried by the wind as they swoop and dance across the ground. You secure your shoe with a tight knot, the tips of your fingers so cold you can barely feel them from the anxiety crashing around inside your body.

You slowly stand back up, taking another small step back. 

None of the boys reach out for you, recapture you, their attention caught by the spectacle in front of them. Your group has been moved around by the crowd enough that another step has you standing behind all of them, watching with labored breath as you wait for their realization that you're not anchored to any of them. 

It doesn't come.

The chaos of the parade provides you with the cover you need to inch back, the loud drums and petals covering the ground muffling your footsteps. Your eyes flicker wildly between the seven of them, trying to figure out if any of them have noticed you beginning to slip away, but all you see is the boys laughing and smiling, their focus somewhere else. 

The couple that was standing behind you is now in front of you, their bodies forming a small wall, a shield, against your soulmates. The crowd behind you easily part as you advance backward, eager for a chance to get a closer look at the parade. Your body feels like a live wire, dread and adrenaline pumping through your veins at a rate that leaves you dizzy. 

Your heart is a jumbled mess of stay, go, stay, go – but your mind knows what it needs to do.

You take a mental picture of the sight in front of you, saving the image of the boys looking happy and beautiful, surrounded by warm sunlight and fluttering petals. 

For later. As a reminder that things could be good. 

It's only once you've reached the back of the street, the distance between you and them so wide that you can barely see Namjoon's head as he slowly turns to where you once stood, waving hands partially obscuring his face as his expression twists into despair, that you let crowd swallow you whole and run. 

a/n: thank you all so much for following along with this story for over three years!! what was supposed to be a short 20k fic suddenly turned into one that was 120k haha, but i've had so much fun working on LS and reading all of your theories have been amazing! 💖 thank you to everyone who voted in the original poll, this story is a collab between you and me :')

i know that the ending will leave some of you with a lot of questions and i can answer the most important one right away: No, I don't have any current plans for a sequel. I have told the story I wanted to tell and I'm happy with where it ended :) However, I might be open to doing some commissions down the line of "missing" scenes from the story if that's something you guys want!

it would mean the absolute world to me if you'd leave me a comment/reblog and let me know what you think of the final chapter! 💖 and if you'd feel so inclined, i do have a kofi if you'd like to support me with a coffee!

thank you all so much again!! i do have a few exciting fics coming up so i do hope you stick around for those!

lots of love, maggy.

#yandere bts #bts smut #bts x reader #yandere x reader #yandere yoongi #yandere jungkook #yandere jimin #hoseok smut #seokjin smut #yandere seokjin #yandere taehyung #yandere namjoon #yandere hoseok

[lis-likes-fics]

Poison

Pairings: Coriolanus Snow x district!Reader Word Count: 13.3k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, technically dubcon, swearing, post-ballad, mentions of killing and death, violence, technically prostitution, oral (m and f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, sadistic tendencies, p in v sex, unprotected sex, coriolanus snow is NOT a good person. A/N: I started this a bit ago but writer's block hits hard. Reader did not remember who the enemy was...but she also kinda did. ANYWAy, I wrote this based around a song from Hazbin Hotel called Poison. All credit for the song goes to Sam Haft and Andrew Underberg. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!

PART ONE: The Deal

The knocks which echo off the walls of your house are loud, firm, assertive. You jump at the sound, watching the door like it would fly off its hinges. For far too long, you stare at the door, debating whether or not you should open it.

Who could it be? You don't get many visitors… You don't get visitors.

You stand slowly, the hairs along your arms and the back of your neck on edge. You swear that you can feel your hands shaking. You hold your breath just so you can actually hear what's going on around you.

Another firm knock is given, and you snap out of your haze.

Your feet carry you across the length of the living room. Your fingers brush the cold knob of the door, and you hesitate before pulling it open, just enough to peek through the crack to see who could possibly be visiting you.

Your eyes widen and you fight the urge to step back, both of pure shock and a modicum of fear. “Mr. Snow.”

The sight of Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow at your door was not one you ever thought you'd see. There are two Peacekeepers behind him, holding their guns tight in offense against you.

You clear your throat, looking upon his expensive suit, his white-blonde hair, the single rose in his breast pocket. You force yourself to look him in the eye, afraid to antagonize him and risk any violence, before remembering who he was. He wouldn't get violent, but you would pay for it if you angered him.

He smiles when you finally meet his gaze, but he doesn't bother to tilt his chin down to level it. “Hello,” he greets politely.

You straighten your posture slightly, opening the door a bit more out of obligation more than a desire to welcome him in. Seeing that he is the man who designed the Games that put you through hell, you would rather keep him out.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, keeping your voice as non-confrontational as possible. “Sir.”

He shrugs, pulling his hands from the pocket of his jacket and holding them behind his back. He almost seems taller this way.

“Checking up on our latest Victor,” he smiles. He motions toward your living room, “May I come in?”

You don't have much of a choice now. With a sigh, you take a reluctant step to the side and grant his invitation. When he takes his first step forward and the Peacekeepers begin to move, he stops immediately and holds up a hand. They stand firmly in their place. Snow turns back to you, smiles, and then walks inside.

He takes the time to examine the place before he ever speaks, and you close the door behind him to shut the grunts out. Snow clasps his hands behind his back once more and glances around the room like it's speaking to him. He nods slowly, humming to himself.

“How are you?” he finally asks after you've both spent far too long in uncomfortable silence. “How is the life of a champion suiting you?”

You try not to scoff, bowing your head and crossing your arms over your chest, making yourself as small as you feel.

“Well enough, I guess,” you mumble.

He glances over his shoulder at you. “You guess?” he wonders, raising a curious brow.

You clench your jaw once, “Mr. Snow respectfully, why are you here?”

He shrugs. “As I said…checking on our Victor.”

You hum. “And you do this with all your Victors?”

The corner of his lip kicks, barely perceptible if you aren't paying attention. But you are. It would cost you a lot not to pay attention.

“That's the routine,” he says. His eyes wander around the room once more, falling back on you with a cold expression. His eyes are like frost, and you shudder at the sight of them. He tilts his head.

“You don't seem quite happy with your turnout,” he suggests, his eyes narrowing slightly in a questioning manner. You feel like your blood has just run cold. The anxiety seeps into your skin. “Why is that?”

You clench your jaw nervously, clearing your throat as you shrug. You tear your eyes away from him for just a moment and force yourself to look back immediately after.

Your voice is small and your attempt at lying fails because of it. “Why wouldn't I be happy?” you ask. “I have…” You glance around, trying to find something to point out before you seem too suspicious—uselessly, you already know you've been caught red-handed. “I have...a new house and—and prize money. And fans, apparently.”

You try not to be too disgusted by that—fans gained with the useless slaughter of children. A few months you've been out of that arena. And you still see the faces of all those children in your head wherever you go, the sounds of regret and their deaths deafened by the screaming cheers of the mindless crowd that celebrated you for it.

“I'm…” you take a breath, “all set.”

He doesn't believe you. Why would he?

“Yet you've barely moved in,” he points out, making a small circle in the place where he stands. He holds his arms out, as if to emphasize his point. “No pictures, little to no personal belongings. This house looks exactly as it did when you first moved in.”

You furrow your brows, tilting your head slightly. “You know what it looked like?” you question, a gentle and hopefully empty challenge.

He raises a brow. “I was the one who approved everything here. For your comfort, of course.”

Ah.

“No one lives here with you?” he wonders.

You shake your head tentatively. “No one to live with.”

His brows raise slightly. “No family? Friends?”

You clear your throat and shake your head once more.

He hums. “A little lonely, don't you think?”

You shrug, your arms crossing tighter over your chest as you turn slightly away. “I'm used to being alone.”

His eyes scan you up and down. “That's quite sad.”

You swallow thickly. “Doesn't matter to me.”

“Here you are all alone in your little District 7,” he says. The way he looks at you, his predatory gaze, it makes you feel so small. But his voice is soft, not as mocking as it should sound compared to his diction. “No friends, no family, and no care about the way it all is.”

You want him to leave, leave you alone to your loneliness, your quiet misery. If he is just going to stand there and call you an outcast, you don't see any reason that he should stay.

“Yeah. Your point?” You don't mean to sound so hostile but you couldn't help it.

He seems to smirk. “How would you like to change that?”

You could have gotten whiplash. You blink rapidly, licking your lip as you try to figure out if you heard him correctly. “What?” you ask.

“How would you like to change that?” So you had heard him right. “Be a little less lonely, You'd have money, friends, all of your needs would be taken care of.”

You don't trust him. Why should you? Why would Coriolanus Snow offer you all of this? Comfort and stability, a life of luxury?

At what cost?

“And you're offering this to me, why?” Attempting a little boldness, you uncross your arms and straighten your spine a bit. “What did I do? I mean…” you scoff, “I won, sure, but only by the skin of my teeth. And I'm sure you don't go around offering this to all your other Victors. What's so special about me, huh?”

There's a long silence where he just…stares at you. His face is completely unreadable, devoid of any type of emotion as he watches your face too closely.

Then a smile begins to curl his lips and he tilts his chin up just a slight. “You're right,” he says simply. Then his eyes look you up and down. “Truth is, I lied.”

You don't like the change in demeanor. It's a different kind of superiority than the one he displayed before. “I figured as much,” you reply, trying not to lose your confidence, though your voice does become a little quieter. “So what do you want? Why are you here?”

He tilts his head and steps toward you. You take an instinctive step back. “You're special,” he says. You scoff but he just shakes his head. “I can feel it. I wasn't lying about my offer. I came to give you more than…” he looks around and sighs, “an empty house with no pictures on the walls. As I said…all your needs would be taken care of.” The smallest shrug raises his shoulders. “With a price.”

There it is.

Again, you scoff. You cross your arms and roll your eyes and plop down on the couch. “Have I not paid enough?”

He walks toward you, and suddenly you regret putting yourself in such a physically vulnerable situation. “You're right,” he hums. “You have. I'm not asking much. Truth is…all I need is an assistant.”

You furrow your brow. “And you're choosing someone from District instead of Capitol?”

He takes a slow breath in, shrugging. “You suit my interests. Capitol does not.”

“So I have to, what, follow you around? Take orders from you?” You lick your lip. “And I get what exactly?”

He takes his hands from his pockets. “Shelter, money, a sprinkle of fame. Anything you could ever need or want.” He stops a moment, thinking to himself with a light hum. “You'd have to sign a contract, of course.”

You sigh, a million thoughts rushing through your head as you actually consider his offer. This is the man who literally designed your hell. He is one of the very people who forced you to fight for survival, to kill for it. For months, you've lived with nightmares full of slaughter and regret.

But for years, you've lived with isolation and solitude. He would give you everything. Shelter, money, a sprinkle of fame. A chance to start over, a chance to be a little less lonely.

But you are all too aware of the chance that this could all blow up in your face. This is Coriolanus Snow. He's not to be trusted, surely.

“And if I say no?”

He stands still for a moment, so still you wonder if he'd frozen in time. You have to urge yourself to hold his gaze. You can't seem afraid of him, you just can't.

Finally, Snow lets out a long sigh. He steps close, before turning and sitting next to you on the couch. He leans back, getting comfortable as he crosses his legs and sets his hands in his lap.

“Then you stay here,” he says plainly, shrugging before letting his gaze wander around the living room of this hollow home. “In this big…empty house.”

This big empty house. Your grand solitude.

Knowing the things you know now, you wish you could say that you would go back and change your decision. You wish you could say you'd go back and choose your loneliness over the dark nights you'd sucked yourself into.

You made a deal with the Devil. And you know that if you had the choice…you'd do it again.

I'm not above a love to cash in…

~

PART TWO: Paradise

A week later, you found yourself standing in the Capitol, in Coriolanus Snow’s office, with a contract and a pen in front of you. You scanned over the words, took a deep breath, picked up the pen, and signed your name on the dotted line at the bottom.

Snow gave you a large smile and sent an escort to show you to your new living quarters. In his house. Down the hall from his room.

And for the next couple of weeks, you've been to two separate welcome parties, two other Capitol parties, and six meetings as Snow’s new assistant. You've handled messages, documents, scheduling, and a variety of appointed tasks that have put you in positions so far above so many Capitol members, you briefly wonder if you've signed into a scam.

At first, there was…resistance among the people. There were insults that you were an animal, a bottom feeder, a whore, a parasite. But every person who had dared to insult you had gone missing the next day. No one made any questions, or remarks, after so many people mysteriously disappeared.

And, soon, you got comfortable. Because Snow held up his end of the bargain. You were comfortable, wealthy, made some friends who had taken a moment to get used to you (you suspect they're trying to be nice to you to earn favor from Snow, but at least you aren't being insulted anymore). You don't go hungry every night, you always have fresh clothes. Sure, your schedule was a bit stressful, but that was an adjustment that could be made. Asking for more would be selfish—and insane, what more could you want?

You were, on the levels that counted…happy, content.

In just a few weeks, you had settled in like you belonged. Well…maybe not to that extent, but the work became easy and the needless parties were much appreciated.

When someone knocks on your door, you're pulling your robe over your body as you walk over to answer it. One of the servants stands on the other side, looking tired from the day's work.

“Yes, Charlotta?”

“Mr. Snow has requested your presence in his study, ma'am,” she says.

You glance behind you at the clock in your room. “Now? It's so late.” You hum, “Alright, thank you. Go to bed. You must be exhausted.”

She nods thankfully and turns away. You're quick to pull your slippers on, pulling your robe tight around your nightgown before rushing down the hall. You don't want to be late to him.

You reach his door down the hall, taking in a breath and raising your fist. Your knuckles meet the door four times.

“Come in,” His muffled reply comes.

You turn the knob, opening the door. Peaking into the room, you slowly walk inside, standing by the door. “You called?” you speak gently.

Snow is slouched over his desk, his pen scrawling away at a file of papers in front of him. “I did,” he nods. There's a moment of silence between you as he finishes up the last part of his work.

He sets his pen down and sits up, his back straight as he sets his clasped hand over his lap and turns his full attention to you. “I have an urgent matter I need you to take care of.”

You close the door behind you, establishing some privacy. It must be important if he's asking you this late. He probably needs you to run some important documents to someone, or schedule another meeting with one of the ambassadors that came to one of his meetings today.

“Yes, sir?” you ask.

“Come here,” he says, making a come hither movement with his fingers. Clasping your hands behind your back, you walk toward his desk and stop in front of him. He clarifies, “Behind the desk.”

You tilt your head, your brows furrowing as you hesitate. You begin to take your first step, pause, and then make your way behind the desk.

He turns his chair as you come to stand in front of him, your hands held tightly in front of you. He sits there, staring up at you as his eyes rake over your body.

You shift from foot to foot, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about the way he's looking at you. And again…silence.

“Get on your knees.”

All the heat escapes your body at the same time. A chill rushes up your spine. And once the initial shock has dissipated, a fire spreads across your flesh and you're burning up. You feel like your hands have begun shaking, so you shift them behind your back.

You have to find your voice again, clearing your throat timidly. “Sir?” you nearly stutter, clearing your throat again.

He shakes his head, amused by the timid look on your face. “I didn't stutter.”

You don't move, shocked to stillness. Snow sighs, standing to his feet and moving in front of you. He holds his chin up, looking down his nose at you to emphasize his superiority. You shrink underneath him.

“You're my assistant. You signed a contract,” he explains. “I take care of your needs, you take care of mine. No matter the request.”

You really should have read the fine print.

“Right now,” he continues, raising a hand to brush his knuckles over your cheek. Your eyes flutter lightly at the contact, holding your breath, afraid to breathe wrong and upset him. “My needs are for you to get on your knees and put your pretty mouth to good use. Then I'll do the same for you.”

Another shudder rushes through your spine. He pretends not to notice, but his smirk does deepen. Your lips part as you try to speak, unsure of what you'll say. “I…”

He drops his hand, lifting a brow expectantly. “Is there a problem?”

You clear your throat one more time, shaking your head and glancing away from his eyes, his intense, cutting blue eyes. “No, sir.”

He smiles. “Good.”

You glance up at him. His hand reaches up and grasps your chin. In the next moment, he's pulling you in as his lips crash down against yours. It's a possessive kiss, deep and devouring—controlling.

You have no choice but to kiss him back, letting your hands fall at your sides and lifting them up to his arms. You don't know where you're supposed to put them.

Just as you're leaning into the kiss, he pulls away from you and takes a step back. His lips, still parted and smiling, are wicked. He lowers himself into his seat, his legs wide open and his hands clasped in front of him. “As you were.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Taking an unsteady step forward, you slowly kneel to the floor. You hold your breath, avoiding his gaze as your shaky hands reach for his belt.

You undo it, pulling open his button and unzipping his pants. Exhaling, you nervously dip your hand into his pants and feel the warmth of his length against the pad of your fingers. You shudder, braving him as you pull him out of his pants.

And he doesn't disappoint.

Your eyes widen and you don't feel like it's real as you hold him in one hand. He's long with a nice enough girth that he will stretch you a bit. You curse under your breath, licking your lips as you glance up at Snow.

He smiles, watching you closely. Suddenly you feel naked. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, not cruelly.

You tear your gaze away from him, looking back down at the pink tip of his cock. You let your lips part and let your tongue fall to the edge of your lip…

~

The soft red light of Coryo’s lamp glows dimly on your skin as his strong hand cards through your hair, balling into a fist to grip your locks at his own need. Your moans stutter deep in your throat where his cock sits, the tears spring to your eyes.

His tongue plunges inside of you, licking the honey from your folds as you arch your back and moan his name. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and he groans into you at the sting of his scalp from your insistent grasp.

His lips press kisses to your back as you white-knuckle the headboard of his bed. His fingers dig into your hips, creating crescents in your flesh that crater your skin. He fucks you in long, hard strokes of his cock. His teeth are bared like a beast, his hair falls over his forehead, his groans are rough with lust.

The crashing of waves drowns you, explosions are set off deep within your body. His liquor fills your mouth, your throat, your belly. It's warm and sating, and he pulls you close to make sure you never stray from his hold.

And through the night, his arms never leave your body, his claws never leave your flesh…

~

It wasn't hard to get cocky after that. The Capitol was lavish, and it had a way of turning people to bathe in the lap of luxury. You slowly began to learn what kind of position you truly held here, and after months of being high-seated in the Capitol, you had begun to sink into your role.

Snow is the Head Gamemaker, you are his assistant. Everyone had to listen to you if they wanted to make it back home safe to their families. With a whisper in your boss’ ear, you could ensure no one ever spoke badly about you again.

Not that you have exercised that power yet, but you could. And Snow was happy to oblige.

After that first night in his room, your lips around his cock, his hand tangled in your hair, the pleasure didn't end. No, it's normal to find yourself tangled in his sheets, to find your head buried between his thighs (or vice versa), to have his name falling from your lips like you were praying to the gods that men had killed years and years ago.

You've become addicted to the taste of Snow, the smell of Snow, the feeling of Snow. It's an easy thing to overdose on.

Should you have been more careful?

Yes. Yes, you should have.

But Snow is an easy thing to get high on.

Katri spots you through the luscious crowd of one of the Capitol’s many needless parties with ease. Surrounded by nobles and benefactors, you brought your flute of champagne to your lips with a smile. A giggle erupts from your throat at one of the party-goers’ jokes—one that you didn't find particularly funny, but you've gotten really good at pretending.

Katri walks up to you, a tray of champagne in hand as she does. “Ma'am?” You turn toward her, smiling and grabbing a fresh flute from her tray with thanks. She clears her throat, “Mr. Snow has requested your presence.”

You hum gratefully. “Alright, I'll be there in a moment.”

You begin to turn around again but she insists. “He says it's urgent. He wants you immediately.”

Ah, then he's pent up. You wave a hand dismissively, sticking to your response. “Well, tell Coryo I'm busy. I'll be there in a moment.” She gives you a hesitant look, and you smile. “He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it. Okay?”

She scoffs lightly, turning away. “Whatever you say.”

The anxiety in the air around her is palpable with the fact that she would have to return this news to Snow. She finds him in the same place she left him, surrounded by diplomats with his own—now empty—flute of champagne.

As she approaches him, he smiles politely. “Where is my little assistant?” he asks.

Katri clears her throat as she switches his glass out for a fresh one. “She said she'll be here in a moment.”

The shift in his attitude is so slight, it's easy to miss. But she notices the slight clench of his jaw, the faintest clutch of his fingers. “Did she now?” he questions, his head tilting a bit to the side.

She nods slowly, switching her tray to her other hand. “Her exact words were…” She clears her throat once more, not wanting to recite your words back to him. You must have been out of your mind. “ ‘Tell Coryo I'm busy. I'll be there in a moment.’ ”

He seems to know there's more to it because he bids her to continue. Her eyes glance away from him as she does. “She said, ‘He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it.’”

She can tell there's something else he wants to say but chooses not to as his smile becomes tight. “Thank you,” he says simply, politely.

She nods. “Yes, sir.” She walks away.

PART THREE: Reality

You smile a bit when you feel Coryo’s hand land on the side of your arm, grazing up the length of it to reach your shoulder. You look up at him, immediately noticing the stiffness of his grin.

I shoulda guessed that this would happen…

“Coryo,” you greet with a smile. He nods toward the people surrounding you, greeting them politely. He doesn't look at you, just begins to lead you away from them as he ducks his head nearer to your ear.

“My office.” His words are firm, with no room to refuse.

Still, like a fool, you say, “In a moment please? I–”

His smile does not falter, but his voice is a demand as he speaks through his teeth. His grip on your shoulder becomes tight. “Now.”

You clear your throat, your smile still intact but not as professionally kept as his own. You nod once, “Yes, sir.”

He walks away, but not in the direction of his office. You watch him leave, clearing your throat discreetly and dismissing yourself from those who try to speak to you. You go straight to his office, not daring to refuse him again.

When you're there, you find yourself pacing the length of the room uneasily, waiting for him to join you. But he doesn't join you, not immediately. He makes you wait, he makes you stir. You stew in your own anxieties, cursing yourself for being so stupid as to tell him to wait.

Him.

Coriolanus Snow.

He interrupts your thoughts ten minutes later—you know, you counted—opening the door and shutting it gently behind him. He doesn't meet your gaze as he walks past you dismissively. He rounds his desk, pulling open a drawer that holds his personal scotch.

In silence, he pours himself a glass. In silence, he takes a sip. In silence, he savors the taste on his tongue and refuses to look your way for even a second.

You bow your head as you wait for him to say something, anything.

And when he does speak, you suddenly wish he hadn't.

“You're ‘busy’?” he questions.

“Sir?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

He smiles, turning to finally look at you. “ ‘Tell Coryo I'm busy. He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it.’ ” He licks his bottom lip, scoffing as he shakes his head at your audacity. “You let those words come out of your mouth?”

You clear your throat as quietly as possible. “I…didn't think it was a big deal… I was on my way.”

He stares at you, unblinking. Then he takes another sip of his drink and sets it down again. He walks from behind his desk, rounding to the front and leaning against it.

“Do you think you're special or something?” He furrows his brow, as though he's confused. You want to sink into the floor, to let the world swallow you whole, to disappear. “What, because I fuck you, you can talk to me any way you want?”

He puts venom behind the word, enough force to ensure you felt it. You swallow thickly, wanting to step away but knowing that if you did that, you would only make matters worse.

“Look at me,” he demands. And immediately, you obey.

You speak quickly, trying to fix your mistake before it can get worse. “Coryo, I'm sorry. I–”

“You're not special,” he cuts you off, advancing toward you. He grabs your wrist, pulling it up sharp and pulling you close to his face, inches away. You can feel his breath on your cheeks. “I own you. You belong to me.” His voice is low, dangerous.

But you've still got some pride left over. And that would be your downfall…

“I don't ‘belong’ to an–”

“You're mine!” he exclaims, though he doesn't shout. There's force behind his words, and his voice raises to a more stern, more possessive growl as he shoves you back. You stumble to the floor, grunting from the pain that shoots up your arm from landing on your elbow. You look up at him, your eyes wide with fear.

I shoulda known it when I looked in your red hot eyes…

“That's what it says in your contract, or do you not remember?” He takes a step closer, standing over you. His voice is low and dangerous, but he has no use for yelling anymore as he speaks to you. “You take care of all my needs—no protests, no complaints. Those words say that you do whatever I want, whenever I want it, however I want it. And if you complain, I take away everything you know, drop you back in your sad little district, and put your name back in the raffle one hundred times over.”

You should have known it from the beginning. A deal so good had to come with a hell of a lot of strings. From the very beginning, he had been lying to you with the idea of a shiny new life.

Spewing all your red hot lies…

He stares at you, his jaw clenched, his breath slowing to a gentler seethe. He lifts his chin, collecting himself as he takes a steadying breath. He kneels in front of you, resting his elbow on his knee.

His voice is a whisper. “You belong to me.” His tone is final, definite. “If I say speak, you say?”

Your breath trembles with a mix of anger and fear as you look up at him, tears threatening to well in your eyes but refusing to breach the surface and give him the satisfaction. Your lips part, though you hardly give yourself space to speak.

“Yes, Coryo.”

“If I say jump, you say?”

“Yes, Coryo.”

His hand wraps around your throat, pulling you forward enough so that your faces are once again only inches apart. “And if I say open your mouth, you get on your knees and drop your jaw.”

You stare at him, your gaze so close to blurring as you sigh, choked up from his suddenly poor treatment of you. “Yes, Coryo.”

The smallest smirk creeps over his lips and threatens the rest of your already weak composure. He pulls you in and his lips press hungrily against yours. It's all teeth and tongue, biting your bottom lip and licking the top of your mouth. You want to resist, but you can't. His touch, however wrong, however killing, is addictive.

When he pulls away from your lips, you nearly seek him out, releasing a breath like he'd filled your lungs with smoke. Your skin picks with red hot spite at the tiny moan that slips through your lips.

He holds your throat a little tighter, not enough to stop your breath but enough to make the tips of your ears tingle. Enough to make the heat in your core grow.

“I own you,” he whispers. “You belong to me. Do I make myself clear?”

Your lips part and shallow breaths pass pathetically through them before you finally respond, a whisper of your own. “Yes, Coryo.”

“I can't hear you.”

“Yes…Coryo.”

His grip loosens. “Good.”

He lets you go, standing to his full height once more as you take in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as your hand flies to your throat.

You watch his hands find his belt, undoing it with deft hands. “Now open your mouth,” he commands.

You swallow thickly, slowly adjusting yourself to sit on your knees. You glance away as you drop your jaw and stick your tongue out over your teeth.

“Look me in the eyes.”

You do, immediately. His blue eyes, hiding so many lies behind them that they brim with color. “Good girl.”

Your jaw ticks as you raise your hands to pull his cock from his pants, already hard from the power he holds over you.

What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself.

You wrap your lips around the tip, laving your tongue against the head before slipping it underneath him. Stroking the rest of you, you take special care in providing his pleasure as you let your lips suckle around him.

Up and down his length, you go, giving him your hot, wet mouth as he likes it—as he needs it. His hand tangles in your hair and grips it tight, guiding you just a bit to take him deeper down your throat. And you do. You take him as far as he'll go, keeping the gag awaiting at bay as you swallow around him.

I know you're poison. You're feeding me poison.

And when you think you've gone far enough, he holds you down and shoves the rest of him farther inside. Your lungs are tight, they burn with the lack of air. But you just hold onto his thighs and hope he grants you enough mercy for breath.

And when he pulls out enough for you to snatch that merciful breath, you can taste his precum on your tongue. And you waste no time in taking him again, up and down and up and down. Just like he likes it—just like he needs it.

He curses under his breath, holding you tighter as his desperation grows and grows. “Fuck, just like that,” he huffs, fighting to keep his eyes open as your tongue caresses the vein along the bottom of his cock.

His lips part, his eyes shut. He shoves you farther down on his cock as your good work pushes him over the edge. The warmth fills your mouth, down your throat in generous amounts of pent up stress. And you drink it up. Every drop. Like liquor.

Addicted to this feeling I can't help but swallow up…

You catch your breath as he collects himself once more, his chest heavy with the lust simmering down in his belly. He tucks himself away, back into his pants. And as he watches you, you lick your lips free of his poison.

He smiles wickedly, cupping your chin in his hand. “Good girl,” he praises again. You stare at him and say nothing else. He inhales, exhales, and straightens his back. “Come. We have a party to re-attend.”

You stand on unsteady feet, wiping your face clean just to ensure you aren't going back to the party with Snow’s cum on your lips.

He pulls his arm around your waist and leads you back.

At the first sight of you and Snow, the vultures swarm. “We were beginning to think you weren't coming back down,” one of them jokes.

Snow smiles, “Of course not. I just had some business to take care of. Isn't that right?” He turns to you expectantly.

You let your smile widen across your lips as you nod. “Yes, Coryo,” you say.

You can see the wicked beast glint happily in his eyes. Pleased, he turns away from you again to look at his hand, realizing it lacks the champagne flutes each of his guests hold in their hands. He smiles at you once more.

“Would you mind getting drinks for me and my guests?” he requests.

You avoid the clench of your jaw that you long to grant him, instead deciding to pull your smile into a wider grin and nod.

“Yes, Coryo.”

“Thank you,” he grins. He lifts a crooked finger to the underside of your chin, tapping it lightly. “And cheer up… It's a party.”

You give him a tight smile and walk away in the direction of the kitchens, which is currently bustling with people making another batch of the well-loved appetizers and refilling more glasses for the guests.

You pass by the champagne entirely to get to the, quite large, liquor cabinet. You pour yourself a hefty glass of scotch and gulp it down, braving the burn of your throat as you finish it with a sigh.

You replace the scotch, claim a tray, and walk out with the requested beverages. You hand them to Snow and his guest, a glorified waitress.

Taking your own flute, you hand the tray to a passing server and let the effects of the scotch sink into your bones.

You wouldn't call the rest of the night a blur, especially because you are completely aware of what was happening as you continued to mingle with the guests. You kept a hold of your wobbling tongue, and you remained civil and polite. Snow could tell there was something off—and of course he knew what it was—but you hadn't embarrassed him yet, so he let it slide.

And that night, when the guests took their leave and the party came to a close, you met Snow in his bedroom once more so he could more thoroughly remind you of who you belonged to.

And like the addict you are, you happily obliged.

~

PART FOUR: Lap Dog

You made sure not to forget your place again.

Weeks turned to months, months turned to years, and you were still seated at Snow's right hand as he climbed the ladder, dragging you along through the journey. You did everything for him, anything for him. That was your job. Whatever he asks of you is considered done as soon as the request passes his lips. Whatever he wants, whenever he wants, however he wants. No matter what.

You sold your soul to the Devil, and you were addicted to the madness of your deal.

“I need you to give this to Snow.”

You're stopped in the middle of the hall by some woman with a stack of files in her arms. She's got a smug face, and you immediately don't like her as she grabs the file at the top of her stack and thrusts it out toward you.

You sigh, taking it as you begin to flip it open. “What is it?”

She pinches the top corner closed, shaking her head. “It's not your business to know, is it?”

You scoff, smiling as you tilt your chin up. The same way Snow does when he wants to stress his rank over another person's head. “Actually,” you wave her hand away from you, “as President Snow's assistant, it is my job to know anything and everything about what goes to and from his desk.” You take a step toward her, looking down on her just as he would. “So I ask again, what is it?”

There's a long pause as she stares at you, her eyes dark with the hatred and prejudice that bleeds from her gaze. Capitol taking orders from District? It's unheard of…

You would think, since you've been here so long, that they'd learn that you rank higher than they ever will. They don't have to like you, but whether they like it or not, they have to listen to you.

It wasn't hard to become cocky, but cocky was something you learned. This woman, whoever she was, was born with it. And that was a plague that would be the end of her.

She huffs quietly. “It's the request he made for some documents.” Your brow furrows slightly. A mistake. Now she believes she knows something you don't. Now she believes she has the upper hand. Her tone betrays her. “Something about the Games’ Victors.”

You don't know what this is. You've heard nothing of the sort.

But she keeps saying “something”. You want specifics. Does she not have it? “You don't know?”

“Of course I know,” she lays a delicate hand over her delicate chest. For a moment, you wonder if she's ever had to do any kind of work (you know she hasn't). She wouldn't last a second…

“And I'd elaborate,” she continues, pulling you from your thoughts, “but I, quite frankly, don't want to tell you, and you probably couldn't read it to figure it out for yourself.” Your jaw tenses at her unfounded insult. You don't respond. “I mean, that's why you want me to explain it to you, isn't it?”

I got so good at being untrue.

You sigh forcefully, a long, deep sigh to try and control yourself. “Excuse me?” Does she truly dare to challenge you in such a way?

“You heard me,” she replies, unblinking.

Clearly, she thinks you're an idiot. A stupid, incompetent idiot. You want to take her words and shove them back down her throat. You want to grab her by the hair and drag her around like the dog she seems to think you are.

But you can't. You must remain civil, so the only way you can try to hurt her is through your words.

You don't need trouble with Snow for embarrassing him…

“Ah,” you scoff, lifting your chin again to keep your superiority. “So you're stupid?”

The blatant insult has her clutching her pearls. Obviously, she wasn't expecting that kind of bluntness from you.

You smirk at her reaction, no longer collected. You have the upper hand once more.

“You really think it's a good idea to talk to me like that? Me? President Snow's second hand?” You don't love playing that card, but it's a play that will almost always work for you.

No one would dare object to President Snow.

She hums, trying to seem unphased. “You're right,” she says, “I probably shouldn’t speak to Coriolanus Snow’s little pup like that.” Her face contorts into one of mocking sorrow, her lip jutting out and her brows furrowing. “She might get sad and go tell her master on me.”

Little pup. Little pup.

Flashes of late nights spent in Coryo’s room, nights where his stress gets the better of him and he decides to take it out on you, nights where he spanks you and calls you names and takes you hard and rough, cross behind your eyes. “My dumb little girl, my pathetic little whore, my pitiful little pup.”

And you would let him, you would encourage him. You would moan and writhe and bend to his will. And your fists tighten at the memory. They clench with rage and regret and the desire to be more than an animal.

You aren't an animal, you are a human fucking being.

I got so good at telling you what you wanna hear. I disassociate, disappear.

Baring your teeth and losing composure, you huff. You're seething as you speak. “I am not his pup.”

She chuckles, finally striking a nerve as she lifts her brows. “Aren't you? His little lap dog.” She puts emphasis on each word, ensuring the ‘G’ hurts. She walks toward you, but you don't move. You stand your ground. You aren't scared of her.

You're going to fucking kill her.

Foolishly, she continues on. “You think just because you won the Games and he decided to take pity on you, that gives you any real power?”

You scoff. Pity. He doesn't know the meaning of the word.

“You're his whore,” she spits. It doesn't anger you because it's true, it angers you because no one even knows about that part of your deal, and she's accusing you of being a whore because of who you are.

Her face is inches from yours, her voice trying to be lower, though it's so naturally snooty that it's hard to reach that threatening level. She sounds like a child. And her sneer makes you want to treat her like one.

“You're a fucking slut. Just a little District animal who got lucky.”

Your anger flares. You grit your teeth. You lower your voice, successfully, and nearly growl.

“You wanna say that again?”

She smirks wickedly. “You are a whore.”

You walk toward her. She's standing so close that she is forced to step back with the stutter of her heels scraping the floor.

“You forget,” your lips turn in a venomous smile, fueled by rage and violent tendencies you're trying your best to hold back, “I fucking won the Games. I killed tributes with my bare hands, and you want to challenge me?”

And you see the flash of fear behind her eyes at the reminder, though she tries to hide it. But you know fear. You've felt it slice your flesh, you've used it to slice other's flesh. You know the biting and the tearing and the clawing of fear, and you can see it clear in her eyes even as she tries so hard to hide it.

Being afraid is the smartest thing she's done since she decided to open her mouth.

“You aren't going to do anything,” she says, as a defense more than an accusation, a reassurance for herself more than a taunt for you. “You'll just tuck tail and run to master–”

You're done being civil. You're done rolling over and showing your belly. You're done bowing your head and taking orders.

If they are going to treat you like an animal, you'll behave like one.

And she meets the blunt end of your rage with a fist to the face. Stacks of files smack loudly in a pile on the floor. You clip her cheek with the ring on your finger, and you huff at the pleasure that comes with defending yourself.

Her face whips to the side. It's a full body reaction. She staggers, crying out as her hand flies to her face, unable to take the heat of your violence. She looks back at you, her eyes wide with fear, too much to have room for anger.

You don't give her the chance to make room for it either. You punch her again on the same side, this time letting your fist connect with her brow. And when she stumbles again, you shove her back so she falls to the floor.

The sounds of her pain are loud and evident. But the bliss you gain from them is only so perfect because she deserves it.

And as you straddle her body, you can smell her fear just as well as you can see it. You can taste it like the blood she tastes on her tongue as you hit her again, and again, and again.

“What is going on here?”

You're off of her in an instant—and it's no scramble. You maneuver off of her with ease and scoop up your files once more, straightening your spine as you stand back and join Snow's side with one hand behind your back, bloodied knuckles and all. You sniff, the rueful look on your face taking a moment to dissipate as you replace it with civility.

You are a human being.

You don't look at Coryo’s face. You know it's covered with anger and disappointment. It's worse if he's stone cold. You can salvage this…

The woman rolls over onto her side, holding her nose delicately as she struggles to her feet. Tiny gasps and painful moans slip from her lips. She got what she deserves.

“Sorry, sir,” you say, obviously lying.

Suddenly, you feel like you should have punched her one more time. Because she begins to laugh. It's a bubbling laugh that you're sure is hurting her.

You can't do anything now. Not while Snow is here.

She shakes her head, licking her split lip and wincing through her laugh. Snow finds that more offensive than your empty apology, more offensive than even your savage display of violence.

“What's your name?” he demands.

She straightens up just a bit more. She also doesn't seem to understand the situation because she has a snarky grin on her face that says that she believes she's coming out of here on top. But those odds are not in her favor.

“Ellyn Halper,” she says.

“Ms. Halper.” He watches her, looking her up and down, his eyes strict and cold. He makes her squirm, even as she looks confidently at him. “You're fired.”

The news hits her like a train. She steps back, faltering, the horror crossing her face. “What?” She scoffs, glancing between the two of you as she shakes her head. “She attacked me!”

“And she wouldn't have attacked someone unprovoked,” he raises a brow. You try not to smile at him taking your side—and it's easy, because they talk about you like a misbehaved pet. “She must have had good reason. Clean out your desk and get out of my sight.”

She lingers, disbelief painting her features and mixing with her anger. When she doesn't move, Snow tilts his chin down and glares.

“Now.”

It's here that her rage outweighs her sense. She loses it. “You're going to protect this animal over Capitol?” she yells, pointing at you.

Still riding the high of your violence, you bare your teeth. “I'm not–”

“Quiet,” Snow snaps.

You shut your mouth.

Ellyn shakes her head, her lips twitching. She looks straight at you, sighing. She steps forward, stopped by Snow's warning hand. She leans in, “You're a disgrace.”

Snow can't have such blatant disrespect.

“Pack your bags, Ms. Halper,” he says. “I'm sending you to the districts.” Her horror is palpable. “We'll see who the animal is. I'm sure they would love to get their hands on Capitol.”

Snow doesn't give her any more attention. He turns and walks away, your impending punishment terrifying as you listen to his steps. You huff gently at her, slowly allowing your lips to split into your triumphant grin.

Snow calls your name. Your lips fall. You turn.

“Lap dog,” she spits.

Your jaw ticks. You turn again, and watch her step back. Your lips part, but before any sound can actually breach your lips, Snow calls your name again, firmer this time.

You huff, harder this time, and leave. You try to wipe the sight of that terrible smile on her bloodied face from your memory.

~

“What was that?”

He's pissed. His jaw ticks as he sets his hands on his hips.

But there's enough anger to go around.

Smacking the files on the desk, just as loudly as before as you jut your finger out towards them in accusation, you counter, “What is this?”

He dismisses you carelessly. “That's my business. Not yours.”

Before he can speak again, you cut him off, speaking quickly and concisely. “In my contract, it says I take care of your needs. It also says that I am your secretary and personal assistant. I handle your accounts, your documents, everything—so that means this is my business.” Stepping close to his desk, you lean forward toward him and lower your voice. “What is this about?”

Instead of answering you, he straightens his back and lifts his chin. With an amused scoff, he smirks lightly. “You actually read your contract.”

You don't appreciate his taunts. You read the full extent of your contract years ago, and you make sure to reread it every month to ensure you've memorized every detail. If he's got you on a tight leash, you need to know how much room you actually have to move.

“Coriolanus,” you huff. You wish you could say you won't say it again, but he'd make you repeat a million times if he felt like it. And you would have to obey. “What is it about?”

He's silent as he thinks to himself, contemplating. How does he answer your question without giving you the power and the luxury of a response?

But it's easy for him to remember that he will always have the power. He will always have the upper hand.

He breathes in, and you watch his lips curve. “The Victors.”

“I heard that,” you say. “What about them?”

His smile grows. The mischief and cunning lights up in his eyes. He places his hands in his pockets, rounding his desk as he leans back on it, crossing his ankles as he does. “This deal between you and I works pretty well, I'd say.”

You clench your jaw, unhappy with where this conversation is leading. You shake your head, “And?”

“And,” he shrugs, “there are and will be plenty more victors out there fit to do the same.”

You lose some of your bravado, your anger and confidence replaced by hesitant disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Sometimes you forget that Snow was, in truth, an evil man. Between your nights of passion and unnecessary gifts, it's easy to forget about the monster underneath his façade of fancy suits and beautiful roses.

He circles your body, like predator to prey…as always.

“I make sure people stay interested in the Games. And people like to keep up with our Victors,” he turns toward you suddenly. “I mean, they seem to take plenty of interest in you.”

You shake your head, your voice weak, “Coryo.”

He ignores you, continuing on. “These Victors are interesting. And some are considered to be quite…attractive in some senses.” He stops in front of you, smiling evilly. “A contract here and a signature there–”

“Coryo,” you try again, your voice trembling this time.

“–and these rich cats can have a Victor all to themselves.”

“Coriolanus.”

He stops, watching you expectantly as you try to wrap your head around his vile proposal.

They didn't deserve this. These Victors have already been through so much and he wants to add more grief and misery to their lives?

You were already lost the moment he stepped foot in your house, the moment you signed that contract, the moment you fell to your knees in his office and had your first taste of him. There was no hope for you now.

He'd gotten you addicted a long time ago…

“These are people,” you all but beg, clasping your hands together in hopes of persuading him away from his sadistic plans, “they're human beings. They aren't animals for you to sell.”

He makes a face, smiling wide as he leans in. “They are animals.” You expected this response, but it still hurts for him to say it so indisputably. “And they're for me to do whatever I want with.”

You clench your teeth and watch him turn away again, reclaiming the file and dropping it into a drawer he pulls open. “And besides, they won't be sold indefinitely.” He looks up at you with that sly grin of his. “The Capitol should be able to have their fill…”

You scoff. “Oh, so they're not just your slaves, they're your prostitutes.” You can't believe him, though you know you should.

He’d done it to you. What was stopping him from doing it to the rest?

Hopefully, you.

“They're my pets,” he counters. He leans forward onto his desk. And he's so tall, that he manages to lean in so much that he can see each little fleck of your irises as you stare unblinkingly at him. “Just like you.”

You nod, pursing your lips. “Okay, then I'm your pet.” You lean in as well, this time. You lean in so close that he has no choice but to shift away from you. “Not them.” You lick your lip and round the desk, wanting so desperately for him to hear your voice for once.

You plead, because it's the only thing you can do. Your voice is quiet, desperate, weak. Just the way he likes it.

“Let them go. You do enough to them, they don't deserve this.”

He doesn't hear you. He doesn't care.

“They deserve whatever I decide.”

Your jaw tenses, your thoughts scrambling to figure out a solution. Any solution. You just need to persuade him, to change his mind. This doesn't need to happen.

But his eyes are so cold, so stoney, so lying. There's no sympathy there and there will never be sympathy there. So you try to sway him in the way you know best.

You drop to your knees, skilled and shaky hands grasping his belt as you begin to undo it quickly. “What are you doing?”

The metal clinks as you work at it, pulling it free from the first loop as you begin to take the latch from its adjusted position. “Changing your mind,” you answer plainly. As you loosen the belt, tugging on it to remove it from the loops of his pants. “This is what you want, isn't it? You're just trying to rile me up to get me to do what you want. I'll do it–”

“Get the fuck off me.”

He pushes you away, shoving you onto the floor like you're nothing. And to him, you are. Nothing.

He doesn't seem angry, just annoyed at your audacity… And then he seems amused. His face lifts and he begins to smile. His smile turns to a chuckle, and he shakes his head as he looks down at you, purely amused by your attempt at persuasion.

“Oh, I get it,” he laughs, walking toward you to properly tower over your meek body. “You think that because I fuck you that I actually care about what you want.” He pronounces the F to hurt, punching it while also saying it with such disregard that it truly shows how little it means to him… Nothing.

He kneels down, resting his arm on his knee and watching you with those taunting eyes. “This isn't about you,” he whispers. Though his voice is soft, it cuts like a knife. Your hands tremble as they lift you up.

He spews his poison without restraint. “You are an animal. And yes, you are my lap dog.”

He feigns sympathy and remorse that he isn't capable of. “You think I swooped in earlier and punished that stupid girl because she talked down to you? I punished her because you're mine, and if I let someone get away with disrespecting my things, no one will respect me.”

He spews all his hatred, and you take it all. “I couldn't care less that she called you an animal or a whore or whatever the fuck else because you are.” It's a slap in the face each time as his voice becomes more and more hateful. “You're my pet, and you're my whore. You belong to me.”

So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp.

You stare at him, your face fallen as you seem to learn your lesson for the thousandth time. You're nothing to him. You're just property, and you mean nothing.

He smirks, standing to his full height once more as you remain tossed to the floor. You stare at him, your fight diminished.

“Speak.”

Like a dog.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Obedient.

“Smile.”

It looks like a sneer.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Well-trained.

Your lips part as you open your mouth, dropping your jaw as you've been doing for years.

And though that satisfies him beyond all belief, that satisfaction is all he needs. “Close your mouth.”

Nothing.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Your monotonous tone falls silent as you await his next command, a dog waiting for orders from her master.

He bends down, grasping the front of your shirt in his fist and pulling close. His face is inches from his. You don't fight him, you don't resist in any way. You let him move you as he pleases, staring blankly at him.

He looks about the length of your face. His smile is wholly evil. “Don't forget what you are.”

Quiet, broken, weak is your voice. Just the way he likes it.

“Yes, Coryo.”

He hums, letting you go. “Good girl.”

~

PART SIX: Addiction

You hear the footsteps coming down the hall and ignore them all the same. Flipping the next page in your book, you sigh gently and pull your legs closer toward you. Just a couple more sentences is all you ask…

Your door opens without a knock, and you aren't surprised. This is his home, you are his pet. Why ask permission for something which belongs to him?

You force yourself to meet Coryo’s gaze, the exhaustion in your eyes clear. He's in the same clothes as before, though his hair is more relaxed and his shirt is looser, the top few buttons undone to let his chest peek from its hiding spot. With one last sigh, you close your book.

You slip off the bed, easing down to your knees. Letting your hands rest in your lap, you allow your jaw to drop open wide, ready to receive him as you push your tongue out over your bottom teeth.

He smirks lightly, his chuckle even lighter. “Down girl.” You close your mouth.

“How do you want me?”

He sighs gently, closing the door behind him and slowly walking inside. “Believe it or not,” he says, his voice gentle, “I'm not here for me, I'm here for you.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed and suspicious. “Why?”

Your attitude amuses him. He shrugs, taking a seat at the edge of your bed and looking down at you. It doesn't feel as condescending as it usually does. “Making up.”

Foolish hope sparks in your chest, but you don't let it show. “So you're not going through with it.”

“No, I am.” He hums, “But I can't have my pet neglected, now can I?”

You sigh, turning away from him. You don't know why you asked.

He pats the spot next to him. “Get back on the bed, my flower.”

You look down at your hands as you rub at your pinky. “Yes, Coryo.”

As you sit up, taking the spot next to him, he tuts gently. “Now, now. No need for that tonight,” he says, closing the gap between the both of you.

You look up at him, your attitude fully present still. “Yes, Coryo.”

He sighs. Coryo sets a hand on your knee, turning toward you. “You're upset,” he says. You scoff. “That's understandable. I upset you.”

You want to say something snarky, but you're on thin ice from today, and you don't need to make it thinner. You turn away, but he catches your gaze as he takes your chin with his crooked finger and turns you to face him again.

And you hate yourself for feeling cared for.

“Let me make it up to you.”

You hate the way you nearly melt. “You can make it up to me by letting them go.”

He hums, shrugging. “Or I can eat you out.” You feel like you might shake at the idea. When you don't speak, he raises his brows. “Unless you just want me to leave…”

He's manipulating you. You know he is. He's been doing it since the beginning. You'd think you had some sort of defense against him at this point, but he's had years of practice in bending you to his will, in getting you hooked on him.

He knows. He knows what you are.

You're feeding me poison.

And you give in. Because you've never been strong against him, not even for a moment. You give in because you're so addicted to him that you'd die without the taste of him on your tongue…

With a long sigh, you lay back against your pillows and spread your legs. His smile spread across his face in such a wicked way, self-satisfied and fully amused.

He sets a hand on your knee and shifts himself to kneel in front of you. He slowly pulls your panties down your legs and pushes your nightgown away, teasing you and increasing your still-there frustrations.

Yes, you've lost the ability to resist this man and his sexual prowess, but that doesn't mean you want to draw this out. It's shameful enough…

He knows this. That's why he does it.

His lips press to the inside of your knee, then further down your thigh, and then right back up. You huff silently, annoyed with his antics.

He gives you a disarming smile. “Come now, my flower,” he tuts. “I may be spoiling you but that doesn't mean we don't still have our manners.”

You lay your head back, sighing as you let your eyes shut. You lick your bottom lip. “Please, Coryo.”

He hums. “I am sure you can do far better than that.”

Maybe you should cry. Maybe if you cry, he'll think you're ugly and leave you to live back in your lonely home at Seven. He'll think you're too worthless to go back into the Games. You could sober up the hard way… He'll leave you be.

But you know Coriolanus, which means you know that would never happen. He'd tsk, tsk, tsk and tell you how perfect you look crying. He'd hold you down and fuck you and tell you to be a good girl and keep crying for him. And you would. You know would.

Besides, if he did cast you out, he would just choose someone else to take your place. Then he would do this to them.

Better you than someone else.

You look up at him, screwing your face into a self-pitying expression. Your voice is small and meek when you open your mouth.

“Please, Coryo,” you whisper, “I'm yours.”

Just the way he likes it.

Pleased, he presses another kiss to the inside of your thigh, and then lets the flat of his tongue lick along the seam of your pussy. A whimper slips from your lips at the feeling, and you let yourself fade into the pleasure.

You forget that this man is your captor, your master. You forget that he's the reason for your nightmares. You forget that he's dark, cruel, sadistic, that he does not truly care for you.

You lose yourself in the fantasy that he is a loving man who only wants to see you happy.

“Coryo,” you moan as he suckles eagerly at your clit, a man starved of his sweet wine. Coryo. Not Coriolanus. Not Snow. Your Coryo. Your gentle, loving Coryo. The man who held you when he wasn't forcing you to your knees and bidding you to be his good girl.

His fingers stroke inside of you, two long fingers curling with you as his tongue flicks at your clit. The stretch of his fingers is welcome, and you look down at his head nestled between your thighs. You whine at the feeling of his tongue, hungry and searching.

His dull nails dig into the flesh of your thigh. As his tongue delves inside of you with his lips suckling around you, you feel his nose press deliciously against the sensitive bundle of nerves, which aches for release.

Circling his head, your legs wrap around him and squeeze, the tension tightening in your belly as he works eagerly at your pleasure. You're helpless to him as sounds rise from your throat like a gentle hum. Again, you whisper his name, lost to the feeling of him. He grunts into you, your body warm with the vibration, with the warmth of his mouth, with the warmth of his hands on your thighs.

“Coryo,” you whimper as you feel your pleasure rising within you, tingling in your legs and in your toes. Your open-mouthed breaths make your throat dry, but it’s hard to focus on that when each breath you take fills your chest with more and more desire. “I’m so close,” you gasp. “Please, can I cum?”

Instead of answering, he just sucks harder on your clit, prying your thighs further apart as he licks you up. As that coil tightens in your belly, your legs tremble and almost fight against his grip keeping them apart. You grind your hips up to meet his face, he holds you down.

You know how he likes it—the grinding, the moaning, the pleading, the strength. And when the pleasure crashes down on you, your clit pulsing against each lick of his tongue as he continues to work you, you shut your eyes and let out the breathy moans he loves so much. Your chest is full of warmth.

I’m choking on this feeling I can’t help but swallow up.

“C-Coryo,” you mutter, the sensitivity becoming too much as your legs continue to tremble. You arch away from him, but he holds you tight and pulls you closer. He forces your legs apart still, not quite finished as he continues to suckle around your sensitive bud.

You gasp when he finally pulls away, satisfied with the taste of you. “What a good girl you are,” he murmurs, smiling almost wickedly—though you replace it with one full of love and care. One can only dream.

He crawls up your body, stalking like a predator as he leans in, his face inches from yours. You bring your hands up to his cheeks and pull him down to meet your lips, kissing him with all the passion you can muster. He cares, he cares, he cares.

He cares as he traces his tongue along the seam of your lips. He cares as he smooths his hand along your soft thigh. He cares as he brings your leg up against his side and grinds his hips against you. He cares as he digs his dull nails into your flesh like the claws of a lion. He cares as he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip like the fangs of a wolf.

He definitely cares as he brings a strong hand to your hair and tangles his fingers there with every intention of tugging you back to see your face. You whimper lightly, sinking into it and pretending the burn of your scalp is just the heat of your desire.

I made my choice and every night I’m wasted like there’s no tomorrow.

“You’re so pretty,” he smiles, and you fully understand the unspoken “like this” that follows his words but you choose to ignore it.

He kisses you again, this primal, devouring kiss you gladly mistake for ardor. He takes the bottom of your nightgown in his hand and pulls it up and over your head. You let him take it off of you. You let him strip you bare as his greedy hands smooth along the length of your body. Tentatively, not fully committed (you would be perfectly content with his lips on yours, kissing him forever under the illusion of simple intimacy), you pull at his belt. He undoes it and pulls it off entirely. You think he’ll toss it away, but it doesn’t.

“Open your mouth.”

Obediently, you do. He wraps the belt around your head, fitting it in your mouth as he loops it behind and pulls it tight. You nearly wince at the feeling, but he’s done worse. He unbuttons his pants, leaning down as he presses his lips to your neck. He kisses and sucks and nips at your throat, and you both let out deep moans that rumble in your chest when he presses inside of you.

You lean your head back, giving him more space to paint your neck in his claim. The taste of leather is strong on your tongue. Each breath you take is full of the earthy scent of his belt. You set your hands on his waist as he braces his fists on either side of your head. His thrusts are deep and rough. You feel his hips as he moves, his slender waist fits perfectly between your legs.

Your moans are muffled by his belt. As you dig your heels into his back, encouraging each thrust as he gives them, he grunts at the way you tighten around his cock. His hips snap into you with a greed that makes you crazy, that drives him wild. Taken by the pleasure, he grabbed the belt behind your head and pulled it in a way that made you look up at him.

His lips are plump from kissing you so roughly, his hair is loose and falling in delicate locks across his forehead, his breath fans gently across your own face. He looks pretty like this. Even with the predatory gaze in his eyes, he looks pretty. You want to kiss him but you don’t. You can’t.

He breath stutters in his throat after a particular thrust, and your eyes flutter shut as you moan at the feeling. He continues to fuck into you, like it’s the last time. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing sweet or nice or careful. He fucks you to his own need, but knows you well enough that it would fill you with so much pleasure that it doesn’t matter if he does it for him.

And he knows you well enough that the lack of care he has in his thrusts fills you with so much longing that he doesn’t need physical pain to be sadistic.

He pulls out of you suddenly, his breath coming out in hot puffs as he leans back on his haunches. “Turn around,” he orders, though his voice is quieter—there’s no real need to bark with you.

Anyway you want me, baby, that’s the way you got me.

You do as you’re told, ignoring the discomfort in the loss of him inside of you as you sit up and move as quickly as you can with the sluggish nature of your desire for him mixing with your depletion. As soon as you’ve turned around, he doesn’t care to give you time to adjust to the new position before he’s grabbing the belt again, wrapping it around his fist, and taking your hip in his other hand as he shoves his cock into you once again.

You go to hang your head, the feeling too great, but you’re stopped by his grip of the belt. Setting the quickened pace at the beginning, he fucks into you fast and rough. The sound of his skin smacking against yours fills the room. A light sheen of sweat coats your body as the heat fills you inside and out. His name is muffled on your lips, but his grunts are clear in the air.

His hand on your waist circles around as he presses his fingers to your still-sensitive clit. He rubs fast circles against it, building you up, up, up. You can’t help but whine, you can’t help but feed his hunger as he fills you with pleasure. Your legs tremble, and with his skill, it isn’t long until he hurls you into your second orgasm.

You throw your head back and moan, the sound rough with your desperation. But he doesn’t stop. He isn’t finished. He fucks your sensitive cunt. His eyes flutter at the tightening of your cunt.

You feel so weak, tired from the exertion but not fully satisfied until you’ve given him all that he needs. You’ve been with this man for years and the conditioning settled in a long time ago.

I’ll be yours.

So, yes, he keeps going and keeps going and keeps going. He takes you on your back, he takes you on your hands and knees, he takes you against the wall (front and back), he takes you in his lap, and he never stops each time until you’ve come apart in his hands. Pent up with so much stress and spurred on by the fatigue in your eyes, he lasts through it all.

You don’t know how long you’ve been going by this point. All you know is the rhythm of his hips thrusting in and out and in and out as he pushes you down into the bed with your ass pulled up against his hips and your face buried in a pillow. His hands push against your back, keeping you down still. You can hear his breath, heavy with his own nearing exertion. His thrusts are beginning to lose their rhythm, becoming more and more desperate with his nearing release.

You can hardly keep your eyes open. All your breaths have been reduced to shallow whimpers, and as his finger presses against your clit again, a mewl slips from your throat as it pleads for relief and release alike. You hear him begin to curse under his breath, his thrusts rougher though not as steady. And he presses you further still as he moves closer, seeking his relief as it gets so close, he can taste it.

And, because you know him just as well as he knows you, you tip him over the edge as you let your lips part. Your voice is small and meek and whiny, a needy little cry that he hears because he craves it. “Coryo.”

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

He fucks you hard in the first few seconds that he spills into you, his cum hot and plentiful as he moves himself farther against you as if he could go deeper still. And as his fingers flick at your clit, you accompany his needy moan with your own as you cum as well. You’re blinded by the feeling, left mewling as your eyes well with tired tears. It’s almost uncomfortable and you wince slightly when he presses a little too deep into you.

Coryo lingers there, his breath evening into a steadier rhythm as he eases off of you. You take in a full breath as he pulls out of you, closing your eyes and going limp against the sheets. Your body is so heavy, full of the exhaustion that has haunted you for years, exhaustion that comes with belonging to Coriolanus Snow. You wish you could slow down, take a breath, but whatever Snow wants, Snow gets.

My story’s gonna end with me dead from your poison.

Coryo runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh. He picks your nightgown up from the floor and wipes the both of you clean with the smallest modicum of care. You feel his knuckles brush against your shoulder and you shiver as he lets it graze gently along your spine. He stops it at the dip of your back.

Coryo turns off your bedside lamp, crawling into the bed as he shifts behind you, a gentle hand falling to your side as he pulls you into his body. And you actually find comfort in his arms as he pulls you closely to his body. His head rests in the crook of your neck, your body is pulled flush against his. His warmth seeps into your skin and you let your eyes flutter shut as he pulls the covers over your bodies.

And for a moment, everything is perfect. For a moment, you trick yourself into believing that this man can be capable of love.

But you feel his arms tightening around you until your lungs are so tight that it’s nearly impossible to breathe. You feel his nails, eager and greedy, digging into your flesh, and you wince at the terrible sting of them. He pulls you closer, not just seeking your warmth, but seeking full control and possession over something that already belongs to him. You silence your whimper.

I’m drowning in poison. I keep fillin’ my glass but it’s always hollow, full of poison.

When you can get past the pain of his embrace, you manage to lull yourself to sleep. You rest in his clutch and indulge in the false security of his empty arms.

But your rest is short-lived. Because halfway through the night, he wakes. Coryo opens his eyes and loosens his hold on you. You rouse from your own sleep but you stay perfectly still with closed eyes and steady breath. He lets go of you completely, getting out of the bed and leaving the room with silent steps. He has work to do.

I’m sick of the poison.

Once the door is closed, you’re left cold and alone. You curl up in on yourself, turning your head into the pillow as you feel the dam break. And like an idiot, you cry into your pillow. Your chest stutters with all the pain and weariness and hopelessness you carry with you through the day, through the night. You let it out, but it never seems to fade. And as the fatigue takes over once more, you let it take you into a sleepless kind of sleep where your nightmare of holding love in your hands plays in your mind over and over and over again.

Wish I had something to live for tomorrow.

Coriolanus Snow taglist: @the-nerdy-goddess Tag yourself here...

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader smut #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #fanfic #fanfiction

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

tangointhenight

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: idiots in love trope, long-distance fwb (sounds weird but it makes sense just give her a read luv), switch!harry and switch!reader, detailed descriptions of female and male masterbation, maladaptive daydreaming during a fanfic, mentions of exhibitionism, edging, one singular ‘daddy’, cum swapping, breeding kink, praise kink and degradation, rope play, spitting, choking, mutual masterbation, overstimulation, use of toys (vibrator mostly), crying after sex (iconic)

word count: 13.3k

synopsis: harry records erotic audios, and y/n is an avid listener

author’s note: hello nasties, here’s another filth fic for ya! this has been a long time in the making, and i am so sorry i have been mia for so long, but i am back for the time being to give you this fic. i have wanted to do something like this for a while now, but it’s been a struggle (lots of blood, sweat, and tears put into this). i’m kinda proud of her to be honest, and i hope you enjoy :)

tags: @victoria-styles

masterlist

—

Y/N finally sinks into her mattress after yet another tiring day. She can hear her roommate on the other side of the wall, chatting with her girlfriend over the phone, blissfully ignorant to the fact that she currently has a hand teasing the band of her sweatpants while the other scrolls aimlessly through her phone.

Exhaustion burns behind her eyes, but there’s a desperate ache in her belly, one that demands satiety. She opens the internet app to find it unchanged from the night before, still lighting up in the profile named tangointhenight. His profile picture is a tantalizing photo of his hand, splayed across his thigh, which are clad in tight, floral printed pants, doing wonders for the very prominent bulge. Pieces of paint linger on his thumbnail, a pretty pale mint color, and his skin, tanned with faint freckles and etches of dark ink, looks tempting in the golden light. At his wrist is a braided twine bracelet with cheap beads that have letters that she can’t make out, which looks old and wilted.

She scrolls down, only lingering for a moment to appreciate the photo one final time.

There are some cute little posts and polls in addition to his erotic audios. The newest one, posted just that afternoon, warns not to listen to this in public with a series of cute little emoticons following. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Tango, that’s what she and other listeners call him, is that he’s a bit of an exhibitionist; his audios tend to lean toward nearly getting caught or even being caught (oftentimes leading to a “helping out” situation). She honestly wasn’t into that sort of thing until he started talking about it, and now, she finds it incredibly sexy, the thrill of the quick high and the fear of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

She’ll definitely have to give the new audio a listen on one of her morning commute trips to the university; perhaps, she could give it a listen while she waits for her class to start, his deep voice teasing and coaxing her into an aching mess. She hopes that it’ll leave her trembling and throbbing for the rest of the day. She wonders if she’ll be able to make it until night before she has to finish herself off or if she’ll have to sneak off to the restrooms during one of her seven minute breaks, foot propped up on the toilet paper dispenser while she rubs herself to her bitter end.

She scrolls down a bit, passing over audios that vary from pillow talk to a dirty fuck in back alleys, before tapping on the familiar link, purple from use, the description teasingly saying: we’ve been visiting my mum for a week, and I haven’t been able to taste you... I guess we’ll just have to be quiet.

It’s one of the first audios she listened to when she was just discovering this new world of pleasure, so it has a special place in her heart. It’s one of his firsts from nearly a year ago, of fuzzy listening quality and nervous voice, but she finds his ramblings endearing; although, admittedly, she thinks anything he does is cute.

She tucks in her earbuds and presses the play button. Tossing the phone to the side, her eyes flutter closed, visions of white dotting through the darkness as they adjust. There’s a subtle cracking sound that indicates that it has finally loaded, and a fuzzy droning sound filters through the headphones. There’s a fan going in the background; it squeaks and grumbles nearby. A door creaks open, one of those fake sound effects that you can buy, but she appreciates the effort.

“Hey, lovie, feelin’ better?”

His familiar voice floats through her ears. She settles even more into her sheets. His voice is a nice, hot cup of tea at the end of a hard day, a drug that leaves her head foggy and senses dulled. His voice reminds her of sleep: deep, soothing, persistent, yet ever fleeting. She yearns for it, like being able to listen to that one mazing song for the first time again or the feeling of sunshine after the long winter months. His voice is intoxicating, reaching a baritone timbre that she can’t quite put to words.

At first, she wanted to put a face to the man who hummed sweet nothings in her ears, who coaxed her to oblivion for nights on end. Now, she’s at ease with never knowing. It keeps things interesting, and she doesn’t think about it as much anymore.

“If only mum wasn’t home, maybe we could’ve snuck a quick one in the shower,” he says. She smirks, picturing him tucked into his childhood bed, a cozy twin that would be a struggle for the both of them to fit in, and he has his old quilt tucked up to his neck, leaving his bare feet exposed because of how little it is.

There’s a moment of silence, then a cute little laugh.

“I know. You wouldn’t want to sin in her godly home, but she loves you, probably more than me. I don't think she would think any differently of you.”

Another beat of silence, then his voice catches in his throat. Y/N smiles softly as he stutters pitifully, slowly, struggling to find his words.

“N-no, y’know tha's not how I meant it,” he says. “Like, she loves you more than she loves me. Not that I don’t love you as much as she does.” He moves, the rustling of his sheets crackling in her ears. She can hear his hand run over his stubble, nails scratching over short little hairs. She wonders if he usually grows out his facial hair or if he’s the type to keep clean shaven.

“She couldn’t possibly love you more than I do.” The bed creaks as he shifts again. “C’mon, babe, join me. ‘S all nice and warm.”

She herself burrows further into her blankets, knowing full well that she’s probably going to be kicking them off in a few minutes. She turns to her side, blinking her eyes open, trying to immerse herself into the fantasy.

“‘M glad you got time off of work to come here with me. I know you could've been spending time back home, but you came here with me instead.” His voice is closer than before, however whispered. Every accentuated vowel that passes through his lips is like a breath of fresh air, and she hums quietly at the sound.

“I really appreciate it. ‘M glad we got to spend this time together.”

She imagines that he tucks her into his neck, coddling her while his fingers trace over the curves of her face, from the furrow of her brow, down to the apple of her cheeks, before stopping at her lips, lingering only momentarily before his thumb would push just past them.

He chuckles suddenly.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Jus’ lovin’ on my girl.”

His short pecks turn into slow, passionate kisses, deep sighs of relief falling from his lips, and she swears she can almost feel his breath on her skin, nose pressed tight to the pulsepoint in her neck as he sponges his lips over her collarbone, teeth nibbling lightly. She tugs the tee up from where it’s settled at her hips to where the curves of her breasts begin, the material squeezing them tightly to her chest. The sensitive skin aches under the tight pressure. She teases her nipples through her thin bra, feeling the tenderness coax chills down her spine.

“Please,” he whines. “Wanna taste you. You can be quiet. I believe in you, love.”

She could picture him now, chin resting on her stomach, eyes pleading with her. She would flick his head at the patronizing tone before brushing her fingers through his hair. Would he have short tuffs or long tresses that she could run her fingers through after a long day, breaking apart the knots that accumulate throughout the day? Does he have pin straight, dark locks that are cut close to his scalp or sand coloured curls that fall gracefully on his forehead? Perhaps, he has a bit of gray peaking through his hairline to match his wise and weathered voice. She could almost moan at the thought. She has always had a thing for older men.

Tango says something, but she can’t really hear it, his words muffled by her racing heart. She pries her pants down shaky legs, leaving them dangling around her ankle, and her fingers work quickly in massaging her puffy clit, arousal wetting the tender skin. Not one for having much patience, she doesn’t wait for him to finish worshiping her body with his mouth before she is rubbing herself through her panties, feeling the cold wetness on her fingertips. Eyes closed, her head falls back on her pillows, legs tensing when she stops suddenly.

“Pretty thighs,” he mumbles to himself between kisses, and she could almost feel his tender touches on the backs of her thighs, which tremble with anticipation. A wetly placed kiss followed by an appreciative hum signals his final descent to her cunt. The sound of languid licks are nearly enough to make her finish, walls clenching miserably around nothing. Fingers slowing close to a dead stop, barely more than a faint fluttering on her sensitive skin, she attempts to collect herself, but it’s difficult when he moans once again, muffled by his furiously working lips.

“Love your pussy, baby.” She melts at his words, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure rack through her body, hips stuttering in time with each flick of her wrist. “So warm and wet and jus’ perfect for me.” His voice, low with need, makes her throb, arousal slipping into her panties.

She’s close already, an unfortunate effect he has on her. Barely five minutes into her alone time, and she can feel the orgasm begin to build, like an unyielding inferno spreading through every nerve. The stress from her day, the exhaustion with the world, everything melts into just one prominent feeling threatening to burst from her pores. She has to force herself to stop before she falls over the edge in order to draw out this experience as much as possible. She nearly cries out when she pulls her hand away altogether, her poor, puffy clit throbbing painfully.

This continues for a while, the undulating waves of a blistering release and the torture of a cut off orgasm, until the air becomes thick, her heaving breaths heating her empty room.

“There’s my good girl,” he says. “Use me, lovie. Want you to choke me with your pretty thighs.”

His voice is more firm this time, and she could only picture his baleful eyes staring up at her, eager to please her and guide her over the edge. It makes her wonder what they look like; she wonders if they’re a soulful, deep chocolate that darken with lust, a pale blue that reminds her of warm afternoons, or a striking hazel that flickers with green hues in the light.

No matter the color, she is sure that they’re undoubtedly pretty.

“Please,” she whispers faintly.

“More? You want more, my greedy girl?” She nods pitifully, feeling the orgasm build quickly in her belly before she stops once again, fingers pressing into her throbbing clit. “You want my fingers?”

Her walls flutter fruitlessly for some sort of release, for some sort of stimulation. He moans out sharply.

“Feel so good, babylove,” he coos. “So warm and wet f’me.”

She wants to slip her fingers inside, to tease and massage that tender spot that she can barely reach until she struggles to breathe. She wants to feel full, but she doesn’t want to take care of the mess, and it surely won’t be comfortable sleeping in wet sheets. The wipes hidden alongside her other secret toys, beneath mounds of socks and crumpled underwear, do little to take care of the arousal that has pooled between her legs.

She fishes around her bedside table, fingers raking through bundles of panties to find her vibrator, a cheap little thing she got in a set when she first moved into her apartment. Unfortunately, she ran through the other ones that were in the set, and this is the only one left.

She nestles the vibrator on her swollen clit and ticks it on to the lowest setting. This stimulation is different than before; a vague rumbling rattles her bones, making her lips tremble, with choked cries teetering on her tongue. Obscene wet sounds fill her ears, and for a moment, she wonders whether they are coming from the audio or from her dripping pussy, and her thighs tighten around her wrist. She could only imagine the sight of his hands splayed over her hips and on her belly, perfectly pastel painted nails pressing into her wet skin. The shifting of her mattress worries her for only a moment, but her shame melts away, and she loses herself in the sound of his heavy, stifled groans, as if he is truly choking on her. The addition of the vibrator only serves to tease her more as she inches toward the end, brutally building in slow, abrupt waves. She struggles to swallow her whimpers.

He spits suddenly, and her hips jut forward at the sound, an erotic display of dominance, but he makes it seem like such a tender act; she could just melt.

“Can you take another?”

A beat of silence and a sharp intake of breath, squelching sounds growing louder.

“No? That’s alright, lovie, just two, then,” he coos. Her toes curl up a little at his words, hips rising from the mattress. On any other night, she would have craved more; she would have wanted him to coax her open with him telling her that she can take just one more and that she’s his good girl. It’s sad to be turned on by a man simply respecting her limits, but her clit throbs pitifully and some arousal slips out into her underwear.

“Gonna come for me, babe?” His words are slurred and wet. “Make me proud.”

Chills rushing down her spine, her body curls into itself, eager for her release. She wants to come so badly; she wants to feel the pleasure for days afterward, to tremble around her hand until she can’t take it anymore, to come until she’s seeing stars. She wants to make him proud, but she knows that she can’t come yet, or else she won’t be able to hear him finish. She doesn’t have another orgasm in her tonight, and she wants to prolong this experience as much as possible, even if that means holding out on her orgasm. The world spins behind her tightly screwed eyes as she slows her ministrations, the vibrator ticking back down to nothing. Her body reacts before she can even consider the loss, her hips bucking against the toy, attempting desperately to find that little bit of stimulation she needs to finally reach euphoria.

His lips smack loudly as he presses simulated kisses to skin, pulling her back from her foggy mind.

“So good f’me, pretty,” he says, words muted by skin. “So good. Hmm, I knew you could be quiet.” His kisses are slow and tired, unlike before when they were rushed and eager. His mattress grumbles as he moves once again, taking his time to, presumably, trail up the length of her trembling body until they’re suffocating in each other's embrace.

He sighs behind closed lips, heavy and wanton, and she can picture him working his hips into the mattress to find some sort of release. She would pull him up until he was right between her aching legs and press her lips to his neck, feeling his pulse jump at the contact. She would cup his cock through his thin pair of pajamas, teasingly massaging him until he just couldn't take it anymore, caution flying out of his mind as he is overcome by thoughts of her name, her skin, simply <i>her. Trying to form a coherent thought, he would barely be able to hold himself up. She moans quietly at the thought.

“Babylove, we can’t—” He moans, his deep voice splintering. “I don’ know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

She has listened to this audio enough to know what to say to fill the silent gaps to fulfill the ultimate fantasy.

“Please,” she whispers into the dead air, barely audible over her roommate's voice in the next room. “Wanna feel you.” She wishes he was there for her to whisper in his ear, her fingers running up the plain of his back, feeling the heated skin tense at her words. He would quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Y’wanna feel my big cock in y’tummy, pretty baby?”

“Yes,” she whimpers quietly, suddenly very aware of how much she truly wanted to be filled, to have him so impossibly close to her.

“Y’know I can’t say no to you.” She can hear the smile in his voice. She wonders what it looks like, if he beams with an eye-searing grin, his face splitting with happiness, or if he has a shy little smirk, just barely toying on his lips. She likes to think that he has a beautiful smile, filled with warmth and love. She melts a little, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her limbs to the tips of her fingers.

“Get on top.”

She does, eyes still closed as she sits and kneels on her mattress, one hand still between her legs, trying desperately to catch her poor, swollen clit at just the right angle that will leave her thighs quaking, her stomach clenching. Her underwear, which are still stuck around her knees, stretch and snap as her thighs slip and spread further on the sheets.

He moans sharply, and she can feel her hips unconsciously move, as if to pull that sound from him once again. The low vibrations from her little handheld leave her aching for more, nothing more than a faint rumble, but if she flicked it up to the next highest setting, it would surely be heard through the thin walls. Besides, she loves the teasing nearly as much as she hates it, just pushing to the brink before the rush subsides and settles into a quiet lull. Speechless, she gasps for air as yet another jilted orgasm subsides.

She works her hips slowly, careful of the squeaking of her mattress; there are only so many noises that can be passed off as her simply shifting around in her sleep. Her wrist aches at such an awkward angle, but she continues, the burning euphoria just beyond the horizon. He moans, and she nearly follows him, a crest of a cry nearly bursting from her chest but it comes out as a small whimper. She pushes her earbud deeper into her ear, as if to pull him closer.

“Sorry, jus’ feel so good,” he says sheepishly, and she can tell that he’s biting his lip by the faint lisp in his words. It would be torture for the both of them, to be so close but unable to move any faster or harder to finally reach the deepest, most pleasurable part, just barely scratching the itch for intimacy. He whimpers pitifully, and she thinks she might fall apart at the sound, but her stupid vibrator leaves her teetering back and forth between over the edge. She wiggles her hips to try to get a better angle, but with just a hint of stimulation, it’s a torturously slow build up.

“There it is, pretty,” he says, breaths faltering. “That’s the spot. Make yourself feel good, lovie. Use me.” Her legs ache at the awkward angle, trembling with overexertion. She wishes that she could let go of it, leaving it on the mattress with her pussy and thighs holding it in place, so she can grind on it, unhindered by her own body’s exhaustion, eagerly chasing her high. It would also free her hands to tease her breasts again, pulling and pinching at her hardened nipples.

“Love the way you feel, babylove,” he whispers. “Fuck, so wet f’me.” He curses again and again, as if no other words can properly describe the feeling of her, so soft, so warm, so fucking good. She could only picture him in abridged visions, his undoubtedly pretty lips parted with his pretty whimpers sneaking through, his features pinched in pleasure. Her eyes roll back as her orgasm quickly approaches.

“‘M gonna come,” he says suddenly. “Are you close, too?” She whimpers, arousal slips down her swollen lips and into her furiously working fingers, eager to finish alongside him. “Yeah? Y’gonna come with me? Y’gonna come on my cock, pretty?”

She is so close, so unbelievably close, and she struggles to relax her muscles to hold off for just a little longer.

“So fuckin’ good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he says sharply. His mattress squeaks now, unable to hold back the sharp jolts of his hips, and he lets go of all inhibitions, moaning freely. She could imagine his hand tracing up her belly, cupping her swinging breasts, and he would suckle on her nipples until her fervent hips faltered. He would brush his hands up the curve of her back, digging into the muscles of her shoulders until she fell forward. Faces nestled together, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, they would breathe each other in, savoring such a close moment of intimacy. It would feel like a lifetime as they waited with bated breath, using each other to get the most pleasure possible.

She comes when he does, holding her breath to keep the moans from slipping, which makes it all the more euphoric, the chance of nearly getting caught at her most vulnerable and the faint lightheadedness making her vision foggy. Her orgasm leaves her legs trembling, slipping away from her still buzzing toy, falling forward into her sheets. She breathes in sharply, barely holding back a pained cry; fat tears of pleasure soak into her blanket as euphoria crashes and beats into her muscles. The heart-racing, earth-shattering, limb-thrashing orgasm makes her chest heave. Just like she wanted, she is left spent on her mattress, the powerful rush still lingering in her trembling body.

She flips onto her back, quickly pulling her bottoms back up onto her hips. In her drunken stupor, her earbuds fell out, and she can vaguely hear Tango’s praises. She picks her phone back up, eyes straining under the bright light, and closes out of the audio.

Her head is light, foggy with the residual high. A dazed smile flickers over her lips, exhaustion settling deep in her bones, finally satiated by her orgasm.

She scrolls through his account once again, this time reading through some of his other posts, like links to playlists and cute stories. Suddenly, the little message icon in the corner looks so appealing, teasing and taunting. Perhaps, she’s feeling a little giddy from her high or maybe it’s from the exhaustion, but she can’t seem to find a reason to not do it.

She sends him a message.

Meanwhile, Harry stares at the blinking cursor petulantly. It taunts him amidst a sea of white, a blank canvas in what should have been a completed midterm paper that’s due in a couple of days. His eyes sink closed, and he starts to drift off, only waking when his hand slips from his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. An old sitcom plays in the background, the canned laughter providing a break in the silence every five seconds. He sighs for the billionth time that evening, struggling to find motivation to even think at this point.

His phone dings, and he happily divulges the distraction, his brows furrowing as he reads a direct message from a user called honeyhi. He’s used to getting comments on his post, with the occasional direct message (which he usually deletes instantly because of poor past experiences), and now, he usually doesn’t think much of them. He isn’t doing it to gain anything from anyone. He just wants to put his thoughts out there, and it’s just an added bonus to get validation from beautiful people.

She doesn’t have a profile picture, not uncommon on that corner of the web, especially since his posts aren’t a lot of people’s taste. He wouldn’t usually indulge in them, deleting them usually instantly, but something compels him to open her message.

Not to be too forward, but I had the best orgasm of my life, listening to your audios. I’ve listened to your audios for a long time, and honestly, listening to you has become the highlight of my evenings ;)

Honey, you have no idea what that means to me.

Truly, his heart swells at her sweet words. It’s nice to get complimented on something you put so much effort into. He bares himself for strangers, expressing such an intimate part of himself for their shared pleasure, and it feels reassuring to get compliments.

I mean it. Also, Tango in the Night is arguably one of Fleetwood Mac’s best albums. Definitely top three.

Most people assume it’s a sex thing.

I wonder why.

He laughs a little at the dry comment.

So, what are the other two in your top three albums?

Pre or post Stevie Nicks?

Post, of course. What kind of question is that?

That was a test. You passed. I think we’ll get along just fine, Tango.

I think so, too, Honey.

—

Y/N rushes past the postman, nearly toppling over when her bag shifts slightly on her arm, her thick binders peek out of the top and dig into her arm. Her hand furiously slaps the elevator button, and she stands impatiently, her dangling keys shaking at her hip. The doors tremble as the weight teeters down to the main floor, far too slowly in her opinion. For a moment, she considers just running up the three flights of stairs to her floor, but that feels a little too eager.

She and Tango have their weekly phone call tonight, and her classes ran long today; that coupled with the stand-still traffic made her more anxious than usual to get home. She always calls first, since her schedule is the most complicated, and she’ll feel absolutely awful if she was late for their call. She feels silly getting worked up over such a small thing, but their friendship progressed beyond the occasional messages in the past month, and she honestly looks forward to their weekly talks. Tango is such a beautiful and humble person, and he is such a stable place of comfort. She knows that he will be understanding and have an independent, secondary perspective on any situation.

He is someone she can rely on for just about anything.

The bell dings above her, and the elevator doors finally part. After barreling inside, she sinks against the railing, glancing at the time, which is still just before her usual calling time. She sighs sharply when the doors begin to close, relief tugging on her shoulders.

However, a hand pushes through the lift’s doors before they can shut, and she bites back an irritated groan; she probably could have made it to her apartment by now if she had ran up the stairs. The man slides in and gives her a grateful nod, accompanied by a small smile. Much to her delight, he presses the ‘close door’ button quickly, and they’re met with no interruptions this time. It’s a quiet ride, despite her nervous feet tapping, and he taps away on his phone,

She admires him out of the corner of her eye, forgetting momentarily about her anxiety. Half of his hair is pulled back in a small bun, exposing the darker locks underneath, and a bandana pushes back the frizzy flyaways that would normally frame his face. The thick strands curl slightly at the ends; there’s one tight coil that she wants to tug on. She could easily become enamored with him, with his pretty green eyes and day-old stubble. His bag has H.E.S embroidered on the bottom corner. A coral colored, gem necklace rests beautifully on his tanned chest, which is mostly covered by a near see-through white top, covered with a baggy, gingham jumper.

After living in the building for two years, they have run into one another on several occasions but have never really spoken. He lives on the second floor, and he goes to the university as well.

When he leaves, after offering another nod and quick smile, she calls Tango. He answers after the second ring.

“Hey, sweets,” he grumbles, not as chipper as his usual self. Her heart sinks a little. He had his midterms last week, and she can only assume that the results are not what he had hoped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “What happened?”

“‘S nothin’,” he insists, but she can hear the irritation in his voice. “‘M jus’ getting myself worked up over nothin’. How was your day?”

Clearly not wanting to talk, he changes the subject, which is something Y/N has grown used to over the past few months. He doesn’t like to vent when he’s too upset because he’s afraid of lashing out and taking his aggression out on her. Thankfully, she has also learned how to distract him. Usually, his annoyance melts away within minutes, and he is his usual, bubbly self again.

“Well, let me tell you, I nearly killed the postman today, and someone nearly hit my car today.”

“What?” He asks incredulously. “Please, elaborate.”

And so, she does.

A couple hours later, Y/N’s in her kitchen, making avocado and tomato toast for the fifth time this week. Her roommate is gone for the weekend, thankfully, which means she can get more stuff done without interruptions (and she can talk to Tango for as long as she wants without getting interrogated about it). His mood had improved significantly after she was able to make him laugh at her own expense (he especially liked the story about how she grabbed her iced coffee too quickly this morning and spilled it all over the barista’s hand).

“I have a question,” he says quickly, as if he wouldn’t have the courage to ask if he held onto it for a moment longer.

“Okay,” she says slowly, almost fearful at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

“Would you be able to listen to something I recorded the other day?” He giggles nervously. “I dunno. I just feel a little,” he makes a little noise, “off about it.”

Stunned, she stares at her phone, the seconds ticking by before her very eyes, and despite the fact that the only reason why they know each other is because she listened to his audios, she’s a little taken aback by the question. Before she knows it, too much time has passed for her to brush off as anything but bewilderment. She stutters.

“I—uh—sure?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“No, I am.” Stubborn and not willing to back down, she digs herself a deeper hole, despite the odd feeling growing in her stomach. “Yes, I will listen to it for you.”

“Okay, then,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll send it to you.”

Neither know what to say now. Conversation usually came easy to them, so it feels so strange to be stuck in such an uncomfortable silence. Now, she’s gone and ruined everything because of her hesitation. Why did she even hesitate? There’s no reason to be embarrassed. They’re both very open, sexual people, and it’s nothing to get so worked up over. Maybe, it’s the fact that it’s him, and she knows him so well now. Compared to before, when he was just some stranger on the internet, she knows his likes, dislikes; hell, she has even spoken to his cat, and it feels wrong because he is her friend, and that’s not what friends are supposed to do.

“It’s not weird. Is it?” He asks shyly.

“Of course not.” She says it a little too quickly. Admittedly, it feels a <i>little weird, now that she thinks about it. It would be like walking in on your friend having sex. Then again, the only reason why they really know each other is because she listened to his audios (which is basically him jerking off to his dirty thoughts). However, it’s not an aspect they spoke about too often, usually after a couple of drinks. Their friendship, despite how it began, is purely innocent. They were each other’s comfort person; they were there to vent, laugh, and talk with. Neither ever hinted toward anything different, other than the occasional, playful flirting.

“No, I’ll listen to it for you. What are friends for?”

She doesn’t know why her heart is beating so fast.

“Thank you,” he says.

“So,” she says, “do you want me to listen to it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” she scoffs.

“I mean, if you wanted to hear some dirty talk, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please, stop talking.”

“Y’know I’m always down to clown.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

True to her words, she doesn’t wait for him to answer before she ends the call.

Her phone dings a second later with the link along with another cheeky message. The link is to a private web upload platform, and she feels special for a moment. She wonders if she should just listen to it while eating her toast and go about her usual routine, or if she should do what she usually does when listening to his audios. Is that what he would want, though? Would it make him feel uncomfortable? Is it more weird to just listen to him moan in her ear while doing mundane tasks around the house?

Granted, they have had some conversations about sex and the like, but this feels so much more intimate, especially because he knows that she’s going to listen to him jerk off, not to even mention the obscene things that come from his mouth.

What does it mean for their friendship? Perhaps, it’s not even meant to mean anything, just a sincere favor asked between two friends. Maybe, it’s meant to be a step toward something more on his part. Is that even what she wants?

She brushes off that thought quickly, as she has for months, because deep down, she knows it would just end up in disappointment.

Oh, what a mess.

She’s headed on a downward spiral that has no chance of stopping unless it’s hit by a freight train to hell.

She opts to forgetting her toast and slips into her bedroom, falling onto her blankets giddily. She presses play on the audio, her heart racing as it loads, and leaves her phone face down next to her ear, eyes closing to fully immerse herself, trying to ignore her anxiety.

“Hello,” he says slowly, almost shyly, and it feels like one of their late nights again, with him talking through her phone and her cuddled in bed, listening eagerly. “I’ve just gotten home, but I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day. Couldn’t go to sleep before gettin’ it out there, y’know.” He giggles, a pretty little noise she’s heard many times now. He laughs a lot, sometimes at himself, but mostly in response to her. He even laughs at her corny, little puns, which she appreciated.

“And ‘m really hard right now, so that doesn’t help either. I haven’t really been able to come in the past two weeks. Been too busy with… life, I guess. But a friend of mine talked to me about the world of BDSM. She’s a kinky little shit.”

Y/N’s heart lurches, stomach twisting with an unrecognizable feeling, knowing that the certain friend he is talking about is her. She remembers the conversation well, even though she was a little tipsy and very high, mostly because it was also the first time they had actually spoken on the phone, and it began as it normally does, about mundane things that happened that week. Somehow, the conversation shifted to kinks, and she told him that she wouldn’t be opposed to more sinful acts in the bedroom, most of which her previous partners had not indulged.

“I’m pretty vanilla, I guess. I just love to love people. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve never really been into that sort of thing, but now, I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’ve been kinda into some dark, dom stuff lately,” he admits slowly. “Dark for me, at least, which, again, doesn’t say much.” There’s another laugh, radiant and delicate.

“I dunno why, but I’ve been fantasizing about taking you into our room. A little lackluster, I know, but I’m not into the dark, dingy places, like those sex dungeons they have in the movies, where there’s lots of leather, red lights, music, quite the ambience.” He stops suddenly, and she could imagine his lips pursing to cease his ramblings. She wishes he wouldn’t do that so much; she wishes that he wouldn’t doubt himself and his beautiful way with words. If only he could be as confident in himself as she is in him.

“I just want to lay you down on our bed with our fluffy blankets pushed off to the side. Then, if either of us need to take a moment or stop, we can.” Her heart swells a little at his words. Even though he’s trying to talk about, in his words, “dark, dom stuff”, he is still so sweet and considerate, and she can’t help but soften. He trails off.

Faintly, she can hear him yank his belt from the loops, and it’s, honestly, one of the hottest things she has ever heard; the teasing glimpse of what could come far more erotic than anything any of her other partners could do. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have him in front of her, shirtless with his pants low on his hips; maybe he would be wearing the same floral pants he is in his profile picture, the ones that are unbelievably tight. She would be splayed on the bed, just observing this beauty of a man, waiting patiently for him to come and ravish her.

She’s sure that his tattoos cover more than just his arms, but how many more is a question that haunts her. The thought of a big tattoo on his thigh that she can grind on while he moans about how much of a good girl she is has led to many obscene dreams. She imagines black images carved into his chest, perhaps a trail of floating rose petals from his collar bone to his peck or a hellish looking snake wrapped around his waist. More vividly, she envisions a bold tattoo just beneath his belly button, one that she would scratch at while he violently pounded into her, one that she would kiss and lick before she would take him in her mouth.

Oh, what she would do to be able to feel his skin on hers.

She dips her hand beneath the band of her shorts out of habit, toying with the silky material of her panties. She tries not to think too much about her feelings, fearing it would deepen the ache in her heart.

“Anyway, you’d be on the bed,” he says, his usual slow, stifling voice pulling her deeper into the fantasy, “naked, on your knees with your pretty pussy facing me. You’re all tied up, starting at your wrists and ankles, and there would be a pretty knot down your spine that I can grab while I fuck you from behind.”

Her cunt throbs at the sudden turn. She could only imagine: her face pressed into the pillows, choking on the sheets, her muscles tight, aching beneath the restraints, and her voice raw, sobbing from overstimulation. Exhausted and wanton, she would take anything that he would be willing to give her. He would shove her face into the mattress, mounting her, and he would tug on the rope until it felt like it would permanently embedded in her wet skin, telling her how much of a good little slut she is, taking him so well.

She doesn't know why she’s drawn to rope play; perhaps, it’s all a part of the subtle nuances of the sex, the intimacy of tying the complex binds around your partner and the intricacies of sensory manipulation with such overwhelming stimulation. It’s so much more than just being bound while fucking. There is such a deep reliance on the other person to understand your body, your limits, your needs. It’s about trust and vulnerability. She thinks of it in such a melodic and romantic way; it must have resonated with Tango.

“Or I’d tie your arms to your legs, keeping you spread open for me on your back, with knots around your belly, the lead falling between your tits.” Her eyes flutter closed. While rope play is something that she has always wanted to try but never felt comfortable enough with another person to act on it. He would be different though. She cups her pussy, languidly running her fingers through her wet folds, feeling the arousal slip down her skin before settling on her sheets.

She pinches her clit, and her legs immediately jerk around her arm. Feeling far too sensitive for that type of stimulation, she simply strokes through her lips, focusing her ministrations on the delicate inside, close to her sopping entrance, enjoying the slow build.

“Then, I could hold onto your neck while I fuck you, and I like being able to see your face, to see how good I’m making you feel, to see tears of pleasure run down your pretty face. You could suck on my fingers while I fuck you, deep and hard. D’ya wanna choke on my fingers, pretty?”

She wants absolutely nothing more. She would gladly suck on his fingers if it meant that she could see the look of awe in his eyes, lust darkening his features when she bites teasingly on his nail.

“But if you’re on your knees, I could watch you in the mirror and still see your face. From behind, I can see your pretty, tight pussy take my cock.” He whimpers. “I haven’t decided which I would rather have.”

She can’t decide, either.

Then again, they could always have both.

“Of course, I wouldn’t give you my cock that easily. No, you’re going to be crying for me, begging for me to fuck you, and I dunno if I would fuck you right away or make you beg for it. I think for the first bit, after you’re all tied up for me, I’ll tease you, just barely touching you, pulling on the lead, the ropes tightening around your aching body. I think your tits would look so pretty all tied up f’me, babylove.

“When you’ve finally had enough, crying for me to stuff you full of my cock, I’d let you come, but I’d only use my fingers, never giving you what you really want. Maybe I’ll put a little vibrator on your clit and leave you there, having you come again and again until it hurts. I’d have you keep your panties on, of course. Don’t want you making a mess of the sheets, and then, when I finally give you my cock, I’ll put them in your mouth to keep you quiet, and so you can taste yourself.”

His moans are in the forefront in his sensual song, mixed amongst a symphony of bed and friction sounds. She matches his pace, flicking her wrist in time with the sound of him working his wet cock. She massages the entirety of her pussy, messily rubbing her fingers from the tip of her poor, swollen clit to her throbbing opening.

“Fuck, babylove, you’d be so good f’me, taking my cock so deep in your pussy. Would you cry f’me, pretty? Cry for daddy to fuck you into the mattress.” A rumbling groan finally breaks free, and she is so close to falling apart, her high festering into her muscles, burning through her nerves; her skin feels hot to the touch. She struggles to breathe, but she doesn't yearn for air as much as she does her end. Tears in her eyes, she clutches onto her blanket, tugging it in her mouth to keep from crying too loudly. She sobs, feeling a familiar tightness in her body, just beyond her grasp. Her hand still moves over her pussy, arousal seeping through trembling fingers, but she can’t reach her peak with such light, varied stimulation, her hips buckling.

“My pretty rope bunny,” he mutters. He’s desperate, truly just rambling on and on about anything that comes to mind. “My pretty honey,” he whimpers, almost inaudibly, “honey, honey.”

For a second, she thinks of the times that word has passed through his lips in less sinful situations, a slow, lulling honey when he’s trying to get her attention, sweet and innocent. That’s his special name for her, and she wonders if, possibly, he thinks about her in the same way she does, if he wishes to be with her in such an intimate way, just as she does. She thinks, incredulously, that maybe she isn’t overanalyzing the situation.

His bed squeaks faintly in the background, just barely heard over his withering voice. She can only begin to imagine what he looks like in that moment, legs tense, feet digging into the mattress, his hips thrusting to fuck himself into his fist. The head of his cock would peek through the top of his fist as he coerced his release free. She wishes she could see what he looks like when he comes, when he finally reaches his most euphoric moment. It’s such a primal thing to witness, to see someone liberated of all inhibitions, to observe them completely succumbing to their instincts. It’s such a beautiful thing to see someone acquiesce control and thrive so harmoniously with their body.

“I wanna wrap my belt around your throat.” He swallows thickly. She whines along with him. Perhaps, she’s just fooling herself, but she can swear that she could almost hear the sound of a leather belt squeezing in his fist. A pitiful pool of wetness slips between her ass cheeks.

“My cock hurts just thinking about how you’d sound.” He moans, mimicking the desperate heaves that would undoubtedly slip through her lips as he pulls his belt tightly around her throat. “Then, when you’re bratty, I can just wrap my hand around the belt and make it tighter.

“Please,” he mocks weakly, “please, sir, I’ll be good. But you’re just saying that to get what you want. You’re just a naughty, little slut aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she returns weakly.

“Maybe, I could get you a collar and pull you around with that. Would you like that?” He hums. “Of course, you would. You’re my pretty, little bunny.”

In any other instance, she would feel humiliated to be so aroused at being so weak and submissive to another, but he could convince her to do anything at this point. She’s close, toes curling and muscles tightening, and she waits for his familiar profession that he is also near the edge, but the silence that follows is deafening, a disappointing resolution to an intense narrative. It makes her stop completely, wet hand flipping her phone over to see that, indeed, she had listened to all of the audio. It knocks the air from her lungs when she realizes that that was it. She isn’t going to hear his cute little whimpers as he comes nor his sweet aftercare.

Frustrated from her ruined orgasm, she calls him instantly, and he picks up after the fourth ring this time, as if he <i>knows</i> that she is this needy and frustrated. She doesn’t give him the chance to greet her.

“That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“Well, hello to you, too—”

“I didn’t get to hear you come.”

“Is that what you wanna hear, honey?”

“Well, yeah, I always come with—” She stops before she says something she’ll regret, but by the sound of his laughter, it’s already too late. She wants to hide away in embarrassment.

“It’s only partially finished. I thought I told you that.” She can hear the teasing smirk he surely has plastered on his face, the cheeky bastard. “I just wanted to hear what you thought so far before I finished it. There’s no point in finishing something that I already feel isn’t worth the time.”

“Well, then,” she stutters quickly, “How does it end?”

“How do you think it should end?”

There’s a certainty in his words, as if he has already accepted her as a lover, and she knows that he is giving her the opportunity to initiate the next step. Fear squeezes her chest, and for a second, she worries that she isn’t brave enough to follow through. Every fiber of her being is pleading with her to just take that risk, but another, more rational side of her, is saying it’s better to say a quick I don’t know, and they would move on as normal.

“Where would you come?”

Oh, it feels so filthy to ask that, but it’s so relieving to hear the hum of approval that passes through his lips.

Her heart races, not like before; this is exciting and new and arousing, and it feels wrong. She doesn’t even know what he looks like; hell, she doesn’t even know his real name, and she’s so fucking ready and willing to give herself to him. There’s just so many reasons to not pursue him. She feels ashamed, almost, that she is weak for a man she knows nothing about.

“Hmm, that’s a good question. Where would you like me to come?”

But how can she not get weak when he asks her things like that?

Shivers bloom on her skin in sunflower blossoms. She knows what he wants to hear, and usually, she would tease him, telling him that he didn’t care if he even came or not, but the throbbing between her legs is relentless, and she’s just lust-drunk that she’ll say just about anything to get what she needs. She begins rubbing herself again, focusing solely on her clit this time instead of the entirety of her pussy in the palm of her hand. Breathing out shakily, she answers honestly.

“Everywhere.”

He moans, and she knows that was the right answer.

“Everywhere? Such a greedy girl. You want me to come down your throat? You wanna taste it? Maybe, I’ll have you choke on my cock, fuck y’face until you’re crying.”

After he was done fucking her, she’s sure that he would yank her up either by the rope around her breasts or by the belt around her neck (she can’t decide which yet) and put his cock by her mouth, rubbing himself over her lips and chin, but never quite pushing past the barrier of her lips; no, she would be the one to open her sweet mouth for him, her jaw lax and tongue wet as she takes everything he’d give her.

God, yes, she wants to taste him. She wants him to use her in every possible, degrading way: to use her mouth while she tied up, under his mercy, to fuck her face until she has tears dripping down her cheeks, wetting her heaving chest, to come down her throat until she’s choking on him, but he would pinch her nose and make her taste it until her vision was blurry.

“You’d take it all, babylove. Won’t you?”

He asks so innocently, his deep voice having a soft twinge, but she knows that it’s not optional, not that she would choose otherwise. She would greedily lap at his cum and drink it all, proudly showing off her empty mouth when she’s done. Maybe, he would insist that she keep it in her mouth and pull her into a wet, heated kiss, prying her lips apart so he can taste himself on her tongue.

“I could make a mess on your belly or your tits, and then, I could lick you clean. Or I could mark up your thighs and watch it drip onto the sheets.”

The thought of him marking her with his come is nearly enough for her to reach her peak. A voice in the back of her head chastises her for being so greedy; this is something she has fantasized about since they started talking, and it’s going to be over before it can even begin at this rate. She needs to distract herself, to focus on anything other than the painful throbbing between her legs.

“Or I could come inside you.”

That’s the last thing she needed to hear.

Only because it makes a thick bead of arousal seep into her sheets. It makes her finally give in and sink two fingers inside herself, and <i>fuck, she’s so wet and swollen and pliable. She sobs, truly biting back even louder cries behind gritted teeth. She curses again and again at the feeling coursing through her veins, heat spreading in her belly as her hips frantically move against her ministrations.

“By the sound of that moan, I think that’s definitely preferred. Such a filthy girl. Y’want me to fill your belly? Want me to mark you as mine?”

She just knows that he could fill her to the brim, but he would want to prolong the experience as much as possible, teasing her with his cock and coaxing her to beg for his cum.

She could just imagine the determined look in his eyes, so close to coming, but he would pull out, just barely teasing her trembling entrance with his twitching cock. He wouldn’t move, and when she would beg for him to put it back in and just fuck her until she couldn’t breath, he would say very simply: if y’want my cum so bad, put my cock back inside.

God, his face would be gleaming with this power, satisfied with seeing her so needy for his cum. Shamefully, she would put one of her hands on his hip while the other grasps his cock, pushing on him until he sinks entirely inside her once again, but he still wouldn’t move, simply filling her, the both of them twitching with arousal. He would demand that she make him come if she wants it so bad, as if it's a gift from the heavens.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asks, and only then does she realize that she was drowning in her fantasy; the sudden change makes her stop rubbing herself, her vision hazy. She parts her lips with wet fingers, slipping back down to her entrance, gently prodding inside until that euphoria builds once again.

“Yes,” she admits shamefully. “‘M so fucking wet for you.”

“Dirty little slut,” he says sharply. He has no room to judge, especially since she can hear the all-too-familiar sounds to him jerking his cock, wet sounds of his fist passing over the thick head echoing in her empty room. She is near tears at this point, so needy and high and horny, but she wants to make this last.

“Would you let me come? Please, can I come?”

It’s his turn to moan with approval, and she feels proud. His heavy breathing in time with hers, he seems to be lost in pleasure, voice hitching as he struggles to find words. Her orgasm swells to a near crest once again, but she wants to hear him finish. At this point, she knows what it sounds like, from the frantic ramblings to the guttural moans, and he’s not quite there yet.

“Do you think you deserve to come, honey? You think you’ve been a good girl f’me?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl—fuck—please, please, I need to come.” She stumbles through her words, what little power she held in her withering grasp deflating instantly from his words.

“I dunno, I think you’re a brat who just wants to get off.”

It’s painful how much his words impact her, volatile muscles spasming while she staves of hee end. She whimpers, sinking further in her headspace; she feels a cloud settle in her vision (or perhaps those are tears), overwhelming yet freeing.

“No, I’m your good girl,” she insists.

“I think you’ll have to prove it to me, honey,” he replies slyly. “I don’t think I’ll let you come quickly. I want you to beg for it. Can you do that f’me, babylove? Beg me to come.”

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she says. “Please, please, I need it. Please, let me come.”

“You can do better than that,” he says, voice cracking. Their harmonious sounds of excitement drive both of them closer to their orgasms.

“Oh, god—please, I—fuck—I need it so bad. ‘M so close, please.” She can barely speak coherently. Chills wrack her sore body, waves of throbbing pleasure threatening to break her. She wanted—no, needed—him to finish.

“Come f’me, Honey,” he says. “You’re my good girl, so good f’me. C’mon, babylove, come with me.”

She does. With ears ringing and eyes closing, she comes until her pussy aches. It feels never ending, euphoria consuming every part of her sweat-laden flesh, chilling and fiery, for hours—or perhaps only seconds. She can’t tell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her vision blurry. Her body trembles with residual aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She lays spread open on her bed, her pussy still too sensitive to close her legs entirely.

“Thank you for letting me come.” In her daze, her limbs fall away limply. All she can do is exist at this moment. She vaguely wonders if he finished with her, the thought of his deep moans fueling another fire. A part of her is disappointed that she wasn't present enough to listen to him, but another part knows that more opportunities will come.

“You’re so welcome, honey,” he says sweetly. “I think we both really needed that today.”

She hums, still recovering from such a powerful end. She slowly regains her breathing.

“I guess I should be thanking you because that’s one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” he says. She laughs.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious. Nearly gave myself a pearl necklace.”

And just like that, everything continues as normal. Both know that the other is naked and satiated, but neither feels uncomfortable with the fact. If anything, it makes things relieved, open, or comfortable. They’re both giggly in the golden after-glow.

“What does this mean for us, Honey?”

As, yes, the dreaded ‘talk’. Fear immediately spikes in her veins, and she struggles to find her words. Before she can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I really like talking with you, and I don’t want this to make things weird, but I meant what I said earlier. That was probably one of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t think that I could live without your pretty little moans now that I’ve heard them. Maybe, we can do that again. We don’t have to put a label on it or anything, if you don’t want to.”

Her heart sinks. Is that all that he wants?

“Right, it doesn’t have to be anything serious, just us having some stress relief.” Her words are dry and forced, feeling like bile in her mouth. She grits her teeth. What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

“Hey, uh, it’s late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Same time next week?”

She hopes that he doesn’t think that she regrets what they did, and she hopes he doesn’t think too much into her abrupt ending of the call. It’s not a total lie; she does have work early tomorrow morning, but she has had more than a few days where she was running on two hours of sleep and a miracle. She just wants to get off the phone before he hears the contemplation in her voice.

“You think I can wait a week after that? You have too much faith in me.”

“I think you’ll survive, babe,” she says.

“Good night, babylove.”

“Good night.”

She falls asleep quickly after, dreaming of the nameless, faceless man who she bares her soul to.

Later that night, as Harry edits the finally finished audio, he thinks back to Honey and their mutual pleasure, feeling like an absolute idiot for saying that it was nothing serious. He wasn’t expecting her to agree so emphatically, so quickly.

Although, what had he expected? He was the one who suggested it. No matter, he can’t have a relationship right now, especially a long distance one. He would just end up getting hurt, but he likes her too much to stop talking to her completely. He finally took their relationship further even if it won’t lead to anything more.

—

“Are you ready to admit defeat?”

Y/N lets out a breathy laugh, despite her current situation, her hand rubbing leisure circles on her already sensitive clit, which still throbs from her first orgasm of the night. Tango murmurs praise in her humming ears.

She’s not really sure what they are, and she doesn’t want to think about it. It would only complicate things more.

Friends? Definitely.

Well, maybe not definitely, since she doesn’t even know his name, but what other word could she use to define their relationship? What sort of friends would say such filthy things to each other? Why would he call her ‘my honey’ so emphatically if they were ‘just friends’? Too afraid of misinterpreting his intentions and embarrassing herself, she doesn’t mention anything, and he never does either, but it keeps her awake at night, wondering what they could be if she could just put her feelings to words.

This would be the second hour of their phone call, and it only took them ten minutes for the conversation to turn into one of their “stress relieving sessions”. Both of them had a terrible day; she was late for the first day at her new job (they were understanding given the circumstances, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth), and he slept through an exam. She eased him into a submissive headspace quickly, babbling about what a good boy he is and how proud she is of him. Within minutes, he came, and she whispered all the filthy things she wanted to do to him until he was completely spent, his cock milked of all remnants of his seed, twitching and throbbing with empty orgasms.

He easily fell into the dominant headspace after his quick high, and he was adamant that he could make her come more than any of her other partners, even without him truly there. She knows that he can; hell, she has touched herself to his voice more times than she could count, but she likes teasing him, hearing him get all riled up and stubborn.

“Are you gonna come again, honey?”

“Nope,” she breathes, “Not even a little close.”

“You’re obviously lying or not trying,” he says sharply, and a sense of pride swells in her chest at her ability to get a rise out of him without even trying. She smirks.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

“I might have to.”

She’s sure he would, too, but it would be in the most pleasurable way possible, with his mouth and fingers and cock stimulating her until she comes so many times she can’t take anymore. Her fingers trace her most intimate area, nails scraping against her quivering core. She sinks two fingers inside, feeling her sopping pussy swallow them easily, adjusting quickly and craving more. She tries to find that sweet, spongy spot inside her, but she can’t seem to reach it.

“Wish it was your fingers,” she mumbles, her movements certain and even, but it’s never enough for her greedy body.

“Yeah, lovie?” He croons, “they’d be so big in your tight little pussy.” She hums, wishing that he was there to stuff her in every way possible.

“Would you wear your rings?”

“For you? Of course.” Her eyes roll back at the thought; his thick fingers could tear her at the seams, and with the added texture of his rings, she would be coming within seconds. Her clit throbs, blood rushing in time with her racing heart, and she massages it harder, wanton and waiting for yet another release. “C’mon, babylove, Come for me. Make me proud,” he coaxes. His words make her fall over that edge once more, thighs shaking and pussy weeping. She’s sure there’s a creamy stain beneath her, seeping into her wet skin.

“Again,” he demands. She thinks she may break. “Keep going, babylove. Where’s that toy you told me about?”

He knows that she won’t be able to come much longer on her own, with the pain overwhelming the pleasure.

“It’s so far away,” she whines.

“Go grab it, love,”

Her legs tremble as she twists around, reaching blindly into her bedside drawer. She can’t close her legs too much without getting overstimulated; her legs ache and twitch. Once the toy is situated just above her clit, she ticks it on. Her body reacts immediately, limbs jolting about, hips ducking away, and her voice catching. Gasping, she almost wants to take the toy away, the stimulation being far too much.

He thinks differently.

“Turn it up higher, lovie,” he says so sweetly. Her chest feels like it could almost collapse into itself. Still dizzy from her orgasm, she’s not sure if she can take it, her body fighting against her. She wants to beg and plead for something, but she doesn’t even know what for. Is it for yet another orgasm that will surely be more powerful that any other? Or is it for the burning at every nerve ending to stop?

“I dunno—”

“You can take it, such a good little bunny for me.”

The vibrator ticks to the next setting, a sharp, persistent sound echoes in her empty room, followed by an even louder shout. She has not control anymore. Thankfully, she’s home alone or else it would be an awkward morning with her roommate listening to her cries of pleasure well into the night. Her hand shakes, but she presses the head of the toy harder to her clit. She lets out a guttural groan, feeling euphoria seep from every pore.

“There it is,” he moans, breathing growing ragged. He’s surely jerking himself off, basking in the pleasure with her, and it makes her arousal burn deeper. She wants to put on a show for him, to egg him on and make him feel as good as he makes her feel.

“There’s my pretty girl. Let me hear you, baby.”

She can barely squeeze out a few breathless whimpers from her chest, hedonistic—no, animalistic—sobs crash through her. Pain and pleasure fight for control, just as her mind and body do.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” she says weakly. “Feels so good.”

She comes quickly with a silent cry, her lips parted and face scrunched. Saliva slips from her open mouth, and she is unable to wipe it away, lewdly dripping down her chin to her neck before finding it’s place on her dirtied sjeets. The recovery period is quicker this time; it’s either that or her body is becoming numb to anything but pleasure. It feels like it’s never ending with the vibrator still nestled tightly to her puffy cilt. Her lips are surely swollen now too, tender from too many orgasms, yet still sopping with arousal.

“Don’t take it away,” he says, “You got another one in ya. You can do it, lovie.”

His voice is muffled beneath blankets where her phone lies, lost in her ravenous bouts of pleasure, limbs writhing and tossing. Her body aches when she twists to put it back up by her ear to hear him more clearly, muscles tight from her previous orgasms. Legs closing slightly, she whines when the toy presses harder against her clit, hips ducking away from the strong vibrations, eyes fluttering closed. Her phone falls out of her grasp once more, but the light illuminates the dark room, casting a warm glow.

“Please—”

She’s not really sure what she’s begging for; it just slips out, a weak plea. Perhaps, she just wants him to be there instead of on the other end of a phone call, in some faraway place she doesn’t even know. The room would feel so much warmer with him here, her back pressed to his chest, their sweat mingling. Maybe he would wear those pretty lace stockings he showed her a picture of once, the glittery fabric coarse against her skin as he teases his toes along her leg, keeping them spread. His freckled and inked arms wrapped tightly around her middle, paying special attention to her tummy, he would whisper sweet things in her ear and press on the area right below her belly button, telling her of how he wants to grind his pretty cock against her soft middle until she is sticky with his precum, how he can fuck himself that deep inside her. She would feel him for days after.

“I know it hurts, baby, but just one more, then you can go to bed.”

It sounds so nice, the thought of sinking into her pillows for a good night's rest, but an orgasm sounds even better, one leaving her spent and satiated and sleepy.

“Such a good girl f’me.”

As much as she wants to, the sensitivity becoming nearly unbearable, she can’t stop; she wants to make him proud, to prove to him that she’s his good girl who can take it. Even though he’s not truly there with her to hold her and make sure she comes, she still wants to do as he says. Her legs tremble, threatening to close.

She squeaks when the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive angle on her clit, and she bites into her pillow to keep from crying out. Her hips work desperately, to reach that high for the last time, just one more, like an addict itching for one more hit. It’s her fourth orgasm within ten minutes, and this might just be her breaking point.

“I dunno if I can.” Her words slur, and she can feel spit dripping down her puckered lips. She suddenly wishes he was there to wipe it away, thumb soft and subtle against her skin, lingering on her puffy lips.

“One more, babylove,” he insists. “Just one more. You’re doing so well.” She bites back a mangled cry, eyes squeezing shut, her thoughts lost in a dark chaos. His voice is the only anchor amidst a dizzying high, coaxing her through her stupor with sweet words.

“My pretty girl, my good fucking girl, taking it so well.” His gravelly voice pulls her from drowning, his words gritty from his clenched jaw. “You’re not hurting too much, are ya?”

His deep voice is soft, lilting with a tender care she needs. She could simply melt, blanketed in the warmth of his rich voice.

“A little,” she admits, a dull ache in her belly when she clenches too tightly. “But it feels so good.”

The vibrations pulse through her body, leaving her voice shaky, and she shifts slightly, hips digging into the mattress. It settles on the underside of her clit, and it’s so close to that one spot, until finally—there, there, there—right there. She groans, low and guttural, drawn out from the depths of her chest, animalistic almost. Her body burns and trembles for a second before yet another strong, unrelenting wave drowns her. Every muscle in her body tenses as the head of the vibrator finds the one tender spot on her clit, catching at just the right angle that leaves her eyes teary, world dizzy. She knows it’ll be painful if she doesn’t pull away, a harsh orgasm building, but she can’t stop, not with him listening to her, waiting for her final bitter end.

She’s doing so good for him, such a good bunny. She trembles in the wake of such a violent euphoria, weak moans slipping in time with her belated breathing. It passes through in waves, the pain, a bittersweet burning welling deep inside her, but a different ache persists, one that leaves her yearning for more, one that makes her dig her feet into the mattress and press herself harder on the toy. Her toes curl, and her back arches, free hand twisting the sheets.

He hums appreciatively.

“My bunny likes it when it hurts. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” she sobs, “I want it to hurt.” Hips shuttering away from the relentless vibrator, Y/N feels her final orgasm build, pain lingering around the edges as her muscles twitch.

“Such a dirty little slut.” Her back arches at his filthy words, arousal pooling beneath her. She could feel it wetting her thighs. “Just f’me, right, honey? Just my pretty slut.”

She comes quickly, eyes rolling back as it overwhelms all of her senses. She feels tense yet relaxed. A broken cry breaks from her swollen lips as she shatters, falling apart for the final time. Her muscles quiver, tiny shocks lingering in the aftermath of so many orgasms in such quick succession. Her limbs ache. Her heart races. Her pussy throbs. She knows that this will be all she can take, her body completely spent. She can’t find the energy to keep her eyes open, and they roll back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, still struggling to find her breath and collect her thoughts, but when she does, a smile breaks her face. She feels everything and nothing all at once, so perfectly numb. She finds herself laughing incredulously because that cocky little bastard was right: he made her come more times than anyone has before. She laughs until tears slip down her warm cheeks.

This is the part where the emotions start to become just as overwhelming as her release. So much sinks in all at once, and she realizes just how alone she is, and she wishes he was here to pull her back down to earth, to hold and to love. She feels deflated. The sexual release is such a rush, but it brings devastating lows. With tears in her eyes, she struggles not to cave into herself.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies, a sob curling in her lungs, forcing its way out in a blubbering mess. Once the first one escapes, the rest follow easily. She can’t seem to stop, heaving cries wracking her already sore body as she clutches onto her pillow. She fists her phone to her ear in an attempt to be closer to him, but that makes the feeling grow worse, settling to a black hole in her stomach, sucking all euphoria from her. Tears soak into her skin and sink into her ear, muffling his comforting words.

“Let it out, babylove,” he says softly. “I know, I know. I know. Sometimes it can just get really overwhelming.” His words are gentle, just as he is, and maybe that’s what makes this even worse. He is everything she wants. He is just so perfect for her in every way, but he is ao far from her reach. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t such a good person. Maybe that would make the yearning go away. She’s quiet, slowly breathing through stuttering sniffles.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Go pee and clean yourself up, babe. Know you don’t like feeling all wet down there. It makes your peach all sticky.”

She nods, knowing full well that he can’t see her, but doesn’t move. She honestly doesn’t think she can.

“Go on,” he murmurs when he doesn’t hear the familiar rustling of her sheets. “‘M right here, honey.”

A few more tears squeeze out of her eyes at his words. It makes her whole demeanor crumble once again; she’s upset because he’s not really there, he’s not there to hold her and kiss her and love her, and that’s not fair. She just wants to have him here to tell her that everything will be alright; she wants him to be there to laugh with, to just be with. He is such a good part of her life, but she just wishes that he could physically be there in the way she dreams.

She cleans up quickly, tossing her spent underwear into her dirty laundry. Just as she had suspected, the remnants of her orgasms stained her thighs.

What’s that ache in her chest?

“Good girl, feel better, lovie?”

She nods and whimpers, unable to calm her trembling lips.

“Good, ‘m right here, babylove. Y’did so good, so proud of you.”

She crawls back to bed moments later, shuddering breaths and swollen eyes being the only remnants of her breakdown. She sniffles and wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand, which smells vaguely of her feminine wipes.

“Sorry, if it was too much,” he says.

“No, no need to apologize,” she says quickly to get rid of any lingering guilt he has. It felt amazing, to be tested just beyond her limits, to be pushed to a shattering breaking point, to trust him to know what she can take. “It was nice. I just sorta—” Her voice breaks. “I dunno. Everything just got a little overwhelming. I think I’m better now.”

“What do you need from me, honey?”

She nearly starts crying again at how sweet he is. She almost could imagine that only a few minutes ago he was calling her his dirty little slut and demanding her to come until she could handle it.

“Just talk to me,” she says.

“So, I saw a couple dogs today,” he begins awkwardly. “Well, I was attacked by two little frenchie’s when I was walking to class, and it completely made my day ten-times better. They were so cute with their chubby little legs.”

He rambles on about his week, and it feels nice and familiar.

She’s nearly asleep when he begins talking about his mother. Apparently, she was visiting him last week, which was nice for about a day; then, he began realizing why he moved away in the first place: she is so smothering.

“And my mum is always nagging me to go out and socialize. She was like,” he breathes in, adjusting his tone to a falsetto. “Harry, you’re never gonna be able to find anyone if you don’t…”

He continues as normal, chattering away in his low, sleepy voice. She doesn’t think he even realizes his slip up, words spluttering out of his mouth so quickly that even he probably couldn’t hear it. She smiles as sleep finally overwhelms her.

Harry.

His name is Harry.

—

#also if this is too niche and it flops lets just forget it happened #okay? okay. #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #ellie writes #ellie writes smut #ellie writes filth #gif not mine #credit to owner

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

I Can Go Anywhere I Want- Just Not Home | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends. I've been BUSY with school and this one took fucking forever. But it means a lot to me, I hope you like it. :)

Word count: 13.3k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: do me a favor and pretend Bucky didn't disappear in the blip. ok thanks bye.

Warnings: talk of financial struggles, food insecurity, housing insecurity

A familiar shape stepped onto the sidewalk just ahead, freeing itself from the shadows of a rundown motel. The lines and curves of this body forced your heart into your throat. Time seemed to stop. The world round you ceased its turning. You’d know those broad shoulders anywhere, and you’d remember that sharp jaw even after your soul left this mortal coil. 

You stood there, your feet rooted in the concrete, watching him with a longing that tore through your chest. How long had it been since you last saw him? How many months had passed since you last spoke? You made yourself stop counting the days long ago; it was too depressing, too pathetic. But while you forced your brain not to continue the tally, your heart kept count. 

His sudden motion caught your attention, pulling you from your thoughts. The shape that once resembled home headed down the street, slipping through your fingers a second time. But you couldn’t let him get away- not again. 

Even after you freed your feet and increased your pace, he remained ahead. His long legs carried him away from you as he glided past people on the sidewalk. His hands rested in his pockets, concealing his trademark from the world. His head bowed forward, he kept his gaze down. He didn’t want to catch the eye of the public. But he caught yours. 

“Bucky?” your call came out a desperate plea. Blowing his cover wasn’t your goal, but he was too fast. You had to stop him before he vanished again.

He stopped in his tracks at the sound of your voice. You could’ve sworn you saw his head fall another inch or two, as though he were disappointed to know you’d found him.

But he turned. And for the first time in almost a year, he faced you. 

“Bucky.” It wasn’t a question this time, but an affirmation. A reassurance. An unstoppable smile pulled at your lips, a sigh of relief left your chest. You almost wept. “Hi…” 

The darkness that clouded your mind in his absence parted all at once, making way for a golden glow of twinkling lights. You hadn’t seen him since the battle. Since the shimmering portals. Since everyone returned home after Thanos fell. 

He simply stopped answering your calls. Your texts. He didn’t return your voicemails. 

To this day, you wondered what you did wrong. What you did that pushed him so far away. It wasn’t like him to ice you out, to cut you off without warning. He had baggage, sure, but he never shied away from you. Not like this. At one time, you were his closest friend. His most trusted confidante. And he was yours. You spent every moment together, taking shelter in each other. But not anymore. 

Each night, you recounted the last time you saw him. You analyzed every detail, scrutinizing the minutiae of the interaction. Maybe you said something that offended him. Maybe you did something hurtful. But no matter how hard you wracked your brain, not one single red flag made an appearance. And it made Bucky’s sudden disappearance from your life all the more maddening. More hurtful.

Sometimes, you liked to think that he just used you. That he got what he needed from you and moved on. It somehow softened the blow of his loss. Painting him as a manipulator took the blame off your shoulders and made him the villain. But you could never convince yourself of this narrative for long. Bucky wasn’t the type of person to use others. He gave and gave until he had nothing left. Or until he left.

With a few strides, you closed the gap between the two of you. “It’s so good to see you, Buck,” your instinctive reach for a hug left your arms hanging in the air as he took a small step back. It was then you realized just how embarrassing it was to drop your arms to your sides after an unwanted embrace.

“Hey- hi,” he cleared his throat and cut his eyes to the side, almost like he couldn’t bear to look at you. He stared at the passing cars, the flier-covered streetlight. Anything to keep his gaze from lingering on you. He wasn’t sure he had the strength. 

But he couldn’t help himself- he had to look at you. And as his eyes finally landed on yours, a familiar warmth sliced through his trepidations. He’d been aching for so long now; he’d didn’t know what a life without pain felt like. Every day, he hurt. He suffered. But the biting agony stilled as he stared at you. 

His lungs filled to capacity for the first time in months. The knots in his stomach untangled themselves. He’d forgotten how light he felt around you. You had a way of making things feel so easy, so simple. Everything in his life was complicated, and each day grew more difficult than the last. No matter how hard he tried, he never quite got his head above water. But with you standing there before him, he broke through the surface for the first time in ages.

He drank you in for a long moment, taking inventory of the ways you’d changed, and the ways you’d stayed the same. Your radiant smile still poked dimples into your cheeks. Freckles still splashed across your skin. But he noted the all too familiar braid in which your hair was twisted. The letter ‘N’ dangling from a dainty gold chain around your neck.  

Bucky knew losing Nat wasn’t easy on you. Knew that you’d been mourning her all on your own. He should’ve been there for you, should’ve been your shoulder to cry on. He hated himself every day for making you go it alone.

“It’s um,” Bucky didn’t know where to start. “It’s been a while…”

A quiet, awkward laugh rasped out of your throat at his understatement, “Yeah, you could say that.” 

A long pause forced its way between you. Things with Bucky never used to be this awkward, this tense. He was nearly a stranger now. And it killed you. Your friendship always flowed without difficulty, without pressure. It became second nature. The two of you moved together almost as though choreographed, anticipating the other’s actions instinctually.

But those instincts died and were buried, along with your hope of ever patching things up.

“Um, are you- where are you headed?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“I was just gonna- I thought I’d grab some breakfast.”

“Oh! Me too!” Finally, you had something in common. “Can I-” you quickly rephrased, fearing you may scare him off. “Do you wanna go together? Maybe we could catch up?” You knew you were throwing yourself at him, but you couldn’t stop. You were so overwhelmed, so desperate to be near him; you didn’t care how crazed you seemed. 

Bucky’s shy smile made an appearance, “Yeah, that would be nice.” He kicked himself for not appearing more excited, more overjoyed by the reunion. But he couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything other than anxious. 

The walk to the diner was less awkward than you anticipated. The conversation flowed a little smoother, the words came a little easier. But it was still clunky. And though more silence than you would’ve liked hung in the air, you breathed easier knowing that he was merely a few inches away. 

Things between you simply needed to thaw. You needed to shake the rust off and find your way back into the groove you carved out for one another. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“I thought you said you were getting breakfast,” you joked, “not just coffee.” You sat across from Bucky in a beat-up booth, it’s cracked, torn vinyl dating the restaurant. When the waitress asked for your order, Bucky insisted you go first. And when you’d finished rattling off your perfect breakfast, Bucky dismissed her with a “nothing for me.”

He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, “I’m not really hungry anymore.”

“Wow, I didn’t know I had that kind of effect on people,” you said, only half-joking. Maybe he really did hate you, after all. The months of dead silence suggested as much. 

More often than not, you tried lived in denial. You told yourself any lie you could come up with- anything to ease the pain of missing him. Even after his less than enthusiastic reaction to your reunion, you buried your head in the sand. Surely, he was just surprised to see you. He just needed some time to warm up, to come out of his shell.

But he only ordered coffee; clearly, he didn’t plan on staying long. He had an escape strategy locked and loaded. You knew he planned to fulfill your request for a catch-up session and run for the hills as soon as he emptied his mug. Upon your realization, everything came crashing down. His scant order slapped you with the cold hard facts: he’d cut off all communication, ignored you for months, and seemed to lose his appetite at the very prospect of sharing a meal with you. 

Maybe missing him was a waste of your time.

“No, it’s not like that,” very real concern coated Bucky’s words. “I’m so- I’m really happy to see you.” 

His fingers twitched as the logical side of his brain shut down his attempt to touch you. All he wanted to do was reach out and rest a hand atop yours, maybe stroke your knuckles a few times. It was something he used to do all the time, something that, at one point, reassured the both of you. But things were different these days. He didn’t have the right to be so familiar with you, not after he chose to make himself a stranger. 

He gripped his coffee mug with both hands, stemming any impulses to reach for you. “How have you been?”

There’d been a time when you would’ve told him everything. You would’ve spilled your soul and let loose every ugly detail of your life. Being honest with each other used to be easy. Neither one of you had to fear judgment or ridicule; you were safe in the other’s hands.

But those days were long gone. He clearly didn’t want to be your best friend anymore- he barely wanted to know you at all. He was, at most, an acquaintance whose soul used to be tied to yours. And so, you opted to forego the truth. You didn’t tell him that you cried yourself to sleep most nights. You didn’t tell him that you missed him so badly it caused you physical pain. You didn’t tell him that you needed him. Instead, you gave him what he wanted: an easy, canned response.

“I’ve been good,” you forced a smile to your face and shrugged. “Just been working, doing the whole SWORD thing.”

He raised his brow, “Oh, wow. You work for SWORD now? I had no idea. Good for you.” 

He feared his feigned surprise came off too fake, too forced. But you didn’t seem to clock it. You really believed that he was out of the loop, but you should’ve known better. It was ludicrous to think he’d ever be uninformed about your life. Of course, he already knew you worked for SWORD He knew that you moved into a new apartment. He even knew that you were planning on adopting a cat soon. He asked Sam about you almost daily, scrounging for any details he could get. 

He just needed to know that you were okay, that you were safe. And happy. 

“Yeah, I started a few months ago. It’s been-” You paused a moment, allowing the waitress to set down your food. The table in front of Bucky looked so empty; with no food anchoring him to the restaurant, he could leave at any moment. “It’s been alright. But how about you? What have you been up to?”

He took a moment to formulate his response. He needed to be careful. Precise. Allowing too much to slip could ruin everything. “I’ve just been working with Sam,” he shrugged. “We had to take care of that whole Flag Smashers thing.”

“I saw that!” you said, your mouth full of pancakes. “You guys did a great job.”

“Thanks, yeah,” Bucky’s cheeks flushed pink. “And I had my pardon hearing.”

You nodded, “I watched all the news coverage about it.”

He forced his eyes down to his mug; he never used to get embarrassed around you. “You did?”

“Of course.”

Bucky wanted you there that day. He wanted to rest his hand in yours and experience the peace only you could provide as he waited for the judge to call his name. And when he finally received his pardon, he wanted to turn around and see you- wide smile, eyes brimming with happy tears. He wanted to wrap his body around yours and thank you for being his rock. 

But he didn’t invite you along.

He, instead, sat alone in the hall, with no one to hold his shaking hand, until a bailiff ushered him into the courtroom. Sam wanted to be there, but his nephew begged Captain America to make an appearance for Bring Your Dad to Work Day. And who was he to say no?

When the judge awarded Bucky his pardon, no one cheered. No one ran to his side and granted him a congratulatory hug. He collected his papers and made his way out of the courthouse. Alone. 

He got a heap of texts and calls from you that day, though. He watched his phone ring with your name and picture taking up his screen. He poured over your kind texts and listened to your congratulatory voicemails. Even after he shut you out, you made sure he knew that you supported him. That you still cared. But he didn’t return your messages.

He did, however, listen to your voicemails on a loop. Hearing your voice again gave him an escape, a life preserver. You’d never know how much those messages meant, how often they saved him. He promised himself he’d tell you- one day.

 “Honestly, you shouldn’t have even needed a pardon,” you said with an eyeroll. “I mean, you didn’t do anything. None of it was your fault.”

Bucky had nearly forgotten how unabashedly supportive you were. How you were always on his side, no matter what. He wondered why you still wanted to be on his team after months of silence.

“Well, the US government feels differently,” he sighed out a soft laugh. “And it’s taken care of now, so it’s all good.”

He appeared hopeful, almost optimistic. He had Sam, he had his pardon- he seemed to be doing well. And though you wanted more than anything to be in his life, you just wanted him to be happy. Maybe your friendship didn’t serve him the way it served you. Maybe he felt like you didn’t give him what he needed. Maybe his life was better without you in it. The thought stung. It forced your throat closed, nearly sending you into a choking fit. But you swallowed your pancakes along with your pride, and vowed never to beg Bucky to come back to you. 

“Good. I’m happy for you.” You stopped yourself from reaching for his hand. “Can I ask something that might be a little invasive?”

Bucky’s heart stopped, “Um, sure.”

“I saw you coming out of that motel…” you shot him a suggestive glance. “What was that about?”

Bucky stiffened. He grew tense, anxiety flooding his system. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… was there maybe a little-” you raised a brow at him, “hook up situation going on?” 

He laughed at your overdramatic wink, the way you licked your lips. And he thanked his lucky stars you came up with a cover story for him. “Oh, yeah…” he grew bashful about his fictional sexcapades. “It’s just a- it’s casual, you know. Nothing serious.”

The confirmation of your suspicions made your jaw drop. Bucky Barnes, the old-fashioned gentleman, actually had a friend with benefits. He’d had a secretive, motel rendezvous. Hell, he probably had hickeys and nail marks hiding under his shirt. 

A pang of jealousy tore through you like the nails of his lover. Why did she get to be near him? How did she rank above you? The unsettling feeling of envy almost possessed you, but you pushed it aside.

“Woah, look at you,” you feigned appluase. “I always knew you were a ladies’ man, I just never got to see it in real time.”

He rolled his eyes, “yeah, yeah, I’m a real heartbreaker.” He regretted his word choice immediately, knowing full well he broke your heart.

You sidestepped his comment and forced the conversation forward, his comment stinging your open wound. “Seriously, Buck. I’m happy for you.” Once again, you stifled the urge to touch him. “You deserve to have some fun.”

He stared at you for a long moment, a genuine smile on his face. You were so sincere in your support of him, so unashamed of how deeply you cared. Sam was an incredible friend, of course- but you were his soulmate. He was tied to you with an unbreakable thread, unable to free himself even if he wanted to. And he wanted to. But not because he didn’t adore you; it was a simple matter of worthiness. 

But no matter how hard he tried, he still thought of you daily. Almost constantly. He missed you, pined over you, wished he could exist in your world. But he couldn’t- not yet. 

He shook the grin from his face and pulled his gaze down to his mug once again. “I’m um- I’m sorry I haven’t been around. Things have just gotten…” He cleared his throat, “I’ve been really busy.”

A scream scratched at your throat, but you forced it away with a bite of eggs and a swig of coffee. Of course, Bucky was busy. But he wasn’t the only one. It seemed that SWORD wanted to run you ragged. They were always assigning you extra operations and looking to you to solve problems. But even with the mountains of work, even in your sea of grief for Nat, you still managed to reach out to Bucky. You still called, still texted. 

But he clearly didn’t want to make the time for you.

“I totally understand,” you lied. “Shit has been crazy. Don’t worry about it.”

You worried about it every day.

Breakfast wrapped up all too soon. Bucky argued when you paid for his coffee, you hushed him with a promise to let him cover yours next time. And in the blink if an eye, you found yourself standing next to him on the sidewalk, praying he wouldn’t walk away.  

“I should really get going,” he said, taking a step away from you. “I have a meeting.”

“Cool, yeah,” you forced a smile, “this was great- I’m so glad we ran into each other.”

Bucky nodded, “yeah, me too.”

It seemed to you that Bucky couldn’t care less if he ever saw you again. He was disengaged, disinterested, inching ever farther away. He tried to be subtle about it, tried to slowly escape the interaction. But you caught his tiny steps in the opposite direction. His body remained closed off, the space between you growing with each long, awkward pause. 

But even so, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t let him walk away without knowing if this was the last time you’d see him. 

“We should do this again-” you sounded so needy, so anxious, but couldn’t find it in you to care, “but only if you want.” Never had you felt so pathetic. There you were, practically begging Bucky to signal that he gave a shit about you. 

But all he could muster was a nod. 

“Awesome,” you pulled out your phone. “Do you still have the same number?”

Again, he nodded. 

It killed you. All this time, you’d hoped that he got a new number and simply forgot to tell you. That your texts and calls went unanswered because he didn’t receive them. But he did, indeed, receive them. He just chose to ignore them.

With a swell of tears gathering behind your eyes, you sped through your goodbyes. You threw Bucky a hurried “great to see you, I’ll call soon” and quick smile before turning away and heading for a hiding spot, a concealed place to cry. The person you cared about more than anything, the person you adored, the person for whom you’d lay down your life, didn’t want you anymore. The bitter taste of rejection coated the inside of your mouth. And as you ducked into a bodega down the street, you feared you might get a second look at your breakfast.

You were gone too soon. Bucky wanted to call your name, to run after you. Even after months apart, he could still sus out when you were upset. He remembered your tells. Your dead giveaways. The way your jaw hardened against oncoming emotion. The tendency of your voice to grow thin and hollow as tears loomed on the horizon. 

He knew he hurt you. 

But he found himself stuck, his body defying the orders of his brain. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He could only stand there, helpless, watching as you disappeared. 

He knew you couldn’t possibly be happy with him after he abandoned you; he was surprised that you even acknowledged him on the street- let alone invited him to breakfast. And after the way he acted at the diner, he was shocked that you asked to see him again. 

The conversation you had replayed on a loop inside his head, and he kicked himself for being so closed off. So cold. He’d sullied your reunion so severely- it was almost aggressive. He was dismissive. Curt. And he lied to your face- multiple times. 

He was so happy to see you- he didn’t want you to think otherwise. But he didn’t expect to run into you like that. He didn’t expect to be near you for another few months, at least. He had a plan, and he was doing his best to follow it with as few setbacks as possible. If he kept his head down and pushed himself, he could get to the point where he could explain. He could tell you the truth and make you part of his life again if you even wanted anything to do with him. Though he wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

But running into you outside the motel wasn’t part of the blueprint. And he panicked.

He'd held you at arm’s length, never daring to get too close. He kept everything superficial. Surface level. It was the shallowest interaction he’d had with you to date. And it felt wrong. It didn’t fit who you were as people, who you were as friends. Your bond was never the skin deep, small talk type. No, you delved into one another’s deepest thoughts. Bared your souls. He’d never kept a secret from you- nor you him. But that was a different time.

Disappointed, Bucky unrooted his boots from the concrete and trudged off in the direction of his morning meeting. And while he did his best to focus, to participate, he could think of only you. The heartbreak in your eyes. The hurt in your voice. A wave of nausea barreled into him as he replayed the interaction again and again. You deserved better. And Bucky wished more than anything he that could be better. For you. 

But two nights later, your phone rang.

It was late- nearly midnight. You were curled up on the couch under a blanket, neck deep in your Vampire Diaries rewatch when your phone started to buzz. An unfamiliar number popped up on your screen, accompanied only by Siri’s suggestion of who might be calling.

‘Maybe: Kings County Jail’

You stared at it for three rings, wondering how someone from the jail got your number. And just as you were about to deny the call, something in your gut told you to answer it. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was divine intervention. Either way, you hit accept and held the phone up to your ear. 

“Um, hello?”

An automated message responded, “You are being contacted by a detainee at Kings County Jail. The detainee-” the recording paused, leaving space for someone to state their name.  Your favorite gruff voice followed, “Bucky-”

“-is trying to contact you. Do you accept the charges?”

A riptide coursed through your brain. Questions upon questions piled up, each one trying to escape your lips first. But you swallowed them for the time being. 

“Yeah- yes, I accept.”

The line connected, and Bucky’s soft “hey…” came through from the other end. “Thanks for picking up.”

“Buck? Is everything okay?”

He sighed, “Yeah, I’m- I’ve been better. But I’m fine. I was just wondering if,” he couldn’t believe he was doing this. “I was wondering if you could come bail me out?”

He gave no context, no reasoning, for his stint in the county jail. But you didn’t care. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Even after he ditched you and left radio silence in his wake, even after he practically ran from your reunion at the diner- you’d do anything for him. And there was no way in hell you’d ever just leave him there; you couldn’t. Bucky didn’t belong behind bars.

And so, you pulled yourself off the couch, found some shoes, and headed in his direction. 

The bail money didn’t matter to you. Sure, things were easier now that SWORD paid you the big bucks. But even if your account was running on empty, you’d sacrifice your last remaining cents to free Bucky. 

A guard led him down the hall by the arm and shoved him through the door. This wasn’t how he wanted you to see him. None of this fit into the plan he’d so carefully crafted all those months ago. But there you sat in the lobby of the police station, clad in your sweats, waiting for him. The shame nearly tore him apart from the inside out. 

But as he locked eyes with you across the room, he didn’t find the judgement or irritation that he expected. You should’ve been angry with him- why weren’t you angry with him? He’d called in a favor after abandoning you. He made you come down to the police station, made you pay his bail. You should’ve left him to rot in a jail cell. But you didn’t. Because you cared. Even after everything he did, you still cared about him. He wished you didn’t. He wished you’d scream at him in front of everyone- but you were too good for that. Too kind. 

He threw you a bashful wave, but averted his gaze when a warm smile crossed your face. He couldn’t quite stand the way your gracious expression made him feel. Why did you seem so happy to see him? Why weren’t you furious- or even a little frustrated? 

As he waited in line to gather his backpack and personal belongings from the desk, he hoped for something to prolong his time away from you. A clerical error. A massive stack of paperwork. What was he supposed to say to you? How was he supposed to explain this whole mess? He needed time to put his thoughts in order. To organize his lies. 

But, for the first time in history, a United States government agency did things efficiently and without error. And after only a few minutes, he made his way to your side. 

“Hey,” he granted you only a flash of eye contact before dragging his gaze to the floor. “Thanks for- thank you for coming to get me. And for paying my bail…”

You shrugged, “yeah, absolutely”.

“I’ll pay you back, I swear.” It was then he realized that he didn’t want you to be angry with him. Sure, you cursing him out in front of everyone would be easier. Less complicated. But he’d rather die than upset you again. 

“I know. I’m not worried about it,” you granted him another kind smile, “I trust you.”

It was a dagger to the heart. How- and why- did you still trust him? He’d excised you from his life without warning and left you in the cold; he wasn’t worthy of your trust. 

“Are you all good here?” you asked, “Should we get going?”

“Sure- yeah.”

The walk to the car was quiet; Bucky couldn’t bring himself to walk next to you. Existing in your sphere, being seen by you- it was too much for him. Too shameful. Even if he was only in your peripheral. And so, he opted to position himself a few paces behind you. In the safety of your shadow. 

He got settled in the passenger seat of your car as you turned the key in the ignition. But you couldn’t bring yourself to pull out of your parking spot. Everything in you wanted to ask how he ended up in handcuffs. He wasn’t a troublemaker. He wasn’t violent. He wasn’t the type to make waves. Something bad must’ve happened- something out of his control.

But you knew it wasn’t your business. He clearly didn’t want you around anymore, didn’t want to clue you in on the details of his life. And you never liked to pry. 

As the seconds passed, however, your resolve crumbled. No matter what happened between the two of you, you’d always care about Bucky. You’d always worry about him. And your concern finally got the best of you.

Before you could stop yourself, the words came tumbling out of your mouth. “Are you okay?” you stared at him, anxiety brewing in your chest. “You don’t have to tell me what happened- I won’t force you- but I’m worried about you.”

He nodded, “I’m fine.” It wasn’t rude, but his tone didn’t invite further probing. 

With a sigh and an unconvinced “okay”, you put the car in drive and prepared to take Bucky home.

Your blinker clicked incessantly as you waited for a few cars to grant you a clear path. Bucky had ample time to give you directions, but he remained quiet. He didn’t offer up information of any kind, not even a neighborhood. It broke your heart that you didn’t know his address.

“Um, where do you live? Should I turn left or right?” 

You waited patiently for an answer that Bucky didn’t seem to have.

“Actually, do you mind if-” he flashed you an apologetic smile, “could we just drive around for a while?”

Maybe he had some residual adrenaline from being arrested. Maybe being in jail gave him flashbacks to his captivity under Hydra. Either way, you knew he wouldn’t have asked to go for a drive unless he really needed it. Part of you was surprised, though, that he’d willingly spend more time with you. That he’d choose to share a confined space with you. He was all too happy with removing you from his life, and practically sprinted through your reunion breakfast. But after so many months of missing him, you’d take whatever extra time you could get.

The drive was quiet, though it did seem to help Bucky relax some. His leg stopped bouncing; his shoulders loosened up. Being around you had that effect on him; it wasn’t something he could help. But as he mellowed out, the questions swirling around your brain only multiplied.

At a red light, you tested the waters. “Can I ask you something?”

Bucky nodded. 

“What happened tonight? How did you end up in jail?”

A litany of emotions ran across Bucky’s face. Frustration, worry, shame, and sadness tied his expression in a knot. Part of him wanted to lie. He could say it was a bar fight. He could make up an elaborate story and placate you for the rest of the ride. But you bailed him out. You answered his call and showed up for him when he needed you. You sat, clad in your pajamas, in the waiting area of a dirty police station. For him. He owed you the truth.

“I was arrested for sleeping in the park,” he said, his tone flat.

It wasn’t at all what you expected to hear. No answer formed on your lips. You couldn’t pull your eyes from his face. The words sunk in, burrowing their way through your flesh and plunging into your heart. 

“Um, it’s- the light is green,” he said, snapping you out of your trance.

You hit the gas and accelerated on autopilot. And as soon as you made it through the intersection, you pulled over. Bucky’s confession knocked the wind out of you and robbed you of your focus. And if he had more to say, you wanted to give him your undivided attention.

“Why are we stopping-”

“Buck, why were you sleeping in the park?”

Bucky let loose a deep sigh that seemed to come right from his soul. “Because I don’t have anywhere else to sleep,” he shrugged. “I ran out of money.” He was silent for a moment, wondering just how honest he should be. “I’m supposed to be getting some POW benefits from the government, but you know, bureaucracy is slow.”

“Oh, Buck…” After everything he suffered through under Hydra, after the way the US treated him upon his arrival home, the least his country could do was pay him back. Or provide him with a safe place to sleep. But, once again, they failed him.

“You know that motel you saw me at the other day? I wasn’t there for a hook up; I’ve been staying there-” He corrected himself, “Well, I’ve actually been staying at a few different motels. None of them are extended stay, so I can’t be there more than a few nights.” 

He noticed the way your eyes grew sad, the way your mouth fell open the slightest bit. Heartbreak was written all over your face. “Sorry to disappoint you, I know you hoped I was getting some strange with someone from Tinder,” he shot you a wink and flashed a smile your way. But you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

Bucky, of all people, deserved a comfortable home. Someplace warm. Permanent. Someplace he could call his own. Someplace he could feel safe. But, instead, life gave him the short end of the stick. Again. 

“Anyway, no matter how cheap those motels are, paying for them every night adds up, you know? So, now I’m broke,” a rush of heat flooded his cheeks. Admitting to his situation was so embarrassing, so shameful, he thought he might drown in it. He was a grown- overgrown- adult who didn’t even have a roof over his head. “I got a warning from the cops last night -and the night before- for sleeping in the park. But tonight was my third strike, so…” He shrugged, “they arrested me.”

“Jesus Christ, cause not having a place to live is criminal?” you scoffed, “This country is ridiculous.”

“Trust me, it’s not for lack of trying,” Bucky quickly added on. He didn’t want you to think he wasn’t working on it, that he was slacking, that we was complacent in his situation. “I tried for a long time to get an apartment, but I either didn’t have enough money for the deposit or I’d get turned away when they realized who I was. Though it’s not like I could ever make rent…” 

When he learned how much an apartment in Brooklyn cost these days, a suffocating sense of hopelessness swallowed him whole. He knew he’d never be able to afford the one place he ever really saw as home.

“And I tried a few shelters, but they wouldn’t take me, either.” He didn’t know a shelter could turn people away; experiencing it first-hand broke him. “So um, the motels were my only option.”

Sobs blocked your airway and burned the inside of your nose. Tears pooled along your inner lash line; you prayed to god Bucky wouldn’t see them. You could sense his shame, his embarrassment; the last thing he needed was you crying over his circumstances. 

“What um,” you fought to keep your voice steady. “What about Sam?”

Bucky shrugged. “Sam’s been helping me with all the stuff for my benefits and getting my record expunged- he’s been a godsend. And he’s offered to let me stay with him more times than I can count. He’s offered me money- he even snuck some cash into my jacket pocket the other day,” Bucky gave a soft laugh. “But I can’t take any more from him; he’s already done too much for me.”

“I get that…” You knew Sam would happily let Bucky crash. But Bucky wasn’t the type to impose. “Sam’s a good friend.”

“He’s the best. I’m gonna pay him- and you- back, either when my benefits come through or whenever I can get a job. Whichever comes first.” It was a promise, a verbal contract. He didn’t want you thinking he wasn’t good for it- even if he wasn’t good for it quite yet. He knew he would be someday. And as soon as he had the money, you and Sam would be his first priority. 

“I keep applying for jobs on the off chance that someone will cut me some slack, but until my record gets expunged, I’m fucked. Every place I’ve applied to has done a background check, and every time, my name is surrounded by red flags.” He let out a sigh, “I’m still a criminal.”

Your heart buckled. He wasn’t a criminal- he never should’ve been burdened with such a title. He didn’t do anything wrong, he didn’t choose to be the Winter Soldier. But people didn’t care about the truth.

“What about SWORD?”

He shook his head, “They don’t want me. Hiring an ex-Hydra assassin doesn’t really work for their image. They’re trying to steer clear of the whole SHIELD thing…”

The two of you sat in silence for a long moment. Bucky hadn’t originally planned on laying everything so bare, he just couldn’t help himself. Opening up to you came naturally. But in the quiet, he felt naked. Exposed. He regretted spilling the details of his pathetic existence for you to see. 

But you’d never judge him. You simply wanted better for him. And wished he’d come to you when times got tough. 

The shards of your broken heart sliced through you with every breath. Imagining Bucky in rundown, roach infested motels or sleeping on an uncomfortable park bench on a cold night made you want to vomit. Waves of utter devastation crashed into you one after another, barely giving you enough time to breathe. But you couldn’t allow yourself to fall apart. Not when Bucky needed you.

When you finally steadied your breathing, you spoke. “Buck, can I ask- and I don’t mean this in an accusatory way,” you prefaced, “but why didn’t you come to me?”

“Because I care what you think about me,” he said, almost automatically. “Your opinion of me is important.”

“Well, my opinion of you hasn’t changed now that I know what’s been going on…”

A smile fought its way to Bucky’s lips. Logically, he knew you didn’t think less of him now that you knew the truth. He knew you were too kind to look down on him. But his anxiety didn’t think logically. The smile lasted only a second, as his worries about your perception got the better of him. 

“My life is a disaster,” he said. “I have almost nothing to my name. I don’t have any money. I don’t have a place to live. It’s humiliating.” He ran his palms up and down the length of his thighs, fighting the nervous energy. “I wouldn’t have even called you to bail me out if Sam was in town; I didn’t want you to know about all this.” 

Without a word, you pulled back onto the road. 

Bucky eyed the surrounding street, “Um, where are we going?” 

“My place,” you kept your eyes on the road. “I’m taking you to my apartment.”

Panic bloomed in Bucky’s chest. “Oh, no, it’s- that’s okay. I’m fine. You don’t have to do that.” A swell of anxiety barreled into him at the thought of you taking him home like a dirty, stray dog. He didn’t want to be a charity case or your good deed of the day. And as much as he would’ve loved to spend time in your home, he wished to do so under different circumstances. Circumstances that didn’t involve pity.

“You can really just drop me off anywhere-”

His words tore through you. “Buck, it’s late,” you cut a glance at him. “And it’s cold out. I’m not just leaving you on the side of the road somewhere. I-” you cleared your throat, “I care about you” 

Part of him wanted to open the door and jump from the moving car. Surely, it would be less humiliating. But the look on your face kept him from pulling the rip cord. Concern pulled your brows together. Worry made you bite at your lip. You genuinely cared about him, genuinely wanted to help. And though he could actually feel embarrassment seeping from his pores, he chose to stay. Because you caring about him trumped any and every other feeling.

“Okay, so, this is my place,” you said as you led Bucky though the front door of your apartment. You flicked on a few lights and kicked off your shoes, “make yourself at home.”

Bucky didn’t know how to do that anymore.

He stood stone still just inside the door, too overwhelmed and unsure to move. 

“Um, so, obviously, this is the kitchen- and that’s the living room,” you said, pointing to an area with a massive suede couch. “My bedroom and the guest room are down that hall, laundry is to the left, and guest bathroom is to the right, next to the office.” 

Bucky was impressed. The apartment was beautiful. You’d decorated to match your warm personality; it made him instantly comfortable. And it was nice- fancier than anything he could ever dream of affording. He was so proud of you. He knew you’d worked hard to get here, and seeing the fruits of your labor brought a smile to his face. He only wished he could’ve been a part of your journey. 

“This is really nice,” he said, taking a few more steps inside. “Is it all yours? Or do you have a roommate?”

“Nope, no roommate. Just me.”

Bucky’s brows lifted as he drank in the space. You paid for this place all on your own, no help from a roommate. He wondered what it felt like to be that stable, that secure. He never knew where he was sleeping from one night to the next, and you practically lived in a penthouse. 

“Um, we can sit, if you like,” you gestured toward the fancy couch, “it’s more comfortable than it looks, I promise.”

But Bucky didn’t go for it. “Actually, would you mind if I took a shower? I’m just- I feel pretty grimy from the motels. And the park. And the jail,” he felt his cheeks flush at the admission. He really was the filthy mutt you brought home from the pound. “I just don’t wanna sit on your couch when I’m gross like this.”

“Oh, sure. That’s- I totally get it. I should probably change my clothes, too.” 

With a wave of your hand, you gestured for Bucky to follow you to the bathroom. As you guided him through your apartment, he admired the art on your walls and the expensive rugs covering your floors. 

With a clearing of your throat, you gestured to the guest bathroom. “Everything you need should be in there but let me know if I can get you anything else. Can I throw your clothes in the laundry? I’ll wash whatever’s in your bag, too.”

Bucky gave you a strange look, “I appreciate it, but I don’t think you want me walking around here in a towel.”

You didn’t necessarily shy away from the idea, but this wasn’t the time for a suggestive response. “Okay, but- what are you gonna put on after you shower?”

Bucky shrugged, “I don’t know. Whatever I have in my backpack.”

You eyed the bag slung over his shoulder and imagined the heap of clothes he’d balled up and shoved inside. “Are they clean?”

Bucky thought for a moment, “Define ‘clean’.”

“Buck,” you laughed,  “just let me put your stuff in the wash.” You gave his backpack a gentle swat and motioned for him to relinquish it to you.

“So, you do want me walking around in a towel,” Bucky quirked a brow at you. “I knew it.”

“Oh my god,” you rolled your eyes, “just come with me.” 

Bucky did as he was told and followed you into your bedroom. It cloaked him in an instant warmth, a sense of home he hadn’t experienced in eighty years. The whole room seemed to glow with a cozy, welcoming aura. He wondered what it was like to fall asleep here every night, to wake here each morning. Well-loved books populated a large bookcase in the corner, an armchair sat near the window. Bucky could practically see you curled up on its large cushion, your nose buried in Pride and Prejudice. But a photo on the wall near your bed caught his eye. 

“Is that me?” He took a few steps inside your door and found his suspicion to be correct. 

It was a slightly out of focus candid shot of you and Bucky laying on the floor of the war room at the compound. Nat snapped it as the team talked through different strategies to bring everyone back from the blip. In the photo, you sported a massive smile, and had your face smushed against Bucky’s arm to stifle your laughter. Bucky’s eyes were squeezed shut, his metal hand covering his mouth. You were both exhausted, and loopy, enjoying a moment of levity amidst a sea of tragedy.

“That’s my favorite picture,” something about your words came off sad. And Bucky knew it was because of him. The joy, the closeness exhibited in the photo didn’t exist anymore. He’d stripped your friendship of everything warm and left you out in the cold. Alone. 

You made your way over to the dresser and fished around in the bottom drawer, “let’s find you something to wear.”

“Um, I don’t…” Bucky chuckled, “I’m not gonna fit into any of your clothes.”

You cut glance at him, “I know that. That’s why I’m giving you…” With a grand gesture, you unearthed a pair of sweatpants, “your clothes.”

Bucky’s mouth fell open. He stared at the pair of charcoal gray sweats he lent to you ages ago, the pair you loved, the pair he told you to keep. He didn’t say anything when you plopped them in his hands; he was too stunned to speak.

“And here’s this,” you said as you draped a faded blue ‘NYC’ t-shirt over his shoulder. He’d loaned you that shirt so many times back at the compound, you wore it more than he did. Eventually, he started putting it in your closet instead of his on laundry day.

“Now, give me your bag and I’ll throw your stuff in the wash.”

Bucky finally dragged his eyes from the pair of pants and furrowed his brow at you. “Why do you still have this stuff?”

Something in you grew nervous. Was he mad? Or did he think you were a creep for holding onto his things? Maybe it was too weird of a gesture. Maybe you should’ve let him hang around in a towel after all.

“Cause I like wearing it,” you said with trepidation in your voice. “Your clothes were always more comfortable than mine. And I-” you cut yourself off. Saying ‘I miss you’ was too much. Instead, you rerouted, “I like to wear oversized stuff.”

Bucky nodded and gave a quiet “right” before thanking you and heading for the bathroom. At your request, he left his bag in the hall. You scooped it up and dumped his clothes into the washer before doubling back to the bathroom, where Bucky had dropped his dirty jail-clothes outside the door. You changed out of your dirty clothes from the police station and threw them in the laundry with Bucky’s. It was the closest you’d been in months.

Bucky nearly teared up as the water sliced through the layer of grime coating his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a shower this hot. The motels always seemed to have faulty water heaters that only allowed for subzero temperatures. And at some of them, the water didn’t quite run clear. Sometimes, there was a brown tint. Other times, it was gray. And showers like those left only him feeling dirtier. 

But he didn’t want to think about the rust-eaten pipes of the decrepit motels in which he stayed. Instead, he basked in the nearly scalding water, the tiles that didn’t have moldy grout. For the first time in a while, he didn’t feel like a husk of himself, but a real person. All his time shuffling between park benches and rat-infested motels had stripped him of his personhood. And something as simple as a shower restored it. Though, deep down, he knew it wasn’t the incredible water pressure or the lavender body wash that had him feeling human again. It was you.

With the entirety of Bucky’s wardrobe in the washing machine, you paced lap after lap around the kitchen. Only a few days ago, you feared you’d never see Bucky again. And now, he was in your shower. After your chilly reunion at the diner, you couldn’t help but be mad at him, no matter how much you’d missed him. He was cool and aloof. He didn’t open up. And he didn’t seem at all interested in repairing your friendship.

But listening to him in the car laid almost every piece of the puzzle out before you. And though there were still gaps and empty spots, you nearly had the picture complete. Bucky didn’t ice you out because he hated you or didn’t want you anymore. He was simply too embarrassed to admit what he was going through. 

A sharp twinge of guilt needled at you. You shouldn’t have been mad at him after what happened at the diner. You shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions or assumed the worst. Bucky deserved better. You should’ve known in your heart that he was only pushing you away to protect himself. It was his nature; it always had been. You’d just been too hurt to see it.

“Your shower is unbelievable,” Bucky said as he padded into the kitchen, his hair still damp. “And those towels? They’re amaz-” A stack of Tupperware on the island caught his attention. “What’s all this?”

“Leftovers. I cooked dinner earlier tonight…” You shrugged, “I thought you might be hungry.”

He shifted his wide-eyed gaze from the food, forcing his eyes to land anywhere else. “Oh, no, that’s okay. I’m fine.”

You quirked a brow at him, “You’re not hungry?”

“No.” It was quiet but firm. 

“Really? Cause the Bucky I knew needed to eat like, six thousand calories a day.” Bucky’s insatiable hunger was a running joke between the two of you back then. He always finished your food when you couldn’t clear your plate, and snacked on anything he could get his hands on. On one occasion, he even fell asleep in your bed with his hand in bag of honey mustard pretzels. Hearing him refuse food was strange, almost alarming. “You always called yourself ‘Earth’s hungriest hero’”.

Bucky gave a small laugh, “yeah, damn super soldier serum will do that to your metabolism.”

You stared at him, “So…” 

“So?”

“So, do you want something to eat?” 

“No, really,” he shook his head, “I’m fine.” 

But you noticed the way his stare always returned to the stack of containers. Even after he’d pulled his focus from the food, his eyes found their way back. You sensed a longing in him, a deep desperation that left you gutted. Any jovial, lighthearted quality your words held fell to the wayside, making way for concern. 

“Buck, when’s the last time you ate?”

Bucky did his best to think back to his last meal but couldn’t find an answer. Part of him wanted to lie, to appease you with details of a made-up dinner from earlier that night. But he didn’t get the chance; his pause was too long for your liking. 

“Okay, if it’s taking you that long to remember, you need to eat.” It wasn’t an offer or a request, but an order. “Help yourself.”

But once again, he shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to impose-”

“It’s not an imposition,” your words came out with an unexpected fierceness; it almost sounded like a scold. The idea, the mere suggestion that Bucky could impose on you was ridiculous. You took a breath and softened your tone, “I live alone, and every recipe is for more than one person. There’s plenty.”

Before Bucky could refuse again, you opened the Tupperware and allowed him a look at the fruits of your labor. “There’s roasted chicken with rosemary and thyme, garlic mashed potatoes, and maple-glazed brussels sprouts.” Bucky’s eyes lit up. You could practically see drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. 

A sense of satisfaction enveloped you, like you’d finally banished Bucky’s unnecessary fear of imposition. But just in case he wasn’t sure, just in case you hadn’t won him over, you threw one last piece of information his way. “Oh, and there’s chocolate chip cookies over there.”

Bucky was almost overwhelmed. He took in the beautiful spread and gave the cookies a long glance; it was almost too much. “Woah, you weren’t kidding…” He gave a small laugh, “this is a lot of food.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know how to cook for one.”

With that, you handed Bucky a plate and let him go to town. He filled his dish with chicken, mashed potatoes, and brussels sprouts. But the look on his face signaled more relief than joy, more solace than happiness. You wondered how long he’d been without food, how long he’d worried about where his next meal would come from. As he stood over those plastic containers, that anxiety vanished- for the most part.

A debate raged inside of Bucky’s head. He was famished, literally starving. And you’d given him full access to a massive meal. But he didn’t want to overdo it. He knew he shouldn’t empty your Tupperware and leave you with nothing; he just he didn’t know when he’d eat again. And he could practically feel his body digesting itself. 

Before he could tighten the reigns, though, you spoke up. “Seriously, Buck, don’t be shy. I can’t finish all of this- it’ll just go bad.”

He nearly broke down. For so long, he knew only wanting, only appetite, only emptiness. And you offered him a respite. “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in…” Once again, his pause was too long; it crushed you. “Anyway, I really appreciate this.” He pulled his gaze from the food and gave you a long look filled with admiration. “And I’m impressed- I didn’t know you were such a culinary talent. I distinctly remember you burning ramen noodles to a blackened crisp more than once.”

The laugh that erupted from your chest filled the kitchen, “Well, I distinctly remember you eating my disgusting ramen without hesitation.”

Back when things were good between you and Bucky, you’d always volunteer to make dinner. Between strategy sessions and long, complicated meetings, the team simply forgot to eat. But you knew they needed nourishment to make defeating Thanos a realistic option. No one, however, wanted your charred ramen. Except for Bucky. He always accepted your offerings with a kind smile and a mountain of appreciation. He was grateful, no matter how awful it tasted, because it came from you.

“My therapist actually suggested I get into cooking,” you told Bucky as he popped his plate in the microwave. “I was really depressed and stopped caring about eating or taking care of myself. It felt pointless. But she told me some people find comfort in cooking. It’s almost meditative, you know? And if you focus on the recipe, you can’t think about all the um, the painful stuff.” 

Bucky knew he was ‘the painful stuff’.

“There was a bit of a learning curve, but now,” you shrugged, “I love it.”

“Oh, wow, that awesome. So you get some peace and a delicious meal? Sounds like a good deal.” He mulled it over, wishing he had a kitchen into which he could retreat. But the motels only ever had a microwave, and most of the time, it didn’t work.

“I had a therapist- well, a court appointed therapist,” he said, “she was the worst.”

You sighed. Why were things always so hard for him? Why did people treat him so terribly? 

“What was so terrible about her?”

“Honestly, I think she hated me,” defeat coated his words. “She was mean- I know that sounds childish, but I mean, the things she said were biting. They hurt. And she did it on purpose. I left every session feeling worse.” He thought back on his sessions with Dr. Raynor, on how she broke him down piece by piece until he was only a pile of ash. “She said I wasn’t a victim, and that I needed to take responsibly for the things I did and the choices I made.”

Anger surged inside your chest, “The choices you made?”

He nodded. “She was actually so terrible that I thought she worked for Hydra. I thought they were trying to get me back and that she was working undercover with them to manipulate me.” A small laugh broke free from his chest, “But she wasn’t. She’s just an asshole.”

“Jesus Christ, Buck…” You couldn’t imagine anyone being so awful, so hateful, toward Bucky. He was kind and warm. He showed people compassion and understanding. Why the world didn’t show him the same baffled you. “I hope you don’t see her anymore.”

He removed his plate from the microwave, “Oh, I don’t.” 

You sighed with relief, but it was a short-lived respite.

“I couldn’t afford to.”

He dove into his food before you could even usher him to the table. Between huge bites of potatoes and chicken, he praised your cooking. He swore on his life that this was some of the best food he’d ever had. It warmed your heart for a brief moment, but reality put a stop to the fuzzy feeling. Sure, you were a good cook. But you were certain than Bucky’s gushing compliments were the product of his empty stomach. He couldn’t even determine how long it had been since his last meal; of course, he was going to inhale his food with gusto and deem it ‘the best’.

It gnawed at you to see him like this. He laughed as you guided him to the table and settled into the seat across from him, but you didn’t match his lighthearted energy. He’d been struggling, suffering in silence without knowing where he’d get his next meal. For decades, Bucky knew nothing but pain. He was tortured, abused, treated like an animal. Hydra infected him like a parasite and devoured him from the inside out. They saddled him with PTSD and enough demons to fill even the deepest pits of hell. And after all that, life refused to give him a break. It killed you.

“I thought- correct me if I’m wrong, but- I thought court appointed therapy was paid for...” 

“Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t,” Bucky said with a mouth full of brussels sprouts. “It depends on the situation”. He threw a shrug your way and speared a piece of chicken with his fork, but a thought stopped him from shoveling it into his mouth. “Even if my appointments were supposed to be covered, I don’t think anyone wanted to give me anything for free.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Only the sound of Bucky’s fork scraping his plate interrupted the blanket of quiet. But the stillness made him squirm. Suddenly, he piped up.

“So, I did the required amount of sessions with that therapist and promised myself I’d never go back. It was tough, but I made it work. I scraped by.” His gaze took on a hollow quality, “That’s when I started staying in the really shitty places. The ones with asbestos and mold. And there was this one place where the sheets were stained with what looked like blood.” He grimaced, “I haven’t been back there.”

You forced a laugh, “Good call.”

Bucky shifted his focus back to his plate; he’d sprinted through his meal, leaving only a few bites remaining. The flicker of a frown ghosted across his face. The food was gone too soon, replaced by an empty plate. He was tired of everything in his life being empty- his bank account, his stomach, his heart. But he didn’t dare let himself wallow in self-pity with you sitting mere inches away. Instead, he overcorrected with a large smile, hoping you hadn’t noticed the look of disappointment he wore just moments earlier. He’d rather die than appear ungrateful, even if his hunger pangs had already returned.

“You can help yourself to seconds, there’s more than enough,” you took a look at the containers still sitting on the counter. Even after he’d piled his plate high, not a dent was made. “You can have thirds, fourths- I don’t care.”

Bucky shook his head as he cleaned his plate, “No, that’s alright. I’m good. Thank you, though.”

It was an egregious lie; maybe the worst you’d ever heard. 

“Buck, I can practically hear your stomach rumbling from here.” You knew him. Even after all this time apart, you knew him. You knew he was still hungry, especially after having gone so long without eating. His metabolism burned through fuel at a massively accelerated pace; he needed the calories. “Please, have some more.”

Once again, he shook his head. “I’m okay, really,” he gave you a smile. “Plus, I don’t want you to think I’m a freeloader.”

His words struck you in a strange way. Bucky never used to worry about your perception of him. And you never thought twice about how he saw you. There was a mutual respect and sense of comfort that didn’t fall victim to judgement. You accepted each other without hesitation. But Bucky couldn’t find his sense of security. He shifted in his seat and averted his eyes every so often, fearful of your inner monologue.

“Why are you so worried about what I think?”

Confusion lifted Bucky’s brow, “what do you mean?”

“You just said that you don’t want me to think you’re a freeloader. And in the car earlier, you said you didn’t reach out and ask me for help because you care about what I think.” You shrugged, “I just want to know why my opinion matters so much to you.”

“Because you’re my friend,” his tone was sure, steadfast. “I’ve always cared about your opinion.”

“Yeah,” hearing him call you his friend eased some of the tension in your neck. “And I care about what you think of me, too, but- I was never worried about it.” A sudden thought popped into your head, “I mean, I’ve been worrying about it lately, cause it kinda seemed like you hated my guts for a while there, but…” 

Bucky stared down at his empty plate. He didn’t want you pulling at this thread, didn’t want you unraveling his thought process. He prayed you’d drop the whole thing and move on. 

You didn’t.

“Sam’s your friend, too. Don’t you care what he thinks?” You feared coming on too strong, but you needed answers. “He knows about what you’ve been going through. You let him help you. You didn’t-” you stopped yourself. 

Bucky gave you an expectant look, “I didn’t what?”

“You didn’t cut him off.”

Bucky’s face fell. You never meant to hurt him, to make him feel bad about pushing you away. No matter how badly he hurt you, you’d never throw it in his face- especially after you learned why he did it.

“Buck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like-”

 “No, don’t apologize,” a sad smile crossed his face. “You’re right.” He was quiet for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. He planned on having this conversation with you someday, months from now. He didn’t have his script organized, didn’t know how to best express what he was feeling. Worry encapsulated him. What if he misspoke? What if he messed things up even worse?

“Things with Sam are different. He and I became friends because of Steve. We promised him we’d look out for each other.”

It sounded all too familiar. “You and I promised each other the same thing…” It was a pinky promise made on the living room floor of the compound. In the middle of the night, by the light of the fireplace, you swore to be there for one another come hell or high water. Never did you even consider breaking that covenant, that bond. You upheld your end of the bargain without issue. But Bucky fell short. 

He thought about that promise every night, berating himself for breaking it until he fell asleep. 

He sighed, “I know we did, but- that’s not the same thing. You and I became friends when everything fell apart. The entire universe was in chaos, everyone’s lives imploded.” He dragged his gaze downward, “You and I were on an even playing field back then.”

“What do you mean?”

“Back then, we were equals,” a faint smile flickered on his lips at the thought of those days he spent with you. They were dark, sure, but he remembered them fondly. Those were the days when he never left your side, the days when we woke up and fell asleep next to you. His favorite days. “We slept on the floor at the compound. We lived off ramen and red bull and worked around the clock to try and figure out how bring everyone back. We struggled. Together. But now…” He looked around your beautiful kitchen, “everything is okay again, and everyone has gone back to their lives. You’re doing well- really well. And I’m stillstruggling. I’m in almost the exact same position as I was back then.”

Words formed a traffic jam in your throat. Each new idea of how to comfort Bucky seemed too sappy, too corny. Just as a new phrase tried to exit your lips, you swallowed it. How were you supposed to make him feel better? How were you going to make any of this okay?

Bucky knew you were at a loss. He could see your desperate attempts to come up with a fix-it phrase for his situation, a way to assuage the way he felt. All you ever wanted was to make him feel better. “You have this great apartment and you’re working for SWORD. You found your way out. Meanwhile, I’m scrounging together any cash I can find to pay for a few nights in a rat-infested motel. Or I’m sleeping in the park- and getting arrested for it.”

He was going through a hard time- a really hard time. His life was in shambles and a new hardship greeted him at every turn. But you couldn’t make sense of his departure from your life. If anything, he should’ve grown closer to you, shouldn’t he? He should’ve leaned on you, asked you for help, sought comfort in your arms. 

“I guess I’m just- does that automatically mean we can’t be friends?”

Bucky’s humiliation piled on top of itself. It grew with each breath, with each passing moment. Admitting just how destitute he was, how utterly lacking- it destroyed him. “No, but- who wants to be friends with that guy? Who wants to hang out with the guy who can’t figure his shit out?” A strange mixture of frustration and melancholy dripped from his words. “I have nothing. And I’m just not- I can’t be your friend yet.”

His words hit you like a train. “We were already friends; you were my closest friend-”

“We were rock bottom friends,” his voice was low, hollow. “We were wartime friends.” It came out almost as a recitation, as thought this was something he told himself to justify his actions. 

You swore he made up that phrase right there in your kitchen. It seemed more like an excuse than an explanation. “What does that even mean?”

“A wartime friend, it’s- it’s the person you cling to when the world implodes. The person you’d never actually be friends with in real life, but you lean on them when life falls apart because they’re just- they’re there.”

The day you two met, Bucky found you crying in a supply closet at the compound. You were at the end of your rope, heartbroken over the loss of friends and family. Never had you experienced such an earth-shattering loss. You had no one- nothing. But Bucky was there for you. For a moment, you weren’t alone. You had someone. And he quickly became your favorite someone.

“People get desperate during wartime, you know?” Bucky continued, “They’ll befriend anyone if it brings them even a sliver of peace or comfort.”

“So, you thought-”

“I thought for sure that’s what you were doing.” 

Bucky stood from his chair. Anxiety ate away at him from the inside, leaving him unable to sit any longer. “I mean, you knew who I was. You knew I was a mentally ill, train wreck of a person. I figured we’d buddy up until the clouds parted- since neither of us had any other options- and then when things when back to normal, you’d find your real friends.”

He considered himself a consolation prize, a leftover. He didn’t know that, from the very beginning, you considered him a ‘real’ friend.

“But after knowing you for a few days, I wasn’t okay with that anymore,” his words came out hurried, almost frantic. “I wanted to be friends with you for real. I wanted you to want me around after we fixed everything. But I knew there was no way you’d want me as a friend outside of the shitstorm.” 

The realization played out across his face in real time. You watched happiness turn to disappointment, to despair, to desperation. 

“So, I just resigned myself to enjoy our time while it lasted. I knew it was all the friendship I could ever hope to get from you-” A shy smile pulled at his lips, “though, I was lucky to be close to you for any measure of time.” 

The smile faded, “but then when it was all over, and things went back to normal, you kept reaching out. You kept trying to get in touch with me and I- I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t make sense of it-” 

You gave a small shake of your head, “I missed you. I needed you. I just wanted to see you…”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to react. I panicked.” The nervous energy left Bucky’s buddy all at once. He slid into his chair and let his spine rest heavy against the wood. A sense of dejection befell him like and angry, icy sleet. “I didn’t want you to see me struggle in real life. I didn’t want you to see how much my actual life resembled the disaster we’d been living in. Cause when you look at my situation in the cold light of day it’s…” he swallowed the urge to hide from his humiliation. “It’s ugly. There’s no romanticizing what I’m dealing with.”

“I know you’re going through a lot right now.” For the first time in almost a year, you reached across the table for his hand. And for the first time in almost a year, he let you. “But Buck, you are not the only person struggling. I know it feels that way, but there are still so many people trying to get their lives on track after the blip- I’m still trying to get my head right. No one has a perfect life.”

Bucky gave a gentle scoff, “I know, but yours is a lot closer to perfect than mine.”

Again, you found yourself at a loss. No pep talk, no encouraging words, could make Bucky feel better about his situation. And nothing you could say had the power to fix how he felt about the state of his life. Instead of speaking, you opted to wrap his hand in both of yours the way you used to. You only hoped it would comfort him like the old days.

After a while, Bucky spoke again, “I just wanted to get my life together before I saw you again. You know? Cause my situation right now is embarrassing. I was afraid to admit the truth of my reality.”

You nodded, “And that’s why-”

“That’s why I was so weird when we ran into each other the other day,” he confirmed. He cringed at the way he acted, the way he treated you. It was all wrong. “I knew you saw me leave the motel. I knew I couldn’t pay for a meal at that diner. I was afraid that, as we spent more time together, you’d put the puzzle pieces in place and figure out that I’m a mess.”

His sense of frantic desperation reclaimed him all at once. He leaned forward and captured your hands in his own as his gaze bore into yours. “I never wanted to cut you out of my life- you have to know that. I need you to know that.” 

Tears formed along your lash line, creating a haze around your vision. “I know.”

“I just needed time,” he said. “I needed time to prove that I’m not a loser, that I’m good enough- I just wanted to be good enough for you.”

“Buck, you didn’t have to prove anything to me. And what do you mean you needed to be good enough? I’ve only ever wanted you to be yourself...” It was the most certain, the surest you’d ever been of anything. Bucky was exactly enough. He was himself, and that was all you could ever ask.

“And hey, I bailed you out of jail tonight without having any idea what you did- I didn’t even ask. I didn’t care. I was going to be there for you, regardless. Because I care about you.”

The storm clouds in his eyes parted. He hadn’t even thought about that, about how you paid for his release without context. If ever he doubted how you felt about him, that gesture was enough to set him straight.

He bowed his head a moment, thanking his lucky stars for your gracious nature. “I know you care about me. And I’m so sorry I abandoned you like that- I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn’t know what to do…”

“It’s okay,” you sniffled. 

Bucky freed your hands for a moment, allowing you to wipe the tears flowing down your cheeks. He recaptured them as soon as he could, even if your knuckles were still damp. 

“Well, it’s not okay- like, don’t do it again,” you joked. “But I understand now why you felt the way you felt. And you understand that I want you in my life, full stop. Right?”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah, I get that now.”

With the deepest sigh of relief you could muster, you banished the feeling of abandonment Bucky with which Bucky saddled you. You shed your fears, your worries. The deep pit that formed in your stomach all those months ago closed, the prickling anxiety in your chest faded away. And for the first time in long time, you breathed easy.

“Just so you know- and I don’t wanna hear any complaints or refusals on this-” you gave Bucky a look, prompting him to nod in agreement. “You have to have at least one more plate of food.”

A rebuttal brewed beneath Bucky’s surface, his fear of imposing rearing its ugly head. He’d already called in a massive favor, had you pay his bail, used your shower, and eaten your food. The anxiety of overstepping vibrated inside his skull. But he kept his promise and nodded in agreement. 

“And-”

“And?” he gave you an exasperated look. 

You gave a firm nod, “Yes, there’s an ‘and’!” 

Bucky sighed out a tired laugh, “What more could there be?” A sudden darkness eclipsed his expression. His smile fell, his laugh halted. Anxiety had him by the throat. His snaked his hands away from yours and tightened them into tight fists. “I already feel like I’m taking advantage…”

“You’re not. I promise.” All at once, you were fed up with sitting across from him. You needed to be closer, as close as possible. Bucky needed to feel your sincerity, to hear your words loud and clear. In a flash, you gave up your seat across the table for the one right next to him. “You can’t impose or take advantage- not here. Because…”

Bucky eyed you with a nervous glance, “because?”

“Because… you live here now!” A victorious laugh fluttered out of your throat, “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Shock overtook Bucky’s expression. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. His heart raced, his hand shook. All color drained from his face. “No, I can’t- that’s too nice…” He stared at you, “Are you serious?”

You nodded, “Dead serious. This is your home now, too.” Suddenly, you felt the need to clarify. “But only if you want. This isn’t like, a hostage situation or anything.”

Bucky’s head fell back in a loud laugh that nearly brought tears to your eyes. He hadn’t felt this carefree, this at peace, in a very long time. He didn’t remember the last time he laughed this way. 

“Well, that is a relief,” he said with a chuckle. “I’d love to live here with you, I’d be- I’m so…” Suddenly, his hands found yours. He squeezed your fingers until your pulse throbbed against your skin. His anxiety practically seeped into your bones. “But I swear, I’m not gonna stop looking for a job or trying to get my benefits. I promise. I’m not gonna sit around like a deadbeat and mooch off you-”

“Buck, don’t worry about that right now, okay?” 

He shook his head, “And I won’t stay here too long, I’ll-”

“Hey,” With great effort, you pulled your hands from his and places your palms against his cheeks. “There’s no move out date. There’s no ticking clock. You’re allowed to live here as long as you want- I want you here.” You shot him a smile, “Plus, I’ve missed you- a lot. So this arrangement is good for me, too.”

A swirling cloud of worry hovered above Bucky’s head. He was overwhelmed, you could tell. He tensed his jaw, his shoulders. His every muscle went rigid. “But are you sure? This is generous- it’s too generous.”

“I’m sure. Here-” You stood from your chair and gestured for him to do the same, “I thought you might need this.”

With that, you enveloped him in a tight hug. Back at the compound, a hug from you could solve any and every problem for Bucky. And his embrace did the same for you. There was something so warm, so welcoming about the arms of the other. It was salvation, it was solace. It was home. Without a place to live, Bucky could survive. But without you, without his home, he’d been lost. As he wrapped his arms around you, though, his entire world changed. And the severed soul tie you feared would never heal grew back once again, stronger than ever.

-----------------------------------------

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[lustspren]

STARBOY EP 3. Earned It ft Kazuha.

length: 13.3k words.✦

Nakamura Kazuha & Male Reader. 

genres: slutty brat¡ kazuha, bdsm, daddy kink, angry sex, public sex, dirty talk, hard sex, face fuck, creampie, blowjob, oral ✧ 

✦✧✦✧✦✧

It was a pretty typical stereotype that men hate going shopping with a woman, and you certainly couldn't deny it, most of your friends in the past hated it, but for some reason you enjoyed it. And of course you more than anyone knew the reason.

Having Heejin as a shopping partner was undoubtedly an experience that was anything but boring, wherever you followed her she would attract you with a bright and fun aura that you couldn't even get tired of, no matter what she did. You didn't want to jump to conclusions too quickly, but maybe you were somewhat, just a little, in love with her. Of course this wasn't even a hidden feeling in you, the connection you had with that girl was more than special, she was like your other half, and your safe place, not to mention that without her you were literally living on the street right now. You owed a lot to her, and this was the least you could do to repay her for everything she has done for you.

That day you had gone out exclusively to buy clothes to remodel almost your entire closet. You needed it more than she did, but still most of the stops you were having were because of her. Right now you were at a Fendi store, which was in the mall a few blocks from your building. Your job was simple, you had to answer yes or no every time she came out of the fitting room with a new item of clothing to find out if she bought it or not. You were already full of bags, in which you could be easily buried, but even so, it didn't seem enough to her. At least it was a nice enough place to wait, otherwise you would have been overwhelmed with so many things to keep an eye on. 

Miss Lee had been giving you fashion advice for a few days, in your last session she forced you to try on multiple different outfits, each one with clothes from brands that until weeks ago you could only see on instagram or pinterest. She let you keep all the clothes that you liked, but still she ordered you to update your closet as fast as you could, and so you did. This day you were wearing a blue Ralph Lauren sweater tucked into champagne Zara pants, vanilla Balenciaga Triple S shoes and a blue Patek watch, you were completely unaware of the exact model, surely Sunmi would know, but you were new to all of that.  Most importantly, you'd killed two birds with one stone, you pleased your boss, and finally shaken off the judgmental stares of everyone around you while still feeling comfortable with yourself.

While you were sitting on a sofa looking at twitter on your phone Heejin came out of the changing room and looked your way, she was wearing a whole complete outfit: a strappy champagne corset, brown wide leg pants with pink striped plaid pattern, and white pointed heels, all complemented by rectangular sunglasses and a brown velvet handbag with the Fendi buckle in the middle. 

The first thing you thought was that she looked incredibly hot with that corset that highlighted her breasts and prominent shoulders, but when you thought a little more you couldn't help noticing something very important.

"Wait wait wait wait, you know how much is that handbag, right?" you said, pointing at it with your finger still glued to the phone.

"Uhm… how much?" she asked innocently.

"1.400 bucks. I saw it just now."

"Oh..." she looked at the bag for a few seconds, in all directions, and then saw it hanging on her arm, "but can we take it or not?" she said finally, with a smirk and a tilt of her head.

You brought your fingers to your septum and closed your eyes to let out a long breath, knowing you had no choice.

"Sure, take it," you finally said, looking up at her again.

"Yaaay!" she clapped excitedly for a moment, "and how about the outfit? Yes or no?"

"It's definitely a yes," you held up your thumb.

"I knew it!" she jumped towards you and cupped your face to steal a kiss from you. She then turned back to the dressing room, leaving you alone again.

As soon as Heejin entered the dressing room, your phone's screen turned on showing the message that just arrived. You unlocked your phone, and sighed as you read the entire message.

Japan Justice Minister, you went over it several times in your head. You didn't know why, but you had the feeling that everything was escalating way too fast, you went from fucking a CEO, then a shareholder, and now the daughter of a Japanese politician. And you, well, you were just a lucky guy. As usual, the intrusive thoughts and your anxiety took over again for a few minutes. This time the pressure was twice as strong as when Sunmi or Tiffany, on top of that, you were going to face a girl who was going to potentially drive you out of your mind in a bad way, and your tolerance was something, you would say quite limited. You didn't know how spoiled she was, but your protocol (which you just made up just now) for girls like that was very simple: don't give them what they want.

You waited a few minutes for Heejin, and when she came out, she was dressed in the same clothes she had worn to come to the mall in the first place.

"That's it! Let's pay," Heejin said, checking that she had all the clothes she had tried on, "Uhm, is something wrong?" she asked, noticing that you were chewing on your thumbnail with a blank stare.

"I have to go, Miss Lee wants to see me so I can meet my next client," you said, still staring at nothing.

"And what is the problem?" she stood in front of you.

"The girl in question is the daughter of a minister of justice," when you said it you couldn't help but let out a small incredulous laugh.

"Oof. Big fish..."

"Aha, it still seems fucking surreal to me, to be honest, but I guess that's the way it is now," you sighed, then looked at her, "I'll have to get used to it. Let's go," you nodded to the cashier and you got up.

When you paid for the clothes, the first thing you did was count everything you were carrying, to make sure nothing was missing, and it wasn't until then that you realized that you were carrying a somewhat exaggerated number of bags, so exaggerated that you even doubted that they were even going to fit in the elevator with you. You put your mind to plot for a moment to try to calculate how much you had spent on all that, but if you started counting everything you were probably going to arrive late for your meeting with Sunmi, and that wasn’t an option, so you just took out your phone to call the taxi and then take as many bags as you could in your two hands, just like Heejin.

"What could be the daughter of a Japanese politician here in Korea?" Heejin asked as you walked towards the exit.

"I don't know," you shrugged, "but Miss Lee told me they were in a photo shoot, maybe it has something to do."

"Maybe she is a photographer?"

"Nah," you shake your head denying, "based on how little I know about her, I don't think photography is her thing."

"Hmm…" she thought about it for a few seconds, "Model, then, I can't think of anything else."

"Probably, we'll see."

When you arrived at the exit and left the mall, you stayed waiting for the taxi for just under 5 minutes until it finally arrived. You barely put all the bags in the trunk of the car, forced to stack them on top of each other and crush them so that they could fit all there.

"We need a car, fuck," Heejin sighed, "a SUV, if possible."

"Maybe if we stopped buying 1.400 dollars handbags we could save and buy one," you looked at her without even blinking.

"Oh come on! It was Fendi!" she excused herself, before you ignored her and sat at the backseat, "you bought an almost 1.000 clock and I'm not upset about it. In fact, you're wearing it!"

"It's different," you said, watching out the window as she sat next to you and closed the car door.

"In what?" she crossed her arms as she saw you.

"It cost almost 500 bucks less," you chuckled, waiting for the blow to your arm.

"Ah fuck you!" she complained, hitting you on your arm, in the same exact area where she always did. You didn't even immute you, you had developed a kind of mental immunity to the pain of her punches.

Being your building so few blocks away the trip was just under 3 minutes, in fact, you could easily have walked there, but the amount of laziness that gave you loading with all the bags beat you. When you arrived you paid the driver and got off the car, to download all the bags and enter the building. Entering the elevator with all the bags was less difficult than you expected, in fact, you didn’t even have to make two trips up and down as you imagined from the beginning, however, if someone else wanted to enter the elevator at that time, it was going to be necessary to wait.

When you got to your floor you were the first to go ahead since you had the keys, you opened the door, and went straight to the living room to put all the bags on the sofa, while Heejin left them on the floor between the coffee table and the sofa. .

"You know, I think we should adopt a cat," she said out of nowhere.

"What? Why?" you frowned in confusion as you walked towards the door again.

"I don't know, I feel a little lonely every time you leave..." Heejin bited on her bottom lip, arms folded and looking sad, "this whole place is so big, and well… you know ."

"Oh Hekkie..." you breathed out, to walk towards her and hold her by the waist, "I'm so sorry, okay?"

"No, not at all, it's not your fault, silly," she laughed a little discouraged, "it's your job now, do your best for me," she gave you a little pat on the chest, and then she gave you a little kiss on the lips, "I just need some company while you're gone, that's all."

"We're going to an adoption center tomorrow, okay?" you cupped her face with your hands, "take care of finding out places."

"Okay," she nodded, like the spoiled child she sometimes was, "be careful, okay?"

"Always," you gave her a kiss on the forehead, and then another on her lips, before turning around and walking out of the apartment.

You didn't know how late you were going to arrive at the place Sunmi had ordered you to go to, which worried you. You ordered the taxi as fast as you could while you walked to the elevator, and you checked that you had everything you needed on you. When you got to the street you couldn't help but think that Heejin was right, you needed a car urgently.

Luckily for you the taxis in that place were anything but late, they arrived much faster than the average taxi did, but you came to the conclusion that it must simply be the same old problem, classism in its purest form.

-----------------------------

The taxi dropped you right in front of the executive building to which they had sent you, just as you imagined it was a production company and a photo studio, from the outside you couldn't see much of it, but when you entered you were amazed at the tremendous relevance of the place. The lobby was littered with photos, all of them with captions indicating the brand that had done their shoots right there; Adidas, Under Armour, Puma, Calvin Klein...

"Good afternoon, miss," you approached the receptionist, a pretty girl under 25 years  by your reckoning. << Seo Soojin >>, said the little card attached to her shirt. She wore glasses, her hair tied up in a bun, and a rather intense crimson lipstick that highlighted her thick lips. The moles she had under her eye and next to her nose also caught your attention.

"Good afternoon sir, how can I help you?" she said, looking at you over the top of her glasses.

"I'm headed to the studio, huh…" you checked your phone again, "6."

"Are you a model? Staff member? Photographer?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh no, nothing like that," you denied, "I'm close friends with Miss Lee and Miss Nakamura."

"I see," she nodded and looked down at her landline, "one minute please," she said as she took the phone, you kept quiet as you looked at her, assuming she was calling someone, "Hello? Yes, excuse me, there's a guy at the reception who claims to be close friends with Miss Lee and Miss Nakamura... Ok... Ok got it, you're welcome."

"Well?"

"Here," she opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a necklace with a laminated card that read <<guest>>, "fourth floor to the right, easy enough to find," she said, handing you the card.

"Thanks, Soojin," you nodded your head in appreciation and took the card to go straight to the elevator.

You followed the receptionist's instructions until you arrived at the aforementioned studio 6, the door was made of opaque glass that allowed you to see almost nothing other than the flash of the cameras going off and the light from the spotlights. The door wasn't locked, so you just walked in freely. The studio was quite spacious and cozy, with black curtains that completely covered all the windows and air conditioning at the perfect temperature. There were fewer people than you thought there would be, only 5 staff members and a sturdy man in a suit sitting on a sofa at the back of the room, they all stared at you when you closed the door behind you, but seeing the card hanging from your neck they continued with their thing.

"Hi… hi… hi," you said aloud, bowing to each person as you walked to where the flashes were coming from.

As you crossed the division between the two studio areas, you found yourself blinded for a moment by the light from one of the spotlights, so much so that at first glance you couldn't notice everything; when your eyes cleared up you were finally able to take a look at the minimalist set they had assembled. There was a large furry sofa placed right in the middle of the white screen that covered both the wall and the floor for a few feet, with a couple of cushions in the middle and a jean jacket that belonged to the incredibly hot and stunning woman who was sitting and posing on the sofa. In black Calvin Klein underwear and white socks.

"Oh, you're finally here," Lee Sunmi said, noticing your presence and motioning for the photographer to stop for a moment.

"Yes, sorry if I'm late, Miss Lee," you bowed to her, after nearly choking on how she'd seen you and how she was (or was not) dressed.

"Not at all, you're actually just on time," she stood up and slowly walked over to stand in front of you, one of her hands resting on your chest and the other on your left arm, moving both from up and down while analyzing your outfit, "now you dress appropriately, nice outfit, boy."

"I'm glad you like it," you giggled nervously at how close she was, maybe you weren't quite used to how imposing she was yet, "nice underwear, by the way, you look amazing."

"Thanks, but you don't have to pretend you weren't looking at my tits while I was walking towards you," you didn't answer, you didn't even realize you had until she told you, "anyway, there's someone you have to meet, remember?" she asked tilting her head to the other side of the room, "Hey, Zuha! Our partner is here."

From behind one of the spotlights a girl just inches taller than Sunmi came out, much more covered than you expected; she was wearing a slightly short jean skirt, a white crop top shirt with the Calvin Klein logo, and black sneakers and white socks with the same logo. You couldn't help but fix your attention on the girl’s unreally gorgeous face and on how perfect her dark shiny hair looked, after that you did focus on the slender figure she had, giving special attention to her incredibly hot abs that managed to hypnotize you in the moment.

"Damn, you really are as handsome as she told me," was the first thing Kazuha said as she stood next to Sunmi and looked you up and down, "Nakamura Kazuha," she held out her hand for you to shake, "And you're... Starboy, huh?"

"My pleasure, yes," you said, shaking her hand and meeting her eyes with a small smile.

"I can call you whatever I want, right?" her look denoted her intentions from the first instance, and you were sure that yours did too.

"I think that depends," you noticed in Kazuha a certain different energy from Sunmi and Tiffany's, a more playful, fun and spicy one, so you decided to take certain liberties, "what do you want to call me, baby?"

Kazuha raised both eyebrows for a second and smiled while biting her lower lip. Something about that she had liked, and you suspected that it was that you called her baby.

"Miss Lee?" Kazuha said without looking at her.

"Yeah?" Sunmi replied.

"I wanna taste him, here and now," that took you by surprise, so you looked at Sunmi somewhat stunned.

"Kazuha, you know that we are in a photo studio, right? There are people here. You’re not even gonna talk with him?" Sunmi asked.

"I don't care! I want to suck his cock before I take him with me all night, we will have a lot of time to talk" she stepped back and cupped both hands to either side of her mouth, "Everyone get out of here right now! We need a moment alone and no one is allowed to enter until I say so!" Kazuha said very loudly, for everyone inside the room to hear.

As soon as Kazuha gave the order, you could see how everyone quickly left the room, including the man you saw sitting a moment ago, who looked at you for a second before leaving. You didn't know what the hell was going on, your mind couldn't assimilate the fact that until less than five minutes ago you had just had your first contact with her and she already wanted to give you head, but maybe you should have expected it.

"God, this girl," Sunmi murmured as she sighed, and then she went to sit cross-legged on the sofa.

"You don't mind, do you?" Kazuha grabbed the collar of your sweater with one finger and moved a dangerous distance to your face, "It'll just be a little… quality test."

"Nah, just choke on that cock if you want," you replied, looking at her lips and then her eyes.

"Yes..." she paused to get a little closer, until almost touching her lips with yours, "Daddy," listening that she called you that way, from so close, and with her deep voice woven in a low sensual murmur, made all your senses activate at the same time and make you completely crazy. There was something in that girl that you couldn't identify, but you had the slight feeling that you were going to become addicted to her.

When Kazuha put her hand on your chest and went down to your pants she found that you already had a hard bulge on it, that among all the sexual tension of the situation you didn’t realize was there, you just had been paying attention to the girl’s cute playful eyes.

"Oh! You're hard already daddy," Kazuha teased you with a false surprise, "I bet you've been horny since you saw Miss Sunmi's tits."

Kazuha squeezed your cock slightly over your pants and began to remove her shirt and skirt, leaving herself in a set of underwear exactly like Sunmi's. Her body was almost as perfect as a Renaissance sculpture, and you took special time to admire her marked and delicious abs, her attractive shoulders and arms, and her long creamy legs.

You would have put your hands on her right then and there, if it weren't for her kneeling in front of you as soon as she knew you had already taken a look at her body in all its fullness. She looked into your eyes with a little mischievous smile, as she began to massage your cock over your pants again, while her other hand was attached to your right thigh.

"Tell me, Miss Lee, how do he like blowjobs?" asked Kazuha without seeing Sunmi, instead concentrating on unbuttoning your pants and lowering your zipper.

"Just suck his cock, brat, no matter how you do it," Sunmi said, without paying too much attention since she was looking at her nails, "he's already crazy about you, anyway he's going to like it."

"Ah yes?" Kazuha teased you, "is daddy so crazy about me that fast? I haven't even done anything..." the girl grabbed her fingers to the curbs of your pants and boxers and lowered them to your knees, thus releasing your hard cock that was now resting on her face, "Yet."  

Kazuha took your cock between her fingers and took a moment to analyze every inch of it, she planted a kiss, then two, and then began to plant her lips from your tip to your balls, being down there she stuck out her tongue and put it flat against your balls, to go slowly along your entire length back to your tip. She and you shared stares throughout that moment, even when your cock was locked by her mouth just a few inches after the tip.

You couldn't help but let out the faint sigh that came out of your mouth as Kazuha began to suck a few inches from you, her fingers were wrapped around the base of your cock, and her back was slightly arched so you could see her prominent, firm ass as she sucked more and more inches from your cock until she reached the middle.

"Mmm, Daddy's cock is very, very delicious," she said, licking her lips and masturbating you slowly, then dipping  your cock straight back into her wet warm mouth.

This time Kazuha's lips moved a few inches past the middle of your shaft, and with most of your cock now inside her mouth she began to give you a slow, wet, sensual blowjob. She wasn't looking you in the eye anymore, her head movements and body language made it obvious that she was enjoying sucking your cock almost as much as you did.

Her moans of pleasure soon appeared, making your cock vibrate every time she made a sound, you moaned a couple of times out loud, which made Kazuha see you once again in the eyes.

"You're supposed to be her daddy now, fool, act like one," you heard Sunmi speak to your left, you saw her out of the corner of her eye, remembering that she had been watching everything from the beginning.

It was easy for her to say, you had been a simple sub for several days, the word daddy had practically disappeared from your vocabulary at this point. You hadn't acted as the dominant one for a long time, but Kazuha was worth the effort.

"That's a good fucking girl," you gasped as she looked you in the eye, causing her to start pumping her head faster, "do you like daddy's cock, baby?"

"Yes daddy, your cock is so juicy..." she said, pulling you out of her mouth for a moment, "And big... and hard, and tasty."

After she adored your cock between wet kisses and licks, Kazuha put extra effort into her blowjob to make sure you enjoyed it, and not just that you enjoyed it, that it was the best blowjob you had ever been given in your life, which was difficult to achieve considering that her competition was Jeon Heejin herself, but what you did know was that if she kept going that way, moving her head that good and sucking almost all your cock between moans, you were going to cum faster than you wanted.

You were forced to close your eyes and drop your head back, which was also not very useful since Kazuha was no longer holding your cock with her fingers, she was now clinging to your hips, daring to take those last inches of your shaft and start hitting her own throat with each pump. The gag sounds of Kazuha's throat tempted you to open your eyes and watch the lewd scene in front of you, but you wanted to hold on more, just a little longer so you wouldn't look like a weak fool. Unfortunately for you, many times you couldn't take control of your brain, and you involuntarily opened your eyes, encountering the incredibly sexy image of Kazuha choking in your cock and making a mess of saliva on the ground, and that was the bane for you.

Without even telling her or anything you suddenly burst into Kazuha's mouth, she noticed it right away, and pushed her head even further toward the base of your cock, resting her nose on your pubis as you shot all your thick load into her throat. She held you there throughout your orgasm, swallowing as much as she could until she finally pulled you out of her mouth very slowly. When your cock was freed from her lips, she stared into your eyes with eyes full of sensuality and opened her mouth, to show you the thick pool of cum that rested on her tongue. You couldn't say anything because of how amazed you were, and she just closed her mouth, swallowed it, opened it again, and magically your cum was no longer there.

"And tell me daddy... I'm a good girl?" she said, as she wiped your cock with soft, delicate licks.

You were completely stunned and enraptured by such a sensual and charming aura, so much so that it took you a moment to find your words.

"Yes you are, baby, but you must keep showing it," you hesitated for a second, but ended up caressing her cheek with the back of your hand.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about it, daddy, I'll be a good girl all night... Maybe," she chuckled, kissing the tip of your cock and then standing up.

"Are you satisfied, little whore?" asked Sunmi, clearly wanting to get rid of her.

"Oh yes I am, Miss Lee, you have very good tastes," replied Kazuha as she picked up her clothes, you for your part just pulled up your boxer and pants, and stood there not quite knowing what to do after being drained so well.

"Of course I have good tastes, for some reason I am where I am," Sunmi stood up and walked to stand next to you, "you left the ground in a mess, how do you plan to explain it?"

"I don't know and it's not my problem, I want to leave with daddy right now," Kazuha said as she put on her shirt and skirt.

"Huh? Leave?!" Sunmi looked genuinely surprised, and perhaps somewhat annoyed, "God, you're lucky enough pictures of you have already been taken," she sighed, "just get out, and take good care of him."

"Perfect, thank you mommy!" said Kazuha with a radiant smile and a small ankle lift.

Sunmi didn't answer anything, in fact, you could notice that her face turned a little red because of how Kazuha had called her, apparently it wasn't something she was supposed to say in front of you.

"Get the fuck out of here," was all Miss Lee said, earning a laugh from Kazuha, who intertwined her arm with yours and carried you with her to the exit.

"What was that?" you asked, referring to what she had called Sunmi, as the two of you rounded a corner on the way to the elevator.

"Well, let's just say you're not the only one who has something like a... different relationship with Miss Lee," Kazuha held you by the arm tightly, as if she didn't want to let you go, and the happy smile on her face denoted a certain victorious feeling in her.

"You two have...?" you started, before entering the elevator and pressing the button on the ground floor.

"Yes, I've eaten her pussy on more than one occasion, why?" she replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh, sure," you nodded, "nothing, I was just curious about it."

When you arrived on the ground floor of the building you noticed, thanks to the glass doors, that the man in a suit from a few minutes ago was already waiting for you on the sidewalk in front of the entrance. 

You passed by the front of Seo Soojin's desk, with whom you stared at each other until you left the building.

"May I ask who he is?" you whispered in Kazuha's ear, seeing the man.

"Oh, Keitaro?" she said loudly, drawing the sturdy man's attention to the two of you, arousing your nerves, "He's my bodyguard, don't worry, his only job is to prevent something bad from happening to me, he's not going to interfere."

"Then he's not going to gouge out my eyes with his thumbs?"

"If my life is in danger because of you, it's the lightest thing he's going to do," she patted you on the chest and made you walk with her to the back doors of the car. A black chrome Toyota Highlander.

Keitaro opened the rear left door for you, and Kazuha let go of your arm to get one foot in the car and get inside, you followed her, and you settled aside while the bodyguard closed the door and then took his place in the driver's seat.

"Keitaro-san, take us to the hotel, alright? I need to get ready for tonight," Kazuha ordered the man, who only nodded before starting the car and setting off through the streets of Seoul.

"I don't know if it's rude to ask, but what are you doing here in Korea?" you asked, and then you took the slight audacity to put your hand on her thigh.

"I'm sick of my father," Kazuha's gaze was set on the shiny advertisements and modern buildings, illuminating her face, "he thinks he can control me like a doll with no mind of my own."

"Did you run away? Don't you think you're getting into big trouble?" she turned to see you.

"Probably, but I don't plan to go back there in a while," she shrugged indifferently.

"And you plan to stay in a hotel all the time?"

"I just arrived, it's temporary," she made a quick move, in which she climbed on your lap and adjusted her thighs to each side of you, "Miss Lee is already helping me get an apartment."

"We'll be closer than I thought, all the time, then," you put both hands on her waist, brushing her soft skin with your fingertips slowly, while Kazuha placed her hands on each side of your neck.

"I hope that's not a bad thing for you, daddy," she joked, a malicious smile slowly forming on her face.

"Not at all," you shook your head, "that will be interesting."

Kazuha did not respond again, instead, she closed the distance between the two of you and found your lips, initiating a slow and passionate kiss which extended all the way to the hotel. Once again you felt that it was different, you had a certain special chemistry with her that you never had with any of your other clients, you didn’t know exactly what it was, but what you could confirm is that with her you felt freer, and less pressured even considering who she was. Maybe it was her energy, or her vibes, or the way she treated you and saw you, Kazuha was different.

You arrived at the hotel faster than you thought, you didn’t know if it was because you had lost track of time inside the kiss or if the road had been short, but the truth was that Keitaro was already looking for a place to park near what seemed to be one of the few 5-star hotels you knew in Seoul:  The Shilla.

"My God, how much does a night there cost?" you asked, seeing the bright name of the hotel at the top of the building.

"Not as much as you think, it's cheaper than paying for a night with you, actually," she chuckled.

"Heck, that's how expensive I am?"

"Miss Lee says you're worth every penny, and I believe her," she replied, playing with the collar of your sweater.

"Look on the bright side, maybe after tonight I'll consider no longer charging you for my services," you tried to persuade her, seeking her gaze.

"Ah yes? Interesting..." she nodded slowly, to look into your eyes, "then I'll make sure I'm a good cum dump for daddy," she whispered over your lips.

The only thing you wanted at that precise moment was to take off her clothes and fuck her hard on the thin leather of the seats, but the car stopped.

"You're provoking me more than you should, and it's gonna be a long night for you, brat," you whispered back, before Keitaro turned off the engine and got out of the car.

"Mmm, maybe, but I honestly don't care," she gently bit your lip, and then got off your lap to open the door and get out of the car.

You followed her, and locked the car door for Keitaro to lock them with the key control. Kazuha re-intertwined her arm with yours, and you walked with her inside the building before the main one, which served as a lobby and private restaurant. You were especially struck by the traditional style of the infrastructure, both the style of the roof and the height reminded you of a temple, but with a modern touch thanks to the glass walls.

"Do you want to eat something, daddy? The food here is amazing," Kazuha said as you passed between the long tables, where there were some people having their dinner.

"No thanks, I'm not hungry yet," you replied, watching people eat all kinds of dishes that you sometimes saw only in magazines.

"Are you sure? It will be a long night, if you don’t eat now, I think you should order food while I get ready to leave," as you crossed the entire food area, you reached the portal leading to the main building.

"I almost forgot, where are we supposed to go?" Kazuha let go of your arm and approached the receptionist, you couldn't hear what she said to her, but within seconds she came back with you.

"Itaewon," she replied with a smile on her face as she held your hand and carried you inside the building, "I want to see if it's as wild as people say."

"Well, it certainly is," you nodded, entering the elevator with her, who pressed the button on the top floor, "Huh? Why are we going so high?"

"They must know who my father is, do you seriously think they would let me stay in a common room?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you telling me you have the fucking presidential suite of this hotel?" you asked out of naivety.

"Nah," she chuckled, "It was offered to me, but it was too much. I have the deluxe suite, or the Shilla Suite, as they call it."

"Ah... sure."

When you reached the top floor Kazuha took the lead to guide you through the corridors, and finally stopped in front of the suite door, opened it, and pulled you inside with her. 

As expected, the suite was anything but modest, on its own it could already be a rentable apartment, in fact. The furniture and walls made a perfect harmony of colors, white, champagne and dark brown, so automatically your eyes felt comfortable. Just entering was the living room, which consisted of two single sofas without armbands, a long white linen sofa, and two coffee tables in between. On the right was a large TV, and after the living room a bookshelf with yellow lights and glass display cases with all kinds of valuables.

"Pretty big for one person, don't you think?" you asked, slowly walking forward as you examined every corner of the place.

"Not really, I like to have enough space," she went ahead of you and passed the portal that divided the living room from the next area of the suite, which was nothing more than a small room prior to what you thought was the main bedroom. There was a marble table with a large sculpture of a turtle in the middle, and to the left a large window showing a beautiful view of Namsan Mountain.

"And don't you think you need some company?" you asked, running your fingers over the turtle's shell as you looked at the mountain.

"So fast you want to be with me all the time, daddy? Don't let it be noticed that I'm driving you crazy," she teased you with a mischievous chuck and a radiant smile on her face as she walked past you to open the bedroom door.

"This little b..." you murmured, and then you couldn't help but smile to yourself before you followed her inside.

The bedroom had nothing to envy to the living room as far as good design was concerned, it was just as impressive and big, and the bed looked like a place where you lay down to sleep 18 hours straight. 

When you walked in Kazuha was already undressing, and you knew perfectly well that she had taken off her skirt with her back to the door just because she knew you were going to pass by in a matter of seconds, and so it was, so you got a perfect view of her gorgeous firm ass.

"Hey, don't be a peeping daddy," she said, looking over her shoulder with her back still crouching, prompting you to keep seeing her ass for a few seconds before standing up again and getting into the bathroom.

At this point that girl was doing her best to get you out of your boxes, but for now your patience, and especially your willpower, were prevailing over your desire to rip off those stupid panties and fuck her prone bone against the mattress.

You had no choice but to sit on the edge of the bed, lean back to rest your hands on the mattress and let out a sigh, seriously thinking about what to do while Kazuha was in the bathroom, you heard the sound of the shower a few seconds later, so she was not going to come out for the next few minutes nearby. You slowly gave in to boredom, so you just lay on the soft mattress and pulled out your phone to scroll Instagram while waiting.

You didn't know exactly how much time had passed, but you spent a while watching your phone screen until you heard the bathroom door open. Kazuha came out wrapped in a rather short towel, which covered only what was necessary, and once again you were mesmerized by the sensual shape of her body. She noticed you immediately, and climbed onto the bed to lie beside you, her head resting on her hand and her elbow.

"Did you miss me, Daddy?" she asked, seeing you with a playful little smile.

Before you could formulate an answer, you couldn't help but notice that in that position her towel had been lifted to almost her waist, so her buttocks were exposed and at your disposal. You couldn't see her intimate part, but if only she had turned a little, you would have been able to see that too.

"Nah, you didn't take that long," you teased her, with a small smile on your face as you looked at the ceiling.

"Oh come on!" she whimpered, "it took me half an hour, how is it possible that you didn't miss me?" she climbed on top of you and took the phone out of your hands so that you would put all your attention on her.

Kazuha completely caught you with her thighs, and you couldn't and didn't want to do anything about it. Her towel went up even more, and now her naked ass was totally exposed to you, that combined with feeling her pussy pressed against your crotch over the fabric, began to make the blood flow to your bulge.

"And why should I miss you so much, brat?" you raised an eyebrow, "do you think I have no other things to distract myself with?"

"Because I'm the only daddy's baby girl..." while saying that Kazuha brought two fingers to the fold of her towel on her chest, and slowly untangled it until she fell from her body to yours, showing you her pair of modest but incredibly sexy tits, "right?"

Your eyes almost popped out of your sockets when you saw Kazuha's completely naked body on top of you, a smile formed on your face, and when you finished scrutinizing every visible corner of her, you took a handful of her hair and pulled her towards you, so that her chest was flat against yours. Your faces inches from each other.

"I warn you, little whore, you don't want to provoke me any more than you already are," you said quietly, alternating your gaze between her lips and her eyes.

"And why not? I just want to make sure Daddy has eyes just for me," even though you were gripping her hair tightly, Kazuha managed to crack a smile full of mischief.

"I have eyes only for you right now, but you're behaving like a spoiled fucking whore," in a sharp move you turned the tables, and now you were on top of her, with a grip that had gone from being in her hair to being on her neck, not strong enough for choke her but to keep her in place. Kazuha continued with that little malicious smile, with her hand on your wrist, "don’t worry, I’m not one of those who deny their girl what she wants, but you should know that everything you are looking for right now, is gonna be returned to you, multiplied by a thousand." 

"That means daddy will really make me his cum dump?" she asked with a mischievous little brow lift, as she lifted her hips and brushed your crotch with her leg.

You watched her in complete silence for a few short seconds, until you got off top of her and got out of bed to stand by the edge of it.

"Undress me, little whore," you ordered, endowing yourself with unexplored dominant abilities. Kazuha turned her neck and stared at you for a few seconds while she was still lying down, biting her lower lip and then looking down at the bulge in your pants. 

"Yes daddy," she replied with a small smirk.

Kazuha got up, crawled towards you, and then knelt up to be at the height of your face; the girl took your sweater out of your pants while you took off your watch and left it on the bedside table next to the bed; it didn't take long for your sweater to be out of your torso, so Kazuha concentrated on unbuttoning your pants and pulling them down with everything and boxers to your ankles, where you completed the work by getting out of your shoes and then the clothes. Now both you and she were completely naked in front of each other. You took a moment to see Kazuha's perfect body again, making a small stop at her pretty, shaved pussy.

"Mmm, I think I want to have some fun first," you said, then you put two fingers in your mouth, filled them with saliva and brought them to her slit, slowly sliding them back and forth. Kazuha made the attempt to take your cock with her hand, but you quickly stopped it with a slap on her wrist, "Oh hell no. You don't have permission to grab Daddy's cock yet."

"B-but, I want to feel daddy's cock!" she whimpered, her face somewhat reddish as you started rubbing her pussy with your fingers, "I-t's not f-fair, ah..." the moans came out of her mouth alone, and as much as she wanted to keep complaining like the brat she was, the first finger you inserted inside her completely collapsed her desire to win.

Kazuha's knees became somewhat weak as you inserted the second finger inside her, so you took the opportunity to push her and make her fall on her back on the mattress, legs wide open without even asking her. You noticed from how she had her legs open that her flexibility was quite out of the ordinary, and you wanted to test it later. For now, you concentrated on kneeling right next to her, your throbbing cock floating inches above her face; you spread her legs even wider, and put your two fingers back inside her, moving them slowly at first because of how tight she felt. 

"Suck that cock, baby," Kazuha didn't even think twice, she obeyed your command immediately and caught the tip of your cock with her mouth, sucking a few inches until she reached the middle of your shaft, where she began to pump her head at a considerable pace, "that's a good girl," you congratulated her,  noticing that she hadn’t used her hands.

Her only response was to let out a small moan around your cock, to which you responded back by moving your wrist faster, your fingers completely going in and out of her pussy. You let Kazuha keep sucking your cock freely for a few more long seconds, her face was distorted with pleasure, the main point being her frowning eyebrows and blushed cheeks as she left your cock full of saliva with each pump. You continued fingering her as fast as your wrist allowed, causing your palm to continually bump into her pubis.

"Alright, that's enough brat," you stopped her, earning you a dismayed look from her, which soon turned into one of slight surprise when you started moving your hips and fucking her mouth. Your left hand went to her head, grabbing a handful of her hair and grabbing it tightly to thrust hard against her mouth.

The tip of your cock began to hit her throat with each thrust, that together with how her pussy was fucked by your fingers transformed her into a trembling mess, and when you least expected it, she turned away from your cock to let out a loud moan and succumb to her peak of pleasure. The walls of her pussy almost suffocated your fingers, which were now pumping at a slower pace as she passed her orgasm. Her legs also closed tightly, trapping your wrist for a few long seconds until her thighs relaxed.

"I'm not done with you yet, baby girl," Kazuha's body was almost asleep due to her recent orgasm, so it was easy for you to settle between her legs, hold her ankles in the air and throw them all the way back, just as you supposed, that girl was fucking flexible, and it was demonstrated by how her two ankles were now on either side of her head as if it were the most natural pose,  "Be a good girl and hold your legs there, understood?"

Kazuha gulped and nodded repeatedly as she held her legs with her arms, a lust-filled look that cried out for you to fuck her.

Your cock was already lubricated by her saliva, and her pussy was already soaked for quite a while, it was enough to rub your tip a couple of times in her slit, from top to bottom, and press forward little by little, letting her tight pussy and soft folds swallow your entire shaft, slowly, inch by inch, until you were completely inside her. A coordinated moan flooded the room, she for feeling how you filled every corner of her hole, and you for feeling how exaggeratedly tight yet soft her pussy felt, it was a difficult feeling to assimilate, but if it had been possible to put your balls also inside her, you would have done it.

You rested both your hands on the mattress on either side of her hips and leaned forward so that your face was floating above Kazuha's. She continually looked into your crotches, but when she fixed her gaze with yours was when you started pumping in and out of her wet pussy, forcing her not to look away from you for a second. 

You were kind of delicate with her at first because you wanted to feel carefully the soft texture of her pussy walls and how they tightened around your axis, but the desire to give that little whore what she deserved was stronger than you. You started ramming down harder and harder, eliciting loud moans from Kazuha, who kept holding her legs with hardly any signs of weakness.

"Oh god, oh god! Your cock feels amazing daddy! So fucking amazing!" Kazuha yelled, digging her nails into her own legs as you fucked her now with all the strength you had.

"Would you like daddy to fill you up, huh?" you teased her, seeing her faint eyes, "I bet you're wanting to feel all my thick cum paint your walls."

"Fuck yes! I need so much daddy, please, please!" she pleaded between whining of pleasure.

A small drop of sweat fell down your temple and fell on Kazuha's neck, you were fucking her impetuously, pumping up and down against her pussy, your cock going in and out completely. You wanted to keep fucking her while you saw her beautiful and sensual face, but you needed a new position that you were waiting for a while.

You quickly came out from inside her and made her legs let go, then held her by the waist and made her lie face down, with her chest and stomach flat against the mattress. You re-entered her pussy, but this time in a prone bone position that allowed you to enjoy her firm ass, which you gave a couple of strong spanks before holding her by the waist and starting your thrusts again.

Kazuha plunged her face into the mattress and clung tightly to the sheets, crumpling her fingers and pulling them almost out of the edges of the bed. You supported the entire weight of your arms against her waist and lower back through your fingers, you were holding her tightly, comparable to the force with which you were pounding her pussy over and over again.

"I'm gonna... ah! I'm gonna cum again daddy, fuck! I'm gonna cum on that delicious fucking cock!" Kazuha groaned loudly, separating her face from the mattress for a moment to see you over her shoulder.

"Then fucking cum, you fucking whore," you kept your left hand on Kazuha's waist, but the right went straight to her hair to pull it back hard, causing the girl to explode with pleasure once more.

Kazuha's body shuddered amid intense spasms, and she plunged her face back into the mattress to drown out her moans, almost screams, of pleasure. You didn't give her any rest time, in fact, what you did was make her lift her butt high enough to turn it into a makeshift doggystyle. You had to hold her tightly, otherwise, it would have been impossible for her to stay in that position by herself for the first few seconds, but wanting to show you how good girl she was, you had to make no effort but to keep fucking her with the intensity of a sex machine, since she did everything possible to support herself.

"Please cum daddy, I need it so, so bad," Kazuha's pleas already sounded muffled, as if the energy inside her had been drained from inside her with a vacuum cleaner, "give all your load to your little baby girl, just cum already daddy, please!"

You would have lasted only a little longer, but Kazuha's pretty and desperate pleas managed to break your psyche. Your two hands went to her ass to squeeze the flesh of her buttocks between your fingers, you kept fucking her with all your strength, and finally after a few seconds, you exploded inside the tight pussy of a beautiful Japanese girl.

"Oh fuck yes... yes!" she let out a deep, long moan, "Ahhh ffffffuck," Kazuha growled as she watched you bite her lip, feeling you deposit all your cum inside her, it was several thick jets, and you didn't stop until the last drop of your load had come out of your cock.

You stayed inside her pussy for a few long seconds, taking a moment to enjoy that feeling for a little longer before you stepped out and let your cum fall free from her hole to the mattress. As you let your load drip from her pussy you leaned towards her, to bring your mouth closer to her ear.

"Good girl," you whispered, "you'll be a very cute cum dump," then you kissed her on the cheek, and she turned to get you to kiss her lips too.

You lay down next to her only to wrap your arms around her body and snuggle her up against you as you shared a deep kiss. Once again, while kissing her you had lost a little track of time and space, you had almost forgotten that you were in an expensive hotel room with a girl you had just met 2 hours ago, but you didn’t feel that way, you felt that you were kissing a person you had known for years.

"Daddy..." she murmured, breaking the kiss, "you're so... cute," Kazuha looked into your eyes, and you looked back at her, meeting a pair of pretty, glowing orbs that looked at you like you were a precious treasure. You were speechless for a moment, not knowing exactly what was happening at that moment, but you had to say the first thing that came to mind.

"Uh… you too, baby, a lot," you muttered back, and before you even knew it, you had given her a stupid smile.

Kazuha smiled from ear to ear, and despite it being night, you felt like the sun had risen again in the form of a person because of how radiant and beautiful her smile was. The next thing she did was kiss you again, but this time more briefly to separate from you and sit on the bed. What the fuck had happened?

"God, we have to order the sheets to be changed," she said nonchalantly looking at the cum where it had landed.

"We'll do it when we leave, go get ready, baby," you ordered her in a low, meek voice, caressing her lower back with your fingertips.

"Yes daddy!" she answered, remembering with some happiness that you had a destination to go to. She got out of bed as quickly as possible, but when she got to her feet to try to walk to her suitcase, her legs gave out and she wobbled so badly that she had to hold on to the wall to keep from falling. You could only hold back your laughter, turning it into a nasal laugh, "Ah fuck," she cursed under her breath.

"Everything alright baby?" you teased her, with a smile.

"No, I think definitely not, Daddy fucked me so hard now my legs are weak," she giggled too, and then was finally able to walk over to her suitcase.

She took all the clothes she was going to wear from her suitcase, a small handbag that you assumed was makeup, a hair straightener and went back to the bathroom. You took advantage of the moment to also get going and get dressed again, you didn't feel very comfortable putting on the same outfit again, but unfortunately you didn't have much choice.

Kazuha spent another hour and a half in the bathroom, of which you took about 20 minutes to take a nap, but when she finally came out you were sitting on the edge of the bed watching a show on the bedroom TV, and you couldn't to do anything other than raise both eyebrows and leave your mouth agape in astonishment.

Kazuha was wearing an outfit that only highlighted how fucking sexy and beautiful she was, she was wearing a black top that exposed her midriff, clavicle and shoulders, surrounded by four black leather belts, each with different buckles; gray jeans and completely black sneakers. Her chocolate-colored hair was perfectly ironed, and her face with a not too heavy makeup that highlighted her pretty eyes and lips.

"Well? How do I look daddy?" she asked, extending both arms out to the sides of her to do a few turns on herself.

"Outrageously beautiful, baby," you walked over to her and cupped her face with both hands to give her a couple of kisses on the lips, "Hey, you've got a nice set of shoulders, plus I could wash clothes on your abs, you do sport?"

"Oh Daddy" Kazuha giggled, "No, no. I like to go to the gym in my spare time, oh, and I did ballet until I was 17."

"Well, that explains everything."

"Aham," she placed her hands on your chest, "so you could literally fuck me standing with one leg on my shoulder."

"Don't give me ideas," you warned her, but you also thought of all the possibilities, each one hotter than the last.

"You asked first," she gave you a peck on the chin, and then pulled away from her, "let's go daddy, we have a long night ahead of us."

-----------------------------

Just as you'd expect on a Saturday night, the place you and Kazuha had chosen while walking through Itaewon was full of people. The deafening sound of music was all that hit your ears as soon as you walked in, but you immediately noticed an incredible atmosphere as you made your way through the crowd and Kazuha began to move her body to the rhythm of Lady Gaga's Judas. You had paid for a pair of VIP bracelets, which allowed you access to the exclusive area and open bar for all drinks and cocktails throughout the night, but Kazuha had told you that the first thing she wanted to do when you arrived was dance.

And there you were. Kazuha had a bright smile on her face as she began to get carried away by the music. You, in order not to stand still like an idiot, also began to dance subtly, but your only purpose was to see her. She moved her body hypnotically, with hips that could kill anyone with just one movement, at a certain moment she closed her eyes to immerse herself even more in the mood, a moment that you used to stand behind her and place your hands on her waist, Kazuha opened her eyes, turned for a second to give you a smile and continued dancing, this time with her back against your chest.

There came a time for you when you didn't even pay attention to what song was playing, you were so enthralled and caught up in Kazuha's flirtatious aura that keeping up with the music and her body was your only concern. If it wasn't for her stopping in the first place, you would have stayed there with her for quite a while longer.

"Daddy, can you take me to the bar? I want a drink," she said in your ear after turning around.

"Of course, baby, come on," you took her hand and pushed your way once more through the crowd until you reached the semicircle-shaped bar, where more than one bartender was working on various drinks for people who were waiting.

"Hi!" Kazuha greeted one of the workers, "I want a martini and…" she stared at you as she waited for your response.

"A mojito is fine with me, thanks," you nodded, sitting down on one of the empty stools, where you pulled Kazuha towards you and wrapped your arms around her waist, "Well? What do you think?" you asked in her ear.

"Is incredible!" she said with special emotion while looking at the place and then up, where the exclusive box for the place was, the lights looked different there, and you noticed, obviously, less concentration of people, "I'm certainly not disappointed!"

"I'm glad to hear it, I knew I hadn't chosen a bad place," you gave her a little kiss on the neck, and then she turned her face to kiss you for a few long seconds until the drinks were served to you.

You and Kazuha picked up the glasses and sipped your respective drinks, Kazuha raised both eyebrows and smirked when she tasted it, denoting that she had loved it. You weren't very used to drinking white rum, but the taste burned your throat quite pleasantly.

"Gosh, it's delicious!" Kazuha said, looking at her cocktail, before downing the rest in one gulp and leaving you with both eyebrows raised.

"Hey hey! What the fuck?!" your eyes were wide open, you certainly didn't expect that.

"What? I can order whatever I want all night, it's not a problem," as expected, she had her face scrunched up as the alcohol ignited her body.

"And if you want to enjoy the night in a satisfying way, I recommend that you don't use a martini as a shot," you warned her, and then you took a normal sip from your mojito glass.

"I don't promise you anything, sorry Daddy!" she wailed in the most false way possible, "another one please!" she told the bartender. You sighed, concentrating on not losing your temper.

"Listen to me, you damn brat," you grabbed her arm, not too hard, just for her to pay attention to you, "you're going to do what I tell you, you're not in charge here."

"Hmm, or what?" she teased you, cocking her head.

"It's just a warning, it's your problem if you want to accept it or not," you squeezed her arm a little harder and then released it.

"Let's go upstairs daddy!" she said when she got her drink.

She strode away from you and into the crowd, taking you so by surprise that you literally ran to chase her up the stairs to the upper box. You had to grab her wrist a lot harder for her to wait for you.

When you got to the upper box, the first thing that caught your attention was the great difference in activities that were taking place there, apparently the limitations or rules were not something that existed there for some reason, there were people doing all kinds of crazy things, from the slightest thing like drinking straight from a vodka bottle until receiving lap dances that weren’t subtle at all.

"Damn, I kinda like this place even more," Kazuha said, biting her lip and then giggling.

She took your hand and walked in front of you while you looked for a completely empty sofa, curiously you found one that was perfect, in a corner, away from the spotlight. They were leather sofas in the shape of a semicircle, with a round table backlit with white lights right in the middle. Kazuha let you sit down first, that way she could get to you and sit on your right leg.

"There must be some major motherfucker up here, otherwise I don't know how that guy could be getting a lap dance from a topless girl and not being warned or something," you said glaring, then taking a sip of the mojito.

"Looks like they're having a great time," Kazuha replied, settling her ass a little closer to your lap, "seems like something I'd do," she took a long sip from her glass, leaving it half empty.

"But something you clearly won't do, right?"

"Of course not daddy! At least for now, we'll see… maybe I'll just have my pants off," she laughed, taking another sip of the martini.

"Is the alcohol making you more rebellious than usual or what? It hasn't even been 10 minutes since you started drinking and you're already acting like a brat."

"I'm not being a brat..." she sat on her side and put her two legs up on yours, "I'm actually, a brat," she brought her face closer to yours, "and not just a brat, I'm daddy's brat," she bit your lip a little harder than usual, then drank the rest of her martini right in front of your face.

"This little bitch... I can't believe it," you whispered, that had been fucking hot, but still your blood began to boil a little, both from the annoyance and from the alcohol. Kazuha began to move her upper body slightly, following the rhythm of the music as she waited for a waiter to arrive to order another drink. You kept drinking from the same glass, which was barely half full.

As time passed and the alcohol took its toll on her, Kazuha began to feel more and more liberated, she was in constant contact with you at all times, so you noticed how hot her body was due to the liqueur.

"Daddy, come dance with me," Kazuha was no longer grinning from ear to ear at all times, now she was more serious, with a lustful look on her eyes and flushed cheeks. She wasn’t drunk, she was at that precise point where you felt all your senses sharpen.

She made you wrap your arms around her waist, while she placed a hand on the back of your neck so that you would stay close to her neck at all times, that is how she began to guide you through the music with sensual and marked movements, focusing more in making you enjoy her body than the dance itself. Her ass was constantly rubbing against your crotch, and inevitably your cock began to get hard. Kazuha noticed this, and gripped your neck a bit more tightly, turning her face around and giving you a mischievous smile before sliding a hand between her back and your chest to give your bulge a firm squeeze.

"Hey!" you jumped, grabbing her wrist, "we're in a public place," you said in her ear.

"And?" she teased, then continued squeezing your cock over your pants.

"And you can't do this here, control yourself!" you stopped her a second time, to which she stopped dancing and turned to face you.

"But I'm very horny right now! I want daddy to fuck me," you noticed a certain demanding tone in her voice, which didn't help much in not losing your temper.

"I'm not going to give you what you want, and I'm not going to let you boss me around like that, you damn bitch," you warned her with a frown and a tight grip on her wrist.

"Then I guess I'll have to find another man to give me what I want, bye Daddy!" she broke free of your grasp and began to walk away from you. That was the limit for you.

"Come here you damn brat!" you snarled, catching up with her in just one stride. You were incredibly angry at the time, so much so that when you reached up and grabbed her wrist, you yanked her hard towards you like she was a rag doll. That made her moan, "You're fucking mine, do you understand? My fucking property," you said as you grabbed her chin hard, seized with a combination of jealousy and anger.

"Yes daddy, but you don't want to fuck me..." she moaned, completely surrendering to you, "and this tight pussy needs something to fill it badly."

"Let's go to the fucking bathroom. Now," you ordered, and then pulled her with you by the wrist.

You didn't even know where the hell the bathroom was, but you were letting yourself be so carried away by your impulses that after a few seconds walking you finally reached the bathroom, you didn't even notice if you had entered the men's or women's, you only knew that when you entered there was absolutely no one in there.

You roughly shoved Kazuha forward of her, causing her to fall to the bathroom floor in front of the long sink block made of black marble. You quickly closed the distance between you and her to get her back on her feet, pushing her back and turning her around so she could see herself and you in the mirror, which ran the entire length of the block horizontally.

"Stay fucking still," you growled looking at her in the mirror, her hair was a bit disheveled, but her face, especially her gaze, screamed to completely destroy her.

Your hands encircled her waist and unbuttoned her pants, lowered her zipper and without hesitating for a moment, pulled both her pants and her balenciaga panties down to her knees, from where they ended up falling to her ankles. She gasped, and pulled out of both garments to kick them to the side. You gave one of her buttocks a strong spank that resounded throughout the bathroom, Kazuha moaned, and when you made sure that your hand had been marked on her skin, you fell to your knees right in front of her ass, you spread both buttocks with your hands. hands and plunged your mouth directly into her pussy.

"Oh fuck!" Kazuha moaned loudly, as you started to eat her pussy from behind.

You didn't want to do it for a long time, but the taste of her folds, your hunger to make her yours and her sensual moans made you spend more than a minute eating her pussy like a gourmet dinner. You ran your tongue up and down her slit repeatedly, stopping from time to time to insert a bit of your tongue inside her, which drove her crazy, bending her knees and pushing even more against your face.

You kept eating her pussy for a few more seconds, but you noticed that her ass needed some attention that it hadn't been receiving until now, that's why your tongue went from lubricating her pussy to eating her ass.

"Daddy! Ah! That feels… ah fuck! Weird..." and she was right, it was strange for her at first, but as your tongue, along with your fingers, continued to play with her ass, the more she enjoyed it.

When you considered that she had had enough, you stood up again and quickly unbuttoned your pants, then lowered them with your boxers to your ankles. You felt a rush of adrenaline at that moment, anyone could walk in at that precise moment and see you with your rock hard cock behind Kazuha, but that only made everything more attractive and sexy for you.

Just to make sure you spit on your own cock and lubed it up well, before bending your knees slightly and rubbing your tip up and down over her slit, you saw her through the mirror, meeting pleading eyes and a mouth parted with gasps, and not wanting to waste much more time, you lined up with her and maked just a one hard thrust, your cock disappearing into her tight, wet pussy.

"Holy ffffuck!" Kazuha snarled, dropping her head forward and clinging tightly to the edge of the sink block. A moan escaped your mouth as well, feeling a dance of hot sensations run through your body as you once again felt the silky, tight walls of her pussy engulf your entire length.

Your hands went to her waist, your fingers firmly squeezing her meat when you began to fuck her with all the energy and desire to give her what she deserved. Kazuha immediately began to squeal with pleasure as your pelvis crashed aggressively against her ass with each of your thrusts.

"You're fucking mine, is that clear to you, you fucking brat?" you asked in a raspy voice, taking one of your hands to her hair to pull it back and make her arch her back until it almost brushed against your chest.

"Yes daddy, I'm sooo fucking yours!" she answered you between loud moans that, to your relief, absolutely no one could hear, "I'm daddy's little whore, only daddy's!"

"Then you're going to stop acting like a fucking spoiled bitch!" you grunted and then released her hair with a sharp shove, which caused her to lay her stomach flat on the shiny surface.

You took advantage of her new position to grab her left leg and bring her knee up onto the sink block, giving you a better angle to continue hammering her pussy furiously. Kazuha's moans turned into screams and deep growls that you could feel ripping in her throat, she enjoyed being used as a little sex toy with which to vent your anger, and most of all feeling your cock slamming deep inside her.

You gave her ass a couple more spanks, each one hard enough to leave a mark that wouldn't go away for hours. Both of her buttocks were already red, but that wasn't enough to let her know who was in charge.

You left her pussy, and in one quick movement you turned her around again to grab her by the waist, lift her to the sink block and spread her legs wide to get back inside her. Your gaze met hers, and despite the fact that you wanted to kiss those pretty parted lips, you knew that the right thing to do was not to give in to her charms.

A break was the last thing you wanted to give her, but you were also sure she didn't want something like that. You continued fucking her as if your life depended on it, your bodies became sweaty, and in the middle of your thrusts some drops fell on her perfect and toned abdomen. Kazuha kept moaning like crazy, but you decided to shut her up in a very simple way; both of your hands went straight to her neck, you wrapped your fingers around it and squeezed hard, cutting off any sound coming from her throat, and her breath.

And as if that were some kind of special switch, as soon as your fingers pressed against her throat, Kazuha growled from deep inside her in an intense explosion of pleasure that made her tremble; the tight walls of her pussy nearly crushed your cock due to the strong orgasm she was having, but you didn't give a shit, you just kept fucking her hard through her ecstasy.

"That's right, cum for Daddy and Daddy only, fucking slut," on an impulse you slapped her hard with your right hand, and you would have regretted it right away, but that only made Kazuha squeal and growl even louder, then you noticed that she wanted to say something, so you eased your grip on her neck.

"Please cum inside your little princess daddy," she begged, looking into your eyes, with hair in her face and a few strands sticking to her forehead due to sweat, "Use my pussy however you please! I'm just daddy's cum dump!"

After saying that Kazuha wrapped her legs around your torso, trapping you tightly and pulling you closer to her, that made it much more difficult for you to hold on much longer. You didn't continue to choke her, instead you reached up to the nape of her neck and pulled her hair again, exposing her long, sweaty neck for you to kiss and lick as you gave the last few thrusts before exploding inside her pussy.

Normally you would never have moaned as loudly as you did at that moment, but all the sensations combined were extremely overstimulating for you. You bit into her neck, and then her shoulder, while shooting multiple thick strips of cum onto the walls of her pussy. Kazuha accompanied you with more high moans, which harmonized with yours and made you completely surrender to her. Her thighs tightened on each side of your torso, not letting you go under any circumstances until you left absolutely all your seed inside her.

It took a few slow pumps until your own orgasm passed, you squeezed your eyes shut, and let your head fall forward to rest your forehead on her shoulder. Both of you were breathing hard, as if you had run a marathon, her hair, which had been perfectly ironed before, was now ruined, and even her top was somewhat out of place, crooked on the right side. You stayed inside her for a few long seconds while you both rested, and when you regained your composure, you straightened up and slowly pulled your cock out from between her folds, letting a thick river of hot load spill out from inside her.

"You came a lot this time Daddy..." Kazuha sighed, biting her lip and then using two of her fingers to scoop up some of your cum from her pussy to take directly into her mouth to swallow, "was I a good girl?"

"No, you were anything but that, but you're lucky you drive me crazy," you grabbed her chin, and placed a small kiss on her lips.

"Oh yeah?" she raised an amused eyebrow, knowing that now she could do literally anything without you punishing her for it.

"I don't even know why I open my mouth," you sighed, shaking your head. It was at that moment that you remembered where you were, "Oh shit! We're fucking lucky, get dressed quickly!"

You helped her down from the sink block and then handed over her clothes. You both dressed and got ready as fast as you could, fearing for the first time that someone would walk in and see you both there together. Kazuha took some extra time to make her hair look halfway decent, and she certainly did, but she still looked like she'd been rolled down a hill.

"Fuck, we didn't clean that up," you said, looking at the pool of cum in the sink that dripped onto the floor.

"Never mind! Someone else will clean it up, let's just get out of here," once again, and as if nothing had happened, Kazuha was the one who took your hand and pulled you out of the bathroom.

To your surprise, everything was still exactly the same up there, no one had noticed your presence, and apparently they had not realized that you had been there for a long time, but before you continued walking you stopped when you remembered something. Heejin.

"Baby, go sit down, I need to send a message," you gave Kazuha a small kiss on the temple, and then another on her lips, "I won't be long."

"Yes daddy! I'll be waiting for you," she complied, walking away from you with little totters.

You took out your phone, entering Heejin's chat.

When you finished sending the messages you put your phone back in your pocket, and walked to meet Kazuha again. You didn't want to think about it too much, but you had the feeling that everything was going in a direction that you hadn't thought of from the beginning. You had definitely felt a connection with Kazuha, and you had all kinds of worries about it, but for your own sake and hers you decided to suppress those thoughts, and just dedicated yourself to enjoying the rest of the night with her.

——————————————————————————

Spren Notes:

I have nothing to say, honestly just excuse me for making y'all wait so long for this shit lol. Notably, I didn't realize I'd written 3 different smut scenes until I did, wow, I really got carried away by this girl. Anyway, thank you all so much for reading!

If you, dear reader, are also interested in buying me a commission, do not hesitate to go through my inbox, I’ll be delighted!

#kazuha smut #smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #le sserafim smut #smut fanfic #male reader smut #male reader insert #x male reader #male reader #girl group smut #sunmi smut

[mionemymind]

The Chosen One

Summary: How do you love the daughter of the evilest family in the galaxy? Just ask Wanda Maximoff.

Warnings: Death, Cursing, Blood, Killing, Angst, Evil

A/n: There is a lot of random fandoms in this one shot that inspired me. Let me list them off: Star Wars, Dune, Skyrim, A Court of Thorns and Roses, Fourth Wing. So if these are one of your fandoms, comment what you think I got from them. Also, please do not judge if lore ain't right. This is my version of stuff and god I'm struggling to remember all of it lmaooooo. Also, thank you @usersukuna for the amazing gif. And thank @hiiraya for reading the rough draft of this. Also, I wanted to get your opinion on it before I posted, but that was gonna take long lmaoooo. So if you see any plot holes bestie, let me know and I'll edit it in later. Also, I had intentions of make this more evil but I don't like the idea of Stockholm Syndrome so yeah.

Word Count: 13.3k

Masterlist

Loving the person that the galaxy was sworn to hate was not an easy task for Wanda Maximoff. She had come from a world that was known for its politics, her parents both being senators. Growing up in that scene allowed Wanda to see just how evil people can be when they seek power so recklessly. 

“I’ll never be like them,” Wanda vowed. She was as little as 10 when she first witnessed multiple assassins kill a mad hungry senator. “Those that are corrupt will only lead to a painful end,” Wanda’s father stated. He didn’t intervene or call for any help. Witnessing her father stand by at such a scene made Wanda question, “Was this a good thing or did my father help with his murder?” She was too scared to ask loudly. That was the moment she knew that fear was a powerful thing to have. 

<|>

Wanda was only 15 when her home planet was captured by the Aetos family. In just one night, she witnessed the destruction of the very thing she called home. She was separated from her family as they packed hundreds of young girls and boys in a spaceship. 

Crying her heart out, Wanda feared where they would take her. Soon they arrived at one of the many planets the Aetos family owned, Acrux. Shoving them in a line, Wanda saw many buildings of Greek inspiration. Not only that, she saw the many people who were enslaved there, all of them being no older than 18 years old. 

She was sorted to work at the Colosseum, one of the unluckiest things to do in Acrux. Every day she was tasked to fight a person, creature, etc. just to live another day. It was a brutal life but if she did survive, it would guarantee she would be able to leave at age 18. 

Two weeks after she arrived, she met Y/n. The kids were fighting for food when Y/n whispered to Wanda, “I know where they keep the food.” By then, she was starving to death and any ounce of awareness was gone at the mere offer of food. 

Y/n was talented and light on her feet, something Wanda quickly noticed. As they snuck around the darkly lit corridors, Y/n finally found the food pantry. “You go first, I’ll make sure to stay on the lookout. Try to eat the farthest batch from the front, that way they don’t notice that it’s gone.” 

Wanda didn’t question how Y/n knew this and simply followed her instructions. The pantry wasn’t massive but large enough that missing food would be hard to notice. Wanda first ate a few berries before heading to the bread. Just like Y/n said, Wanda focused on the stack near the back. 

While the bread was slightly cold, Wanda could tell it had been slightly fresh. One piece of it and she was already in heaven. Not able to contain herself, Wanda tried her best to eat as much as she could. It was selfish but she couldn’t help herself. 

Half a minute had gone by before Y/n opened the door and said, “Guards are coming.” Wanda stuffed the rest of the loaf in her pants pocket and followed Y/n out. They hid in a small opening in the hallway, dark enough that the guards hadn’t noticed them as they walked by. 

Wanda hadn’t realized how small the opening was until they were in it, chests almost touching each other. Looking closely at Y/n, Wanda never realized how close in height they were. She had dark hair and a small scar across her right eye. 

“I think they’re gone now,” Y/n coughed out. Wanda broke the stare she didn’t know she was holding. Quietly they made their way back. Wanda stopped Y/n before they entered the shared living quarters. “I appreciate you looking out for me back there. You didn’t have to - and if I’m being entirely honest, I don’t know why you did that.” 

Y/n smiled at Wanda, not knowing how to take her compliment. “But regardless, here is a piece of bread. I saved it because I knew you didn’t get a chance to grab something. I’m sorry I couldn’t get more but I didn’t know what would get noticed or not.” 

Y/n accepted the piece from Wanda and hid it in her pocket. No words were communicated as Y/n gave Wanda a small smile. They walked back into the quarters where everyone was too busy screaming and yelling to notice they were gone. That was the day Wanda started to look out for Y/n. 

<|>

A couple of days later, Y/n had woken up Wanda from her sleep. “Wake up,” Y/n whispered as she shook Wanda awake. Everyone was asleep by now. Y/n took extra precautions to make sure no one was awake. She didn’t need any snitches to ruin her plan. 

Wanda woke up disgruntled, “What? - What is it?” 

“I’ve been thinking.” 

“This late in the night?” Tomorrow was another designated battle for Wanda and she wanted to have as much energy as she could have for it. 

“Yes - I’ve been thinking a lot about you.” This had gotten Wanda’s attention. She sat up in her bed, scooting over to allow Y/n to sit. “Well, spit it out.”

“You and I can make a pack. I’ve seen you fight and you can carry yourself. But you do have your weaknesses.” Feeling defensive about the latter comment, Wanda said, “And you think you’re better? You haven’t even fought - you don’t even know if you can survive a day out there.”

“I know. I know. But hear me out. I have training and experience. My first match is directly after yours. Just watch me and see. And if you decide it’s worth your time, then you and I can be partners.” 

“What do partners mean to you?”

“It means I got your back and you got mine. If you have trouble, I’ll be there. Do you need something? Food, backup, or training, I’m there. Name it, you got it - just as long as you do the same for me.” Y/n looked around to make sure no one woke up to the sound of them talking. 

“What happens if you or I want more partners?” 

Y/n thought about it for a moment, carefully deciding what to say. “I’m only offering this deal to you and you only. If you decide to partner up with somebody else, I can’t be your partner anymore.”

“Does that mean you also won’t be partners with somebody else?”

“It will only be you Wanda - that’s if you accept.” 

Wanda was perplexed at the offer. She wanted to say yes, especially since Y/n had helped her before. Not wanting to seem eager, she said, “Let me watch your fight and think about it.” 

Y/n nodded in her response and got up. Before she could walk away, Wanda grabbed her hand and asked, “Why me?”

With all her truth, Y/n admitted, “‘Cause you’re the only one in here that has a chance of surviving like me.”

As Y/n walked away, Wanda felt hope for the first time on Acrux, hoping that maybe she’d actually leave this place alive. 

<|>

Today was Y/n’s first fight. Wanda walked away from her match victorious once more. On the way back inside, she passed by Y/n. “Good luck,” Wanda said. In her heart, she could feel that Y/n didn’t need luck. There was this energy that she displayed as if she knew she was going to win even with her eyes closed. 

“Thank you. You’re going to watch, right?” Y/n said while jogging backward. Her choice of weapons was two swords. “I will, probably from the gates though since I can’t run to the stands fast enough.” 

Y/n winked and turned around, she yelled back, “Then I’ll make sure it’s something worth watching.” 

<|>

Wanda and Y/n were 16 when Y/n first got hurt in the arena. A hired bystander had jumped into the ring on top of Y/n. Surprised by the attack, her opponent cut her arm. This type of corruption was something the Colosseum highly disapproved of. 

Within seconds, soldiers flooded the arena and arrested the opponent and bystander. Wanda was first among their peers to aid Y/n. The pounding in her heart and the ringing in her ears almost made her blackout with how worried and angry she was. If the soldiers hadn’t been there, Wanda was certain to have murdered them then and there. 

“Are you okay?” Wanda checked everywhere to see if there was more damage that she didn’t see. She didn’t calm down until Y/n held her hand and said, “It’s just a cut on my arm Wands. I’m going to be fine.” 

Wanda helped her up and walked with Y/n through the Colosseum back to their shared room. She immediately went to their first aid kit hidden in a compartment behind their pantry and grabbed all the necessary bandages and sterilization. 

Y/n sat at her bed staring at the cut that was slowly losing blood. “I don’t think it’s deep, thankfully. God that fucker just had to hire somebody.” Wanda grabbed a chair nearby and sat near Y/n’s arm. This was the first time Y/n had needed any type of bandage in their time at the arena. She didn’t want to show it, but it was scary. 

Back then, Wanda was the one to have gotten all the bruises and cuts before Y/n properly trained her. Nowadays, the two hardly have to use the first aid kit at all. 

As Wanda continued to stitch, Y/n noticed Wanda’s shaky hands. “Do you need me to get someone else? It’s okay if you can’t do it, Wanda.” 

“No!” Wanda hadn’t meant to yell but something about this was different. Afraid to say anything more, Y/n remained quiet as Wanda continued to stitch. Once it was done and Y/n was bandaged, Wanda was finally able to breathe again. The ringing in her ears finally stopped. She could feel her senses coming back to her. “Thank you,” Y/n said. 

“You’re welcome.” Wanda placed the first aid back into its hiding spot and got ready for bed. 

Night came and Y/n was quick to sleep while Wanda was wide awake. She laid on her side, paying attention to Y/n’s breathing. Logically she knew that it was just a cut and that nothing bad was going to happen to Y/n. But her heart just couldn’t stop worrying. 

It was then and there that Wanda knew that if Y/n died so would she. 

<|>

A batch of new kids arrived at Acrux. It was a mix of older kids at a range of 15-17. Wanda never had enemies this whole time she had been in the arena, which was only a year and seven months. That was until Emma had arrived. 

She was the same age as Wanda and Y/n. Nothing was special with her until she showed just how good she was at fighting. During her first match, she had beaten Y/n’s record of defeating an opponent in under a minute by a second. 

Emma came out of the arena without a single bruise or scratch. Wanda noticed this but she also noticed that Y/n did too. Wanda was never the type to worry about her place with Y/n, after all, they were partners. But it was the way she noticed Y/n watching Emma that something inside her triggered. 

For now, Wanda let the anger and worry remain inside her. “This will pass,” she thought. But it didn’t. 

Y/n and Wanda were sparing like normal when Y/n brought up the news. “Emma asked me to train her.” The confession caused Wanda to be distracted, allowing Y/n to disarm her with one swoop. 

“What did you tell her?” Wanda asked, ignoring that she was easily defeated in that small moment of distraction.

“That I only train with you.” Wanda released the breath she was holding. She picked up her sword and continued practice like normal. 

Wanda was on the way to dinner when she noticed Emma talking to Y/n again. The visceral rage that grew inside Wanda within a second could have destroyed everyone in her path. But she remained composed and hid nearby. 

It wasn’t that Wanda didn’t trust Y/n. She simply didn’t trust Emma. 

“I don’t understand why you only train with Wanda,” Emma huffed out. She knew that she and Y/n would work well together seeing as they’re part of the rare bunch that actually know how to fight on their own. 

“It’s not something you have to understand. I only train with Wanda. No amount of bargaining will change that.” Emma rolled her eyes at Y/n’s stubbornness. 

“Are you two dating or something?” Wanda’s heart dropped at the question. No one had ever asked her if she was dating Y/n. But that was something she never knew to be thankful for. Her face felt hot and her chest beat like crazy at the mere thought of someone asking her that. 

Wanda would never outright admit that maybe there were some lingering thoughts here and there about Y//n. But this was Acrux and all she could focus on was leaving this planet at age 18 hoping she could find her parents and twin brother.

But here she was, waiting anxiously for Y/n’s response. As if there was some secret she unfortunately wasn’t aware of. Maybe they were dating and she never knew till now. They were partners but does that mean more? 

“No…we’re not,” Y/n answered with some hesitancy. Wanda felt her heart plummet. She hadn’t meant to cry, but tears started falling. “Why am I crying? I already knew we weren’t dating,” she thought. 

There was no point in asking questions. Not when her heart knew…Wanda had fallen for Y/n. 

<|>

Wanda was 17 when she confessed her feelings to Y/n. Emma had been on Acrux for only five months and in those five months, she had constantly made moves on Y/n. Each time, Y/n had denied her offers. 

The more Emma pressed for clearer answers, the more Y/n walked away. And while Y/n would never admit it, Emma suspected that Y/n had feelings for Wanda. 

It was midnight. Wanda was asleep when she was woken up again by Y/n. Turning over, she slowly opened her eyes to a candle and a small cake. “Happy Birthday Wands,” Y/n whispered. “Make a wish.” 

She sat up and held the plate holding the cake. She thought about her wish for a second before blowing out her candle. “What did you wish for?” 

For months, Wanda had been wanting to confess to Y/n. There were multiple times during training, lunch, or even while they hung out that she had wanted to confess. None of them felt like the right time. There was never a right time according to Wanda. 

But it was the way that Y/n had looked at Wanda the whole time as if she was the only girl in the world. Maybe it was her imagination but God Wanda wanted to believe it so badly. And who was she to deny this anymore? 

Unable to hold back the urge, Wanda placed the plate down on her bed as she sat up to grab Y/n by the neck and kissed her. When Y/n did not kiss back immediately, Wanda broke it, afraid that she had messed up the most important thing to her. “I’m so sor-”

Y/n didn’t wait for Wanda to finish as she cupped her cheeks and kissed her back. There was nothing to deny anymore. Not when her knees felt like they could buckle at any moment. Not when the feeling in her chest grew with enticement. 

The desperation in each kiss grew as Y/n sat on Wanda’s bed leading to Wanda to crawl on Y/n’s lap. It felt passionate at first but quickly grew messy after each kiss.  Hardly coming up for air, Wanda grabbed the hair near Y/n’s neck and made a fist of it, unintentionally causing Y/n to moan. 

Feeling Y/n’s hands wrapped around her ass, Wanda moaned as well. She needed this girl more than anyone else in the world. And so be it if Wanda needed air, she needed Y/n more. Y/n broke their kiss, her eyes dilated with lust. While slightly heaving, Y/n confessed, “If you want me Wanda, I’m yours. Only yours.” 

“Show me then.” 

<|>

Y/n turned 18 two months after Wanda’s birthday. Although Wanda was eligible to leave, she stayed, not wanting to leave her girlfriend behind.

They were packing their things up, only carrying the basic necessities before completely leaving the Colosseum. They headed to the landing docks, waiting for the next transportation to arrive when a black spaceship, decked out with the Aetos family logo, arrived.

“Wanda let's go,” Y/n said as she tugged on Wanda’s hand. “That’s not our ride, dekta.” 

“Do you trust me?” Confused by the question, Wanda answered with, “Of course.” 

“Then let's go.” Not wanting to argue anymore, Wanda followed Y/n onto the ship. As soon as they went in, the doors closed, immediately lifting off. A droid entered the main area and stated, “Welcome back Master Y/n. Let me grab your things.” Y/n reached out with their things in her hand. As the droid grabbed their items, Wanda was perplexed at how the droid knew Y/n. “Master? Why did he call you master?” 

There was a worried look on Y/n’s face. The burden she had been carrying for three years was finally going to be free. “I need you to sit down Wanda.” 

“I’m not gonna sit down until you tell me the truth. Why did that droid call you master?” Wanda anxiously waited for Y/n’s response. Nothing was making sense and every single second without the truth only agitated Wanda even more. 

Y/n sighed. There was no way to hide from this. Wanda deserved to know the truth. 

“It’s because he’s my droid. My family gave him to me as a gift for my 5th birthday.” 

“Stop fucking around Y/n. There’s more to this story. Why are we on this ship?!” Wanda crossed her arms, unhappy with the secrets. 

“Before I tell you, I need you to know that I was only able to tell you once I turned 18. Had I told you before then, it would have cost me my life.” There was no response from Wanda, causing Y/n to stress even more. She sat down and continued, “My name is Y/n Aetos. I’m the eldest daughter of the Aetos family.” 

Wanda’s face dropped. “You’re lying. Please tell me you’re lying.” Tears came down Y/n’s face as she shook her head no. 

“This whole time you’ve been lying to me! I told you everything! I gave you every single part of me that was vulnerable just for you to be lying this whole time about who you are!” 

“Hear me-”

“I don’t want to hear it. Get me off this ship now!” Y/n got up and walked to Wanda. But for every step, Wanda stepped back. It was obvious that Y/n was hurt by the reaction. 

“Bab-”

“Don’t you dare call me that,” Wanda snarled. The love of her life had not only betrayed her but was the very reason she was in Acrux in the first place. “If you don’t get me off this ship right now, I will crash it into the nearest planet.” 

There was no point in calling out her bluff. Y/n knew that even if Wanda had tried, she would be unsuccessful. But that was not a route she was willing to take. Not when it came to her. 

“I will give you everything you want - you want off of this ship? Fine. But please let me explain myself.” Before Wanda could disagree, Y/n continued, “I was only 15 when my parents said I had to go to a planet of their choosing and survive until I was 18. It was a long-standing part of our family tradition. Those that survive lead well and those that fail never get to see another day again.” Wanda saw the pained expressions on Y/n’s face as she relieved through the harsh memories. 

“A chip was planted inside my neck on my 15th birthday that forbade me to ever say what my bloodline was. I could only go by my years of training and knowledge. Had I told you, the chip inside me would have blown up within an instant.” 

“No one in this galaxy besides my masters and servants knows what I looked like. For the very reason that if I don’t survive until I’m 18, they simply would not want their precious kingdom to know that I was a failure.” 

There was silence as Y/n pleaded for Wanda to look at her. When she didn’t, Y/n continued to silently cry. This was the day she got back her freedom but at what cost? 

Finally, Wanda spoke up, “Why did you have to rope me into this? I was fine by myself. Was it all a trick to you?” 

Shaking her head no, Y/n confessed, “I knew strategically that if I had someone to rely on then my odds of surviving would increase. In the beginning, you were someone I only looked at as a companion, an ally.” 

“It wasn’t until the day you almost died that everything had changed for me.”

Wanda remembered that day clearly. A bull had managed to stab her straight in the stomach after failing to dodge the attack. Causing her to bleed out in the arena. Thankfully it was a 2v2 match and Y/n was her partner. 

“I had never killed something as fast as that day. When I saw you bleeding, I- I-,” Y/n cupped her mouth to suppress a sob. That was one of the worst days of her life. “I used all my winnings and favors that day to save you. And I didn’t even know then if you were going to survive.” 

Wanda was surprised at the tears falling down her eyes. She didn’t know when it started but it didn’t stop. 

“So when you did, I vowed that I was going to get you out…even if it had cost me my life.” Y/n wiped the tears from her face. Wanda had finally decided to look at Y/n and was heartbroken at the sight. 

“So when you kissed me on your 17th birthday, I knew you were the one for me. It was selfish of me to have you to myself but you are my reason to live Wanda.” Y/n took one more step to Wanda. And when she didn’t back up, she walked even closer. 

“I did not mean to have fallen in love with you. And I certainly did not mean for you to have fallen in love with me.” Y/n cupped Wanda's cheeks and wiped her tears away. “And I’m sorry it was me that you’ve fallen for because you deserve better Wanda.” 

“Did you even want to tell me?” 

“More than you will ever know.” 

“What does this mean for us?” Y/n hardly felt scared in life. It was the way she grew up that if you were to be scared, you would be just like the weak. But today, Y/n felt scared not knowing what the future had for her and Wanda. 

“I will not force you to stay. But if you choose to go…just know my heart will always belong to you.” 

<|>

Two weeks have gone by since Wanda chose to leave Y/n. It was not an easy decision to make. Even her dreams constantly haunt her,  reminding her of the heartbroken face Y/n had when she left. But Wanda could not stay knowing what the Aetos family had done to the galaxy. 

True to her promise, Y/n did not force Wanda to stay. Instead, she used her family’s database to try and find the last rumored location of the Maximoff family. 

“It appears your brother has been in hiding according to these latest reports. He’s currently in the Andromeda fighting against the Blackbar army takeover.” Y/n wiped away her last tears as she moved from the holographic map to a storage unit on the other side of the room. She grabbed a backpack full of equipment, extra water, and a weapon that was in Wanda’s skillhouse. 

Y/n walked back to Wanda and gave her all the items. She tried her best to appear strong for what Wanda chose. “Here are all the items you could need. Inside the backpack is armor, food, water, and a tent. You’ll need to be careful as the armor has my family’s signet on it. Any person who will see it will automatically assume you're the enemy. The first thing you need to do is get rid of it. Take sap from the thick trees that inhabit Andromeda. It should help get rid of the logos.”

Y/n looked around the room for one last item and gave it to Wanda. “And here,” Y/n said while handing it out. “What is this?”

“A beacon. Right now, no location of it exists. But as soon as you press this red button, it’ll alert me of your location. If you ever need help, just press this button and I’ll be there for you. However, it will only be me who comes to your aid. I can’t send troops without my parents knowing about my actions. For now, I think it’s best if we avoid that.” 

“Master Y/n, we’ve landed in Andromeda.” Y/n nodded and looked at the back doors opening revealing the jungle. The hot atmosphere quickly invaded the inside of the plane. There was no clearing in sight as tall trees surrounded them. 

Y/n walked Wanda to the edge of the plane before stopping. “I hope you find your family Wanda.” 

Wanda didn’t know what to say. Instead, she gave Y/n a strong hug before walking away. At the last minute, Wanda turned around to see the door closing. She glanced at Y/n’s face to see a tear fall. 

“I hope to never see you again Wanda Maximoff,” Y/n thought, “You were the best part of my life.”

In an instant, the ship was gone and Wanda was alone again. 

<|>

Wanda was alone in the woods when Pietro had found her. She was preparing for the night as she took off her armor. No logos appeared on it. Wanda had followed Y/n’s advice by immediately removing any signet bearing the Aetos family logo. 

Preparing her tent, she was ambushed by a team. In seconds, soldiers came out from their hiding spots, pointing their guns directly at her. “It was calculated,” Wanda thought as there was no chance for her to attack back. They had been watching for a while now and she barely felt it. Wanda felt stupid but could hardly blame herself. She was exhausted and hungry. 

Wanda heard the leaves behind her ruffle as their Captain spoke, “Who are you?” Wanda waited for them to circle in front of her. She didn’t need to startle any of the team fearing that they might shoot at any sudden movements. 

“My name is Wanda Ma-,” before she could finish her sentence she came eye to eye with someone who looked very familiar. “Pietro?!” 

Pietro was stunned at the girl that knew his name. He got on high alert. He aimed his blue saber at her and almost demanded more information but the terrified look on Wanda’s face stopped him in his tracks. “Wanda?” 

Pietro retracted his saber and hugged his twin sister. “You’re here…you’re finally here.” Wanda hugged back, almost afraid to believe that he was right there. 

“We need to get you back to safety,” Pietro stated as he rounded up his men. “There are so many things I need to tell you but right now let's pack up your stuff and get back to my base. Night in Andromeda is not safe.” 

<|>

Pietro led Wanda back to a village in the trees. Many huts were placed high above the ground and all were connected by wooden bridges that allowed for easier travel. “This is my home,” Pietro said as they walked through the door. “I’ll let you freshen up in the bathroom. In the meantime, I’ll prepare us dinner.” 

Wanda walked into the bathroom and noticed all the dirt and sap that covered her face and armor. She quickly undressed herself and practically moaned at the feeling of hot water. After she finished washing herself, Wanda got dressed in some fresh clothes that Pietro laid out. 

“Dinners ready!” Pietro yelled from the kitchen. Wanda walked out of the bathroom and placed her armor near the front of the house, not wanting to get Pietro’s place dirty. Once she got near the kitchen, she could smell the richness of the meal, instantly making her stomach grumble with delight. “Dig in.” 

Wanda sat across Pietro and served herself a portion of the meal. They both ate in silence as Wanda devoured the food in front of her. It was hard to survive in Andromeda when she knew little of what could kill her or not. 

“Do you like it?” Wanda nodded in agreement as she stuffed herself. “That’s good to hear. I’ve been working on my cooking skills whenever I have free time.” 

Wanda ate a couple more bites before asking, “Are you a captain of sorts? It seemed like those soldiers responded to your commands.” 

“I am. Although there’s not much official order around here, I have managed to get respected enough to be followed as a captain.” Pietro collected their dishes and placed them in the sink. 

“Let’s talk more in the living room.” As Wanda and Pietro sat on the couch, Wanda was quick to ask, “Do you have any clue on where our parents are?” With a solemn smile, Pietro said, “Our parents are..away.” 

“What do you mean?” Pietro sighed as he readjusted his position, “Let me start from the beginning.”

Pietro cleared his throat, “During the invasion, the Aetos family had packed all the younglings on a ship. We were supposed to be sent to Acrux but my ship had crash-landed in Andromeda. Thankfully, there was a village nearby that helped all of us out and took us in.”

“For weeks, I tried my best to find a way to get back home. It wasn’t until I got access to our family’s money that someone listened to me.”

“They provided me with transportation back but once I arrived, it was like a different place Wanda. Within those weeks, the empire of Barlowe had taken over everything. It was like a planet that housed thousands of soldiers for miles.”

“I tried my best to get intel on what happened. Fortunately enough, the few native people left told me everything.” Pietro reached out and grabbed Wanda’s hand. “An invasion from the Barlowe empire happened. They disguised themselves as the Aetos family to manipulate the rest of the galaxy into thinking that they were taking over.” 

“They relocated all the children to many different places. As for the adults, those that weren’t captured fled and those that were captured had to work for the empire.” 

“I tried sneaking into one of their bases to find more intel on our parents but all I could find was that they weren’t captured and were in hiding. The next thing I did was look for you in the system but nothing about you popped up. I wanted to find out more but I didn’t know how. So I flew back to Andromeda and have been living here with the other kids from Fornia.” 

Wanda sat there and tried her best to take all of it in. “Do you think they’re still alive?” Pietro sighed once more as there were countless times he thought of finding them. “I wish they were but it’s been three years and none of the other kids have a clue on where their parents are at. We kind of stopped holding on to hope of seeing our parents again when the Blackbar army started their invasion on Andromeda a couple of months ago.” 

“What’s stopping you from fleeing?” Wanda was desperate to cling on to Pietro. The fact that he was still alive gave Wanda some hope that her parents were also alive. 

Pietro looked away as he glanced at the window showcasing the village. “In the three years I’ve been here, I’ve managed to find myself people that I trust and care about. In turn, they look to me to help defend Andromeda from this takeover. I know I could still flee using our family’s money, but where would I go? Invasions are happening all around the galaxy.” Pietro was momentarily lost in his thoughts as he remembered all the times he desperately wished his family would rescue him. 

“Not only that, there’s this girl that I’ve grown feelings for. She’s been with me since we crashed here. And I don’t have the heart to leave her.” Although Wanda wanted to feel disappointed in Pietro’s decision to stop looking for their parents, she too knew the feeling of not being able to leave without Y/n. She reminisced for a few moments before focusing back on the conversation.  

“There is more that I need to tell you but could you tell me what it’s been like for you?” 

With a heavy heart, Wanda sighed, “Where do I even start?” 

<|>

“How did we even get to this point?” Wanda questioned as she fought her best to stay conscious. Dry blood ran down her face, her hands were tied behind her back, and a gag was placed in her mouth. Pietro was passed out in the cell across from her, tied up in the same manner. 

The twins were barely united for two weeks before Blackbar’s army sent reinforcements to further the invasion of Andromeda. Pietro was stuck in the front lines along with Wanda who refused to leave his side. The village barely was able to make a dent in the enemy’s forces before being captured. 

That was three days ago and now the majority of the village was stuck in a cell each being tortured for information. “Get up,” the guard demanded as they opened Wanda’s cell. She proceeded to scream and kick the best she could, causing Pietro to wake up. 

“Let go of her!” He screamed into his gag. “Get the boy as well.” The guard had enough of Wanda’s theatrics and punched her in the face causing her to pass out from all the pain. They dragged the twins to the control area where the leader of the operations was, dropping them in the middle of the room. “Are you idiots? I need them awake.”

“Yes, sir.” Grabbing the syringe, the guards injected Wanda and Pietro with a serum that would help them stay awake. “Remove their gags.” 

Stirring awake, Wanda groaned in pain. Nothing in Acrux had compared to this aching feeling throughout her body. If she had the energy, she would have screamed from how much pain she was feeling. “Wanda Maximoff, just the girl we need. According to our intel, you were on Acrux around the same time a certain Aetos was inhabiting the planet.” 

Wanda was barely conscious as she saw General Tullius grab a knife and hold it to Pietro’s neck. “Tell me what you know or your brother is going to die.” Wanda’s eyes widened, “Please don’t!” She thrashed in her bindings as tears fell from her eyes. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know but please let him go.” 

“Wanda don’t-”

“Silence! If you want to live, I suggest you cooperate.” Pietro froze as the knife was pressed deeper into his throat. 

“General Tullius,” a different soldier entered the room with Wanda’s backpack in hand. “Here are the girl’s items.” General Tullius grabbed the bag and looked through it. The only thing that caught his eye was the small remote. 

He dropped the bag and observed it. “Tell me Ms. Maximoff, what does this do?” Wanda held her breath at the very thing that could save them. “Don’t press it,” she begged. He didn’t listen and pressed it anyway. He looked around and felt nothing happen. “It’s useless anyways - come with me now, you have information to share.”

“As for you,” General Tullius sliced Pietro’s throat as Wanda Maximoff screamed in horror, witnessing her only sibling die in front of her. 

<|>

Hours have gone by and Wanda has not given any information to the General. All she could focus on was the blood on the floor where Pietro’s dead body was once. 

“If you can’t provide me with the information, I will find someone who can,” General Tullius spat at Wanda. There was a different type of evil in his eyes. Only hot anger lay behind them. Which meant one thing, General Tullius was sent here to prove something, something his superior doubted. And any loss meant more than likely his life. 

Tired and barely clinging on to her life, Wanda prayed and pleaded with all her might that Y/n would come soon. But as minutes went by, her hope waned. Y/n could be anywhere in the galaxy, probably back with her family, which could be light-years away. How could Wanda believe that she’d drop everything to come? “God, please…please send me help.” 

“Sir, an unmarked ship is heading directly for us. How would you like to respond?” 

“Take it down!” General Tullius could not bother with the inconveniences as he headed back to Wanda. Before he could hurt her again, explosions rattled the building followed by the blaring alarm system. 

“What the?” More artillery exploded. A shiver ran down General Tullius. He could feel the raw power that landed in his fortress. The force inside him could feel that this was only one person but someone not to mess with. 

“Turn on the cameras! They’re inside the building.” Wanda paid attention to all the chaos. She could see the panic run through General Tullius. This was someone above his skill level, someone powerful. 

The camera feed played for everyone in the headquarters to see. A dark figure with all-black armor walked through the hallways. No effort was exerted as this figure force choked the troops in her way. The raw power caused the camera feed to go black as the lights flickered out. 

“What’s happening?! Give me a different angle now!” The officer did as told and tried their best to provide a different camera angle. In a different room, a new wave of troopers prepared for the enemy. Everyone could easily hear the terrifying screams coming from the other side of the door. 

“Hold,” the commander stated. The building shook as the door crunched slowly. Soon it was pulled off its hinges. No one could see what was happening. 

A bloody body came crawling out of the shadows, “Please…kill…me.” A trooper tried to reach out but the body was merely dragged out of sight. Soon, the rumble of a lightsaber was heard. The red color illuminated the shadow of the figure. “Fire!” 

Red lasers fired their way. None touched the figure. One was purposely deflected to hit the camera inside. The feed went to black and General Tullius knew what he was facing. 

Wanda almost smiled in delight at the scared look on General Tullius’s face. “It’s Y/n,” she thought. The General gathered all officers and troopers to aim at the door. “We need to be on lockdown! Now!” 

“That would never be enough,” Wanda thought. But the injuries were adding up, she could feel herself needing to sleep. Soon, she saw the door fly off its hinges, crushing the majority of those who guarded it. The smoke and alarms were too much to process. Wanda fainted from the pain. The last thing she saw was the color red. 

<|>

Not much time had passed before Wanda woke up. Everyone in the room was already dead besides General Tullius. The saber in his stomach was hard to miss. 

“My family’s name is carried through the innocents we kill, the horrors children sing, and the people we control,” Y/n’s helmet unveiled to show her face. The glow of her lightsaber made her eyes appear red with madness. Inch by inch, she pushed her saber further and further, wanting the burning sensation to feel like an eternity.

“Your death will be meaningless compared to the thousands of generals we’ve killed.” General Tullius felt his blood start to boil, the heat coming from the lightsaber was burning him inside out. “Your men will forever remember the day I single-handedly slaughtered them to the masses.” His blood started to spill out of his eyes, mouth, and nose. No words could escape as he continued to scream in horror. 

“And you will never know a day of peace as I will chase you in hell for all the crimes you’ve committed against her.” Y/n flicked her arm, slicing the general in half. The smell of his flesh burning was almost too much for Wanda to handle as she looked away. She could hear the body drop to the ground as the room soon became quiet. 

Y/n surveyed the room of her damages. Many troops lay dead all because of one call. But this was who Y/n was. The daughter of the most evil family in the world. And Wanda so happens to be the person she loved. 

Y/n retreated her lightsaber back to its hilt and clipped it onto her belt. She removed her helmet and slowly walked towards Wanda. Bruises were covering Wanda’s body as well as some dried blood coming from her forehead. The sight made Y/n choke in anger but she remained composed. 

“Wanda?” Y/n called out, hoping to not scare her off. This was a side that Wanda had never seen before. The killings in the Colosseum were mandatory. It was always the opponent you were against but this. This was different. Y/n killed mercilessly without hesitation. No one could even beg to live another day before she killed them off. This was the part of Y/n that held the Aetos family name. This was the evil that surrounded and consumed Y/n. 

There were a couple of feet between them when Wanda spoke up and said, “You killed them all.” Wanda looked around, unable to cope with how much death surrounded her in just one instance. “I know my love.” Y/n didn’t move any closer, allowing Wanda to process. “I’m sorry I took so long…are you okay?” 

When Wanda looked into Y/n’s eyes, she no longer saw the person she had just seconds ago. Here was the Y/n she fell in love with. The one that made sure she was okay at the end of the day. The one that would give up her food to make sure she ate. The one that would kiss away all the pain from being on Acrux. The one that just knew her. 

Wanda ran back into Y/n’s arm where everything clicked. She felt safe, wanted, and loved in her arms. Nothing would ever harm her here. Tears ran down Wanda’s face, exhaustion creeping up on her. “Everything is going to be okay my love, I promise.” Y/n continued to murmur soft affirmations, hoping it would calm Wanda down. 

“You don’t have to explain anything to me right now, but let’s get you somewhere safe.” Wanda nodded in agreement as Y/n wiped her tears away. Hand in hand, they walked out of the base without any interruptions. 

<|>

There was a small fire near the ship that Y/ n prepared. Using the force, she gathered two decent-sized logs to use as makeshift chairs. Heading back outside, Y/n held a pot filled with her meat soup recipe. She hooked it over the fire and stirred. Feeling satisfied with it, she sat next to Wanda who was finally bandaged up. 

“You look different,” Wanda commented. “Is that a good or bad thing?” Wanda took a decent look at Y/n. She still had the scar on her eye but her face looked more sharp and her skin was more tan. There was this slight glow surrounding her. 

“I would say good.” Y/n hummed in satisfaction. Hearing the soup boil, she prepared two bowls. “Here you go, Wanda. Be careful, it’s hot.” Wanda held the warm bowl and started to blow air towards it. Wanda grabbed the extra spoon from Y/n’s hand. The smell coming from the bowl was to die for. Not only that, Wanda was desperate for a warm home-cooked meal. Wanda didn’t wait for the soup to simmer to start eating. Together they ate in silence like old times. 

When they were done, Y/n gathered the dishes and headed back inside the ship. She placed them inside the washer and walked back outside. It was nighttime now and Andromeda had the clearest view of the sky. “Have you taken a look at the sky?” 

“It was one of the first things I noticed after we parted ways. Even though it’s been six months, I’ve always been blown away. It almost feels like I can reach all the stars in the sky.” Wanda held her hand out as she examined the sky, imagining what it would feel like to have it in the palm of her hand. 

Y/n laid down beside Wanda. They each had their own sleeping bag. “The stars looked different here compared to my home planet.” 

“What is it like?” 

“Well, my planet is mainly full of cloudy skies. I don’t go outside often enough since my home is underwater.” Wanda turned on her side to face Y/n. She was surprised at the new information since they never got to speak about Y/n's true life. 

“Why is your home underwater? Do you not have land to build on?” Y/n shook her head in disagreement. “We do have land but mainly use it for decoy purposes. Our true city lies at the bottom of the ocean. While we don’t quite have stars in the sky, the surrounding coral and fish are a different site to see.” 

“Did you miss your family?” Wanda didn’t know where the courage to ask these questions came from. Mainly, she had wanted to distract herself from the events before. 

“I did. When they saw my course for home, they called me to tell me they were proud of me.” Y/n thought for a moment before admitting, “I did miss you more though.” Y/n looked at Wanda. Not knowing what to say, Wanda gave her a small smile. 

“I know I said I’ll give you time, but I need to know what you want to do after this.” 

“I don’t have a clue right now.” It scared Wanda to know she had no plan. For the past three years, all she could focus on was coming back home to her family. It was foolish to believe that everything was going to be fine after three years, that they could go back to the way it was. But sadly, she couldn’t. 

“Do you want to come home with me?” 

“I-,” Wanda cut herself off after remembering all the tall tales of the Aetos family. “I know my family’s reputation scares you but I promise you there is nothing to be afraid of. I’ll be there to protect you. Not only that, I have a separate condo in the city. You can stay there as long as you like until you figure out what your plan is.” 

Wanda was silent for a moment. Too much change was happening in such a short amount of time. It was almost too much for Wanda to handle. But as she looked at Y/n’s pleading eyes, she couldn’t help but say, “You better protect me.” 

“I cross my heart.” 

<|>

“We’re on course to my home planet Vernak,” Y/n shouted from the cockpit. She flicked a couple more switches before setting the ship on autopilot. Y/n walked back to the main area of the small ship to find Wanda in deep thought. 

“I can set it for a longer route if you need more time to think.” Wanda broke out of her thoughts and smiled at Y/n. “It’s okay,” Wanda sighed, “As long as you’re protecting me, then anything is better than being captive again.” 

Y/n knelt in front of Wanda and slowly intertwined their hands. “Don’t be afraid to talk to me. I know that it’s been a lot of change since we left Acrux but I’m still the Y/n you know, the one that will never let anyone hurt you again.” 

Wanda wanted to believe Y/’s words. There was still a large part of Y/n that she never knew about and that terrified her. “How do I know that I won’t get hurt on Vernak?” 

“I’ll die before I let anyone hurt you, Wanda,” Y/n said with all seriousness. “I know you’ve seen me fight back in Acrux. That part of me only had access to my knowledge and not my powers.” 

Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed. “You have powers?” Y/n chuckled. “Wrong choice of words but I am force sensitive. I’m a Jedi.” 

“That explains why you have that lightsaber,” Wanda pointed to the lightsaber that was clipped to Y/n’s belt. “Yeah, it’s my preferred choice of weapon but I wasn’t allowed to have it when I was on Acrux.” 

The cockpit’s alarm signaled that they were close to Vernak. “We’ll have to strap in now for landing, but I do have to ask you a favor.” 

“What is it?” Y/n let go of Wanda’s hands and grabbed the blindfold from her pocket. She placed the item into Wanda’s hands. “I need you to trust me and put this on. I’m not binding you or anything, but when we enter Vernak, I need you to be blindfolded for it.” 

“Can I ask why?” Y/n gave a small smile, “I’ll explain more when we land. No more secrets, I promise.” Wanda felt reluctant to follow Y/n’s rules but as they sat back in the cockpit and buckled in, she did as told and blindfolded herself. “No more secrets,” she thought to herself. 

<|>

The ship floated above Y/n’s condo, allowing the two to be teleported into her home. The sensation made Wanda’s stomach queasy as she straightened her posture again. “We’ve arrived. You can take your blindfold off now.” 

Y/n walked away to the kitchen, hungry from the journey. “You must be hungry so I’ll cook us something. Is there anything in particular you want to eat?” 

Wanda removed the blindfold and was stunned by her surroundings. She didn’t know what to expect when it came to her ex-girlfriend’s condo, but it surely wasn’t this. 

There was slick black furniture with brown accents that filled the medium sized condo. Various framed photos were displayed on one wall, the biggest one being a family painted portrait of the Aetos family. A large floor to ceiling bookshelf divided the living room and kitchen. And from what Wanda could tell, many of the books involved war and culture. 

What captured Wanda’s attention the most was the view of the city. Ignoring Y/n’s question, Wanda got up and walked to the window. A spectacular city lay before them. A handful of  skyscrapers were spread around the land. Small buildings stood in between as well as an intricate river that wove around the city. Various foliage hung from the side of the skyscrapers as well as the natural beauty on the ground. 

“What do you think?” Y/n stood by Wanda’s side, her hands behind her back. She couldn’t grasp what was going through Wanda’s head but the fascination in her eyes excited Y/n. 

“I think I’m in a dream.” Wanda followed various sky trams that zoomed through the city. The technological wonders were beyond what she expected. But the view, it was drop dead gorgeous how the sun was casting on Vernak. The place looked like heaven. 

Y/n smiled and looked back at Vernak. The view was something she never grew tired of. More than anything, it was what she dreamed of during her days in Acrux. There were multiple times that Y/n cried silently in her sleep thinking that she would never make it back home. But the thought of never making it back kept her alive. 

“If you’re up for it, we can walk around the block after you’re done eating.” Wanda looked at Y/n, almost forgetting about Pietro. But the weight of it all crumbled. 

Almost falling forward, Wanda hugged Y/n and sobbed into her neck. She couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. Everything changed and Wanda feared what was going to happen in her future. But as Y/n held her tightly while rubbing her back, whispering soft affirmations, Wanda knew she was safe. 

<|>

The night came and Wanda cried herself to sleep in Y/n’s arms after confessing the tragedies that happened on Andromeda. From the torture to Pietro’s death, Wanda didn’t leave a single detail out. The amount of pain that Wanda had gone through in such a short amount of time enraged the young Aetos daughter. 

All Y/n could think of was her broken promise to protect Wanda from all harm. Had she fought harder to stay with Wanda would she be in the same predicament? Had she managed a way to tell Wanda about her situation would she still be with Y/n? Had she been quicker to arrive at Andromeda would Pietro still be alive? 

Regardless of the what if’s, Y/n was unable to take Wanda’s pain away. Revenge was something that would come later, that was certain. But for now, Y/n would stay at Wanda’s side, doing anything and everything to take away Wanda’s pain. 

<|>

After a week of being cooped up in Y/n’s condo, Wanda decided today was the day to step out and explore. Although part of her still thought the view was a mere trick, she was learning to trust Y/n again. 

Dressed up in some of Y/n’s clothes, Wanda pushed past her anxiety and walked to the front of the condo where Y/n waited. “You look good.” Something about Wanda being in her clothes made Y/n feral, but the small comment was all she uttered. 

Wanda blushed and grabbed the rain coat hung up in the foyer as a distraction. “I think I have everything.” 

“Great, let’s head out.” As Y/n tried to open the door, Wanda grabbed Y/n’s free hand and intertwined their hands. Y/n looked back, trying not to panic at the gesture. “Don’t let go,” Wanda whispered, feeling vulnerable under Y/n’s gaze.

Not knowing if it was crossing boundaries, Y/n kissed Wanda’s hand in the same way she did back on Acrux. “Never.” 

<|>

“I don’t understand,” Wanda says as she looks around the bustling city. There easily could have been a hundred people just on this street alone. Everyone looked so at ease with life. “You’re not supposed to understand,” Y/n lightly commented. 

Several people walked past them, all acknowledging Y/n. They spoke at such ease that it perplexed Wanda. “Was this the same Aetos her planet feared? Was this an act?” She thought. None of it made any sense. 

Intrigued by one of the market stalls, Wanda let go of Y/n’s hand and walked towards it. The sight of fresh fruit and vegetables made her stomach grumble. “What would you like, miss?” Wanda slightly backed off and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t have any money on me.”

The worker grew confused at her response. “It’s free, ma’am.” Y/n slid to Wanda's side and grabbed two apples, a banana, and a mango . “I think this will be all for us Ethan. Are the crops still looking good in your region?” 

Ethan grabbed the items and placed them into a brown paper bag. 

“There are small issues with the implementation of our water system, but so far it’s been great. The new technology has been helping us be more efficient.” Y/n smiled in delight while grabbing the bag. “That’s good to hear. I’ll try to see if there’s anything I can do when it comes to the new system though. It should have been smooth sailing. But you have a good day now.” 

Y/n grabbed Wanda’s hand once more and looked around the city. There was so much that Y/n had wanted to show Wanda from the art district, business district, and culture district. However, it was only Wanda’s first day out. Not wanting to add to her anxiety, Y/n led Wanda on a small walk through the heart of the city. She gave her an apple and Wanda took in all the new sights. 

“I’m guessing you have questions.” Y/n grabbed the second apple and started to eat. 

“You think? None of this makes sense.” Every story she’d ever heard about the Aetos family was nothing but horror. The planet was to have hosted the worst criminals in the galaxy. So why does it look like a fairytale?  “Follow me. I have the perfect spot to explain everything to you.” 

Y/n led Wanda to the nearest sky tram. “Hold on-,” the tram flew up from the streets, causing Wanda to stumble back a little. Quick with her reflexes, Y/n reached out and grabbed Wanda by her waist. “-they tend to be fast,” Y/n said sheepishly. Wanda held on to the same pole as Y/n.

Soon, they arrived at a floating garden. It was high above the clouds which allowed Wanda to get a good view of the sunset. “Come on. I know a private spot.” Still holding Wanda by the waist, Y/n led them to a familiar spot near the edge of the garden. There was a seat that saw the view of the city below as well as the clouds that sat right on top of it. 

“Welcome to my hideout.” Y/n watched as Wanda looked around awestruck at the view surrounding them. Nearby plants looked to be taken care of yet no caretakers were in sight. “Do you take care of them?” Wanda asked as she touched one of the plants. 

“I try my best. I’ve recently been learning more about herbology and gardening to expand on my skills.” Y/n hadn’t meant to boast but she desperately carved for Wanda’s approval or affirmation. 

“You never told me that you wanted to try learning about plants.” Y/n shrugged. There was more she wanted to tell but was never allowed. “If you have the time, I can tell you everything you ever wanted to know about me.”

Wanda walked towards the seat and beckoned for Y/n to sit beside her. “I want to know first about the history of your planet because where are all the crimes and murderers that I used to hear about.” 

“If I tell you, you must promise not to tell a soul outside this planet. If you were to spread the truth about my home planet, many people could get hurt.” The seriousness in Y/n’s voice struck Wanda’s attention. 

“I promise.” 

“Good. I’m holding you to that Maximoff.” Wanda smiled at the lightness that surrounded Y/n. It was all too different from the stoic nature Y/n had back in Acrux. “Probably was trying her best to stay alive,” Wanda thought. 

“Vernak, as you may have thought it to be home of all murderers, rapists, and thieves was actually home to the very first runaways.” Y/n wiped a hologram into view to showcase a family photo of a father, mother, and two sons. “Dain and Elizabeth Aetos and their sons Cain and Christopher. These are my ancestors.” 

“They’re a beautiful family,” Wanda admired. “Dain was a Jedi Knight while Elizabeth was a senator. In a farther part of the galaxy, these two were not allowed to love due to the rules of being a Jedi Knight.” Y/n swiped to show articles stating that Jedis were not allowed to have any relationship. 

“The goal of any Jedi is to defend and protect. They’re like peacekeepers of the galaxy. If they were to get into relationships, it may lead to biases to protect that individual over another. So when Dain was caught, he fled with his wife to a different part of the galaxy.” 

Y/n showed a map to showcase how far of a journey the Aetos family had to endure to get away from the Jedi counsel. “They landed in Vernak and built a home for themselves. For a while, it was just them four living on an inhabited planet.” 

“One day, Dain had gotten word of another couple that was also in the same predicament as them. While he was scared to leave his family, Elizabeth understood the importance of saving this couple and encouraged him to go. It was a long journey and Dain did get injured from it but thankfully the husband had a medical background.” 

“What would have happened if they were caught?” Y/n looked into Wanda’s eyes and sighed. “Back then it was a different culture, but the Jedi would have been killed for breaking this rule. As for their partner, they typically get banished.”

“Your ancestors knew the consequences of loving each other and still did?” Wanda didn’t mean to appear like she was judging but losing your life over loving someone was a big punishment to possibly face. 

“I would’ve done the same to be with you.” 

There was hope in Y/n’s eyes that Wanda felt the same way still, but when she hadn’t answered, Y/n cleared her throat and continued with the story. “Ever since that day, the Aetos family declared that they would help any people that needed refuge in any type of way. They grew and grew and grew. However, the boys were now in their late 20’s and pointed out that if they continued to rescue people, they would get caught.” 

Y/n swiped to show an updated family photo of the Aetos family and this time, the boys were now grown men with wives in the picture. “On this eventful night in history, the Aetos family forged a plan to fabricate what Vernak was. They sent out loyal soldiers to neighboring planets to spread rumors that Vernak was an evil planet filled with the worst that mankind has ever seen.” 

“It took a long time but people started to believe it. Because of this lie, generations of people taught it to their children and their children and so on. In the meantime, we still rescued many of those that needed it. Vernak was the planet for the forbidden people, the runaways. We vow to protect those in need in the name of love.” 

Wanda took it all in as she watched the sunset go down and stars in the sky appear. “So this whole time, Vernak has been a thriving place full of culture and life? If you have an army, what’s the point of still lying to the galaxy?” 

Y/n sighed, preparing herself for the harsh truth. “We lie to protect our citizens. Some have ancestors that were supposed to have been beheaded had we not stepped in and helped. Others have families that are still hunted to this day. If word gets out that these people are alive, who knows how many soldiers would come to try and defeat us.” 

Y/n held Wanda’s hand, “We lie so that our people can live peacefully.” 

<|>

Two months have passed since Wanda had first arrived in Vernak. In the short amount of time, Wanda had managed to learn more about the planet’s history, army, politics, and culture. One of the biggest differences was obviously the lack of evil that the planet hosted. 

If anything, there was close to zero crime committed on the streets of Vernak. This marveled Wanda even more to learn how their legislation worked. With the help of Y/n, she attended several conferences where bills and laws were passed. 

The lack of arguing or fear mongering almost made Wanda uncomfortable. The palace had too much peace. Even her home planet had its fair share of power hungry people. So to see people work together to achieve the betterment of their people was odd to see. 

Right now, Wanda sat in her room, writing in her journal about the things she learned today when she heard the sound of the front door open. Closing her journal, Wanda walked out to the living room to see Y/n stripping off her royal attire. 

Wanda leaned up against the wall as Y/n sighed from the long day.  “How was your day?” 

Y/n looked up and smiled. “Rough. I had force training and it was more strenuous than usual.” Wanda walked towards Y/n and gave her a small hug.

Things were still unclear on what the two of them were. But having Wanda around was more than enough for Y/n. As for Wanda, she liked that Y/n never pressured her to talk. For now, things were okay. Pulling back from the hug, arms still around Y/n’s neck, Wanda said, “I cooked for you today.” 

Y/n held on to Wanda’s waist, a smirk on her face. “You did? You didn’t have to do that.” 

Wanda poked Y/n’s chest. “Nonsense. Plus, I managed to get the right ingredients. We’re having a proper Fornia dinner tonight. So dress nicely and you need a shower, you stink.”

With a light shove from Wanda, Y/n walked to her room with a laugh. “Yes ma’am.” 

<|>

After cleaning herself up, Y/n walked out her room in an all black attire. The savory aroma of the meal was the first thing Y/n noticed as she walked closer to the dim kitchen.

Once she entered, Y/n was awestruck at the sight of a candle lit dinner. “Woah,” she muttered under her breath. Before she walked any further, Wanda snuck behind Y/n and intertwined their hands. 

“You like?” Y/n looked back, ready to compliment the dinner, but the sight of Wanda in an all black skin tight dress stopped her. It was like everything in the room stopped as she took it all in. Wanda’s hair was curled to perfection and her makeup made Y/n’s heart leap. 

Mouth agape, Y/n took a step back, spun Wanda around. “I don’t think there’s enough words to describe how beautiful you are Wanda.” 

Wanda was thankful for the dim lights as she blushed under Y/n’s gaze. “I’d say you look handsome tonight.” Y/n led Wanda to her seat and helped push her in. 

“This looks so amazing Wanda. I can’t wait to eat it.” Y/n sat on the other side ready to dig in but Wanda’s longing gaze stopped her. “Are you okay Wands?” 

“I want to say something and you can’t interrupt me, okay?” Y/n shook her head in understandment. Wanda shook her nerves away as she reached out once again to hold Y/n’s hand. Meeting her half, Y/n held Wanda’s hand, giving her a comforting squeeze. 

“I first want to thank you for being here for me. These past two months have been such a whirlwind and having you here with me has been such a relief.” Wanda started to tear up, feeling her emotions get the best of her. 

“I know you must wonder what I’ve been wanting to do or what my plan for the future is and for the first month, I honestly didn’t know what I wanted.”  Wiping away a fallen tear, Wanda continued. “But living here in Vernak with you. It’s given me something to look forward to.” 

Y/n smiled softly. She gave Wanda another gentle squeeze knowing the girl had more to say. “I thought that my life was over the moment I landed in Acrux. But life led me to you. And suddenly, it felt like my life finally started.” 

“I know we don’t talk enough about my decision to leave you but I do want to say I’m so sorry.” The moment replayed in both of their heads and all Wanda could feel was regret. “I should’ve heard you out but instead I left.” 

“Wanda, darling, I don’t blame you for leaving.” The sympathetic look on Y/n’s face broke Wanda’s heart. Here she was apologizing but entirely, there was nothing to apologize for. Y/n always understood Wanda’s decision to leave. “You chose based on information we purposely crafted for generations. There was no way you could have known the truth about Vernak.” 

Wanda continued to cry at Y/n’s generosity, feeling even more guilty on her decision to leave. Hating the sight of Wanda crying, Y/n got up and squatted in front of her. She cupped her face and wiped the tears away. “I wish I never left you.” 

Y/n’s heart dropped at the whispered confession. This was the first time that Wanda had remotely ever admitted anything like that. In turn, Y/n admitted, “I wish I stayed.” 

Vulnerability was something Y/n was hardly taught to give. It could lead to death, abandonment, or betrayal. But every single time Y/n chose to be vulnerable, it was for Wanda and no one else. 

“Do you think…” Wanda looked into Y/n’s eyes as she choked back her tears, “...if I were to ask for another chance…what would you say?” 

Y/n thought about it for a moment before saying, “I’d give you a thousand chances if it meant to be with you again.” 

Unable to hold herself back, Wanda leaned in for a kiss, hoping that Y/n could feel just how much she missed her. Hoping that it would be enough to apologize for all the countless lies she believed in. Hoping that she can prove to Y/n once more that she’d never leave again. 

And as Y/n deepened the kiss, tasting Wanda’s tears, she prayed that the only girl she’s ever loved will understand that no matter what, she will always choose her.

<|>

Evil was something Wanda hardly associated Y/n with. After a year of living on Vernak, she could only see the good Y/n and her family have done for the people. So when Y/n came home from a rough day at the palace, Wanda’s love changed. 

She sat at their shared bed when she heard the front door open and close. “I’m over here dekta!” It took Y/n a long time to get to their bedroom, a long look was on her face when she arrived. 

Immediately noticing that something was wrong, Wanda closed her book and opened her arms. With no words, Y/n fell into Wanda’s arms. The feeling of being with her instantly relaxed the young Aetos. 

For a while, the two laid in bed, tangled in each other's arms before Y/n spoke up. “Something happened today and I…I don’t know how to handle it.” 

Wanda ran her hand through Y/n’s hair, trying her best to comfort her girlfriend. She pressed a small kiss on Y/n’s temple before saying, “You can tell me dekta. I’m all ears.” 

Y/n sighed, not knowing where to even start. “There was intel that came to the palace about a bounty hunter that managed to torture information about Vernak.” 

“We managed to get our hands on them but…” Y/n grimaced as she remembered. “...we had to kill them as well as the rest of the bounty hunters that they told.” Wanda could feel Y/n start to cry. 

“I know death is something I’m used to but these people were different. They were hired for all the wrong reasons in order to make ends meet. Many of them had families and now they’re probably waiting for them to come home.” 

Y/n slowly sat up as she wiped her own tears. Wanda followed suit and sat on Y/n’s lap. “I just- I hate the tough decisions we have to make. When things don’t feel as black and white, it makes me wonder if what we’re doing is good.” 

Y/n looked into Wanda’s eyes with fear. “It makes me wonder if I’m good enough for you.” 

Wanda frowned at the confession. “Don’t ever question that. There’s nothing in this world that will ever make me think that you’re not good enough for me.” Wanda gave Y/n a quick kiss, hoping to take away some of the pain her girlfriend was feeling. “Everything you do is to protect me and your people. There’s not a single day where I ever felt like you hurted people just to hurt. You and your family make the hard decisions in order for us to be safe.” 

“What if I told you we were evil?” Wanda looked at Y/n confused. 

“Dekta, we’ve been over this. Your family being evil is a lie.” Y/n almost felt guilty for how much Wanda cared for her. For if she were to see all the decisions being made, would she still stay? 

Y/n looked away, unable to meet Wanda’s eyes. “They unveiled today the final secret…our family has a long list of people turning to the dark side in order to make sure our country is protected. Even my father has admitted to tapping into that side of the force.” 

Y/n clenched her eyes, unable to forget the moment that electricity came out of her father’s hands. “The red lightsaber was one thing but having the powers of the dark side is another. I fear that if I’m not strong enough, I’ll succumb to the thoughts of the dark side.” 

“...I fear to be the person you hate.” 

Silence surrounded the room as Wanda stayed in deep thought. There were so many questions in her head but as Y/n slowly looked up, Wanda knew what to say. 

“Fear has controlled me before and it led me away from you. So listen when I say this, do not let fear make you believe that you will be destined for evil. The dark side is powerful but so are the emotions they feel. And as long as I’m here, I will never let evil succumb to you.”

Wiping away the remainder of her tears, Wanda finished with, “You are destined to be a great leader my love. Evil may linger in your genes but your heart shows me everything I need to know. And I will love you enough for the both of us to make you see that you are good.” 

Leaning in for one more kiss, Wanda would never call Y/n evil. 

<|>

Wanda and Y/n were 25 the night before their wedding. 

Wanda was looking out the balcony when she heard a knock at her door. It was close to midnight. “No one should be up,” she thought. The hologram displayed Y/n’s image and Wanda immediately opened the door. “What are you doing? You know it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.” 

Y/n chuckled at the superstition and entered anyway. “I wanted to see you. Today has been long without you.” Y/n jumped onto the bed, feeling exhausted. Wanda followed suit as she dimmed the lighting in the room. 

They got under the covers and laid next to each other. Face to face, Wanda asked, “I know something’s troubling you.” Y/n still had her eyes closed when she responded with, “And how do you know that my love?” 

“I have a gut feeling. Or maybe the force has connected us.” The thought was sincere. What if they were fated soulmates? “Plus, anytime I’m wide awake this late at night, you always seem to be in distress. So tell me what’s wrong dekta.”

Y/n sighed and snuggled into Wanda’s neck. Wanda started to play with Y/n’s hair, waiting for her to talk. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us…and I wanted to tell you something.” Y/n sat up, leaning on her arm for support as Wanda remained lying down on the bed. 

They held hands as Y/n added, “Loving me is hard.” Wanda frowned at the statement. “It’s something I’ve thought about a lot. And sometimes I doubt if this is the right path for you.” Feeling Y/n’s insecurities rise, Wanda sat up and cupped Y/n’s cheeks. “You are my path Y/n. There’s no doubt about that.” 

“You say that but tomorrow is our wedding. There’s no going back after that. You’re going to be stuck with me forever.” 

“You act as if that’s such a bad thing dekta.” Y/n sighed not knowing how to formulate her thoughts. “I chose you when I came back to you. I chose you again when I said yes to engaging you. And I will say yes once more tomorrow to have forever with you.” Wanda kissed Y/n long and hard. It almost made Y/n forget about her worries. 

Y/n rubbed Wanda’s arms hoping her thoughts wouldn’t sound too jumbled. “Choosing me then is different compared to choosing me tomorrow.” Y/n looked into Wanda’s eyes with all seriousness and declared, “If you choose to love me, you will love the very person this whole galaxy will be known to hate. The very sound of my name will not only bring assassins to kill me but armies to destroy me.” Y/n invaded Wanda’s space inch by inch. Tension building in their eyes and body. “If you choose me,” barely any space was between them now, “you will be with the person that will bring generations of families to death as the galaxy will go through its darkest times with me.” 

Evil lingered in Y/n’s eyes. The very eyes that Wanda had fallen for.

“If you choose me,” swallowing her pride, Y/n confessed, “they will hate you.” There was no going back, but Wanda was a smart girl. She knew the consequences of falling for an Aetos, yet there was always part of her that willingly went back each time. Like a drug, she couldn’t quit. 

What does it mean to fall in love with the person everyone hates? It meant seeing them for something else. A different side only special to you. It meant power beyond their control just to make sure you were safe. It meant that they would choose you versus the world every - single - time. 

“Do you choose me?” There was no pause, no hesitation when Wanda replied. Her heart and mind were already set ages ago. 

“...I do.”

<|>

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#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #The Chosen One #Dune AU #Star Wars AU #Jedi!Reader x Wanda Maximoff #Jedi!Reader #angst #marvel #mionemymind

[starlostseungmin]

style, 1989 ─── musician from next door.

masterlist. playlist. preview.

✰ pairing — musician!jisung x f. reader (with she and her as pronouns)

✰ genre — nsfw (18+), he fell first she fell harder (kinda??) semi-fake dating trope

✰ warnings — profanity, explicit sexual content, dom!jisung, creampie, cunninglus, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), petnames, lots of making-out, consumptions of alcohol, clubbing, please let me know if i missed something, not proofread.

✰ word count — 13.3k

✰ songs that were used for inspiration — style by taylor swift, meddle about by chase altantic, moonlight by dhruv, r u mine? by arctic monkeys, don't say by han jisung (unreleased), mixtape: time out by stray kids

✰ notes — this was supposed to be posted for han’s birthday last year but unfortunately i got busy with uni. BUT HERE IT IS AND please open these tiktok links here and here (this hit me with a huge inspiration to continue to write the fic). REBLOGGING AND LEAVING A FEEDBACK WOULD BE APPRECIATED.

✰ tags — @lix-ables , @lilacjeongin , @alyszaen , @djeniryuu , @ppiri-bahng , @notastraykid , @skzfelixlove , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @ohish , @comet-falls , @mrswolfiechan , @rachabreathing , @iadorethemskz , @minluvly , @dreamingsmile , @flirtyskzbutterfly , @tangylemonade , @gwynsapphire , @annispamz , @surefornext , @seungincore , @skz1-4-3 , @zoe8stay , @seungly

NSFW CONTENTS UNDER THE CUT. mdni.

The strum of his electric guitar echoed across the room as he played the instrumentals of the song he was performing with the band. A smirk was perfectly painted on his lips as his fingers were adorned with rings played with the strings.  Purple, red, blue, orange, and yellow lights illuminated the stage as the white smoke crawled on the floor to collide with the band. His voice reverberated through the crowded room with his lips moved as if he was making out with the microphone. Screams and shouts, his name is famous—Han Jisung of Mist. 

Many people have been eyeing him ever since his band was introduced to the public and the 5-STAR Restoclub tried to hire them. Unfortunately, Jisung refused but the offer as guests didn’t make him say No. Many of the customers come for food and entertainment but mainly for him after they heard that he’s performing. Jisung doesn’t want to understand the hype for his looks but that’s how everyone thinks of him, a fucking dom-like energy, heavenly vocals, and visuals. The sounds of his guitar made the screams go wilder as it reached a blank chorus, only the instrumental. Hyunjin caught the beat when Jisung pushed his guitar behind his back, took the mic away from the stand, and walked to the extended stage to sing the second verse. His left arm reached out to the crowd, pointing to whoever it is as he let every lyric out of his mouth. The aggressiveness of his voice, from a growl to his average pitch. Jisung knows how to perform well. 

You lost consciousness that night and all you can remember is how fucked up your situation was. Jisung saw you, of course, he was amused. But that didn’t matter to you as you were embarrassed by the fact that you had to drag Seungmin to your misery that night. From crying to drunk calling Hanbin after your break up to Jisung finally having his eyes on you and making out. It happened unexpectedly and he didn’t even help you out. Your best friend stood there frozen, unable to speak, but amused. He was about to spill everything to your mom, but you suddenly passed out. 

The memory lingers as a smirk plastered on his face. It was a wild Saturday night anyway. 

“We kissed?” You asked Seungmin who was sitting on your bed after he noticed you were already up. 

“Yep,” The boy said, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. 

“And I called Hanbin to take me back?” You asked again, nervous about every response he gave. 

“Uh huh,” Seungmin answered again. 

“That sounds bullshit to me, Seungmin,” You retorted. 

“Nah, it was real. Saw it with my own eyes,” Seungmin said, rolling his eyes. 

“Motherfuー why didn’t you stop me?!” You exclaimed as Seungmin confirmed the regret and disgust on your face. 

“Your misfortune is my happiness, Y/n,” He laughed. “But yeah, I was enjoying your misery,” You hit him with a pillow, full of rage but, all you heard from him was giggles while dodging every hit he takes. Seungmin knows you won’t ever get mad at him for silly reasons, but last night was different. You knew it was your fault for acting stupid in front of him, and now you have kissed Jisung, the most popular member of Mist, and not just solely in Mist, but throughout Seoul. You buried your face in the soft pillow you used to hit Seungmin and screamed your heart out, feeling all the embarrassment. 

You knew you were more worried than facing Jisung than your ex. But Jisung doesn’t give a shit about it. The feeling lingers and the memory is still vivid. One making-out session made an impact on him. 

They say everything stops moving when you finally have an eye-contact with someone who is destined to be with you. People freeze, time stops, the coffee poured into a mug halts as the conversations pause, and you see sparkles and flowers surrounding them. 

It is bullshit. 

That’s how Jisung believes it. 

People these days rely on books and tv shows to define what love is like or how you’d meet the one who is meant for you. There’s nothing like that in the real world. Not everyone living on earth is lucky to find true love一even a musician who writes songs and sings about love.

Everyone gets the chance to love and be loved, a foreshadowing that is expected to come across. Jisung may do like someone, but as for experience, being in a relationship is like finding a needle in a haystack. Hookups don’t work, a one-night stand is not on the list, and blind dates make no difference. He wanted it genuine like how that one famous singer sings to her exes and describes how relationships can be. 

Love is like a game with countless levels一first you have to find that person, meet that person, fall for that person, and earn their mutual perspective in return. It’s easy to fall just like the leaves in autumn but it takes time to bloom like the flowers in spring after winter. But in the blink of an eye, he may find someone who could make his world stop spinning for a while. 

Sunday night, and he still thinks about you. His delicate fingers played with the mixer causing the loud music to echo through his black headphones. The slow banging of his head synchronizing to the beat got him preoccupied. Jisung didn’t know how late it was at night as his free hand wrote the words from his mind that formed into lyrics. The tip of his pen dances on the blank paper at a fast writing pace. His handwriting was barely readable. A busy week drove him insane, and a project in mind even if he has done it before didn’t immensely help him through.

But the thought of you is still bothering him. 

A deep sigh escaped from his lips, disappointment draws the room at the end of the music. He wasn’t satisfied, the lyrics were too cringe. This is bullshit, he thought as he crumpled the paper with his messy writing, tossing it into the bin next to his keyboard. He leaned at the backrest of his chair, as it swiveled backward, hands on his face as he groaned in frustration while staring at the ceiling trying to invoke an idea一something that would wake up his soul to work, but, nothing. It was a significant requirement from the university, the sole reason why he stayed up all night in the studio he rented for another year. It was supposed to be a single song-making project for the finals. Compliance was supposed to be a fun thing to do for the sake of passing the course but it wasn’t always enthusiastic. 

He wanted it to be special. 

But his dilemma stopped when he realized how late it was. 

“Shit,” He hissed under his breath and decided to take a look at the clock. His phone’s screen lit up with 3 digits in the center, 11:48 pm. “Fuck it’s almost 12,” 

His headphones slid around his neck, taking everything to shove in the bag. He had to drag himself back to his working desk for double-checking before he left. Lights turned off, wires unplugged, Jisung closed the door behind him making sure it was locked, and later he was welcomed by the quiet and solemn highway, with few cars coming and going, streetlights stayed still with no people taking strolls, and stars illuminated the sky as his footsteps led him to the apartment which is only a block away from the studio. He saunters trying to think of something, but then again, nothing. His brain didn’t want to work, his body was fried, and it is always like that. 

Jisung reached his apartment, and even riding the elevator to the 8th floor felt exhausting as well. He tossed his bag on the couch and went to the windows. White curtains were opened as he saw the view down the building. The moon shines so brightly, enough to give reflection to his glass windows and the other lights from the neighborhood. It was aesthetically pleasing to the eyes that he always enjoys at night. His fingers ran over his bangs, stroking them back to his head as he made his way toward the balcony. A long sigh escaped his lips, a weekend shouldn’t be wasted on a boring list of things. 

He knew you are working until dawn again. The lights were off from the room next to him and it has been so quiet during nighttime. Jisung couldn’t blame you but it feels lonely not to have you next door when he’s home. 

His phone suddenly lights up for a text message he received from a friend, a club invitation. It is a Sunday night anyway. A smirk formed on his lips from top to bottom一Jisung made a beeline toward his bedroom and changed clothes. An invitation from a friend to drink shouldn’t be ignored just like that, and being drunk on a weekend is like a necessary afterparty of a long-ass night. He left his apartment again, the club is far away from home. 

The timing is great. He wanted to see you again. 

It was all black, yellow, and white lights, time on the box, and cold air. The smooth rolling of tires on the asphalt and music from the radio made the stillness of his car a bit dramatic. The blinding lights welcomed him, a variety of colors dancing with the people around. Loud music and the scent of cigarettes and vape mixed with intoxicating alcohol, he was amused. It wasn’t his first time visiting a place like this, thanks to Hyunjin who is a party animal, he gets dragged every time, and also because of the gig with the band. He didn’t even care about the time and maybe going home at 5 in the morning would still feel like evening. 

Songs with intense structures were played suddenly as he stood a few steps away from the entrance. His bandmates, slash, best pals, Hyunjin, and Minho were behind him, sipping their drinks or screaming at the top of their lungs with the others. Jisung’s eyes immediately looked to the counter to taste interesting drinks. He smiled at his two friends before walking himself through the wild crowd and managed to keep his eardrums safe from the loudspeakers below the stage. 

A sigh of relief escaped his lips and was later formed into a smile of triumph but what can he say about his thoughts about love when his time suddenly stopped and everything had gone in slow motion the moment he saw you from the counter, smiling at Chan? Someone could serve him his words on a platter and Jisung would have it as his breakfast. His heart suddenly started beating faster than the normal pace. Was it love at first sight? No, he had seen you before around campus, many times and you kissed. It was different from last night. A miserable damsel in distress to the bright sunshine in front of him. 

Jisung stopped in his tracks and his heart went insane when you finally had eye contact with him after diverting your gaze from your dear co-worker. People passed by, and the sounds suddenly died down between you and him, he was looking at you as you stared back. He stood there, frozen. Jisung is very familiar but never became a friend and you were no stranger to him either. He likes you for a while now. But even if he does, he is not sure how to express it, not even in the songs he wrote. 

From his perspective, he knew he is in love. Yet it falls differently on your end, you were embarrassed. You spent the whole afternoon thinking about what happened last night. If it wasn’t for Seungmin reminding you about it, you already had gone feral. And you did. It was a stupid act of disgust that would haunt you for the rest of your life. What your problem is, how to face him and apologize for being such an embarrassing nitwit with a broken heart? Fuck that asshole, it’s already been three fucking months! Thanks to your dumbass ex-boyfriend, for cheating on you. His number is currently plastered on the recent calls you had. The phone number you always memorized that you can type without looking at the keypads. 

But you can’t do anything now, he’s here. 

A smile formed on his face and a hint of redness surfaced on your cheeks一your smile faded and remembered what Seungmin told you the morning after what happened. 

“So you work here,” He said, leaning against the flat surface. Exchanging conversations wasn’t your thing before, but one should take the first step in everything. 

“Yeah,” You smirked, trying to be cool despite what happened. “What can I get you?

“One martini please,” 

“This one’s in the house,” You smiled, hoping he wouldn’t bring up your make-out session. 

“Really?” He beamed. “Thanks Y/n,” 

“You know my name?” You asked, handing him the small glass. 

“Of course,” He nodded. “You’re in my music class and we’re just living right next to each other’s door. I’m Jisung by the way,” He added, handing out his hand for a shake. 

“I know,” You said, taking his hand. It would be a lie that his heart melted the moment he was able to touch your hand一there was a spark to him. “Nice meeting you, I guess, we don’t interact,” You added.

“Well, I guess we need to socialize more,” He smiled. “But I have to check on the guys first, I’ll be back in a sec,” He added and immediately dashed through the crowd leaving you dumbfounded. You just prevented embarrassing yourself for the second time! It was hard to keep it to yourself. 

“Way to go,” You said as you saw Chan smirking at you, making his way to receive orders. 

“Damn,” Jisung sighs. 

“What’s up with you?” Minho asked, noticing his friend’s dilemma. Hyunjin was quick enough to involve himself in the gossip and scooted closer to the couch. 

“Did you embarrass yourself?” Hyunjin asked. 

“No!” Jisung retorted. “That girl from the bar一” 

“We know,” Minho said, rolling his eyes. “You made out with her last night,” 

“You wanted to hook up now?” Hyunjin teased, drinking his lime juice when Jisung smacked his head, causing him to blow the drink off of his mouth. “What the fuck?!” 

“A crush, maybe?” Minho smirked. 

“Dude, what am I? A high school teenager?” Jisung scoffed, denying the giddiness. 

“Ask her out! Fuck you,” Hyunjin retorted, wiping his lips. 

“Too scared,” Jisung said, rolling his eyes. 

“How about a bet?” Minho said, wiggling his brows with a sly smirk plastered on his face. 

“Sounds dangerous,” Hyunjin butted in. 

“Pssh,” Minho hissed. “Come on man, it’s your chance to hook up.” 

“Shut up, Lee,” Hyunjin hissed as Minho glared at him. 

“I’m still contemplating,” Jisung sighed. 

“Dude, you kissed her,” Minho pointed out as Jisung looked at him. “Go.” 

Jisung took a deep breath while looking into Minho’s eyes. Hyunjin went to mind his drink as he heard the younger one sigh in response. It only took one push to build his confidence. 

“Fine,” He said, placing the drink on the table and disappearing into the crowd. Meanwhile, you sat on a stool high chair watching everyone have the time of their lives. The counter was already busy as you and Chan were taking turns. Jisung came back in a blink of an eye as he took the seat across from you as you made his drink. “Y/n,” 

Here he is again. You thought. 

“Hey,” You smiled, leaning on the counter.

“I shouldn’t be going around asking this but, do you want to go out with me?” He said, smirking at the idea which made you scoff in response.

“No,” You told him. “And that one martini is 12,000 won,” You said, rolling your eyes, leaving his drink served in front of his face before moving away. Jisung clicked his tongue and looked at Hyunjin and Minho who were watching you leave. Way to go wasting a free drink, Jisung! 

“She’s not into you,” Minho chuckled, approaching his dear friend and wrapping his arm around Jisung’s neck. 

“Try harder dude,” Hyunjin said, taking the drink away from Jisung’s hand before taking a sip. 

“She’ll say yes eventually,” Jisung said, looking at you serving a table a few meters away. You caught him staring again and rolled your eyes in response. 

“Just make sure she will,” Minho winked. 

“She will. And Hyunjin, that’s my drink,” Jisung hissed at the tall boy when he realized his Martini was stolen.

“What? I’ll pay for it,” Hyunjin defended.

“Y/n! Can you take out the trash please?” The senior barista said, earning their attention, Hyunjin nudged Jisung as Minho kept watching your move. After going back to serving a few customers their drinks, you headed back to the staff’s room to execute the request. Jisung immediately got the message and went straight to the back door, surprising you the moment you threw the trash into the bins. 

“Hey,” He said. 

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested,” You said, trying to get back inside. 

“Y/n, just hear me once, okay? I like you,” He said, blocking your way in. A sigh escaped your lips, crossing your arms on your chest while watching him. 

“What?” You asked. 

“I’m sure you heard me,” He said. “I’m asking you out,” 

“Jisung, I,” You sighed. “Look, a single sip from a Martini won’t make you drunk enough to come up to me and just confess right away. And I can’t go out with you especially when I don’t have feelings for you,” You said, making him frown. 

“But we kissed,” He pursued, which made you so red. 

“That doesn’t count,” You defended. “It was a mistake and I was so drunk,” 

“I don’t care about that Y/n,” He said. “Just give me a month,” He added as you stared at him for a few seconds. 

“No,” You retorted, pushing him out of the way and going back to the bar. Jisung sighed harshly and ruffled his hair, it’s going to be a long way to make you say yes. 

He followed you back inside and grabbed a drink, joining Hyunjin and Minho at their table, already tipsy. Jisung sat down, crossing his legs and an arm extended on the backrest of their couch. The drink is filled with ice, but the stare you gave him was burning with disgust. He could only shrug and give you a sly smile because you know he will never let you go that easy. Minho and Hyunjin exchanged looks一the older boy suddenly shoved tissues in Hyunjin’s mouth out of nowhere. It was so random that Jisung failed to notice. 

Your rounds kept going, with endless orders and requests, the music was too loud and out of your taste. If it wasn’t for your uncle’s request to make you work in such a place, you wouldn’t be staying up all night during the weekends. But you can’t deny that the pay is good enough to spend on your needs and wants, especially when he gives you special treatment because you are indeed his niece. You want to make him proud for taking you in, and you tried to stay out of trouble each night of your shift, but sometimes, something happens eventually. Like the boy who can’t stop watching you. 

Han Jisung. 

You’ve known him since freshman year but you rarely talk because of his different circle of friends. He might be a colleague but never a friend一one of the best students in the music department, one that you tend to avoid. You shared a few classes with him before, and now that you’re one of the seniors now—you’re stuck with him for having the same majors. Ignoring him will be the best, but that’s what you thought. He’s not the type to give up on you easily. 

Hours passed by, and Hyunjin and Minho passed out on the couch while everyone left, Jisung tried to be as sane and formal as possible—although he laid a few bottles empty on the table. Chan nudged at your shoulder, pouting his lips towards the godforsaken people at table number eight. He sighed in disappointment as he wiped the glasses he washed a few minutes ago. You craned your neck to check, only to find out Jisung was already drowsy and useless like the other two. Too much of a single drink, eh? You shake your head and go back to Chan. 

 “You need to drive them home,” You told him. 

“I know,” He sighed. “Are you coming?” 

“Yeah,” You replied. “I need to get that idiot home,” You added, pointing at Jisung.

“Right, I’ll finish these up then we’ll go,” Chan giggled. “Those punks are useless right now,” Giving Chan a small smile, you finished cleaning the table and went to the staff’s room to change, leaving the old boy to figure out what to do with his friends. Poor Chan had to assist Minho first while you took care of Hyunjin, heading to Jisung’s car. They were piled up on the backseat and saved the best for the owner. He was still conscious when you and Chan dragged him away. Gibberish lyrics came out of his mouth, singing a familiar song—loud and out of tune. He smells exactly what he consumed. 

“Stupid,” Chan laughed. 

Morning arrived and you heard a knock on your door after passing out on the couch the moment you were done with everyone. You didn’t even notice Chan leaving at 6 am as you were both exhausted一the guys were heavy for 2 people to assist and a loud one to deal with. You never felt so tired ever since you started your job, maybe it was the first time you saw the club so packed and a lot of customers wanted to be served first. It felt like you’d been flying from left to right. 

Dragging yourself up at 10 am is already tiring. You are already considering quitting having the lack of sleep on the weekends, even the school does the same to you—nothing spares such a busy person. Grabbing the doorknob, you inspected the person through the small hole in your door. It was Jisung who looked like he was just woken up. A sigh escaped your lips and opened it. Fixing yourself didn’t matter anymore, anyway. You stared at him for a while, disheveled hair, crumpled clothes, bloodshot eyes, and wearing socks without shoes—this boy is a mess. 

“Good morning?” You greeted him as he started fidgeting his fingers. 

“Ah, yes good morning,” He said, still having that alcohol scent. 

“What do you want?” You asked with a stern look, asking him to hurry. 

“I wanted to say thank you to you and Chan hyung,” He said. “This is about what happened a few hours ago, I still have a headache right now but, I need to see you first,” He smiled. 

 “Okay?” You said. 

“Yeah,” He answered, rubbing his nape. “Y/n, I’m sorry about last night, but, I also wanted to say that I’m persistent when it comes to the things that I like.” He said. “And by that, what I mean is, I won’t give up until you say yes,” 

“Jisung, you heard me last night and my answer is No,” You said. “There are a lot of people out there, think about it, okay? And take a rest,” You smiled. 

“Y/n, I like you! I swear.” He said.

“Have a nice day, Han.” You responded and closed the door in his face, leaving the poor boy dumbfounded. 

Jisung sighed and started to space out, his body is not even healed yet from too much consumption of alcohol. He started at nothing for a while before he could get back to reality and scratched his head, moving back to his apartment. His two attempts to get you to say yes, failed. But just like what you observed about him, he is not the type to give up on something he wants so easily. And things will turn into something more interesting than ‘just talking’. 

The night fell, and another shift will come to occur. School is not the only one fucking you up. Chan welcomed you with a big smile on his face. The club usually opens at 8 pm on the weekdays but starting on Friday nights to Sunday go to by 9 instead. He was busy setting up the chairs and mopping the floor while you checked on the menu. Other employees started to gather as well and the bouncers prepared for the opening. Scenarios of the club are always the same, the customers may be different people each night, yet it is always the loud music and screams of people. Swearing, drinking, kissing, and laughing, they go all over the place. People are becoming wilder every minute—it doesn’t surprise you anymore. 

But surprisingly, Jisung showed up in the same place where you got him a drink. 

“You’re still up for another hangover?” You asked, leaning against the counter. “What can I get you?” 

Jisung just chuckled and shook his head, “I’m not drinking tonight,” 

“Are you sure? What are you doing here then?” 

“I’ll wait for you until your shift is done,” He said, making you look confused. “I’ll be less trouble tonight Y/n, I promise, just let me stay here,” 

“You’re up to something, are you?” You said. 

“If your answer is still No, I’m not going to stop just like that,” He smirked. 

“Suit yourself, Han,” You scoffed and went to make a drink. Jisung just smiled at the end, maybe this bet will make him get closer to you after all. He watched the area filled with the intoxicating scent of alcohol and cigarettes—he wasn’t amused, nor his type. But the fact that you are working here, staying is worth it. He was immersed in everything even with the blinding lights and the singer up on stage, it was an interesting love song to sing in a club. “Sparkling Cucumber Mint Lemonade,” 

“I didn’t order anything,” Jisung said, snapping back in your direction. 

“It’s on me this time, I won’t charge you like last night,” You smiled, hugging the tray. “Don’t worry it’s not alcoholic,” 

“Thanks,” He said, taking a good sip of a free drink. “This is good,” 

“I know right? Enjoy your stay, I need to get to work,” You said. “Are you sure you will wait for me?” 

“Yeah, my band is on break and there’s no work for me to be done so don’t mind me,” He smiled, taking another sip of it. 

“Okay,” 

The night flew by, customers slowly faded through the door leaving all their energy at the place, Jisung fell asleep on the counter as Chan kept an eye on him. You just got out of the staff’s room after changing clothes and are now being left with a sleeping Han Jisung. Chan smiled at you, motioning to take care of him while he closed the club—Jisung had already passed out and you were anxious to wake him up. 

“Just try to shake him gently,” Chan said, and so you did. 

“Han?” You called. 

“Hmm?” He hummed in response, sitting up as he rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?” 

“4 am,” You answered as he sighed heavily. 

“Do you want me to drive you home? It’s so late,” Jisung said, looking at you. “Let me take you and Chan hyung,” 

“No, no, don’t worry about me, I have my motorbike outside,” Chan said. “Just take Y/n home, I’ll leave in a bit,” 

“Okay, be careful on your way, yeah?” You told him. 

“Yep, and you too,” 

Jisung walked out of the club first as you followed him, hands shoved into his pockets while you tightened your grip on the straps of your bag. You can’t deny saying it is kind of sweet to have him waiting for you all night but the thought of pursuing you for a bit doesn’t sit right with you. It’s rare to have someone waiting for you for hours, Chan is an exception for he is a good friend of yours—but nothing like Jisung. You feel bad about it. 

He opened the door for you to enter and you bowed lightly with a small Thank you before getting in. You watched him close the door and jogged his way around the car to settle on the driver’s seat, driving away in silence. 

“Care to tell me what’s this all about?” You asked him. 

“As I said I’m not giving up that easily until I get you to say Yes,” He said, eyes focused on the road. 

“I know,” You scoffed and had the atmosphere go quiet for a while. You were still in deep thought about what happened between you and Jisung the other night and never had the chance to apologize properly for it. Seungmin already gave the details for he had witnessed everything. 

And that’s when you remembered,

The music was loud and Seungmin just sat there at your table, watching you get wasted. Mist wasn’t the one singing on the stage that night. Hyunjin and Minho went home, Chan went to help at the counter and Jeongin rested beside Seungmin. Felix and Changbin weren't there. You were chugging the Bacardi at a fast pace while enjoying the music, shouting the lyrics of the band’s cover of Day 1. Jisung decided to get a drink at the counter and planned to stand by for a few minutes before going home but Chan gossiped about Seungmin’s presence with you. He had to disregard Seungmin and Jeongin, talking on the couch as his attention was directed to you, he was amused. 

Acknowledging that his glass was already empty and he placed it back on the top of the marbled counter as his feet dragged him to you. Hyunjin didn’t mind the crowd of people getting in his way, the loud music was banging his ears and the flash of lights was a pain. 

“You’ll always be my day one~ Day zero when I was no one~” 

You got dizzy after a few glasses of that horrid drink and mindlessly took your phone out from your bag and typed Hanbin’s number. A group of numbers that you will always remember even if you get drunk. Your phone pressed your ear, waiting for him to pick up, Seungmin was already alerted to your actions but he wasn’t aware of who it was. Jeongin suddenly fell asleep after the exhaustion from partying and shared a few words with the older boy but still ended up passing out. Seungmin raised a brow as he sat steadily on his seat, halting himself from drinking another glass. 

“Hello?” Asked the one on the phone. You could barely hear it and decided to put it on loudspeaker. 

“Ya, are you crazy?” You exclaimed. “How dare you cheat on me with that cheapass ugly bitch?” Seungmin sat there frozen. “Am I not enough? Am I not enough to give you everyー”

“Y/n stop that!” Seungmin said. 

“Shut up, asshole,” You said, unconscious of the words coming out of your mouth. “Take me back!” You cried. Hanbin fell in silence as he listened to your sobs in between the loud music. 

“Y/n! I swear,” Seungmin said standing up from his seat as he placed his glass on the table loud enough for Hanbin to pass the phone to his new one. 

“Why did you cheat on me? We can work things out, Hanbin!” You said, not paying attention to your best friend who is now fucking frustrated. Jisung suddenly snatched your phone away, making you so mad, and yelled at him. He looked at the caller ID and smirked, passing it to Seungmin. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

“Piss off!” You heard Seungmin answer the phone. 

“Give it back!” You exclaimed as Jisung grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him. 

“Stop it, Y/n, you’re drunk,” He said. 

“Who the fuck are you?! Let me go!” You yelled at him but instead of calming you down, his lips suddenly landed on yours. 

Seungmin almost dropped your phone after he ended the call when he saw how smooth Jisung was. It made you stop babbling nonsense and finally melted into the kiss. He tasted the shitty drink inside your mouth but it didn’t stop him. His arm wrapped around your waist with your hands around his neck. Maybe you deserve it after the heartbreak though. You couldn’t identify what kind of drink painted his lips so sweetly as it collided with yours. His lips were soft as he kisses you gently. Seungmin’s jaw dropped and only a click away to inform your mother who’s living in the countryside. It wasn’t a chaste kiss but rather wild when you felt his tongue enter your mouth. You licked his tongue slowly sucking it before molding your lips with his, then suddenly, everything disappeared from that moment. It wasn’t the first time you ever kissed someone but Jisung’s lips felt different. 

Your knees felt weak when he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss. His hand reached for your cheek, with a hint of nibbling at biting your lips. He may have gone excessively when he heard you whine under him which made him more eager. It wasn’t part of the plan to kiss you just to stop you from begging Hanbin and saying nonsense but it is the best way, for him, at least. The kiss got so overwhelming that Jisung felt your hands coming off his neck and suddenly passed out. Good thing you were inside his arms that he caught you right away. Seungmin almost died from shock but he didn’t help you either way. A smirk formed on Jisung’s lips as he carried you in bridal style. 

“You should go,” He said. 

“We will. Take care of Jeongin, he’s knocked out,” Seungmin answered. “Give me Y/n,” 

He kissed you. Yes, he is persistent and faithful when it comes to the things he likes. He already gave proof of that. A sigh escaped from your lips and at the same time, you felt the redness of your cheeks. It was so hot that you started to fan yourself with your hand. You didn’t know why it suddenly felt better after suffering from that stupid breakup. It’s been three months now and you were so stupid to do such a thing. 

And because of thinking too much, you didn’t even realize that you and Jisung were already in the parking lot of your apartment building. 

“Y/n, we’re here—,”

“Damn, it was you?” You asked in disbelief. “You kissed me!” 

“I did, so what?” Jisung laughed. “You want another one?” It was good if you are being honest with yourself.

“No!” You exclaimed as Jisung ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Fine,” He scoffed. “But you’re going to give in if I do it either way,” 

“You’re so full of yourself, Han,” You retorted. 

“It’s me we’re talking about,” He said, cutting you off. “I’m not going to apologize for that. And I think you’re more worried about me than your ex huh?” He smirked. 

“It was embarrassing and he was a douchebag, I care about my reputation more. And I’m sorry for acting stupid,” You sighed as you heard him laugh. “What’s funny?” 

“Nothing, I am not expecting an apology from you Y/n, I thought you can do more than that,” He said. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, confused. 

“I already told you a few times that I like you and I admit I was disappointed that you had to fall and hit your head,” He scoffed. “Do I have to repeat it myself? I like you, and that fucking kiss wasn’t enough for me,”

“I think you’re speaking bullshit right now,” You said but before you could say anything further, you felt his lips crash onto yours. He said he’ll be less trouble tonight, but why are you wrapping your arms around his neck to respond to his kiss? Jisung is amazing but at the same time a jerk who kisses a person without permission. But on second thought, maybe you deserve to experience that once or maybe more than once. 

His lips collided with yours, and both your eyes were closed, tasting the mint gum you had earlier and the hint of the Sparkling Cucumber Mint Lemonade you gave him. You felt his hand wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to him as his other hand rested on your nape. The kiss was softer this time, as your heart started to go crazy and suddenly made you feel weak in the knees. His lips were warm and soft as ever as he kissed you gently. You could feel his tongue pressed between your parted lips giving that soft ticklish licks but you had to snap out of it. 

You pushed Jisung back to his seat as he licked his lips in annoyance, as to why. He ran his fingers through his hair and avoided your gaze as you stared at nowhere, unable to speak. You didn’t even say good night and left his car, leaving Jisung frustrated. 

“Goddammit,” He hissed. 

Jisung didn’t show up the next night but you find yourself, hoping for him to appear in front of you. It has been two days of pursuing you but it feels empty without him around. Chan noticed the energy you have but didn’t bother to spill it when you are busy with work. The night flew by in a blink of an eye either, a lot of customers were satisfied and made you distracted all night. You admit it was tiring that there were no energy boosters for you, Jisung isn’t even around. And you know exactly the reason why. 

He kissed you, again. 

You hate the fact that even if your reason was because of that break-up you had with Hanbin three months ago, you can’t blame the situation for being this stupid again. Jisung is persistent, you know that but opening up again made you hesitant. You’ve got nothing to offer in exchange for his feelings for you and Seungmin is nowhere to be found when you need advice. Meanwhile, you found yourself sitting across the counter instead of serving tables, other waiters were up for it, except you who just wanted to rest and listen to that dreadful love song the singer was singing. Chan also took a break from handling the cashier and sat beside you, enduring the exhaustion of work on the weekends. 

“We might need a new singer,” He said. “I heard he’s quitting tonight. Do you know someone?” 

“I don’t,” You answered.

“Sort of, but you’re a music major right? Maybe one of your classmates wanted a job or something, it’s just for the weekends anyway,” Chan shrugged. 

“I’ll try to get someone that suits this type of vibe,” You reassured. “But don’t expect that someone will show up in a week, did you tell Uncle?” 

“Yeah, he knows,” Chan said. 

“Then I’ll start looking then,” You chuckled at him and went back to watching the singer’s last performance on the club’s stage. 

And just like the other nights, Tuesday night passed by quickly and Wednesday morning came. The bright sunlight didn’t allow you to sleep on such a lovely morning—having not enough rest made you feel like a zombie during the whole day. Your classes will resume in the afternoon and you barely have time to rest. A sigh escaped your lips as you wore your shoes, indicating the moment of leaving your apartment. Jisung’s room was unusually quiet, with no instruments playing in the background nor hearing him singing his self-composed songs.

You never cared about it anyway. 

Shrugging at the thought of it, you head to a cafe to have brunch with Seungmin. The boy was too focused on his laptop the moment you arrived and didn’t even notice your presence. Taking your usual order, you went back to his table and sat down across from him. His eyes were tired, his soul was exhausted, a coffee on his side and a half-eaten sandwich with it. He is a representation of the usual college student you see on campus during their hell week. But that also represents you. 

“Good morning Y/n,” He said, still not taking his eyes from his laptop. 

“Good morning, Seungmin,” You smiled. “Mind if I eat?” 

“Not at all,” He replied. “I still need to finish my food as well,” He chuckled. 

“How long have you been waiting?” You asked, munching on your favorite sandwich. 

“Oh, I got here an hour early, I thought writing an essay in a café would help me finish it in no time,” He said, taking a sip of his iced americano. Seungmin drinks it like water. “Are you done with the homework?” 

“Do you have to ask me that when I’m in my miserable state right now?” You asked. 

“Well, I’m just really attentive so that you won’t miss anything.” He said. “Besides, we’re graduating this year,” 

“I know,” You scoffed. 

“How are things with you?” He asked, finally having his full attention to you. 

“You know I was in distress these past few days because of what happened between me and Jisung,” You started. “And now he’s asking me out,” You added, looking at your coffee. 

“I’m not surprised, he did mention he likes you,” He said so bluntly, making you look at him. 

“So you knew?” You asked, making Seungmin shrug his shoulders. 

“You’re probably the last person to know, Y/n,” He smirked. “Me and the rest of our friend group know. But I understand that you’re not really up for it since you and Jisung are not close enough to share intimate secrets with,” He chuckled. 

“I hate you,” You scolded him. 

“You don’t,” Seungmin replied, sipping his coffee. 

“Damn,” You sighed in response as he watched you with a blunt expression written on his face. 

“Anything else you want to tell me? Concerns?” He asked, munching his sandwich as you took a deep breath, making a sarcastic smile at him. 

“Well, aside from Jisung, I have to ask you something,” You said. 

“Spill,” He said, still munching that sandwich. 

“Do you, perhaps, want to work at my Uncle’s club? The local singer resigned last night and we need a replacement to perform this weekend,” You said, making Seungmin stop eating.

“You want me?” He asked, closing his laptop while pointing at himself. “Y/n, I don’t think the vibe suits me, I’m more of a ballad type of person, you know?” He chuckled. 

“But you’re a very good singer,” You whined. 

“Thanks, but I don’t think I can,” He said politely. “Why don’t you ask Jisung, he loves trying different genres, I heard he’s into rock now.” Only a sigh escaped your lips as you took a bite of your food. “It’ll be a good advantage since he has a band, you know Mist right?”

“Yeah,” You said, pouting your lips. “But it’s kind of awkward between us right now,” You said. 

“Because he likes you?” He asked as you gave him a nod. “Why don’t you give him a chance?” 

“Let me think about it first,” You sighed. 

Thinking about it led to a few hours later until you found yourself spacing out in a lecture. A hand supported your chin as your elbow rested on your desk—words from your professor just come in and out through your ears, nothing interesting to focus on. You shouldn’t be worrying too much when you have Chan who can fill up the position of the club’s singer. That man can make everyone swoon over him by singing one single line. But he is not up for it when you already asked a few times. 

You didn’t notice the time passing by, it was only your professor who discussed things all over again. Things that you already know from the first year to your senior year. Seungmin took notes beside you and the rest were either spacing out or listening. But this class would end up making everyone whine about some project the professor just announced. Seungmin coughed in between distracting you from your train of thought. You hated working in pairs yet it was necessary to grab someone to lessen the burden. Seungmin disappeared from his seat and went to Jeongin. Your best friend ditched you, just like that. 

“Nice, you don’t want to work with me?” You asked him when he just laughed in response, but you just rolled your eyes.

“I already planned to have Jeongin work with me,” He said. “You can ask Felix,” A sigh escaped your lips while rolling your eyes. The class ended a few minutes ago and only a few classmates of yours were left inside the classroom. You turned to Felix who was reading his notes before standing up and grabbing the opportunity to approach him. 

“Hey, Felix, do you have a partner?” You asked as he smiled at you, rubbing his nape. 

“Yeah, Changbin hyung was the first one to ask,” He said. “I’m sorry Y/n,” He added with that cute sheepish smile of his. 

“It’s alright, there must be someone free,” You smiled at him. 

 “Ah, yes, Jisung doesn’t have a partner yet,” He said, making your smile drop, giving him a nod. 

“Thanks,” You said and turned away seeing Jisung craning his neck, giving you his creepy smile (in a playful way) while wiggling his brows.  “I guess you’re the option left?” 

“That hurts,” He chuckled, standing up from his seat. “At least I get you to say yes on this one,” 

“As if I had a choice,” You retorted. “When are we going to do this damn project?” 

“Tonight, you know where my studio is right?” He asked as you nodded in response. “Good, I’ll meet you there at 7, sounds good to you?” 

“Not a problem, Han,” You smiled. 

“Great,” He smiled back. 

Why is he acting as if nothing happened?

7 pm and you found yourself in the hallway of a building where Jisung’s studio was located. You looked at your phone’s screen to confirm the right address and saw the same number on a door. A few knocks were heard as Jisung put his mixtape on pause before jogging towards the entrance, unlocking it, and seeing you. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting something?” You asked. 

“Not at all, come in,” He said, opening the door wider as he stepped aside. 

His studio is big enough for 5 people to fit in which probably explains why the rent is expensive. It was painted in black and white, different instruments were being displayed, and some were misplaced. Bass guitars and ordinary guitars, a mixer, and a synthesizer, a shelf of albums and stationeries being stacked on his desk, it was kind of messy. But he chose a good location where there’s a large window that you could see the whole city from. The room just needs a bit of cleaning. 

“It’s kind of messy, I’m sorry,” He chuckled sheepishly. “You can sit on the couch first, I still need to polish something,” 

“Sure,” You smiled. 

“Did you have dinner?” He asked, taking his seat in front of his computer. 

“Not yet, I just got out of the library before coming here,” You shrugged. 

“Okay, we’ll just finish half of the project tonight and we’ll get dinner,” He paused. “If that’s okay with you?” 

“Yeah, go ahead with your work, I can wait,” You said, taking a seat on the couch as he sighed in relief. Jisung went to work after that, leaving you looking around his studio. It was spacious as his mess was scattered around that you accidentally sat down on one of his cd players. There were earphones connected to it that made you sneak up to listen. You took a glance at him and saw his back facing you—taking the opportunity of it, you plugged the earphones on and played a song, not knowing it was all his. 

The first song was rock, you heard Seungmin’s voice in the first part and was followed by his other friends. A summer-like vibe but in a rock genre. The lyrics were also good, even the rhythms and beat were fun to listen to. Notes were pretty high to sing but they ended things clear and clean. So much for having good singers in a group of friends. You wonder how Jisung made this beautiful art. Even the next song is ethereal, a love song solo of his, he can be cheesy at times. You started vibing with it as he was pretty occupied with his work. And that makes you wonder if Jisung can sing for the club this weekend. 

You stopped listening and turned off the music without making the second song halfway finished and fell into deep thoughts. His voice is too good to ignore and his talent is superior. It’s rare to have someone listen to his songs unless it’s one of his guy friends. But you wanted his songs so bad, they were too good. 

“Y/n, I’m done, shall we start?” Jisung asked as he spun his swivel chair around. 

“Jisung,” You called. 

“Yeah?” He asked back. 

“Do you want to sing in the club? I mean, we don’t have a performer anymore so, if you want—”

“I don’t usually work with clubs unless I can perform as a guest,” He said cutting you off. “But if 5-STAR insists on hiring Mist, you should offer me something in return,” He smirked. 

“Fine,” You scoffed. “Let’s go out,” 

Jisung was caught off guard that he almost fell from his seat. It was a bold move of you but he likes it. You noticed how he tried to keep his cool but at the same time, you were nervous about the words that might come out as a response. 

“How much are they going to pay Mist?” He asked with his chin resting at the back of his palm. You knew the deal was on. 

“Pretty decent depends on how good—” 

“We’re good, babe,” He smirked. “And I am way better than the word, good,”

Another weekend came and Jisung locked himself inside his room as you waited for him outside. Leaning beside the door frame, you were getting impatient with his wardrobe dilemma for his first night. Your Uncle has been told about him by Chan, the boy got too excited and nervous at the same time. Performing in front of people tonight was not the first time, but since there was money at the end of it, he didn’t want to disappoint. You, on the other hand, had to comfort his nervous ass for he has been picking up something decent to wear. 

“Han, are you almost done? You only have to perform 3 songs, that’s it,” You whined outside. 

“One moment, I’m still undecided about the top,” He said, making you sigh in frustration. You were getting late. “Should I go with a T-shirt or a tank top?” 

“Tank tops would look great,” You said, sighing at the time. 

“Thanks, be right there in a sec,” Seconds turned into minutes until he came out after almost half an hour. You gave up waiting for him by the door and went to lie on the couch. “I’m done! What do you think?” You heard him say as you sat down and examined his look. 

Slicked back brown hair, a black tank top, skinny jeans, and a pair of boot shoes, everything in black. You gulped at the sight of him. He’s never been so handsome in your eyes, his fashion sense is superior to the fact that he looks like a rockstar tonight, only a bass guitar is something that he’s missing. He noticed your dumbfounded expression—one thing that boosted his confidence to perform. A smirk formed on his lips as he snapped his fingers in front of your face to bring you back to reality. 

“I’m too handsome, yes I know, no need to tell me,” He said fixing his hair and winked. 

“You wish,” You scoffed. 

“Oh come on, I’m hot, and you know it, right?” He teased as you exited his apartment. “Hey hey! Wait up!” Jisung laughed, grabbing his jacket. You can't help but laugh at his cuteness when he was catching up. Chan prepared the stage for Jisung the moment you arrived, the latter followed you to the staff’s room to rehearse for a short while. You noticed how nervous he was that you had to hold his hand to ease him down. Jisung smiled at you as he intertwined his fingers with yours. His hands were cold and shaky—one that made you worry and patted his back. 

“You will do good, alright?” You said as he nodded desperately. 

“Can you give me a hug before I go?” He asked until a pair of arms wrapped around his neck and pulled you closer. “Thank you,” 

He walked up to the stage introducing himself and how he got the job as a replacement. It made you embarrassed when he dedicated the song to you and everyone was cheering for your so-called relationship. Chan laughed, he looked so happy that Jisung was finally up there and enjoying the night while you stood beside him, mouth open wide. You knew Jisung sings well and you saw him sing in front of the class a few times, but not this type of vibe, not with instruments and background music. Seungmin and the rest of his friends witnessed how badass he is when it comes to music, but none of those shows met your eyes. 

He started to pull off the stage by singing Meddle About by Chase Atlantic. His lips moved as if he were making out with the microphone, and his fingers played with the strings as his voice resounded throughout the crowded room. Minho and Hyunjin supported him with the music and started banging the night. He was holding the mic with both of his hands as he sang his heart out. The veins on his neck become visible as he sings. It made him more natural and attractive. He jammed with the instrumentals in between the chorus and mouthed the adlib while he stared in your direction. His fingers strummed the electric guitar and a hint of crimson red showed up on your cheeks as you felt the heat coming with it. The loud beating of your heart and the adrenaline rush made you feel dizzy. You never saw this side of Jisung before, though you weren’t that close for the past few years, he is one fucking ace. And Chan is very proud now and then. 

The audience was too focused on the handsome young man performing on stage. The second song was his song, the one you heard on his cd player (Mixtape: Time Out), a rock summer vibe—a fresh song that comes with rap and drums; his vocals are too good to handle both singing and rapping. Everyone was cheering for him, the audience was jumping as they vibe with the song. He was also good at hyping them up and pointing to anyone who matches his energy. Yet his eyes would seek yours, it was something he is happy and thankful about. His heart never felt so giddy and fortunate when you are the reason why he is enjoying his time at the moment. 

Jisung kept running and walking around the small stage, sweat dripping from his forehead that made his brown locks soaked. His slicked-back hair becomes messy but he is still gorgeous. Chan noticed how you looked at him and nudged your arm, motioning his lips as if he was teasing you. Even Felix and Changbin were there, dancing like a married couple in front of the stage. And it lasted until his third and last song for the night. You listened closely and watched him as he sat down to sing a soothing melody after the hardcore ones. The sudden change of genre made you feel like falling in love. You love music all your life and you meet a lot of people who share the same interests as you but not like Jisung who took everything in one night. His friends and even Chan love to do the same as him but you see him differently. 

It is the way how calm he was—the spotlight was on him that made his visuals more appealing. The sweat ran down from his forehead to his ripped arms when he took off his jacket, his eyes filled with sincerity, and his voice blended with song. You couldn’t understand why your heart is acting up like you are about to fall for him. And it will get worse in the next few weeks as you expected. A small smile formed on your face when he ended the song and locked eyes with you. Jisung was satisfied as you fell into worry on the other hand. Who knows what will happen if he finds out that you fell in love in just one night with three songs? 

The night flew by and Jisung was given tips and compliments. He earned good money on his first night and he never stopped talking about it even when he was driving you both home. You congratulated him for being amazing on stage and he was really happy with it. Jisung never forgot to say thank you and made a breakthrough because of you. He never thought that this deal would lead to something beautiful for him. 

“Do you want to have a drink?” He asked as you walked side by side towards his apartment. 

“It’s 4 am, you need to rest,” You insisted as he let out a soft chuckle. 

“It’s Saturday morning though? What could go wrong?” He asked. 

“Fine, I’ll tolerate it,” You smiled at him as you offered your hand. Jisung immediately took it and pulled you inside his apartment. It was a signal but Jisung doesn’t want to do anything unless you want something. 

He got busy grabbing two glasses and a bottle of champagne that Hyunjin bought him the other week. You were waiting for him on the couch, wandering your eyes around. It’s not like it was your first time to be inside Jisung’s apartment, but it never fails to amaze you. His instruments were displayed neatly but on the other side of the room is a complete mess. He wasn’t expecting any guests anyway. But the fact that he wanted to celebrate this night with you after their very first performance as part of 5-STAR, Jisung is up for it. Both Hyunjin and Minho refused to stay up late because of the exhaustion, leaving you and Jisung together, in his very own place.

“I hope you like champagne?” He asked, placing them on the coffee table. 

“Of course,” You answered. 

“To us?” He said, raising his glass. 

“To you and Mist,” You smiled, raising your glass as well before making cheers with him.

“Since when did you learn how to play?” You asked, eyes still darted on him while you drink.

“Since I was 12, I guess?” He chuckled, holding his glass as he sat down beside you. “My dad taught me.” 

“No wonder why you were so good,” You said. “Minho and Hyunjin too,” 

“Thanks,” He said with a soft chuckle. “The guys are also natural at playing it,” 

“And you know what I think about you?” You said which made him hooked in the conversation while drinking. “I think you are so hot and beautiful while performing,” 

“You’re falling for me already?” Jisung smirked as you looked into his eyes. 

“Maybe,” You said. “And I’m sane right now,” Still not breaking eye contact. 

“And can I do something about it?” He asked, placing his glass on the table. 

“No,” You said. “Maybe?” 

“Stop with the Maybes, Y/n,” He giggled. “What do you want?” He asked.

“You.” 

You felt his lips on yours for the third time now. The taste of champagne lingers as you respond. Arms around his neck as he pulled you closer to him. As he deepened the kiss, he placed a hand on your nape and carefully stroked the side of your cheek. He could taste the champagne through the hint of your cherry-flavored lip gloss as your lips curved against one another. You could feel his grin between kisses, you began playing with his hair which caused him to bite your upper lip and sucked it before he could kiss you deeply again. 

Nobody had ever made you feel this way. Even if you remembered how your ex kissed you, it’s nothing compared to how Jisung does it. Heavy breaths were shared but none of you dared to stop. The sound of kisses, his soft lips, and your eagerness of it wanted more. He lifted you to make you sit on his lap and it surprised you for a moment but couldn’t mind it at all. You were lost and it made his heart pound. His tongue brushed across yours as you stopped and met his gaze after feeling his hand caressing your thigh. Cheeks began to flush. 

“What?” He asked. 

“I’m sane,” You said. 

“Darling, it’s just you and me,” He replied. “What’s stopping you?” He asked, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Nothing,” You said. “It’s just,” 

Jisung didn’t even wait for you to finish and just started to kiss you again. Hands on your cheeks as you leaned closer to hug him, continuing the kiss. It was soft and gentle, there was a spark in between. The lights flicker as the bubbles of the ignore champagne glasses evaporated to the surface. Jisung knew he likes you so much but going back to the question, what was stopping you? The question was vague but it will hit his ego if you answered that. You admit you were a bit hesitant to open up a new relationship after the heartbreak, but this is Jisung now. 

His back settled on the backrest of his couch as you leaned forward as his hands ran down rubbing his hands gently against your curves, squeezing them. A hint message that he likes it and you couldn’t agree more. The sounds of your smacking lips made Jisung hum in response. Your fingers played with his brown locks as you smiled in between the kiss. 

“Should we make it real?” He asked giving you a peck on the lips. 

“Do they know?” You asked. 

“Not yet,” He chuckled. “We can tell them later,”

“Okay,” You said quietly as your lips met again. His kisses have gotten more intense. He held your back to lay you on the soft couch as he hovered above you, taking off his tank top. The excitement rose when you saw how built his body was then he proceeded to have his lips meddle with yours. Fast heartbeats, eyes were shut to completely enjoy the moment, as the sounds of your lips smacking against one another in response to the tension—the kiss was heating up. 

Jisung felt your hands undoing his belt, the clanking of the hard material aroused when it hit the marble floor. He, then, starts undressing you leaving only your underwear. 

“You’re not shy are you?” He said. 

“It wasn’t the first time I made out with you,” You smirked meeting his lips again. Jisung put his thumb in between your lips as you kiss them gently, feeling his kisses on your neck. You hummed in response to his touch, you had to look the other way to provide him more access. You felt his teeth bite your soft skin and started nipping, intoxicated by the smell of your long-lasting perfume. “Hmmm,” You moaned. 

His kisses made their way down to your chest, in the valley of your covered tits as it goes down to your stomach which made you feel butterflies. 

“You’re so pretty,” He said. “But that’s not the only reason why I like you. May I?” 

You knew you want it too and didn’t even hesitate to permit him to take them off and go ahead. It was driving you crazy when you felt his lips kissing your thigh with his eyes staring at your wetness, he cooed at how pretty his view was that his tongue reached the opening making you mewl in return. 

“We were just kissing Y/n,” He smirked, spreading your legs wider so he could bury his face in your dripping cunt, devouring it with his mouth. 

“Fuck!” You hissed under your breath. Jisung’s hands tightened their grip on your thighs, squeezing them every time he hears you moan as your breath gets heavier by the time his tongue played with it. You grabbed his hand, interlocking your fingers together while feeling how good his mouth was. “It’s hot,”

But he didn’t stop there. You taste good, he loves it. He had his two fingers inside you as he slipped his tongue along with it. His fingers began to move quickly, receiving a delightful yet sinful sound from you. And as your lips gaped, you started humping on his fingers. That was it, your body was hot and started to move on its own. 

“Stay still, angel,” He said upon having his fingers get on a fast pace just to hear more of those sinful sounds coming out of your mouth. He didn’t stop, he doesn’t want to. Your hand reached his brown locks, dragging him up close to your pussy to feel more of it. But Jisung stopped so suddenly that it made you whine in return. 

“Why did you stop?” You asked. 

Jisung didn’t say anything, the next you knew you were being pulled to sit on his lap and grind on his clothed erection. His lips met yours again, but your hands were busy pulling down his pants, along with his black boxers. You gasped the moment he let himself buried inside you, slowly and gently just to start the night. He captured your lips again, not wanting to break the kiss as his hands were on your waist, hugging you closer while you were humping him. Your arms wrapped around his neck and went faster making him moan in between your kisses. His fingers reached for the hook of your bra, took it away, and tossed it somewhere in the living room. You didn’t stop there as you keep on riding his cock. It felt so good. 

“Faster baby,” He breathed, massaging your breasts and pinching your sensitive buds. Playing and pinching them made it even worse, eyes rolled back as you held his shoulders tightly. It sent shivers down your spine as you continued humping him. You could feel how hard he is inside you. The only sounds you could hear were your heavy breaths and Jisung’s moans underneath. He liked the idea of you riding him and his sounds were loud and clear when you started to go up and down as fast as you could. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” He hissed, biting and nipping your tits while massaging and squeezing the other one. 

“Baby,” You gasped, as his other free hand started caressing your body while you pull him closer to your chest. It made you arch your back as a response, and by this, he was given more access to have his mouth sucking your hard nipples. It was hot, his tongue won’t stop playing with it. Your head falls back, grinding him as his cock goes beyond his limits. 

“Fuck,” He cursed again as he went to your untouched boob. 

“Han,” You breathed. “I’m coming,” 

“Just let it out baby,” He said, thrusting his cock even faster. You bit your lower lip in response and come while Jisung was still going at his fast pace. He felt how hot it was, and before he could even come, he laid you down on the couch and pulled away making his cream spread across your stomach. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” You said in between your breath. 

“Do you want to wash up?” He asked again, fixing your hair. 

“A little later,” You smiled. “Hug me,” 

“Of course, love,” He said as he gave you a peck on the lips before pressing his body over you. A pair of arms wrapped around your back with your head on his chest as you hugged him tightly. This night has been exciting and tiring, and all he needs is to cuddle with you to end it. “Rest,” He added, kissing the side of your head. 

It was unexpected, but being with him is all good now and the remaining problem now is how are you going to announce that you’re already official?

Exactly a week passed by, and Jisung would never leave the floor without you. He would be on your couch when you’re in a hurry to get to school or work. It was decided that he’d only perform with Mist every weekend so he could get some free time with you after class. Chan immediately got the idea that you two are finally going out but at the same time, Jisung didn’t spill the beans yet to his other friends. 

“So you two are dating now?” Seungmin asked as you make your way to your workplace. 

“Yeah,” You smiled widely. 

“Let me guess, you two had sex?” Seungmin asked again, looking at you in disbelief as you rolled your eyes. “Well, well, well, aren’t you the one who cried over their ex two weeks ago?” 

“Shut up Seungmin, you know how I feel about Jisung now,” You defended. 

“Yeah, yeah, if it weren’t for that project we had, you wouldn’t be this close,” Seungmin answered, hands being shoved inside his pockets. 

“Also, let me thank you for rejecting me as your partner,” You smirked. 

“You’re welcome?” Seungmin chuckled. “Where’s Han? I thought we were going together?” 

“He went to work early,” You sighed. “I don’t know, he sent me a text saying not to wait for him or something,” 

Jisung went to the club earlier than usual the next Saturday night. He said he wanted to make his performance different compared to these past few nights. When you arrived an hour after him, the stage was already set up with Hyunjin and Minho. And that’s when the surprise started. 

White smoke crept over the floor to welcome the band as purple, red, blue, orange, and yellow lights filled the stage. The lead singer took a position in front of the crowd and began singing his heart out. He was getting all the hype he deserves as Hyunjin and Minho went hard on playing their designated instruments while Jisung stood out well. He was wearing his gray blazer, tight black pants, and a white polo shirt inside with a black tie. His hair was curled as these brown locks fell on his cheeks. His hand took the microphone from the stand and continued to sing the song you’d never heard before. 

Your heart started to beat faster like crazy. Blood rushed down your cheeks making it feel hot, the crowd made the room louder and the air conditioner you thought was not working well when in fact they are. It was just so hot that you couldn’t understand how you felt inside. And it only got worse when he took off his blazer, dropping it on the floor as he blurted out his self-composed lyrics while rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. He stopped for a few seconds only to pick up his electric guitar and started strumming it to the core. The instrumentals were crazy enough to make you feel dizzy and weak. As if he didn’t make you feel the same when you two had sex in his apartment. 

But this is it, Han Jisung just crashed his way in. 

“Hey! Hey! Hey!”

He was smirking all over the way, the feeling of cockiness took over his system as he had his tongue out just for the sake of rising confidence. It made you feel weak in the knees. He was looking at you and winked. 

“Someone’s going get laid tonight,” Chan laughed. 

“Oh, you bet,” Seungmin answered, giving the older one a high five. 

“Shut up you two,” You hissed as you continued watching. Jisung stood behind his mic stand and sang the lyrics of his unreleased song. It was heartful, especially when he hit the high note at the end earning claps and screams from everyone. 

“Felt like a concert,” Chan said. 

“I told you he’s good,” Seungmin added. 

You went backstage after his performance, he was preoccupied with saying his thanks to everyone, the same goes for Minho and Hyunjin who are covered in sweat for giving their all. The three of them did well, but there’s Jisung who stood out the most to you and after that, all three of them went down. 

“That was so good!” You exclaimed. 

“Thanks Y/n, thank you for hiring us,” Minho said. 

“It was nothing,” You giggled. “You totally rocked it,” 

“I’m shy now,” Hyunjin laughed. 

“Own it guys, you were so good,” You said and that’s when you saw Jisung who just got down. “Hannie!” You squealed and went over to him for a hug. “I’m so proud of you!” 

“Since when did they get so close?” Hyunjin asked. 

“They’re going out,” Seungmin butted in. 

“What?” Minho said. 

“It’s not a surprise anymore so, accept the truth,” Chan added. 

“Did you like it?” Jisung asked. 

“Of course! Was that the song you were working on in your studio?” 

“Yeah,” He laughed. “Definitely,” 

“It was really good,” You smiled. “And I like your outfit today, your hair, wow, they’re very rockstar material,” 

Later that moment you found yourself kissing him inside the dressing room as his hand went for the lock to make sure no one comes in. You felt his hand caressing your cheek not breaking the kiss before hitting your back on the wall. As soon as he pressed you against the wall, his lips became impatient. Your hands rushed to remove his jacket and started to loosen his tie while your lips stayed together throughout the passionate kiss. 

“You’re quite eager are you?” He smirked in between, biting your lower lip before sucking it. His hand reached your ass, squeezing it making you giggle in return, and kissed him again. Jisung lifted your shirt revealing your black-laced bra, his kisses went down again from your neck to the valley of your breast, squeezing your boobs enough to make you moan. You watch him go down, dragging your shorts down along with your matching underwear. He got on his knees as he rested your leg on his shoulders, licking and sucking your wetness. You leaned closer against the wall as Jisung started eating you out. It wasn’t part of the plan, he gave his all tonight so he deserves it. 

“Baby, fuck!” You hum in response as your mouth gaps and the burning sensation you felt when his tongue is pressed hard on your dripping cunt, licking and teasing it. You started grinding on his mouth making him smack your ass hard earning a sinful sound. Biting your lip, you can’t hold your sounds in, you know the people around love to eavesdrop when something like this happens. 

Jisung loved how you taste, but eating your pussy doesn’t satisfy him that easily. He asked you to bend over the vanity table and watched every expression you make in the mirror when his cock slipped inside you as he started to fucked you from behind. His hand made a makeshift ponytail with your hair, thrusting his hips at a fast pace. Your hands held the table tightly, feeling every inch of his dick coming in and out of your hole. Sounds of screams and cries echoed throughout the room and you know how much it turned him on. 

“You’re taking me so well, babe,” He said, leaning forward to kiss your neck as his hands cupped your boobs and squeezed them. He never stopped fucking you from that position. The feeling was immaculate. His lips met yours, devouring them as if he was hungry—his pace never went down and kept its speed. You moaned in his lips as he pinched your nipples making you reach your limits. You weren’t used to sex, and you know Jisung understands. But this time, you wanted it to last. The same goes for him and it is the second time after all. 

He lifted your leg on the table and went harder. It made you break the sloppy make-out you shared. The feeling feels like there’s a fire in your body that burns every time Jisung touches you like this. It made you go insane when he slapped your ass. 

“Ah! Fuck you,” You whined. 

“Well, I am,” He smirked, biting your neck, nipping your skin, and leaving some marks. 

“Han,” You gasped, mouth open as your legs started to quiver. “I’m coming,” 

“Not yet baby,” You heard him say. 

“Fuck, I can’t,” You whined. 

“Where’s the fun if I’ll let you?” He smirked, biting your lip. “You’re hot, baby,” He added, hugging you from behind, but that doesn’t stop you from being out of breath and quivering. You turned around and met his lips, kissing him again. It was gentle this time, arms wrapped around his neck as he made you sit on the table. Your fingers played with his curly brown locks which made him smile in between your kisses. 

He pushed himself inside you again and started his pace faster than usual. It was extreme, the tension between you two was hard to identify. No matter how hard he goes, it always feels good when his lips are on yours. You could feel every inch of him as he fucked you harder and faster. Nothing compares to this feeling when you were still with your dumb ex-boyfriend. Han Jisung is definitely wholesome. 

Everyone is right about him, he’s dominant and it makes your body burn. 

“You want to come?” He asked as you nodded desperately. “Say please,” 

“Please?” You breathed in between your shared kiss. 

“I’m almost there baby,” He groaned, burying his face on your neck in the same position. He felt your fingers dug up his skin, making traces of red lines that made him swear, stopping at the time when you couldn’t hold it anymore and came. “My dick is covered with your cum, babe,” He said, kissing your cheek and pulled away before he could come inside you. 

“I hate you,” You said, smacking his chest playfully. 

“That hurts my feelings,” He laughed. “Are you okay?” He asked, caressing your cheek. 

“I’m fine,” You answered, giving him a peck on his lips. “You did well tonight. Shall we go home and take some rest?” You smiled, hugging him closer. 

“Do I get cuddles?” He asked, giving you his puppy eyes. 

“Of course baby, you deserve it,” You replied, giving him another kiss. “I love you, Han,” 

“That’s the most precious thing I’ve ever heard tonight,” He said. “You know that I love you too, Y/n,” He smiled. 

“I know,” You smiled.

“Let’s go home now,” 

So this is what falling in love feels like, the one he thought that he needs to pass countless levels just to reach the top has come to an end. Jisung found you now, and it will change his perspective for quite a while. 

Then there’s you, opening up again. It wasn’t easy at first, the long drive could end in burning flames or paradise and you were sure, it was paradise. 

“Good night, Y/n,” 

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Jungkook is the golden boy, an excellent student, the star of you college’s football team. Rumor has it, there’s simply nothing he can’t do. The same cannot be said about you, but you’ve never had an issue with that. You’re happy with your small group of friends and your lack of talent in sports. And then, Jin befriends Jungkook, and you find yourself spending a lot of time with him. Before you know it, you’ve taken an interest in him — and you’re sure you shouldn’t. There’s no way this can end well for you… right?

↳ if i can never give you peace // series. angst, eventual smut. mafia!AU, hybrid!AU, enemies to lovers, slow burn. in progress.

It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed. Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine. Until he comes back.

0 · 1 · 2 · 3 · 4 · 5 · Interlude · 6 · 7 · 8 · 9 ·

STRAY KIDS

★ Bang Chan

↳ all your friends are so cool, you go out every night // smut. college!AU, friends with benefits!AU, jealousy. 5k.

↳ hoodie season // tooth-rotting fluff. established relationship AU. 1.4k.

★ Lee Know

↳ when he sees me // smut, fluff, angst. neighbors!AU. 13.3k. in progress.

Interacting with others has never been easy for you, whether it is talking to them or, worse, flirting with them. As a result, relationships, but also any form of sexual interactions have always eluded you. You had no reason to think that was going to change anytime soon. And then your hot neighbor’s cat shows up in your apartment, and you think that things just might change. Even if it’s only on one front.

↳ kinda wanna throw my phone across the room // fluff. college!AU, coffee shop!AU, strangers to lovers, jealousy. 4.9k

★ Changbin

↳ wanna be you so bad // angst? college!AU, academic rivals!AU, jealousy. 4.3k

★ Hyunjin

↳ you're so gorgeous it makes me so mad // PWP, smut. college!AU, established relationship. 4.4k

↳ comparison is killing me slowly // hurt/comfort, smut. college!AU, established relationship, jealousy. 5.2k. same couple as you're so gorgeous it makes me so mad.

★ Han

↳ i'm so sick of myself // fluff, angst. college!AU, friends to lovers. 4.2k

↳ something's waiting now to pounce // angst, light horror, thriller. high school!AU, slasher!AU, friends to lovers. 6.3k.

★ Felix

↳ felix navidad // fluff, angst. christmas evel!au, strangers to lovers. 16.4k

You keep seeing Felix around. First he falls in your courtyard on Christmas Eve, then you see him hiding chocolate eggs in a park, and then he appears on the staircase behind your apartment, in the middle of the night. It’s unusual, and you have no idea what it means. What you do know, though, is that you’re absolutely fascinated by him, who he is, and the light and joy he seems to bring with him everywhere he goes. Even if you have no idea who or what he is, all that you want is to find out more — and get to spend a little more time with him.

↳ rather be anyone else // angst. college!AU, friends to lovers, jealousy. 3.7k

↳ wouldn't you like to see something strange? // angst, suggestive. urban fantasy, roommates!AU. 4k.

★ Seungmin

↳ i think i think too much // fluff, suggestive. college!AU, established relationship, jealousy. 3.7k

↳ everybody make a scene // fluff, angst (both light). coworkers!AU, convenience store!AU, friends to lovers. 4k

★ I.N.

↳ all i see are girls too good to be true // fluff, light angst. college!AU, idiots to lovers, jealousy. 3.9k

↳ take a chance and roll the dice // fluff. coworkers!AU, bar!AU. 3.7k

#bts x reader #skz x reader #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #hoseok x reader #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #lee yongbok x reader #han x reader #han jisung x reader #seungmin x reader #i.n. x reader #in x reader #jeongin x reader #skz fluff #skz smut #skz angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst

[chokchokk]

2/2

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 [𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬] | choi san x fem!reader

PART THREE of : have your way with words, be my people pleaser 

“Be mine tonight, Y/N.”

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: The hour is twisted. You’re not at a club, you’re not sober, but most importantly, you’re not with him. Will Seonghwa do? No, of course not.

But he leaves you no other chance.

“You’re so pathetic, it might actually be worth a try.”

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: angst, smut

𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜: 2nd half of PART THREE

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 13.3k

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): drug-use, drug abuse, alcohol, mdma (ecstasy, molly), vulgar language, just a lot of vulgarities and profanity, hate-fuck?, aggressive, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, sex with feelings but no love, sex with no respect, cumming inside; reader cant stop thinking about san, writer is a bit stoic, seonghwa is a hot bitch, hwa and writer are liars lmao

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: the border looks that ugly on purpose btw not that you think otherwise LMAO

on ao3, this chapter is called “insanity” and i can’t promise it will be the only seonghwa-centred part throughout the series, but do please enjoy for the filth and angst of it all hehe!! <33 if you're asking “does san even make an appearance here?” i won’t tell you :P i know it's intimidating since there's just about like 10k build-up (because i'm a bitch LMAO) so if u wanna skip just find the second border i guessssssss

also, i really recommend listening to KLOUD's ESCAPE HALLOWEEN set (it's a soundcloud link) or any other hard tekno for the whole immersive experience lmao !!! <33

and also, thank you all very much for 100 followers and over 1000 notes ! ! ! wtf it's all happening so fast i can't catch up with yall....

𝚝𝚊𝚐-𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @brown88 : @svintsandghosts: @hanniebeesworld : @downbadreading : @shingsoluvely (kissing all of yall <33)

Didn’t Seonghwa say “club” or are you being some conservative narc flaking out?

You’re standing in front of a white, slightly burnt industrial building that is barely holding on by itself, and taking into account how many people are smoking around here, the likeliness that it will catch on fire again is not too low. You can’t believe that you’re going to meet Seonghwa inside here, let alone San, let alone anyone with a healthy sense for flight or fight, but here you are, walking up to the line with confident steps.

Yes, it has made you very anxious that even the taxi-driver had no idea where he was heading. He promised to drive you back home if anything happened, so the taxi-hotline is on speed-dial— just in case— and you just thought, holy fuck, hopefully Seonghwa won't leave me alone here.

But once you’d seen the seemingly endless line of people, you knew you have arrived at the right place. Or at least something like the right place. It all seems off, this building in the middle of nowhere outside the city, but you told the driver the vague address and he found you this hidden ware- and clubhouse, both of you hesitating to confirm that this was the correct location.

Nothing here seems legal, smells legal, looks legal— oh well.

The only thing you can say with certainty is is that you are looking and smelling the best you have ever looked and smelled this entire semester, and even if you have no fucking clue who these people that are whistling at you are, you know you’ve done everything right tonight when they wave at you to join them. You just skipped a whole chunk of the line here, but nobody seems to mind it. What a democratic party, maybe it’s not all that foul play and people do appreciate good things, eh?

It’s not an exaggeration or empty self-boast: You, in your skin-tight, revealing black body-con dress, skin glowing under the harsh night-light, are absolutely ravishing. There are looks on you— uncountably many of them, and usually, you’d fold under their heavy gaze, but having taken a few shots of the cheap rum back at home, you reciprocate their curious eyes with a sleek, cheeky smile, down-right inviting them to bathe in your appearance.

While the group of people take in the presence of you, blurting out their first thoughts immediately upon thinking, your confidence only grows bigger. Thank god drunk people say the truth, because “damn, she’s hot” is the ego-boost you needed to face whatever awaits you in that cubic building.

“ARE YOU FUCKING READY?”, booms out of it and it seems like a voice sample that’s been altered that hellishly deep. The crowd outside cheers. They're not even a part of the shenanigans yet, but still, they’re screaming and already moving their body in anticipation, throwing funny looking candy (you’re very sure that’s molly) inside their mouths. They’re ready, but Y/N, are you? It is an honest question to ask yourself, and as you inhale the smell of people smoking the devil’s lettuce around you, you draw out how the night might progress for them.

You don’t know about San’s whereabouts, only that Seonghwa and him are going separately, which is a big plus if you want to fuck him today.

Uh-huh. Fuck Seonghwa. You’ve made it up in your mind because he just wouldn’t stop hinting at it in the car this morning. He is going to buy you drinks, going to show you his dancing, but most importantly, going to “make you enjoy yourself”, which of course, could just be wishful thinking from you iterating the conversation, but Seonghwa wouldn’t have bought the tickets for you for free if he wasn’t expecting some type of reward, would he?

At the minimum, the hinting painfully reminded you of the way you talked to San the very first days you first insinuated that he could stay over at your house and — oh, golly! — sleep there. Coming to think of it, your talk actually never worked, and it still ended up being San who made the first sexual move. You’re going to save Seonghwa from this embarrassment, and if not, you’re going to save yourself from your own embarrassment for if you do see San and his volleyball-“date” or whatever here.

Anyhow, at the maximum, you have a brain and are fully aware of the fact that people don’t “meet” at the club to just have a chat, whether it's him or San. People “meet” at the club to get crazy and fuck, and that’s exactly what you’re doing with Seonghwa — End of story. San is not going to write this chapter today. He won’t even end up in the epilogue, that’s how much you’re going to focus on Seonghwa. Go down. Get him on. Get on with him.

You bop your head a little bit to the deep bass that’s vibrating through the walls of the warehouse and the line is taking a painfully long time to move forward. You watch the people in your group chug down their self-mixed abominations and how they're throwing the remaining glass on the floor, whiffing their stimulants through their joints or gulping it down by tablets. Letting out a huff to exhale the sharp smell of weed, you try to become as detached as the ones around you, at the very least assimilate to their mood. You’re going to be with these people tonight, and just by putting one and one together, you get the feeling that it will be a long, ruthless evening. You can hear intoxicated screams leave the front door, the deep voice continuing to hype up their cheers.

It's all a hivemind of pure madness and … well, you're here for it, it seems like, no? Seonghwa is not going to be an exception, and you brace yourself to be meeting your date here.

Show you his dancing, he said…

You don’t know whether the DJ playing some extraordinary remixes or whatever to be deserving this much of screaming feedback, but it’s definitely music to get your mind lost to, you'll give this guy Mingi that; Splurging, ear-numbing beats and basses, inviting you to rock your body. You don’t hate the music, not at all. It just makes you question how Seonghwa was imagining to impress you. Here you are imagining body-rolls or whatnot, but this hard style techno isn't really the tune for that, is it? Okay, let's just say it's not music you'd turn on to get yourself into the mood on a Saturday night, that's what's there to it.

It’s ironical, really. Usually around this time you’d be fumbling around your phone on your couch to ask San if he’s free or not, and sometimes he is, but most of the time he’s not. Those days where he just comes over on your mark have been over long time. Now, he’ll either show up at your house unprecedented or ask you to show up at his house in an ungodly hour.

Huh, isn’t that one funny butterfly effect. You woke up early because of San's mistress and here you are, lining up to become Seonghwa's. Is this right? "I heard you were going to be at Mingi’s party. Meet me there." Even now, you’re trying to convince yourself that this contact name “volleyball” could be anyone, maybe even just a friend that is trying to link up at this not-so party-looking party. Hm, you think, would a friend text him so intimidatingly? San hates periods to end messages, it scares him. So no, not a friend. At least not a friend that knows him as much as you do. Someone he had a fight with, maybe? No, Choi San doesn’t have fights, he’s too avoidant of conflict for that. It has got to be someone that has once been close to him and a bit too close to your liking.

No, no, fuck no, let’s stop this, you murmur to yourself and wriggle down your dress so it covers your ass at least.

Fucking Seonghwa. That’s your one and only mission tonight, of course followed by having fun and getting all hell loose.

It will just be one night and it will either make you 1) want to stay with San, or 2) finally move on and agree that San is just a … friend with too many benefits. You have to convince yourself you’re not in love with San. You can’t be in love with San. Disregarding of how curious you are in meeting him here.

“Ticket,” the control-man orders around the people in front of you and you get out your phone out of your tiny bag for the ticket, when you see that Seonghwa has already messaged you.

Seonghwa (San’s roomie): I’ll be waiting at the bar for you by the way Seonghwa (San’s roomie): You have to walk up the stairs on the left when you enter Seonghwa (San's roomie): Excited to see you ;)

You have been guessing already that something was going to break tonight, but it might as well be those stairs Seonghwa is talking about. From the amount of people that are still waiting behind you, you hope that they’re not all trying to go the bar.

“Ticket, please,” the control-man repeats, but strangely enough, his tone is a bit friendlier to you for some reason. “Here you go,” you duplicate his kindliness and he nods, dropping his smile as soon as he moves on to the next guess. Strange.

You eye the buff guy, but the impatient crowd pushes you into the square door. In you go.

“GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP!”

Harsh red lights, laser and smoke hit your senses. (Though you can only be so sure that the last part is really planned for the show-experience.)

Maybe you underestimated the capabilities of a warehouse. It’s still not what you thought of when you heard "club", but it surely still gets your club-mind going. Ignoring the grimy looking walls that seem to crumble with every beat that’s drumming inside your ears, the pungent smell of cheap-ass perfume, artificial sweeteners and alcoholic beverages strike into your nose, blurring your sight for a short moment. There are no windows in this hell-hole, but that’s the concern for another hour.

This is only the beginning. So, let’s focus.

Left, stairs, go up, there’s the bar Seonghwa was messaging you about. It surprises you that you’re not being swarmed by more people trying to get drinks, but it makes sense, since so many of them have already drunk outside or taken other substances to get themselves prepared for the night. That’s the first thing.

Second thing; suprisingly, the stairs are actually kind of durable. You can physically feel the bass run through your veins as you grab the handrail, but maybe that’s just because of the cold metal. Nothing to worry about here, you exhale and make your way up.

Lastly, and most importantly, look at you, you’re smiling. That’s the biggest, best thing. The euphoria these people are screaming out is down-right infectious, isn’t it? Their daft, hypnotic cries are calling out to you on the dance floor, but you’re going to be there sooner or later, with the man that brought you here in the first place.

“Hey, Seonghwa.”

“Hey, Y/N, you—“

He was sitting on a barstool, admiring the flashing lights all throughout the warehouse through his sunglasses, when you put your hand on his barely clothed shoulder and make him turn around.

“Holy shit, Y/N.”

You grin. Of course Seonghwa wouldn’t disappoint with his reaction. He rips the sunglasses from his face immediately, gets up from his seat and embraces you with one arm, not daring to let one eye sway away from you, his tongue pushed to the surface of his mouth, as he suppresses his gleeful grin. He looks star-struck, the supernatural-looking lights surrounding him are only emphasising this sight. Otherworldly.

“Where have you been hiding that?”, he asks, commenting on your body as respectfully as he can. You know he can’t handle a lot of alcohol, so his marvel must be double the truth, right? Seonghwa isn’t a liar.

“I’ve not been hiding anything,” you scoff and Seonghwa laughs nervously.

“Y/N, you look… absolutely fantastic.”

“You don’t look to shabby yourself, Seonghwa,” you smile and muster the charcoal-haired man from bottom to top. It’s very out-of the ordinary, but honestly, you should have expected something like this after he invited you here. It goes without saying, you could have served him the same reaction to his outfit. The man who was wearing sportswear? He’s now wearing a black, nylon, baggy pant, with a distressed knitted top that barely serves as an excuse for clothing as it is not covering any of his body parts correctly— and even if you’d already gushed about his athletic figure this morning, you have not expected to be seeing Seonghwa’s abs and breast this exposed this early tonight. There is jewellery all around his outfit, just dangling from the fabric, but also his ear and hands, spiky and shiny, almost hazardous looking.

Damn, either you haven’t seen Seonghwa enough or this dude has been hiding more from you than you could account for. He looks as fashionable as much as he looks demonic, ready to sin with you, and that is the most meaningful compliment of the night.

“Thank you, I knew you’d like it.”

“Really? Me?”, you laugh, getting your hair out of your face, tugging it behind your ear.

“You have a strange taste,” Seonghwa smirks and while you puzzle together what he means, he signs something to the bartender with his ringed fingers.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m ordering us shots. Keeping my first promise.”

“With sign-language?”

Seonghwa smirks and sits down again, you following him to the same.

"I'm a friend of Mingi's, they know me around, that's all."

"Y'all are weird."

“That’s just our ways here.”

“Your ways? You sound like some pretentious club-kid,” you nag.

“What if I am, huh? Are you gonna leave, if I was?”, Seonghwa teases and is served a tray of four shots, coloured a dangerously unnatural purple colour. He slides a 10-dollar bill onto the counter and the bar-keeper takes it with no words spoken out loud, which gives Seonghwa the time to devote all his attention to you. It’s flattering how astounded he is by you, as if he hasn’t seen you pretty ever in his life. But then again, you can only do so much styling and make-up when San calls you at 10 PM, asking you to “hurry”.

“We’ll see how the night progresses,” you smirk, and grab the first shot. Seonghwa also takes one and slightly raises the small cup.

“I won’t disappoint you.”

Sweet — the taste of the shot.

All types of fruits and harsh, cheap liquour plunge into your mouth and melt on your tongue. It’s going to make your head hurt the next day, one hundred percent, but maybe it will be Seonghwa to get you some pills to soothe the ache.

… If he wasn’t San’s god-damned roommate.

Or he could stay at your home. It’s been a while since another man than him has slept in your bed, and maybe it’s long overdue.

“Let’s hurry up, I wanna dance with you,” you gulp down the sugary liquid and Seonghwa chuckles.

“We’ve got enough time, Y/N. Let’s savour this one together.”

Sweet — The spark in his eyes, his flawless skin, perfectly plump lips— holy fucking shit. Seonghwa is fucking breathtaking.

“Y/N?”, Seonghwa asks and you see that he’s already moved on to the second shot, waiting for you to move on.

“I didn’t know you had that kind of sexy stare in you,” your alcohol blurts out for you and in the meanwhile, you grab the next shot glass.

“Sexy stare?”, Seonghwa asks and grins.

“Screw you! You know what I’m talking about,” you hiss and show him your tongue to offend him, but Seonghwa just tilts his head, raising the glass to your face.

“Loveshot?”, he asks and for a moment, you don’t know whether he’s joking or not. Maybe you’re just feeling weird because a male has said the word “love” in your proximity. (The only man in your life who's a candidate in hearing that word avoids it like a disease.)

“Only if you mean it,” you purr seductively, lick your lips, and praise to fucking god he’s taking the hint. Seonghwa leans in and crosses your arms around, the cold rim of his drink suddenly resting at your lip.

“That’s not how loveshots work,” you notify, but you still mirror him and place your glass under his lips.

“Do you care?”

“No.”

Seonghwa chuckles and with one movement of his hand, the second shot is flowing down your oesophagus. It’s cold, starkly contrasting the humid conditions in the warehouse, but it’s just enough to get your senses rolling again.

You don’t even care that you made Seonghwa miss half the drink, his alcohol tolerance will give him just the right kick from the first shot. Also he doesn’t protest at all, when you hop from your seat to finally get the evening going.

“Let’s go now!”, you order him around and he gladly obeys. “Lead the way,” he says, putting his hands on your shoulder, which he hopefully won't be able to keep there for long, as you both strut down the stairs and into the crowd.

The massive crowd is crazy, and it’s ever-growing.

“What is this place?”, you ask Seonghwa, as he’s being pushed against your back by the people on the way to the dancefloor and Seonghwa has the perfect opportunity to grab you by your hips to not lose you, but frustatingly enough, he doesn’t. His hands leave your shoulders and Seonghwa just tries to manoeuvre to you.

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you,” Seonghwa answers honestly and you look for a free place to roam and dance. People are trying to get as close to the DJ as possible, but once those are gone, there’s actually some space you can use— you just have to get there.

“You come here often?”, you ask, leaning backwards for your voice to hit his skin. You'll be hoarse by the end of the night.

“I’ve only went twice. San went to every single set of Mingi, though!”

“Really? San goes here frequently?”

“Yeah! Does that shock you?”

“Of course it does.” You stop, turn around and Seonghwa’s hands stay in place in his pants, as you talk to him. “This, all of this, doesn’t seem like San at all.”

“Hmm, I know what you’re getting at. But that’s just our boy, eh?”

You stare into his eyes and search for some type of playfulness, but Seonghwa means his words. This is where San roams— is roaming right now, maybe— and it, all of it, just fucking confuses you. This is not the "party" you would have expected to see that man in, and if that wasn't bad enough, he's apparently a regular. You hope you’re not pushing some kind of innocent image onto him, but despite the alcohol that's heating up your cheeks and making you dumber every talking second, you’re seriously puzzled. That he’s never invited you is questionable already, but is “that San for you”? You don't know.

Wiggling your hips, you try to retrace history to the very moment you had met shy little San at the seminar, up until now, where he’s grown three times his size and you feel like he's some type of fucking mystery that is impossible for you to solve. Nerd? Hopeless romantic? Hard to get? Playboy? San may act like he’s open-minded, but he’s the most secretive guy you’ve seen. Not like Seonghwa, who, mind you, is still looking at you with the most intense fuck-me eyes, that it’s actually eating you up.

“Let’s stop talking about San.”

“Why?”, Seonghwa asks, obliviously, eyes turning back to normal.

“Because it’s us here! You and I, Seonghwa and Y/N. If they drank a loveshot together, they should act like it, don't ya think, huh?” you grunt, already slurring your words. You start to move your body according to the heavy beat, tits jerking out to the front, arms waving like they have a life on their own. Seonghwa smiles and accordingly begins to step his feet where yours aren’t; your bodies are annoyingly close, but still not touching at all.

“How do you mean that, Y/N?”, he asks and you slap his revealed shoulder with the back of your hand to stop his teasing. “I thought you wanted to show me your dancing, Seonghwa!”, you whine and he laughs at your comment.

But Seonghwa doesn’t say anything after that, which gets on your nerves even more and in response, you turn your body slightly away while swaying your hips from side to side.

“You know what you said,” you hiss and he probably can’t hear you because the DJ is transitioning to a track with even more bass penetrating your ears.

You scurry your body to the beat and catch the gaze of someone in the crowd, who’s noticed you for the same reasons Seonghwa can’t keep his eyes away from you. The stranger is drilling his gaze up and down your chiselled body, licking his lips. Feeling playful, you make a suggestive expression towards him in return of the attention, winking at him. The male immediately makes his way to you.

"You do molly?”, he asks into your ear and you see that he’s got two skittles with cartoonish hearts and smileys drawn on them. That’s Adam. You never did him before, but you surely have heard of him, your friends have had him, your friends have loved him, your friends had painful break-ups with him. Merciless adam, MDMA.

You look back at Seonghwa who’s still dancing next to you, acting like he's not watching this whole situation go down, putting on his sunglasses again, and pushing it up his nose bridge. It sucks. His skin under the top is teasing you to look at it, and it feels so unusual to be longing for him, like you can't comprehend he's not... the other one.

So, though you do hesitate for a short second, you take two of the heart-painted ones and smile at the stranger, who sounds rotten from inside out, voice raspy and hoarse.

“Are you alone?”, he asks into your ear and while you think of answer, you muster Seonghwa, whose eyes you cannot track anymore, since the black cubic shades are hiding his prettiest possession. Is he still looking at you? Watching the sky? Who knows. Only he knows.

“Maybe?”, you answer and rotate your head to the stranger’s direction. You don’t care for this man, not at all, but what you do care for is Seonghwa’s reaction. Bouncing your ass up and down against the stranger's baggy jeans like the grand girl you are, he gets his hand at your waist and tries to pull you over his place, but, there he is, Seonghwa to come save the night.

“Fuck off, she's taken.”

He pushes the male away with his elbow and the grip immediately loosens up. “Hey, hey, dude, don’t hit me. Sorry, dude.” Seonghwa is visibly taller than him, and apparently that’s enough for the poor guy to get intimidated by his sunglassed face and disappear into the crowd with quick feet.

“YOU WANNA PLAY?”, the artificially deepened voice echoes through the warehouse and you stare into what you can make out from Seonghwa’s eyes with an earnest frown. You’ve felt unnecessarily angsty and frustrated the whole day since you saw that message on San’s phone, and this is the guy who’s going to hold responsibility for it, better with his whole fucking devotion now.

“What was that?”, you tease Seonghwa, who’s finally getting his hands out of his pockets and pulling you closer to him by your wrist. You can’t exactly read his expression since he’s covered his face still, but that actually makes it feel a lot better. There's something off about him, like Seonghwa is a stranger, like you’re not doing it for him, but rather… yourself. You're doing this because it makes you feel good, not the other way around. That's empowering.

“Whatever you want it to be, Y/N.”

“Stop tip-toeing around it! Are you going to fuck me or not? ‘Cause there’s more of those guys everywhere here,” your alcohol spits again and Seonghwa pants.

“Well, shit,” he laughs and finally glides into your waist with his arms. “That was direct.”

“I can flirt with you, but not under these fucking conditions,” you growl, intoxicated, recycling gritty air in your lungs, moving your sticky body to the beat and occasionally grinding against Seonghwa’s lower body with your legs from the front. "I can flirt and fuck you," he hums and frames his hands around your hips, connecting himself to you.

“Do you do molly, Seonghwa?”, you grin, the two pills waiting to be popped in inside your hand.

Seonghwa takes a look at the capsules, and you wait for his answer, as he appears to investigate them. Does he know what he's looking for? Apparently yes, as he pushes up his sunglasses and rubs the corners of his lips with two of his fingers, “Gimme.”

He picks it up from your flattened hand, and you would’ve loved to share it like a love-shot again, but before you could request it, Seonghwa has gulped it down. Not his first rodeo, you assume, and follow his suit.

Good thing that your throat hasn't dried out yet and the pill glides down your throat with your saliva. It's not going to take long until the jubilation of the alcohol you've consumed meets the ecstatic effect of molly, and you bite your lip with a grin. "Never thought I'd be doing drugs with you, Seonghwa," you purr and Seonghwa shrugs with a huff, “I thought you’d never even consider it.” Seonghwa exhales in the heat of it all, pulling you closer.

“What? Because of San?”

“Of course because of San,” Seonghwa cackles and puts his pointy chin in between the space of your collarbone and neck, so that his voice is hitting the spot of your hickey. “You know he’s here somewhere, right?”

“Yeah, but the probability that we’ll see him is like zero, so that’s not my concern.”

“You’d be concerned if he saw us, though?”, Seonghwa asks, loose-tongued, murmuring against your neck. He’s definitely fully gotten drunk, his body heavily weighing into yours, as he gets one arm up and around your head; his hand is tangled into your scalp without a caution of messing up your hairstyle. You finding out what the molly will do to him is only a matter of time.

“Are you asking if I’m committed to him?”

Seonghwa licks his lips, “accidentally” getting your skin with his tongue. It takes you aback a bit and you whine, your eyes dozing off for a short moment. You can still taste the remains of the shot at the back of your cheeks and it's the only thing you can sense correctly. Everything else is either fogged or slowly disappearing, or becoming even harsher like the red laser lights that you fear are going to pierce through you.

“No, I’m not asking whether you’re committed,” Seonghwa answers, leaning into your skin even more, “I know you guys aren’t in a relationship. Or, you know, at least he isn’t committed.”

“WANNA GET NASTY?”

It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. Even when you’re feeling very seduced because he is trying to get the same moaning reaction out of you by licking your sensitive spot and it’s working, you don’t want to be reminded that San doesn’t care for you as much as you do for him. Sure, that sounds harsh, but it’s the truth, isn’t it? You’re not the one living in the same space as San, Seonghwa is.

“Huh? Does he sleep with a lot of women?”, you ask him out of morbid curiosity, acting tough, as Seonghwa works deeper into your neck, getting the skin to soften for him.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Fuck you! Don’t protect me!”

“Ask him yourself,” he lisps, his sharp tongue grazing against your hickey, teasing your pettiness.

“I deserve to know.”

Seonghwa is the one rolling his eyes now, sighing, “You can be such an annoying brat, Y/N. How does San keep up with you?”

You try to yank your head back to show your discontent with his choice of words, but Seonghwa has you deep in his grip and puts you in place.

“You were the one who didn’t want to talk about San,” he lulls into your ear, stroking your hair to calm you down. Sure, that sounds reasonable, but still not an excuse to call you an “annoying brat”.

You take a wild guess about why Seonghwa isn’t just giving you the answer and argue, “I can still be curious, can’t I? San is not committed, you say? Why? Does he get more bitches than you?”

“He tried to get back with his ex.”

Bingo!

Wait, no. What the fuck?

“Huh, when?”, you ask, and irritatingly enough, Seonghwa has begun biting and licking into your neck at the one spot you can’t stop exhaling sweet noises for him. “Seonghwa, you better fuu-huucking answer.”

“Yesterday,” he murmurs against your skin and ding, ding, ding; things make a lot of sense now.

“No, you’re kidding,” you scoff, and push him away with all your strength. With a numbed mind, Seonghwa tumbles back and laughs, “Hey, it’s no big deal, he called you immediately after it didn’t work out.“

“Seonghwa, are you listening to yourself?”

“WANNA GET FUCKING CRAZY?”

“I’m saying it all like it happened, Y/N. San tried to win her back by inviting her to an expensive dinner, but then she flunked out right in the end, when he invited her back home. And, when he came home alone with a boner, San contacted you.”

“You're lying. Don't lie, Seonghwa, lying is a sin," your splur, but once his words have met your brain, it all just becomes chaos inside. It feels like marbles are rolling down inside your head and nothing is making sense, it’s all going nowhere and everywhere with this information. What are you supposed to feel like? Betrayed? There has never been a promise. Sad? You were going to fuck Seonghwa, you're not the most truthful, either.

“Come on, Y/N. You knew it the second San slammed you against that wall at 11 PM, didn’t you?” Seonghwa glides his thumb over your neck and grins, confirming the evidence of yesterday’s night. The roughful sucking of San could barely be covered up by concealer, and you probably sweated it away already.

“He— he said he was stressed.”

“Because of uni? Don’t lie to yourself, Y/N~”, the male purrs. Amidst of it all, Seonghwa is strangely still moving his body calculated to the beat, hitting each one of the drums with his shoulders, all while he hushes behind you to brainwash you with a whiskery voice. “It’s still San we’re talking about.”

You huff perplexedly and are too flabbergasted by his harsh words to not be affected by Seonghwa’s talking and let him hug you tightly again. He’s almost putting you into a headlock of consolation, or something that would have been great if it had been, indeed, consolation. (It is not. He’s almost choking you with his forearm and the way his hand is pushing into your scalp, nothing about this position is in any way soothing.)

“Tell me something, Seonghwa,” you gutter, since the thought has been recoiling rounds in your head forever and curiosity will always kill the cat. “… is she from his volleyball team?”

“No,” he answers and for some reason, this is a lot worse, “she isn’t, but— wait, how do you know about the girl from his volleyball team?”

You don’t answer. For the sake of your heart, you do not answer. You’re still moving, but you’re moving silently, staring into the humorously wild lasers that are teasing you just like he is.

Seonghwa gasps and cups your chin, his thumb meeting your lip, mushing the lower half of your face, trying to turn your face towards his direction, but you resist him. But who are you fooling. Seonghwa doesn't even need to see your expression to ask you, in an almost utterly disappointed whiny tone, "Nooo, Y/N, do you seriously check his phone?”

“I’m gonna punch you in your pretty fuck-face if you keep whining like that, Hwa.”

“Feisty and flattering, and a new nickname too! It must be my birthday,” Seonghwa chuckles and suddenly begins to nibble your earlobe, warm breath from his nose hitting the skin as he pants throughout his dancing. The alcohol is boiling inside you, being churned by the molly, and the crushing disillusionment is slowly into flaming, enraging, hateful desire. It has all gotta go somewhere, and for now, all you can do it talk with this scorching tone that is only going to turn into even more fuming, “How long has San been pining for his fucking ex?”

“For as long as I can remember," Seonghwa answers, seemingly not aware of the severity of this situation, "Middle of the second semester? Exam-season?”

“Nooo,” you scoff and can’t believe what you’re hearing. You don’t even need to calculate what time Seonghwa is talking about, it is engraved deeply into your memories. The same fucking exam season, when you were seeing San every afternoon and evening. You were right fucking there. He knew— you, on the other hand, not so much.

But you should have known.

“Well, yeah,” Seonghwa grins and is running his hands low to your stomach, almost touching your pelvis to get you worked up even more.

Should have known that you weren’t supposed to fall for San.

Angel faces hide the guts of devils’, and right now, your insides are over-cooking with the question "what the fuck were you thinking?" That he’d come around? Like no man in your life has ever come around? That San was the one? No, that San was going to believe that you were the one? 'Well, yeah', he should have, because you are the fucking one. You did so much for him, you could have done so much more for him, and it frustrates you.

“What are you grinning for, you motherfucker?”, you ask, as you peek over and see that Seonghwa has lowered his sunglasses and staring into your empty eyes, searching for a sign of life. You asked, but you don't really need the answer, the picture is drawn perfectly in front of you. Seonghwa is smirking for the same reasons he’s telling you all of this; it’s pretty clear.

“I like it when you’re bossy,” he chuckles, having become more than ‘a bit cocky’ with you, “unlike San. He hates that, right? He’s so weak-hearted, how can he—“

“You’re his friend, Seonghwa,” you insist and grit your teeth, pushing up his sunglasses again with your two fingers, poking into the middle of the lens to make it greasy.

“Friends can say things about each other!”, he giggles gullibly, and scrunches his face together.

All you can say is that Seonghwa sounds and looks moronic in those square sunglasses, senseless and boozed out of his mind, but in the short moment he licks his sharp canine teeth, you suppose that this is exactly how you need him to be.

“You listen to everything, don’t you?”, you ask him, giving into his touch, pushing your back profile so close to him, that there is no touchable space left between you two. Ass pressed against his pelvic area, you breathe heavily into his face that’s glued to your temple. “Every single night I come over to fuck your roommate?”

“Noise-cancelling can only do so much, and your sound is addicting,” Seonghwa pouts— babbling his truths like it’s water falling out of his mouth— and when you see his pink lip shine under the flashing lights, your mind disorients. He is still the pretty boy that says pretty words, even when he's probably faking all of it; he is getting your insides all fuzzy, and you are still being lured in by him, but not for the reasons Seonghwa would enjoy them to.

You’re chasing the feeling of his comfort and you know it. You’re chasing after the man that won’t leave you alone. Or no, you are alone— so fucking lonely because of him even— but you don’t want to be alone, you don’t want him to leave you alone.

San.

San.

Fuck. San.

The feeling of drowning in San’s praise, in his words, inside his bedroom, muffled by his sheets, it hunts you, it makes you feel watched, and it makes you feel like you’re hungry for something you can’t digest. Every word he has said to you is written in your memories in special font, and even though he is out of sight, San will always stay in your mind. Does he do it on purpose? Leave marks, with both words and his lips? To profit off of your yearning? To make himself feel better? To own something? To feel proud? Does he say it that loud on purpose, too? To make his roommate hear him? To make his roommate feel bad in order to feel good?

Maybe he does. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe San doesn't know Seonghwa is listening at all, maybe he doesn't care about any of it.

"Your pretty sounds," Seonghwa repeats himself, his face pressed against your cheek and you roll your eyes at his lips grazing your skin, his heavy breath from his nose warming it up.

These two men are woven by the same needle, knitted with the same material for they say surprisingly similar things and act surprisingly same, but for some reason, it does not feel the same. It is not the same. It should be the same. It should be the fucking same, fuck! You’re going to explode. The way that your head is spinning, your hips swinging, music ringing— people screeching, feet stomping— everything is happening around and inside you. Head, shoulders, knees and toes, livid. Brain, guts, uterus, livid. Let’s not talk about your heart or else we have to start over again. Just forget about your heart and think about the things that are of use tonight. What can you focus on? You can focus on your body glowing hot, but you could also focus on Seonghwa, whose baggy pants is rubbing against your thin minidress. It’s Seonghwa that you wanted, right? Or was it Seonghwa you were supposed to want, because he is the one that wants you back? — No, fuck, let's re-roll, quickly; Seonghwa is grinding against you right now, from behind, and that's exactly what you imagined, wasn't it? Under these lights, under this influence, this is what you wanted, wasn't it?

With the state of your mind, you can not agree with anything; your thoughts sound foreign and it's not your voice speaking, when you grind your ass back. It also doesn't feel like it's your eyes that you're seeing with; Seonghwa’s smile behind of you is becoming blurry and there’s just one more face that’s slowly appearing from the front-ends of your head. There’s a catch though; what you’re seeing is not the soft face you usually cup with your delicate hands and observe in awe when he sleeps, it’s not the face that lights up when he sees you enter through his front door, it's a face that's reading a text message from his fucking ex in the morning and immediately forgets that you're next to him, available as available can be.

It is actually going to make you puke, right here and there. All your emotions, all your ambitions, all of your fucking dreams. Who is San to you? What is he? You’ve known him for what, a year? — Okay fuck, that’s actually more than you thought, but still, it’s not like San and you have met up in any way that wasn’t purely sexual during all the time you knew him. Know him. You don’t know San. You don’t know shit about him. What are you— San and you? What are you going to be? Boyfriend, girlfriend? Has a nice ring to it, but fuck no, right? There are too many girls, right? Which is why you wanted to get yourself another man too, right?

“Come on, Y/N, forget him.”

While you have alcohol and molly inside you, singing two different songs of lust and desire, Seonghwa is moving his legs according to yours and pressing himself more against you. He’s one sadistic dipshit if Seonghwa thinks you could forget any of what you just went through just by moaning into your ear, but you're going with it.

You can't feel a lot right now, except that Seonghwa’s bulge perfectly fits in the space of your ass, rubbing up and down between the two circular shapes, getting himself more erected with every passing beat.

This whole situation is so fucked up and messy.

But, add one more: You are fucked up and messy. The music is building up loudly and people are shaking their bodies next to you, dancing in the high they've reached long time ago, eyes having lost any sign of concentration or sobriety, and you came here to contemplate whether you’re going to have a one-night-stand to prove a point, mixing drugs to get it on faster. You feel quicker, no, you are quick, rushing from one thought to another like you’re fleeing from your inner voices, both the devil and angel. They’re useless in this situation, they have too much reason.

And you don't need any reasons to think you're in the right to fuck him. Seonghwa’s hands are on your abdomen and gently massaging the skin, making you feel like he thinks you’re valuable, but you both know that this dance you’re holding right now barely cost you anything but 10 dollars in cash.

The red lasers haven’t stopped. They are pointing upwards or downwards for you, but you guess, from the way you’re watching Seonghwa’s lips right now, there’s only one way down. There has always been only one way down.

San chooses an ex over you? Then you’ll choose his dumb fucking roommate over him. Two can play this game, and even if he’s had the lead, you’re going to make your play. Is it going to hurt him? You don’t know. Maybe it won’t. But at least it will be over, right? At least this fucking thing will be over.

“Kiss me, Seonghwa.”

“You serious? I thought San was all up your mind right now.”

“Oh my fucking god, just do it before I take it back.”

“LET’S GET FUCKING INSANE”

Seonghwa doesn’t let you ask twice. While people all around you are turning up to the beat-drop, he pulls your chin up and clashes his lips against yours. His teeth clank against you lip and there's a short, piercing pain there, but Seonghwa's high chuckle blows it away. It’s a violent kiss, but mind-numbing enough so maybe you can forget why you decided to kiss him in the first place. While your lips are working against each other, his hand is sliding down to your groin and it's dangerously close to the seam of your tiny dress. One tug and your whole leg is revealed to the crowd, but you don't look down to see how naked Seonghwa is making you; all you see is yourself, in the reflection of his square sunglasses.

His tongue is electrifying, when it forces its entry into your mouth. It’s long and tastes deliciously foreign- a mixture of alcohol and tobacco, which you haven't experienced in pair since a long time. San, no, “he” (this is what you’ll call him now) doesn’t smoke, which at first, you considered as a big win, because you were passively inhaling all the smoke from your prior flings that you’d had the feeling your lungs were being polluted. Yet a year later, you’re clean— cleaner than never before, you should be able to breathe, you should be able to think clearly, but you can’t. Did you think he was pure? Was it that? That he was this untouched man? Maybe he was. Maybe he was, when he was still a nerd who had never heard a woman say the word “sex” in his— or had he? Fuck, had he? You don’t know, you couldn’t have known. ‘He’ was a façade, wasn’t it? He turned into another person immediately, didn’t he?

Let's get back on Seonghwa’s lips.

You're reminded of your lost freedom and as much it drives you insane, it's driving you into a state of pure, adventurous lust. The way Seonghwa works across your slick tongue is animalistic and wild, and you feel like you’re being pursued with no escape. To catch your breaths a little bit, Seonghwa lets go off your chin and thigh, turning you around so he can have better access to your mouth. Not letting the enlivening music go to waste, he presses his lips on yours the second you inhaled for the second time.

You slip your hands under his knitted top, running them up and down his breast, his abs and abdomen to feel his muscles and skin. It’s only a matter of time until he asks you to move off the dance floor, but your alcohol is bombarding you with sweet suggestions you can’t let pass without saying. His exposed skin feels cold under your fingers, but when you cup his hardened erection through the fabric with your hand and move it according to Seonghwa’s tongue slicking against yours, he radiates heat.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa pants into the kiss and you hum, continuing to tease him on this godless dance floor. Nobody has their senses right and is observing you two making out with dozy eyes, nobody cares about anything here. There’s only right now, the song the DJ is playing for the mindless crowd of drugged, intoxicated people. Let’s get insane.

You try to get a good feel of Seonghwa’s cock and its girth with your hand. “You’re big,” you murmur, catching air again, “smaller than San though.”

And there you have it, men are so easy to galvanize.

“Say that again, you fucking cunt,” Seonghwa growls and digs his fingers into your ass, eyebrows pulled down so hard that his forehead could explode.

“Why? ‘Cause you’re better than him?”, you taunt him and click with your tongue, catching a breath. “You’re no better than Sannie,” you sneer, pointing at your hickey with your finger to remind him (but mostly yourself), “don’t think you could be.”

Seonghwa goes fucking angry. Apparently he thinks he’s done so much for you, has been so nice to you, has helped you, whatever, and this is how you show him your thanks. Grabbing your hair, he pushes his forehead against yours and you catch a glimpse of his darkened eyes, feeling the stinging pain from the impact linger, while he talks. His breath is scarce from having kissed you, so he’s trying his best to use his voice to taunt you.

"San is probably fucking his fucking ex-girlfriend right now, do you think you're any better than him, huh, slut? You are the one who's so fucking desperate to get him to love you, and you're still here with me, and you're kissing me, so we're both in the wrong, you fucking whore."

His words don’t mean anything to you, visiting the synapses of your brain, but leaving right after. You just grin with your eyelids covering half of your eye and Seonghwa realizes nothing is arriving inside your sweet, broken mind. Your cheeks are red from the lack of oxygen, drugs and you’re flushed at the cause of his libidinous touch, and Seonghwa sees he's been working around your hair a little bit too much, having ruffled it up to the point that a comb-through will not amount to a lot. You look like a crazy person to him, but nothing attracts a joke more than a hard-hitting punchline.

“We're both single,” is what you lull to correct him, licking over your lips that you can't feel anymore since Seonghwa has kissed them numb. "And I think that's all that matters."

You both hear the music come to an exhilarating high and slowly reach your evaporating point.

“You sound like San,” Seonghwa giggles and he probably thinks it's going to push you over, but it doesn't. He’s still staring into you like he’s searching for a weak spot, but you’re persistent, you’re needy, and while you are weak, you are unforgivably yourself, Y/N.

You smash both your hands on each of his cheeks and you look at yourself through the sunglasses, sneering, "Good. San is a better name to moan."

He scoffs and smiles so condescendingly sweet again, but out of his mouth comes nothing worthwhile. "I'm going to fuck your voice out of your fucking throat, you're never going to moan ‘San’ ever fucking again," he growls and you drench yourself in his vulgarity, kissing him repeatedly.

"Never again," Seonghwa repeats himself, digging his thumbs into your ribs, but his tone isn't as forcing as it is... begging. Asking—demanding you to put all your attention on him, like he knows your heart isn't his and he desperately wants to possess yours. Oh, he definitely knows. You're not fooling anybody, at least didn't try to, but Seonghwa is gullible enough to fall for your tricks, how it seems like. San is painted on your body all the while your dance partner is speaking through his heavy breathing; painted on your neck, in your eyes, it’s annoying Seonghwa, it distracts him, it makes him see red, and not the colour on your skin.

"Awww, do you want me to only moan your name tonight?", you baby Seonghwa, mocking that he's finally revealed his motivations behind all of this. At least you think you've hit the nail in the coffin, when you pout to mirror Seonghwa’s expression.

Seonghwa's greatest sin isn't lust, it's envy. It could be any girl coming and leaving their dorm, moaning San’s name through the thin walls, never to be seen again and he wouldn't bat a second eye, but you— Y/N? San letting a woman like you go without further notice sickens him, like a crime, like a mistake. To hear your voice be pleasured by San at night, and then hear you sing good-bye to the man who does not care as much as he does in the morning, that has sent Seonghwa into a spiral of jealousy, but you’re not sure why. Some fucked-up reason probably, though it doesn’t seem like an ex is the cause this time. Maybe it’s really just because of you.

Sorry to say that you don’t care about that though. Not one single fucking bit. You don't want any of that complex trauma-talk tonight. You want to have sex and forget the sex right after.

"Be mine tonight, Y/N," Seonghwa answers and his eyebrows are pushed in to his forehead. He looks sultry, at least the parts you can see. Sultry, passionate, ready to fuck you, no, desperate to fuck you, in fact, you can feel the pre-cum soak his pants, when you cup his girth.

“You’re so pathetic,” you smirk, “it might actually be worth a try.” Seonghwa lets out a breathy exhale, finally breaking. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the molly, or his issues that suddenly took over his conscience, but he doesn’t have any of that left. He grabs you by your wrist with a grip that leaves a white mark, and without forewarning, Seonghwa yanks you through the people.

You hit each and every one of the strangers on your way to wherever. Shoulder hitting against shoulder, breast against breast, it better not leave any more bruising that you already have on your neck. “Seong- wha!”, you wheeze, tumbling at his force, tripping over your own feet over and over. The hall is huge, and he’s seemingly seeking to get to the very end of it.

“Seonghwa!”, you repeat yourself, but he won't listen to you. You're being pulled into a rollercoaster of anything but emotions (at least for you) and you can hear laughter leave your mouth without reason as you pass by irritated people who find it impolite to be barging into the big crowd like this. This dude's crazy, they scorn, but they don't really look that lucid as well, you find, with the last bits of thinking you can do.

"Where are we going?", you ask, but mostly to reassure that you still have a sense for geographical knowledge. You can see the bar again, mobs of people dancing on the stairs so that it's shaking even more compared to how you two had left it, but most importantly, you see that this is a space that's occupied by your kind. So much skin. So many slutty outfits. Outfits? Lingerie. This side looks like a fucking strip-club. Are you at a strip-club? What the fuck is this place? No, seriously, what the fuck is this place?

Seonghwa is finally stopping and you catch a breath from the running. With him doing his weird hand-signs again, you recognize the security guard from the beginning, smiling under his sunglasses, showing an "OK"-sign and pointing to the back of the stairs. You could swear he winked at you.

"What the fuck?", you ask, but Seonghwa only shrugs, making you follow his backwards steps under the stairs, where in black graffiti 'MY PEOPLE DONT BELIEVE IN LOVE' is smeared all over the wall. The same walls are occupied by couples or at least people making out wildly with their eyeliners smeared beyond repair. Is this some sex-area? (No idea) Is this legal? (100% no) Does Seonghwa look so fucking hot without his top on? (Fuck) He does.

Your eyes go cross-eyed, when Seonghwa enters the most mirrored bathroom you've ever seen in a warehouse, but before you can question the fact why people invest in decorating a fucking porta-potty, the male is pulling off his knitted top with one smooth pull, barely waiting a second for you to close the door behind you. The vibrations of the music ring on the metal stairs over you, and you feel like the beat is mushing your brain one size smaller, when you're met by Seonghwa barging at your body.

Pushing you against the plastic door, you feel all of Seonghwa's naked torso with your hands stroking roughly over his skin, and you admire his jewellery sitting on his collarbones, getting your fingers at it around his neck to pull him closer. "You like my necklace?", Seonghwa murmurs, as he pushes his lips into the crook of your neck.

"Choke on it," you gutter and yank him upwards, kissing him. While you do so and Seonghwa begins to unclothe you by getting your arms up, you catch a glimpse of yourself through the mirror. Your hair isn't looking as silky as it did when you left your home, there's mascara smudged around your eye already, but if you're not mistaken, and you can see it by how Seonghwa is sucking your nipples the second your bra falls to the floor, you will look worse in no time.

But that's not to say that you aren't still looking gorgeous. You look bewitchingly sexy, eyelids fluttering with each of Seonghwa's eager touches that are tracing down your body. "Fuck, you look so good," he murmurs and he's trying to keep his eyes open in order to see you. He's gotten you naked pretty quick considering the circumstance, you would've wished for a bit more foreplay here, but maybe it's a reoccuring theme to be impatient.

"You are such a fucking gorgeous girl, San doesn't know what he's missing right now," Seonghwa wheezes and goes through his hair, once he has your dress dropping on the dirty floor, revealing your joke of underwear. If he had kept your bra, he would have seen that you've worn a matching set of burgundy lingerie, but Seonghwa's mouth is still drooling at your pair of perfect thighs, his hand stroking over his lips. You roll your eyes at him and lean your head against the plastic door. You've done such a good job forgetting his name, and here's this dumbass mentioning him again. "You bet your ass he's missing this, huh?", you snarl and play with your own breast with one hand, while the other is cupping Seonghwa's rib, gliding down to his v-line, where his throbbing cock is awaiting you.

"He doesn't deserve you, Y/N."

He wheezes again. It seems like Seonghwa is taking his last breaths, unable to form words since your fingers are exploring how quick they can get to his erection.

"And you do?", you snap back and scoff. He pushes his glasses up to his forehead and for the first time since a long time, you can see Seonghwa's eyes shimmer. Oh fuck, you think, and it's difficult to not kiss him again. You're a bitch. You know you're a bitch for not caring about his feelings, and you know you will indeed not be better than San if you ghost this man right after this evening, but it must be done. For your sake, at least.

"I do," Seonghwa answers, though a lot weaker and less confident than he used to be before. You sigh. He may think he deserves you, but you don't deserve him. His gaze is too sweet, you've got to put those sunglasses back on, if you don't want to develop something. The only thing you can look at to get your mind elsewhere is yourself, in the mirror.

"Don't try to prove yourself," you murmur and Seonghwa wraps his arms around your back and props you by your thigh to lift you up. You can see his back muscle tense up, as he has you steadily in his grip. "I'm not," he answers and there's something that's fluttering inside your breast, when Seonghwa licks up your jawline, because you feel everything; From how wet his tongue is, how warm his saliva sits on your skin to the way what an adoring look Seonghwa is wearing on his face, as he kisses you. "I got nothing to prove to you."

You smirk and see yourself looking very dozy, drunken on alcohol, drugged by MDMA, ducked by Seonghwa's hand between your legs. It's pushing between your folds and with your last bit of control you have over your body, you spread your legs for him, inviting him to get his fingers inside your panties, and of course he does.

With a grin, Seonghwa devotes his tongue to your jaw again and works it into your skin with circular motion. "So fucking wet, and I thought you didn't want to fuck me."

"Who said I wasn't going to fuck you?"

Seonghwa is too busy sucking on the other side of your neck (other side meaning the side that is still unhickey-ed) to answer, but you're persistent. You came to this place to fuck him, and you're pretty sure that nothing from what you told him tonight alluded to something else. And also, even when you're fucked out of your mind, you still have a sense for people who keep secrets. So while Seonghwa is sucking small patches of skin on your neck and you see yourself with an opened mouth with sighs leaving it that you can't hear with your own ears.

"San says things sometimes," Seonghwa murmurs and continues to plant roses on your neck that you can see appear on your skin, "but that's irrelevant now."

"What does he say?", you insist, but the charcoal-haired man puts on his sunglasses again and shakes his head. Switch. As if you hadn't had enough from men who were two-faced, Seonghwa hides his eyes, turning into an inscrutable being again. A stranger. A stranger who's groping your cunt from the front, making your groin tense up and push him closer from the back. You're wrapping him with your legs and holding onto him tightly, when he catches a breath.

"Meaningless things,” he pants and throws you over the door, your arms landing on the frail sink in front of you. The mirror expands and all of the sudden you see yourself in full quality, in all your glory and Seonghwa is only supporting you from the back. His hand is grabbing your chin and pushing it up to the mirror, his pointing finger smudging your lip. With your lips slightly opened, it just makes sense to you to lick around his finger and look at him with a demanding look, eyebrows sultrily pushed together.

"Fuck, Y/N," Seonghwa gulps and cups your breast from behind, massaging it, while he presses his hot lips on your back. "Can I eat you out? Please,” he sighs and you take his finger in, lubing it up with your saliva.

"Do whatever you fucking want," you sneer and balance yourself with two hands on the sink, as Seonghwa raises a leg and throws it over his shoulder, his pretty face planted into your pussy the second you've given him permission to. You spasm to the front, Seonghwa's hair tickling your lower abdomen, as he works his tongue over your slick folds. If his tongue was great for kissing, it's certainly great for cunnilingus too, no, maybe even better suited for it. He's reaching spots that haven't been reached by a tongue in a long time and with the wet muscle working in and out inside you, you're becoming a moaning mess with fluttering eyelids in no time.

"Fuuuck", you gasp, when Seonghwa kneads your ass that's extended out in the air. The sound of his slurping and the music outside assimilate and mix up, and if it wasn't for the hightened senses you got from your molly-influence, it feels like everything is hammering you down from the outside. You can feel each twitch of Seonghwa's mouth, how he smiles, how he's yelping for air, how he's licking over his lips — you're going to fall somewhere, and if it's not into the cheap sink and the mirror that's taunting you, it's in love with his tongue that’s going to make you cum.

"So soon?", Seonghwa murmurs, and two fingers begin to penetrate your gaping hole, as he flicks his tongue over your sensitive clit.

"Fuck, fuck!", you whine and Seonghwa takes note of how your entrance is tightening around him, angling his fingers towards your g-spot. "So fucking good!", you breathe and you're trying to get a glimpse of your mirrored image in front of you, but your eyes are rolling to the back of your head too much.

"Mhm~", Seonghwa hums with an amused tone, repeating a cycle of sucking and licking, pumping against your g-spot. You're flying, the loud tunes bombarding the walls of the porta-potty are slowly getting to your head and intrusing what's left of your conscious mind, only feeling the tickling sensation that is being eaten out by none other than Park Seonghwa.

Until it stops.

You were whining, announcing your impending orgasm, but he apparently had other ideas, pulling out his fingers and removing his lips from you the second you were drawing together your body, preparing for sweet release. "Don't fucking stop!", you yell and grab Seonghwa by his hair, pushing him closer to your cunt by force. "Seonghwa!"

Seonghwa, who you don't know if he seriously just wanted to be called by his name in this situation, chuckles in witticism and wraps his arm around your thigh, getting the other leg over his shoulder too. You're sitting up front now, and there is no space for him to get his finger anywhere near your cunt, but his tongue is more than enough.

"Make me cum or I'm gonna fucking leave, you fucking asshole," you growl and grip a big chunk of his hair to get your message across. The man below you moans and resumes his job, clearly attracted by your lust-driven dominance. 'I like it when you're bossy', you re-call, and before you can finish the quote in your head, Seonghwa has plunged his tongue into your cunt.

"Ungh, fuck!", you moan, a bit more sensitive and distorted this time. Trying to hold your heavy upper body straight, Seonghwa is laving at your cunt, driving you crazy with the speed of his tongue maneuvering inside you. Maybe it was better that Seonghwa edged you, because now every flick is shooting you further into the abyss of pleasantry. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," you stutter, the second wave of the overwhelming euphoria gathering itself like a tsunami.

Seonghwa is more relaxed than you are, though his whole face is busy being used to pleasure you. His nose is dug into your clit and he's shaking his head around to be able to tickle it all during the while he's cutting away his breath to pant into your heat and spreading your slick on his tastebuds.

"Make me cum," you whine, "make me cum with your tongue!"

"Say 'please Seonghwa'," Seonghwa smirks and has the tip of his tongue placed on your clitoris just enough for your orgasm to not be washed away, but definitely not coming, while you grip more of his hair.

"You fucking bitch, I'll never fucking—", you pant, but there's no other way around it. You need this orgasm. "You—"

Seonghwa looks up to you and you can see him waiting. Pushing your thighs together because he annoys you so much, you yank his head closer to your cunt and scream, "okay, fuck, make me fucking cum, Seonghwa, please!"

The man between your thighs chuckles through his nose and once you said the magic-words, he opens his mouth back open to lap around your clit and cunt like a mad dog. Having been denied your orgasm for the second time, the third attempt to chase it down hits you even more, making you breathe heavily and loudly, and this time, the strings are pulling you to total stupification.

"Please, please, please, Seonghwa, please—"

Repeating the words Seonghwa wants to hear so bad again and again, you're fuelling his decision to finally allow you to come. His tongue circles around your clit as if he was racing with the music and your face is parallel to the floor, when your body goes lax and the strands of Seonghwa's hair are the only thing keeping you up.

"Seonghwa, please," you whisper again, weak, and almost sent over the top, while Seonghwa growls under you, his tongue stroking over your sensitive bud until you're shaking and pressing your legs together. "Fuck!", you scream out and Seonghwa throws one leg away from his shoulder, your wobbly foot landing on the floor, when the male stands up and gets to fingers into your cunt.

"Seonghwa, please—", you gasp, when he rams them into your throbbing arousal that barely reached its high and you have to get your arms around his neck if your knees are still worth something to you. "Oh my fucking god," and other moans come spurred out of you and Seonghwa bites into your shoulder to add another stimulative pain to all the sensations you're feeling.

His fingers are long and slender and for all you can grasp, they know what they're doing, when they're driving in and out with no mercy. That this is Seonghwa, you don't really care, that this isn't San, you do just a little bit, but "caring" takes a bit too long in the brain anyway. If your first orgasm from his tongue made your head fly, the second one is evaporating it. Your head feels light and corrupted by the DJ screaming inaudible things into his set, an artificially deepened laughing-track following his ad-lib and your lower body is trembling like a new-born deer, when Seonghwa keeps pushing against your soft patch inside. “Stop— stop, Seonghwa—“, you pant and your legs hold Seonghwa's wrist until he wiggles it out.

"You good?", Seonghwa laughs. He walks behind you and raises your face by your chin, pressing his own cheek next to yours, so both of your faces are seen in the mirror, his pelvis pushed against your ass again.

"Uh-huh," you shudder, your runny mascara making your eyes sticky, "very good."

He smiles, though it's definitely not a friendly smile. This isn't what friends do. It never will be something that friends do and you try to find some type of sanity behind your sunken irises, but there's nothing there. There is someone knocking on the door, Seonghwa's phone is vibrating in his pants, and like the bad person you are, you can't stop to wish that behind at least one of these interruptions is a certain someone is waiting for you, asking for you or anything— fuck. It's worse Seonghwa somehow knows what you're thinking, taking out his phone with his free hand, your face still being cupped by the other.

"You think this is him, don't you?", he asks and lets his temple drop against the top of your head, "Let's bet."

"If you think I'm gonna bet on something like that," you hiss and grind your bare ass against his clothed cock to distract him from the fact he's correct, “you’re a fucker.”

"I'm gonna fuck you, so I don't know where you're coming from here."

You scoff and throw his phone into the sink, when Seonghwa seemingly opens the message and starts to grin.

"Seonghwa," and you know you're lying through your teeth here with the full awareness that Seonghwa probably knows that you’re lying as well, "I want you," and yet you have the very secure feeling that you got into his head.

"Hm, what?", he asks and looks confused, unable to be angry that you snatched his phone out of his hand. You smirk for a short time and lean into his hand that's stroking your cheek. "I want you, Seonghwa," you sigh and pout. If you can't commit, you might as well commit to the lie, right? Be a little opportunistic.

"I don't care about San," you whisper and Seonghwa pulls down his glasses, making him human again.

"Really now…”

Choi San: the connection is so bad Choi San: where are you right now?

You nod and there’s a black-tinted tear rolling down your cheek, warm and melting on your skin. Seonghwa takes his thumb and glides it over the flow and holds his hand at your cheek again.

Choi San: i saw her Choi San: wtf she looked so different

You both saw the message and you both decided to ignore it. It doesn't matter anymore, his hand was already between your legs, your arousal has already coated his fingers.

That's how this works.

His touch, caressing your woeful face, his eyes pitying your pain. He's still erected, definitely impatient, but Seonghwa has something that you haven't experienced for a long time. You don't want to think of it, you can't think of it, because it might just be an illusion, but when Seonghwa slides his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, you have to suppress the suffocating feeling that you must never see this man ever again, if you don't want to carry this burden with you. You can't tell yourself enough, you do not want Seonghwa.

But it's nice.

"Look at yourself, Y/N. Look how pretty you are."

It's nice to know that someone wants you. That someone cares to wipe away the tears from your eyes, though they're not tears formed by a sadness you’d be able to express, a sadness that encourages you to hold eye contact with yourself, as Seonghwa whispers words of comfort into your ear. "Don't cry, pretty girl," he murmurs, and it feels like the music is being subdued around you. You've fallen from grace. “You could have anything in the world..”

How nice would it be, if he was right? You’re not sad, you have everything you could, don’t you? It could be this is just another lie you're going to commit to to protect yourself, but Seonghwa is holding you by your throat, cutting your airflow. The blood curdles in your head and while the male behind you is opening up his pants, the phone blinks.

Seonghwa and you both look down. Incoming call: Choi San.

"Oh," Seonghwa exhales and immediately checks for your reaction in the mirror, but your expression is empty. The drugs are fogging your mind and there is no ounce of vitality behind your eyes.

Seonghwa turns the phone around. "Fuck me first, Seonghwa," you tell him, your voice wispy, barely understandable, he probably had to lip-read in order to understand what you were saying, "let's get it over with."

He doesn't appreciate your dismissive tone, but Seonghwa is too horny to say anything against it, pushing you over the sink, grabbing his cock and placing it near your cunt. While your abdomen is pressed against the dirty, cold surface, Seonghwa is murmuring something under his breath and gliding his hot, throbbing erection across your pulsating folds. "I don't care at all," you whine, trying to convince yourself and ignore the continuous buzzing from his phone, but also make him hurry up. There's an end-goal you're chasing here.

"Kiss me," you order the male behind you, and as he finally positions his tip at your entrance, Seonghwa tilts your head to the side, ripping your gaze away from his mobile. "You really like kissing, don't you?", he huffs and smirks, pushing himself into you in one slow thrust. "Fuuuck," you breathe, feeling your walls expand for his length, "what about it?"

"I just think it's sweet. It makes it more personal, doesn't it?"

"Come on, Hwa, are you trying to make me angry again? I'm getting tired here," you purl and visibly roll your eyes at him, your eyelids getting heavier with each word that's spoken out loud. Your body weighs into Seonghwa's arms and if he doesn't hurry up, you'll fall asleep, your pulsating cunt tightening around his girth.

"Sweetheart, let me talk," he says, in a soft voice that makes your heart drop. You don't want him, you don't want his sweetness, fuck, you only wanted Seonghwa for this one night, for his dick and dick only, why is he trying to get inside your head? Don't do it, you try to mouth to him. You don't know him, he doesn't know you, his cock is inside your cunt, this is the worst timing to—

"You're something else."

"Seonghwa, stop, before you say anything too nice. Just close your mouth, this isn't good for both of us, you already said we're bad people. You know we don't want this," you mutter and start moving your ass to somehow get his mind elsewhere, but through his whimpers and low moans, Seonghwa won't stop grunting under the influence.

"No, speak for god-damn yourself, because, shit, Y/N, I can't watch it anymore, okay? Every day and night— You come over and let yourself be played by San, that fucking asshole, and I just think—"

"Seonghwa, shut the fuck up!", you scream and you're a breath away from pulling his cock out your cunt and leave this place naked, but just when you thought you can't do it anymore, Seonghwa has gotten his hands on your hips, digging his fingernails into your skin as if he's trying to hopelessly keep you close, his pelvis clapping against your ass, as he strikes into you.

Surprised, you moan and your fingers slip against the edge of the sink, strands of your hair falling in front of your face. You weren't prepared for that kind of vigor.

"Don't you dare think I'm that pathetic," he growls and thrusts into you with force in a rhythm that is terrifyingly close to the music outside, his cock slamming against your inner wall, making your legs close up by themselves.

"I'm not thinking I could treat you better," Seonghwa huffs and gets the hair away from your face, grabbing your hair to clear up your view, "I'm thinking what a fucking cockslut you are, Y/N."

Drugs never make sad people happier. Never make broken people whole.

So even when Seonghwa makes you realize that none of the men in your life have ever taken you serious, a hoarse laugh leaves your mouth, and you tilt your head to the back to examine the traces of them on your neck. Your eyes glisten with the way you're being fucked from behind and your mouth is not closing, you've lost control over yourself a long time ago, and it's not when this long day started with you in San's bed, it's when he took off your shirt on that random night during exam season.

"You're lucky you're pretty," he grunts and you chuckle, smiling absent-minded, upper body see-sawing with Seonghwa's pelvis-movement. Your ass is slowly hurting from how hard he is driving himself in, but you're too busy looking at your neck.

Red, red, red. A little bit of purple. A big patch here, small spots over there; anyone could look at you and would know that you've been claimed by someone. Maybe even think that you're, gasp, in a relationship! They wouldn't guess it was two people to leave these hickeys, and frankly, they would be right to think you're claimed by one person only.

"San said he'd fuck me stupid," you giggle— you're fetching old memories from your mind, re-painting the colors, completing the gaps like a mandala; the same memories from the older days which you wouldn't call better, but certainly easier; from days where you didn't have to worry about a man breaking your heart.

Seonghwa scoffs and grabs you by your tit, pulling your nipple with harsh tugs, the sensitive, delicate nub being wounded by his aggressiveness. He's stopped being gentle a long time ago, leaving a big star-shaped mark on your ass by clapping the surface of his hand.

"San said I'm his whore," you reminisce, biting your teeth through the pain, and Seonghwa is speeding up his thrusting, his cock angled inside you to entirely fill out your tight space.

"San said—"

Seonghwa has had enough. He's pressing the surface of his hand onto your mouth and nose, silencing you, cutting you short of your air, your eyes rolling back, but it doesn't prevent your thoughts to continue tumbling down. Seonghwa may be jolting his hips into you like his life depends on it, and in a way, that may be true, but he'll never pleasure you like San could.

People-pleaser. San said he was a people-pleaser.

You don't remember the orgasm, you don't remember Seonghwa's loud grunt into your ear, you don't remember how much hot cum he ejaculated into you, how panicked the black-haired was, when he asked you whether you took the pill, how quickly he became sober and put his clothes back on, the speed of time seemingly passing like a rocket-ship, the music never stopping to blitz into your brain, how the porta-potty became really fucking empty, once Seonghwa left it, but what you do remember is how you took his phone that he forgot like the dumb-ass he was, and how weak your voice sounded, when you answered San's call that by some magical way, kept ringing in.

"Can you come fetch me?"

"Who is this?"

"Come fetch me, please."

"Y/N?"

And people-pleasers should do anything to keep their people happy.

Especially if they're Choi San and avoidant of conflict.

part 4: coming soon!

#choi san smut #choi san x reader #ateez smut #ateez x reader #choi san scenarios #choi san x y/n #choi san x you #park seonghwa smut #park seonghwa scenarios #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x y/n #haveyourwaywithwordsbemypeoplepleaser #chokkiwa

[burntheedges-updates]

over again, chapter 4: first date

Joel Miller x f!reader summary: you fell in love with Joel Miller in Austin, Texas, in 2001, but you thought you lost him and your whole family in 2003 when the world turned upside down. now it's 2024, and you find the surprise of your life waiting for you in Jackson, Wyoming. or, five times you and Joel fell deeper in love, on both sides of the apocalypse (and one time you did something about it) 18+ minors DNI

chapter tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, banter, angst, panic attack, dancing, pining, kissing, the smut has arrived, pet names (darlin’, baby, honey, pretty girl), Joel calls reader a good girl, neck grabbing (no breath play), light manhandling, grinding, spit kink, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), p in v sex (w/ condom), mention of breasts/nipples, praise kink, if I missed anything please let me know! If you'd like to skip the smut, check on ao3 - I've got notes there about what to skip a/n: Welcome to chapter 4! A day early!! It’s time for these two to go on a first date… and another first date, 20 years before. And oh yeah, the smut is here. The country night club in this chapter is based on one I frequented in the south in the early 2000s (lol). music note: More songs are mentioned in this chapter! All songs mentioned in this fic are on the playlist, which is linked below. word count: 13.3k

series main post | series playlist | ao3 | ch 3 || ch 5

This is my updates-only blog! Follow me at @burntheedges

Chapter 4: First Date

Jackson, Spring 2024

You have dinner with Joel and Ellie a few more times over the next few weeks. Sometimes just the three of you, and sometimes with Tommy and Maria as well. 

(Maria has warmed up a bit to Joel, following his return with Ellie in tow. She’s blunt and opens up more easily to people that have the Joel stamp of approval, which is just Tommy, sort of Maria, and you – all of the adults in her would-be family that don’t know how to talk to each other quite yet.)

Joel manages to join you for lunch a few times as well, and he listens to your tales of the gardens and the stables with the same slightly incredulous air that Tommy still does – you, an indoor girl, enjoying working outdoors. Anyone who knew you Before would never believe it, but no one here except the Miller brothers knows enough about you to find it at all odd. He laughs almost as loud at your story about getting stuck in the manure as Tommy did witnessing it. Right in the middle of the dining hall.

You and Joel also spend a couple of afternoons listening to the songs on the CD with Ellie and telling her a bit about each one. She likes the faster songs, like “Arrasando” and “Fruta Fresca”, and the ones that make her laugh, like “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” and “Pickup Man.”

(You tell her the story of how a woman hit on Joel in the grocery store parking lot, leaning suggestively on his pickup truck, and how she quoted the song (you know, there’s something women like about a pickup man), and how you and Sarah never let him live it down, singing the song to him every chance you got, playing up different parts (I never knew you were a pickup man!). You even got him to sing along eventually. She laughs so hard at your reenactment of it all that she falls off the couch. She and Sarah would have gotten along like a house on fire, you think.)

She scoffs a little at the romantic songs like the teenager she is. 

Listening to the songs is hard, and you notice that Joel skips a couple of them (you don’t blame him, and both of you avoid the other’s eyes when he does). But Ellie brings a brightness to every room she’s in. Even as she’s cursing up a storm about missing her favorite food in the dining hall one night because of family dinner - right up until Tommy walks in the door with a plate, just for her. You can feel something in yourself start to bloom again as you tell stories about Sarah and Joel from Before to this child who asks questions about unexpected things, like strobe lights in clubs and menus at fancy restaurants and piñatas at family parties. It lets you take a step back and try to see it all through her eyes, unfamiliar and new. It’s refreshing even when it hurts. 

You think it’s having the same effect on Joel, but you haven’t talked about it. You can only see what he’s showing on his face and you think it mirrors what’s on yours. You haven’t talked more about your 20 years apart, other than some small details here and there. Ellie hasn’t asked again. You see him looking at you sometimes like he wants to ask, wants to reach out, but he always hesitates. Slow. 

After a few weeks (almost a month since they’ve been back in Jackson) of getting more comfortable around each other, Tommy ramps up his campaign to get the two of you to join him at the bar one night. You’ve been there with Tommy a few times, of course, but you haven’t been one for lingering there since you’ve been in Jackson. You were on your own for so long that at first it was odd to be around so many people. You know Joel has been with Tommy a few times, but he didn’t stay long, either. Always wanting to be home for Ellie. 

Eventually Tommy pesters you into agreeing by getting Maria to hang with Ellie for the night – as much as they haven’t quite bonded yet, Ellie is still curious and a bit excited at the prospect of a baby, and the plan is for her to help decorate the nursery. You saw the look on her face when Joel referred to the baby as her cousin, and you think Ellie herself can’t look straight on at the emotion that came over her in that moment. She’s still getting used to the whole family thing. You and Joel are too, but you’re easing back into something you had once and lost, which is different than discovering something you’ve never had at all. 

The night of your outing you don’t let yourself dither by your closet. You allow yourself two options and once you decide you head downstairs to meet Joel and Tommy by the road. For a moment you marvel, again, at the novelty of doing something that used to be mundane – choosing your outfit for a night out. 

Tommy looks like he used to at Christmas, so excited to drag you both out of the house. Joel looks just as handsome as always — shoulders broad in his flannel shirt — but he’s also side-eyeing his brother like he might want to put him in a headlock if he doesn’t stop spilling good cheer everywhere. 

“Alright, Millers, let’s get this show on the road.” You tuck an arm through both of theirs, one on each side like you used to do when you went out dancing. For a moment the once-familiar feeling of being surrounded by your family like this takes your breath away. But the three of you easily fall into step as you head towards the only bar in town. 

“You should bring your CD out sometime, get everyone to dance.” Tommy looks hopeful as he makes his request, glancing between you and Joel as you walk. 

“Maybe. I don’t want to lose it, or break it.”

“I know, sunshine – we can be careful.”

You shrug, and ask what kind of music is going on tonight. Sometimes there’s live music, a few people in town who can play various instruments, but often it’s this old-as-dirt jukebox that sometimes needs coaxing to play more than a few chosen songs without going rogue and disregarding whatever you picked next. Sounds like tonight is a jukebox night. 

The three of you arrive at the bar, and as Tommy moves to enter ahead of you, Joel lets his hand slide down to twine his fingers through yours. He squeezes your hand as the two of you step inside, reminding you of all the times he did that to reassure you Before, when you were still learning how to dance. It makes you smile. 

Tommy waves you over to a table in the corner and heads to the bar to get drinks. You slide in beside Joel, feeling a bit awkward as you turn to him while you wait for Tommy to come back. “He’s just as smug as he was that first time you and I went line dancing with him.”

Joel huffs a laugh, looking uncomfortable in public in a way you’d never seen him Before. He keeps checking on the people in the bar, eyes never staying in one spot for long as he sweeps them over the room. As he turns back to you, he replies, “Tommy loves to make me uncomfortable.”

You tilt your head at him, considering. “I get now, I’m not totally comfortable here either, but then? You always seemed so confident when we went out dancing. Helped me shake off my nerves.”

“That was because of you, darlin’.” He leans closer. “It was impossible for me to feel uncomfortable with you on my arm. All I could see was you, anyway.” You duck your head a little to hide your reaction from the room, and he gives you that half smile that raises goosebumps down your arms, like it always did. “Before I met you he used to drag me out and I probably stuck out like a sore thumb, anxious and frowning in a corner by the bar.”

You laugh at the image, just as Tommy returns with your drinks. “What are you two laughing about over here, hmm?”

Your eyes meet Joel’s again, and he’s giving you a warning glance against Tommy’s teasing. “We’re just reminiscing about going out dancing.”

Tommy grins widely. “I’m telling you, we can have a dance night here. Just need the right music for it. The jukebox does alright, though there’s a lot of slower songs. It doesn't have the widest selection.”

“Neither do I, with just the one CD.” 

Tommy shakes his head at your response. “Ah, but what a CD it is! I remember that mix. Sarah always had a way with a playlist.” You notice Joel shifting his weight at the mention of Sarah, but you decide not to draw attention to it.

“You just want me to embarrass myself with how little I remember.”

“Nope, not going to fall for a tall tale like that, sunshine. I heard from Ellie that you two still got it.” Tommy winks at you. You forgot what having a brother was like, with all the teasing, and you can’t help the swell of emotion in you as Tommy grins at you. You take a sip of your drink to cover it, and cough. 

“What the hell is this?”

“What, you don’t like it? It’s the strongest thing we got.”

“Did someone make this in their bathtub? I thought we had whiskey in this town.” You hold up your glass to the light, eyeing the light brown liquid distrustfully.

Tommy smirks at you. “Sure we do, sunshine, but tonight’s for having fun.” You roll your eyes at him. Joel is hiding his face in his hand, but you know he’s just trying to hide how much he’s laughing at your back and forth.

“You, Tommy Miller, are trouble. Just as much now as you ever were then.” You point at him and go for a stern expression, but you miss by a mile when you start to laugh. He laughs, too, and Joel just shakes his head at the both of you.

“Aw come on, I’m an upstanding member of the community these days, you know? No one’s dragged me out of the drunk tank in Jackson.”

“Jackson doesn’t have a drunk tank, Tommy.”

“Semantics, sunshine.”

You and Tommy keep the show going through your first drink with only a little bit of input from Joel, but you can see him smiling and starting to enjoy himself. With the second drink comes the return of Tommy’s campaign for dancing.

“Look, I’ll go pick out a song from the jukebox, and I swear it’ll be a good one. See, there’s already a few people dancing.”

You look over, and sure enough, there are a few pairs sort of swaying in place by the jukebox. You turn back to Tommy with an unimpressed look on your face, but he grins unrepentantly. “You’ll just have to show them how it’s done, won’t you?”

He heads over to the jukebox anyway, so you turn to Joel. “What do you think? You up for it?” He looks around the room before his eyes return to yours.

“I’ve never turned down a chance to dance with you, darlin’, and I’m not about to start, even here.”

His words send heat rushing towards your face and you bite your lip to hide your reaction. He sees it anyway. “Smooth moves, Miller, as always.”

He shrugs. “With you, it’s always just been a matter of letting myself say what I want to say or what I’m feeling and somehow it works. I was never this smooth before you, so you should blame yourself, you know, you bring it out in me.” You shove his shoulder, laughing a little. “Or maybe it’s only meant to work on you.” He smiles a little when you roll your eyes, trying to hide the effect his words have on you. You wonder if the drink has opened him up a bit tonight, after your weeks of progress so slow you’ve almost been standing still. The thought makes you hesitate. 

“Really, though, this is ok?”

He regards you for a moment, and his expression turns intent. He leans in to whisper in your ear, “it’s more than ok, darlin’. Let me show you.” You shiver all the way down your spine. You nod.

Tommy returns triumphant from the jukebox – he’s set the next two songs, but then can’t make any promises about what comes after. The first is playing now, a slow song that won’t really do, but it’s already almost over. Joel stands and extends his hand to you to guide you out of the booth and towards the small dance floor on the other side of the room near the jukebox.

Right as you get there the track changes, and you hear the familiar opening notes of “The Fireman.” You have to give it to Tommy – this is a good choice. Good for dancing, but not one that either you or Joel associate too many memories with. You take Joel’s right hand with your left as he places his left on your back. 

“You ready?”

“Get on with it, cowboy.” 

He smirks, and does just that. He doesn’t hesitate, just starts two-stepping across the small dance floor. It becomes clear pretty quickly that not only do the two of you remember the steps, you’re almost, if not just as good together now as you were then. He starts to get a little fancy with it and throws in some spins that lead you from one end of the dance floor to the other, followed by a pretzel. You find yourself laughing, exhilarated, and you see a similar expression on Joel’s face. He looks lighter, his shoulders a little taller. He brings you back to face him, doing some simple steps for a moment, and then gets a glint in his eye that you remember well. 

“Joel–” is all you manage before he spins you out, pulls you back in, and you fall into his arms as he dips you, tipping you over his knee and off your feet, just for a moment. It’s not the fanciest move you’ve ever done with him, but it leaves you breathless, faces close together as he holds you there for a moment, smirking. 

He sets you back upright, and slows it down a bit. You can’t drag your eyes away from his but neither of you say anything. It feels like you’ve created a bubble where it’s still 2002, and you and Joel are tearing across the dance floor in one of the clubs in Austin, like no time has passed. You even heard Tommy whistle over the music when Joel spun you off your feet. Just like old times.

As you let your body take over, you start to feel a tingling sensation that travels from the base of your spine all the way to the top of your head. You’re getting overwhelmed, and your body knows what to do, but your mind is checking out. It’s like you're experiencing two things at once – your memories, and what’s happening now. You realize that you and Joel are still moving, but both of your expressions have gone still and unreadable. When the music stops, so do you, and for a moment, neither of you move from your embrace. 

Suddenly you notice that your heart is racing. You’re sweating and you’re out of breath. When did that happen? Joel’s chest is heaving, too. Distantly you remember Tommy saying he had no idea what song would come next and you wonder if you should move aside.

Before you can move even a finger, you hear the jukebox switching tracks, and you see the next song slam into Joel like a freight train. The first notes are barely over and he’s already pulled away from you, turning sharply and heading for the door so fast you realize your hands are still hanging in the air where he left them as the door to the bar closes behind him. You let them drop and start to move, you’re not sure where to, when you feel Tommy come up next to you. 

“Hey, sunshine, you alright?” HIs hand comes up to support your elbow as he moves in front of you and blocks the room’s view. You want to respond, but all you can hear is Lonestar singing about being in love, and all you can see is the Millers’ backyard in 2002. You feel the ghost of Joel’s hands on you and you swear you can hear him singing “Amazed” to you as you sway in place. You remember choosing this song for your first dance at your wedding. You blink your eyes, dazed.

You fist your hand in Tommy’s shirt, shaking him a little. “I need… outside. I need to go outside. Tommy, take me outside.” He’s already leading you to the door before you finish speaking.

Outside, you turn sharply to the right, planning to prop yourself up against the outside wall of the bar and remember how to breathe, but you find that apparently Joel had the same thought. He’s got one hand on his chest and the other in a death grip on the frame of one of the windows. He’s gasping for breath. You and Tommy call out at the same time, but you don’t think he hears you. 

Tommy starts to move towards him, but you elbow him away and slide between Joel and the wall, putting your right hand to his chest and moving his right hand from his chest to yours. “Joel, look at me.” He sucks in a breath and does, clutching at your shirt where you put his hand. “Breathe with me, ok, baby?” He doesn’t respond, but the two of you lock eyes and you start to breathe together. You can see Tommy out of the corner of your eye – he’s turned his back to the two of you, ushering people on as they pass by. 

You breathe together for a little while and eventually, Joel’s breaths come more easily, as do yours. You feel his hand relax and yours does the same where you’re clutching his right arm, holding him in place. Both of you are shaking. He tries to speak, clears his throat, and tries again.

“I can’t…” You shake your head sharply, afraid to let him finish that sentence. He moves his hand from the window frame to your cheek in response and smooths his thumb across your cheekbone. It settles you.

“Let me try that again. I’m sorry, darlin’, I don’t know if I can be that man anymore.” 

You’re confused. “Joel, what man?”

“I’m not…” he takes a deep breath. “I’m a mess. I know I said slow, and we are moving slow, but I can’t see my way to our destination. I’m not the man I was Before and I don’t know if I can be him again.” He looks at you, eyes wide and afraid, and suddenly you’re angry. The words that have been caught in your throat for a month finally spill out.

“Joel, I’m not who I was Before, either. We’ve talked about it a little, but there’s a lot you don’t know about me yet. Who I became and what I did. You don’t have a monopoly on the pain of the last 20 years, alright?” He opens his mouth, but you shake your head and tighten your grip on his right arm. “No. We need to talk, and we need to learn about each other. But the truth of you is still there.” You flatten your hand over his heart. “I can see you in there, Joel Miller. I can see you in how you parent Ellie and how you talk to Tommy and how you look at me. I can see the way you take care of us and the way you’ve started to step up to help the people here.” You grip his shirt and shake him a little, doing everything you can to keep eye contact. “It’s scary, sure, I’m terrified. But I’m not giving this up before it even starts because it’s hard, or because sometimes the memories will overwhelm us. I already lived 20 hard years without you and I’m not doing it again. Not when that’s not what either of us really want.”

Joel looks like you cracked open his chest, actually gripping his heart in your hand instead of his flannel shirt, his expression wild. 

“All I’m asking, baby, is that you try. I can do one step forward, two steps back. As long as we keep going forward, it doesn’t matter how much we backtrack on our way.” He doesn’t respond right away – he looks over your face, and down to his hand on your chest and back up to meet your eyes. You can see tears glistening on his eyelashes.

“Alright, darlin’. You don’t have to convince me to go after what I want. I’ve just been afraid to let myself have it. I don’t… I don’t want you to discover I’ve become someone you can’t abide.”

You bring both hands up to cup his face. “Joel, I’m afraid of the same thing. But I want to figure it out together, not apart.” He nods, and turns his face into your right hand, taking a deep breath. You feel him kiss your palm, lightly, and you shiver. “We can still take the long way. I just want you to walk it with me.”

You feel the adrenalin of the last fifteen minutes start to leave you and suddenly you’re a bit unsteady on your feet. He holds you up, moving his hands to your waist. 

“Are you alright, darlin’? Let’s sit down.” You shake your head.

“I think I’d like to head home.”

“Let me take you home, then.”

You both turn to find Tommy has moved a bit further away, but he’s still guarding you both from the foot traffic at the door. He looks over when you look at him, and smiles a little ruefully. “I’m sorry about that, y’all.”

“Nothing to apologize for, Tommy.”

“I can get that song off the jukebox–” 

Joel interrupts him, firmly. “No, leave it. I might…” he sighs. “We might want to hear it. Later.” You smile at him a little as he tucks your right arm through his left.

You say goodnight to Tommy and start to head home. The streets of Jackson are dark and quiet. You’re both quiet, too, letting the intense moment you just had settle as you lean on each other for support. Soon enough your houses come into view, and Joel walks all the way to your front door before he stops and turns to you and says your name softly.

“I have to thank you. You always know what to say to get me out of my head.”

“You always did the same thing for me, you know? We were good together for a reason.”

He smiles, and nods. “I know it.”

You reach out to pull him in for a hug, and you both squeeze a bit tighter than you have so far, since your reunion. You feel his left hand cup the back of your neck as the right slides down your back and pulls you closer. You’ve been through an emotional wringer in the last half hour, but you still feel your body start to respond to this man. Like it always has. 

You turn your head so you can speak quietly into his left ear. “I enjoyed our dance, you know? Before all that.” His hand takes a firm grip on the back of your neck and you shiver. 

“Oh, I know you did. I could tell.” 

You laugh, and smack him lightly on the shoulder. “Oh yeah? Well you were enjoying it too, I could see it.”

“Never said I wasn’t. Never could take my eyes off you on the dance floor.” He pulls back a bit, and you meet his eyes. Gone, for the moment, is the worry from before – what you see in his gaze makes your breath catch in your throat. He smirks at you and runs his thumb up the side of your neck. 

“Can I kiss you goodnight, pretty girl?” As he says it he tilts your head up towards his. Joel has always called you darlin’, from the very first time you met, and you love it. But there were some pet names he only used at certain times and, well. Pretty girl has the same effect on you now as it did then. Between that and his hand on your neck you swear your feet float off the ground.

You’re breathless, but you manage an actual response. “I thought you’d never ask, cowboy.” He huffs a laugh at that, and then pulls you in close.

You’ve kissed Joel Miller countless times. He kissed you for the first time in his backyard in Austin in 2001 and after that you can’t even recall every time or place you kissed this man, there were so many. You wouldn’t say you got used to it, but you did come to expect it – Joel Miller, available and ready to be kissed by you, whenever you’d like. You knew him inside and out and you’d kissed him everywhere and every way you could imagine, back then.

But everything about this kiss is new. 

Joel softly presses his lips to yours, tilting your head with his grip on your neck, strong and confident. You circle your arms around his waist, moving even closer as you press into the kiss. He moves with you, pulling back a little, but returning almost immediately and kissing you a little deeper, a little firmer. You part your lips and you feel him inhale sharply before he slides his hand down from your waist to brazenly grab your ass, deepening the kiss just a bit, running his tongue along your bottom lip and groaning slightly as you bite softly as his lip in response. 

You’ve touched him where you’re touching him before and he’s touched you like this. But it doesn’t feel the same. It feels new, and heady. It feels like a first kiss and a millionth kiss all at once. He’s kissing you like he knows you, and he clearly remembers what you like, but it’s also like kissing a stranger. One who’s picked up new moves that just echo the ones you remember from Before. One whose body is familiar but also different, changed and aged in ways you haven’t had a chance to explore just yet.  

Joel shifts his weight in a way that turns you slightly, allowing him to slide his hand down further and grip the back of your thigh before pressing you against your own front door. He uses his grip to pull your leg up, stepping closer and pinning you in place with his hips. 

He tilts your chin up again with the hand on your neck and uses his thumb to open your mouth wide. You’re pressed tight between him and the door, sinking into your growing arousal, sinking into him. He looks down at you, mouth held open and waiting for him. You feel hot and dazed, watching as he runs his tongue across his own bottom lip slowly. He meets your eyes, gaze heavy, before lowering his head and devouring your mouth. You sneak your hands inside his shirt to run your nails up his back as your tongues tangle. Joel moans, so quietly you almost don’t hear it, and thrusts his hips into yours. Your breath catches as you feel his arousal meet your own. You feel desire pooling in your lower abdomen and your legs start to shake.

You might have gone on like that all night – you might have let him fuck you against the door, unashamed, outside where anyone can see you – but a door a few houses down suddenly slams shut, startling you both. 

Joel almost jumps away from you at the sudden interruption. Not far, he’s still got his hands on your hip and your neck. Your hands rest on his belt. He’s breathing hard and you suddenly realize you are, too. You shake your head, blinking, and start to claw your way back to awareness – your connection was so familiar, so easy, so much like Before. You’d sunk into those depths like slipping into a dream.

You blink at each other before you both let go at the same moment, standing up straight and stepping away. He lets his eyes dance over you, taking in your mussed clothes and swollen lips, before closing his own and pressing his palms to his eyes. He takes a deep breath. You can see the familiar outline of his cock in his jeans, and you force yourself to look away.

“I need to… I’m sorry, darlin’, but we shouldn’t. Not yet.” You nod. You try to convince yourself it’s the smart thing to do, even as you feel the pull of him like a magnet. Even if all you want in this moment is to pull him inside and make him finish what he started, just on the inside of the door this time. For some privacy.

“We still need to talk,” you manage. Your voice sounds unfamiliar to your own ears, but Joel nods in response. “But we agreed, right? This, us, together – that’s the destination. Even if we take it slow.”

“Slow,” he repeats, eyes lingering on your lips. He blinks, and meets your eyes. “Slow, yes.”

“We should walk away before we jump each other where the whole town can see.” You smile as you say it. It doesn’t sit right on your face. You take a deep breath and move to open your door without taking your eyes off Joel.

He smiles back, and nods. His attempt looks just as uncomfortable as yours. “Alright, darlin’, I’ll see you tomorrow? Or soon?” 

“Of course. Tomorrow.” Your feet feel rooted in place until he finally manages a step off of your porch. Your face feels like a mask as you try to present something pleasant, agreeable, fine with watching your heart walk away from you. The connection you just reawakened pulls taut between you and tugs at something deep in your chest. You keep your eyes on each other, and once he reaches his own porch you finally open your door. You take one last look, chest tight, before entering your houses at the same time. 

Inside, you close your door and immediately slide down against it to sit on the floor, head in your hands.

...

Austin, Spring 2001

You and Joel talked a few times between Sunday and Friday – standing in your front yard, once, and over the phone twice, finalizing your plans and flirting so much you found yourself not paying attention and getting wound up in the cord of the old phone that came with the house. He told you not to waste your limited texts on him, the dinosaur, but you texted him a couple of times anyway. Sarah must have taught him a few things because he actually sent you a winky face back once. It made you laugh and clutch your phone to your chest like some kind of swooning maiden. You told Emily, your friend at work, and she laughed at you so hard she snorted soda up her nose at lunch. Served her right. 

Friday arrived just in time to save you from working yourself up too much into a state of anticipation and nerves. You made yourself stick with the outfit you had picked out on Wednesday night when you talked to Joel on the phone and tried to figure out what was appropriate to wear dancing. He told you you’d be beautiful no matter what, but you wanted to look good on his arm for your first – and long awaited – date. You ran the outfit by Emily, too, and she gave it her official born-and-bred-in-Texas stamp of approval. (She also told you it was a good idea to wear jeans, because everyone else would likely do the same.) It wasn’t going to get much better than that.

Joel was going to pick you up at 7:30 after he dropped Sarah off for her sleepover. At 7:15 you were standing in your entryway with nothing left to do, feeling a little foolish. You looked around for something to occupy you and had just decided you’d put some dishes in the dishwasher, maybe, when there was a knock at the door. You glanced at the clock –7:17 – and raised one eyebrow while opening the door to find Joel on the other side. He was wearing cowboy boots, black jeans that were so tight in the hips it should have been illegal, and a button up green shirt that made your mouth water at how it showed off every line of his torso.

“A bit early, aren’t we?” you teased, leaning your shoulder against your door frame and crossing your arms.

“Well hello there, beautiful. I couldn’t wait any longer to see you. And you answered that door pretty quick, you know, to be teasing me like that. Were you waiting for me?” He grinned at you and winked. What a flirt.

“Maybe I was. You’re looking pretty sharp yourself, cowboy.” 

Joel offered his hand to you and you took it, stepping outside to join him before locking your front door. “Ready to go?”

“Lead the way.”

He handed you into his truck and set off for the taco place he’d been on you to try for months. 

(He’d learned earlier in the week while you were talking in your front yard that you still hadn’t gone, and the incredulous way he said your name had made you laugh.

“How? Darlin’, we told you about it months ago!”

“I’m busy, ok! And maybe I was waiting for an invitation.” You smiled and raised one eyebrow at him. 

He grinned, but shook his head. 

“Well, this can’t stand, darlin’. Seems like I’ll just have to take over from here, hmm? Make sure my girl is getting the best Austin has to offer.” He definitely caught your reaction to my girl, stepping closer and cupping your face with his right hand. You smiled at him, a little dazzled. 

“Pretty sure of yourself, huh, cowboy?” You smoothed your hands around his waist and linked your fingers at the small of his back. 

“Nah. Pretty damn sure of how much you deserve to be taken care of, more like.” You felt like you were going to swoon again, and really, twice in one week? This man.)

So you headed towards the taco place in the truck. Joel asked you about your week at work, how your students were doing, and he smiled a little when you told him that Emily approved your outfit for a night of dancing. 

“You tell her thank you from me, darlin’, I sure do approve, too.” He reached over and set his right hand on your thigh, squeezing gently. You laughed and rolled your eyes a little, moving to hold his hand.

The taco place turned out to be pretty crowded, but there were plenty of tables outside and soon you were settled with tacos and drinks. Your table was cozy, a two-person set-up right towards the end of their outdoor deck, which was strung with fairy lights. 

“Well? What do you think?”

“It’s lovely, Joel.” You felt his boot slide forward and settle against your foot. You smiled at him, resting your chin in your hand. “I’m glad you asked me out.”

Joel reached over and ran his thumb across your bottom lip, fingers cupping your jaw. “You got no idea how glad I am that you said yes, darlin’.” You opened your mouth to respond, but he left his thumb there, right in the middle of your bottom lip. He pressed down gently and you couldn’t help but dart your tongue forward to meet it. You watched as he inhaled sharply, staring at your mouth. You opened a little wider.

Joel shook himself and cleared his throat, pulling his hand away. “We should eat, baby. We got some dancing to do later.” He picks up a taco.

You smiled, enjoying the effect you clearly had on him, as strong as the effect he had on you. “Right. Dancing.” He shot you a look, picking up what you were implying.

“Eat your tacos, troublemaker.”

“Yes sir!” He coughed at your response, and you laughed, finally relenting. You picked up your own taco and took a bite.

You moaned.

“Joel! This is amazing!” You looked up from your food to find him watching you, dark eyes intent. “What?”

He just grinned, slow and smooth. “Nothing, darlin’.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but didn’t press.

Over dinner you talked more about your week, about the family party the Millers had coming up, about your worries for your students as you hit the midpoint in the semester. Joel asked you about your coworkers and some of your students by name, and your heart warmed just knowing he remembered them from the stories you’d told him. That he listened and cared.

He told you about the projects he and Tommy were working on now, and some of his frustrations with his crew and the clients. You realized, as you listened, that Joel had never really held back from sharing himself like this, not with you. You knew all of his crew by name and reputation, at this point. You could ask after their partners and you knew their roles on the team. He’d been opening himself up to you the whole time, just like you had with him. You’d barely noticed at first because you hadn’t had anything to compare it to, no idea he could be so careful and distant with people he didn’t know. Knowing him the way you did now, well. You smiled, still listening.

The fairy lights were setting everything off in a warm glow, but you felt like that glow was inside of you, too. Like the connection between the two of you was lighting you up from the inside. Your fingertips were tingling.

You wrapped your ankles around one of his under the table and squeezed. He winked at you in response. 

Around 9 you got back in Joel’s truck to head to the club he and Tommy had told you about. Apparently they sometimes played Latin music, but tonight was going to be all country, which meant two-stepping and line dancing. You felt your nerves, which had faded during dinner, start to return.

“Joel, you sure I know enough to go dancing? We barely got started last week.”

He reached over and set his right hand on your thigh again. “You’re ready, darlin’. Just follow my lead – I won’t throw anything too fancy at you.” 

You sent him a look. “Something tells me I shouldn’t believe you.”

He grinned, tapping his fingers against your thigh, sending tingles down your spine. “I did say nothing too fancy.” 

You soon arrived and Joel opened the car door for you in front of a large wooden building with neon figures in cowboy hats dancing across the facade. He took your hand again, lacing your fingers together, and started walking towards the entrance where there was a small line. It moved quickly and way too soon you were moving inside. Joel squeezed your hand as you entered the club.

The first thing that hit you was the sound – “Ain't Goin' Down ('til the Sun Comes Up)” was blasting through the dark space. You looked around, noticing the tiered side areas with tables and couches surrounding a huge dance floor sunk into the middle of the club. It was absolutely teeming with people line dancing on one side and two-stepping on the other. You looked at Joel and grinned. “Where to first, cowboy?” He smiled back and tugged you towards the dance floor. As you approached you noticed the bar nearby on the first level.

He leaned close so you could hear him, his lips brushing your ear. “Let’s get a drink and then we can watch for a minute, let you get comfortable.” You nodded, smiling at how well he anticipated what would put you at ease.

He got you drinks and somehow snagged a high bar table close to the dance floor. You stepped up to it and he stepped up close to you, to your side and behind you, curving his left arm around your waist. He put his mouth next to your ear again. “What do you think, darlin’?”

You leaned back a little, letting your back touch his chest as you turned towards him to reply. “They’re dancing pretty fast out there, Joel. I don’t think I can keep up.” He raised his right hand to touch your chin lightly, turning your head to the left a bit.

“Look over there, do you see the split?” As soon as he pointed it out you saw it. Yes, there were some dancers going so fast it made your head spin, but there was an area off to the left where pairs were dancing slower, and some looked like they were still learning, like you. “Everyone here is real polite, real aware of each other. No one’ll make you go fast before you’re ready.”

It reassured you, and you leaned back a little more into his chest. He tightened his arm around your waist. “Thanks, cowboy. That does make me feel better.” He grinned at you and winked again.

As you finished your drinks he pointed out people doing the steps he’d taught you, showing you the different ways they could fit together with other things you hadn’t learned yet. You realized the song was changing, and “My Maria” started up. It was a bit slower than the songs had been so far, which seemed like a sign.

You turned to look at Joel. “Should we give it a go?”

He looked surprised, and then pleased that you suggested it. “Let’s get out there, darlin’.” Before he moved away he leaned in for a quick kiss, stealing your breath and then grabbing your hand to lead you to the dance floor. As you reached it, he turned backwards, leading you with both hands into an open spot. He moved you into the stance he’d taught you on Sunday.

“Just follow me, baby. I’ll guide you right.” You nodded and took a deep breath, and then he started moving.

It amazed you how quick you shook off your nerves in Joel’s arms. He was right, you did have a good handle on the basic steps, and he smoothly led you around your little area of the dance floor, deftly steering you around other dancers. He even threw in a spin that left you a little dizzy. “Joel!” 

“Sorry, darlin’.” He grinned, not looking sorry at all. “Just wanted to give it a try.”

You smiled back, charmed by his easy confidence on the dance floor. “Just warn me next time.”

A couple songs on the slower side followed “My Maria.” After three, you felt like you were letting the dance happen more naturally instead of staring at your own feet so much. Joel was smiling at you softly, and soon he sent you into another spin and caught you close. You stumbled a little and smiled at him. You realized neither of you were moving. You’d frozen in the middle of the dance floor, when his gaze darted down to your lips. 

You'd moved a little closer, breathless, when the crowd suddenly cheered, startling you into stepping back and looking around. You looked at Joel, who was grinning. 

“What’s going on?” you asked, but then you heard it. Most of the men were leaving the dance floor – the women in the room took over as “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” started up. You laughed, but then stopped when you realized Joel was moving away, too.

“Wait, I don’t know what to do!” You were about to get corralled into one of the lines of dancers that was forming around you.

“Just follow along!” he called, grinning. You looked around and saw a woman you didn’t know beckon you closer.

“I’ll show you! Come on!” She broke it down for you slowly, and soon you were moving with the rest of the crowd. It wasn’t that difficult, you realized, just showy. You noticed some were throwing in spins and kicks, but you focused on the basic steps. Once you had a handle on it you looked up, looking for Joel.

When you found him, you almost froze in place. He was looking right at you, and by the look on his face, you knew he hadn’t looked away from you once. He was watching you with dark eyes, intent. It sent a shiver down your spine and you wanted to run to him, or for him to come back and dance with you again. He had a hand on his chin and he slowly rubbed his thumb along his lower lip as you met his eyes. You stumbled a little over the next step and he smirked, not meanly, more knowingly. You smiled back.

For the rest of the song you felt his eyes on you, and you felt like you were dancing only for him. It made you a little bolder – you swayed your hips more and looked at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze was angled low. It spurred you on.

By the end of the song you were breathless, and you’d worked yourself up so much you needed a break before you hauled off and dragged him into the bathroom. When you met his eye you knew he was feeling the same way.

The crowd surged a bit as you approached, and you tipped forward into his arms at the edge of the dance floor. “How did I do?” you asked, grinning. He studied you, looking slowly down your body and back up. Your face heated in response.

He leaned forward, arms around your waist, lips brushing your ear again, and said, lowly, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You tore up that dance floor, baby. Let me take you for another spin.” You closed your eyes and leaned your head against his, overwhelmed.

“Be My Baby Tonight” was playing then, and it was fast and a little intimidating. You turned your head towards him. “Get me a water, first, and then you can spin me all around the dance floor, cowboy.”

He ducked his head into your neck, leaving a kiss behind your ear, and then nodded. He turned and headed straight to the bar as you leaned against the high table next to you for support. You steadied yourself, taking several deep breaths. Dancing now. More of… that later. The thought made you chuckle, but you closed your eyes briefly against the heady anticipation it sparked in you at the same time. 

Joel reappeared back in front of you quickly, drinking his own water and watching you intently as you finished yours. “Daddy’s Money” faded into “Shut Up and Kiss Me” as he grabbed your hand to lead you back onto the dance floor without saying a word. Your heart was racing as you followed, eyes locked on his.

The practice and the line dancing had flipped a switch in you, and you found yourself adding little things that made the dance your own. Swinging your hips a bit slower, throwing in an extra twist, spinning faster. Joel met you step for step and encouraged you with every addition. The rest of the club fell away as the two of you moved in sync. You barely noticed when he threw in a new move – a backwards spin of some kind. He smoothly guided you in and out of it, grinning smugly when it worked. 

You danced straight through two more songs (“Fast as You” and “God Blessed Texas”, which the crowd loved). When “What About Now” started you found yourselves pressed even closer together, after the crowd that had formed for “God Blessed Texas”. You kept moving, but Joel caught your eyes right as the chorus started and your breath caught. He pulled you close and, to your surprise, sang softly into your ear, “How ‘bout tonight? Baby for once let’s don’t think twice.” You knew he could play guitar, and he’d mentioned before that he’d wanted to be a singer when he was a kid, but he’d never sung for you. You felt his voice, soft like velvet, sink deep into you and you squeezed your thighs together.

You pulled away and caught his eye, coming to a stop on the dance floor. He looked uncertain for a moment before he saw the look on your face. 

“Let’s get out of here, cowboy.”

He smiled wide and immediately turned and led you through the crowd towards the door. It took longer than you wanted but eventually you emerged into the cool night air outside of the club.

At his truck he stopped and slipped his arm around your waist. He whispered in your ear, “where to, baby?”

“Take me home, Joel.”

“Just home?”

You smirked at him. “Why don’t you get me there and find out?” 

He laughed, opening the door for you and jogging around to throw himself into the driver seat. As soon as he had the truck in drive his right hand was back on your thigh. Higher this time, and with his thumb rubbing a small circle into the outside while his fingers gripped the inside firmly. You sighed and sank a little lower in your seat. He glanced at you, and stood a little harder on the gas pedal.

Joel must have set a record between the club and your house, but soon enough you were pulling up in the driveway and he was opening the car door for you once again. You walked to your front door with him hovering right behind you, hands lightly brushing over your hips as he moved in step with you. 

You unlocked the door, but before you could open it he grabbed your hips and spun you around. You found yourself sandwiched between him and the door, left hand firm on your hip, right hand against the door to the side of your head. The echo of your dance positions made your heart race. 

He leaned in close, brushing his lips across your cheek before murmuring in your ear, “you got plans tonight, pretty girl?” You heard yourself gasp, lightly, and reached out to loop your fingers through his belt buckles. 

“Met some cowboy at the club. He followed me home, trying to get in my pants.”

Joel laughed, and moved a little closer. His left hand moved from your hip to your neck, thumb in front along your collarbone. “Well, are you going to let him?”

You hummed and pretended to think about it. “I dunno. You think he’s any good?”

Joel met your eyes, sliding his left hand to the back of your neck and squeezing. You inhaled sharply and you knew he could see the effect he had, written all over your face. He leaned in and his lips brushed against yours as he replied, “well, baby, you can be the judge of that, alright? After I make you come on my hand,” he kissed you, “and my mouth,” he kissed you again, “and my cock,” he kissed you one last time. 

Your head was spinning at his words and you could feel your arousal pooling in your underwear. You thrust your hips against his right thigh, firm between your legs. He squeezed his hand around the back of your neck again and you gasped as he moved back a little. 

“Well then, cowboy. Take me to bed.”

He reached behind you and opened the door, pulling you in by the waist as he deftly maneuvered you around it and into your dark hallway. He pulled the door closed and locked it with one hand behind him, never even moving away from you, before backing you into the wall to your living room.

“I’ll take you to bed, pretty girl, but I think I’ll take you right here first.”

Your back hit the wall but he didn’t stop, moving forward until his front pressed all along yours. He caught your lips with his, moving his hand back to its new spot around the back of your neck in a strong grip. With his other hand he undid your jeans, then used both hands to start to pull them down. You reached down to help, but stopped when you realized Joel’s eyes had caught on your underwear. Particularly the lace.

“This for me, darlin’?” As he asked he slipped his fingers into the slide of your underwear before moving his hands around to the back and reaching inside to grab your ass cheeks, one in each hand. You thrust your hips towards his, brushing lightly against his jeans.

“You see any other cowboys here?” 

He grinned. “I think I like the idea of you picking these out, thinking about what I might like.”

“Wait until you see what else I’ve got up there.” 

“Oh, I plan to.” He stepped back in to press you against the wall, moving his left hand back to your neck and his right hand around to the front to slip inside your underwear. “Mouth or fingers first, baby? What do you think?” 

You let your head fall back and rest against the wall, breathless at his question.

“Come on, baby. Good girls ask for what they want.” As soon as the words left his mouth you whined, surprising yourself, a tiny noise in the back of your throat, barely there at all. But he heard it. “Oh, do you want to be my good girl?” The effect his words had on you was obvious – chest heaving, eyes closed, heat rushing to your face. “That’s good, baby, that’s real good. Now tell me what you want.”

You took a few deep breaths, trying to focus as his fingers moved lower in your underwear. “Your mouth.” You opened your eyes to see him grinning at you, eyes dark. 

“That’s my good girl.” He leaned forward, voice low in your ear. “Now, let me hear you moan for me like you did back in the restaurant, got it? I want to hear it, baby. Don’t hold back.” And without another word, he sank to his knees in front of you. You steadied yourself on the wall behind you, unable to tear your eyes away from him as he pulled off your shoes, and then your jeans, and then your underwear. You stepped out of them as he ran his hands back up your legs to your hips. He placed a light kiss on each of your hips, sending sparks straight to your pussy. Your legs started to shake. His right hand moved back down to reach behind your thigh and he lifted it over his shoulder. Any self consciousness you might have felt at opening yourself to him like that was immediately quashed by the hungry look on his face.

“Oh, pretty girl. I can’t believe I waited this long to get a look at this pretty pussy.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss just above your clit. You took a breath that sounded like a sob. “I’m going to treat you right.” He was looking straight at your pussy as he said it.

He leaned in and started with a slow lick, from your hole all the way up to your clit. You felt it like a tremor that ran from your toes to the base of your spine, almost taking you out at the knees. 

“Fuck.” Your hands flew to his head, tangling in his hair, but not pushing. He glanced up to meet your eyes before doing it again, this time maintaining eye contact. You felt like you were about to hyperventilate.

“Breathe, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

You whined again, softly, and he grinned. As he moved back to press his lips lightly to your clit, he brought up his right hand to tease his fingers at your entrance. He pressed his tongue down on your clit slowly, softly, before tracing the tip of it towards your hole. He pressed there, hinting at pushing his tongue past your entrance. You tightened your hands in his hair and he smiled, kissing you, right there, and then slowly pushed his tongue inside while his fingers moved up to brush against your clit. 

You felt like you were floating, like last week when you danced, and again tonight when you were so in sync on the dance floor. It was like he could read you and knew what you wanted before you knew you wanted it. He thrust his tongue inside, curling it a way that made you gasp, pushing your hips towards his face involuntarily. You moaned, low. He caught you with his left hand on your hip and pushed you back into the wall. 

“Good girl. Let me hear it.” He teased you again with the tip of his tongue. "You taste so good, baby. I could stay right here for hours.” You shuddered and he moved his fingers down to circle your entrance again. He pushed one slowly inside you. At the same time, he placed an open mouth kiss directly on your clit, lightly tonguing it as he found the spot inside of you that made you shiver. 

He kept it up as you moaned again, mercilessly thrusting his finger inside while lavishing your clit with attention from his lips and tongue. 

You felt your orgasm start to build slowly, from the base of your spine. It radiated up your back and tingled over your scalp, overwhelming you entirely as you pushed down with your hands in his hair and thrust into his mouth. His hand and shoulder held you up as your knees shook. “Joel, I–”

“I know, baby. I can feel you squeezing my finger. That’s it, pretty girl, let me see you come.” The wash of fire over you made you arch your back, and you called out his name as it took you. He worked you through it until you gently pushed his mouth away. 

You heaved a breath and looked down at him, finding him just as wrecked as you, his entire face wet from being buried in your pussy. You watched as he used your hip to pull himself up, standing over you as he pulled his middle finger from inside you and slipped it into his mouth. His eyes slipped shut and he made a noise like he couldn’t get enough. Your mouth went dry. 

Joel opened his eyes and reached for you, pulling you into his chest. “That’s one, baby. Ready for two?” You shuddered but fell forward, into his arms. 

“I think I need to lie down first.” 

He grinned, and wrapped his arm around your waist, drawing you close to lean on him and walking backwards while holding you up. “Let me take care of that for you.” 

“Joel, I can walk!” You laughed as you said it. 

“Nonsense, darlin’. Happy to have you in my arms, now that it’s my job to make your legs shake.” He winked at you and tightened his hold around your waist, drawing you into a kiss at the bottom of the stairs. You couldn’t help but notice how good his arms looked, supporting you like that. You tucked your head into one side of his neck and kissed lightly behind his ear and along his hairline. He tilted his head to give you better access, humming. Then he lightly swatted your ass cheek.

“Let’s get upstairs, pretty girl.” He encouraged you to go up in front of him, and you grinned over your shoulder at him, knowing exactly why. He stared directly at your naked ass, unrepentant. 

Once you reached your bedroom you started to pull your shirt off, but he suddenly grabbed you by the hips and turned you towards him. He reached around behind you to grab your ass in both hands, pulling you into a searing kiss. Before you knew it he was walking you towards the bed, letting you fall onto it backwards. You bounced slightly and your legs splayed open as he stripped off his shirt, grinning at the sight of you. 

“Look at you, pretty girl. Why don’t you take off that top for me.” You did, and watched him remove his boots and jeans, too. 

Soon he was crawling on the bed, leaning over you on his left elbow while he slid his right hand up your leg, over your torso and finally to your cheek, where he pressed gently to turn you towards him and into a kiss. 

“I dreamed about you like this, you know. For a while now.” As he said it he moved his hand back down, teasing your nipple lightly. “You, spread out on a bed, just for me.” 

You kissed his cheek as he turned to look down your body, which squirmed a little under his gaze. “I did too, Joel.”

“What did you dream about, baby?”

You bit your lip to hide a smile. “Everything.”

He hummed, and moved his lips to your ear. He murmured your name. “I thought you wanted to be a good girl for me, hmm? Now, what did you dream about?” As he said it he tweaked your nipple slightly, making you gasp. 

“Your mouth,” you breathed it so quietly he nudged you with his nose to spur you on. You cleared your throat. “Your mouth, and your fingers. Can’t keep my eyes off your shoulders, never could, even that first day. Couldn’t stop imagining them moving over me as you fucked me.” Your voice was steady, but Joel took the opportunity to drop kisses down your neck, moving towards your chest. You started talking faster. “Your arms, holding me up as you fucked me against a wall. Your lips… everywhere. Your thick fingers, sneaking inside my underwear. Being full of you. Being good for you. Using my mouth on you, sucking you off. Riding you in the backyard. Sneaking into the bathroom together on a night out. Sneaking over in the middle of the night to wake you up by sucking your cock. Waking up to your mouth…” You sucked in a breath as he lightly took your left nipple between his teeth. Your mind blanked. You couldn’t remember anything more. “Everything, baby.”

He twisted his tongue around your nipple before sucking a kiss into the side of your breast. You sank your fingers into his hair as you arched towards him. 

“That’s my good girl, yeah? Where should we start?”

“What?”

He looked up at you. “Pick one, baby. Let’s cross something off your list.”

You smiled at him, a little shy. “What about your list?”

“Well, we have plenty of time. And don’t you worry about that.” He crawled over you, legs on either side of your hips, bulge obvious in his underwear. “You’re my list, baby. Everything you said, and everything else we can do, anywhere we can do it.”

You thought about calling him on the lack of specifics, like he did to you, but you knew you’d rather let him follow through on that promise.

“I want your fingers, Joel. Mouth, fingers, then cock, right?” You looked him straight in the eye as you said it. “How many do you think I can take?” He blinked, and then grinned wickedly.

“A good girl like you? I think you’ll take as many as I want to give you, don’t you?” Before you could respond, he leaned down and captured your mouth with his. This time he skipped past any build up and tangled your tongues together as he pressed down on top of you. Your legs were still trapped between his as he ground his cock, still hidden inside his briefs, against your hip. You ran your nails up his back and into his hair.

He shifted his weight to the side, freeing your left leg, which he grabbed at your thigh to push it to the side, opening your pussy to him again. He traced his fingers lightly from your knee to your hip, still kissing you deeply. Once he reached your pussy he traced through the remnants of your first orgasm.

He pulled back slightly, still close enough that his lips touched yours. “Is this pretty pussy always this wet?” You moaned as he slid one finger between your folds, teasing at your entrance. 

“It is for you.”

“Even when you touch yourself, thinking about me?” Your face heated a little, and you turned your head. “Don’t be shy, pretty girl. Nothing gets me going faster than thinking about you – how you look when you’re concentrating, when you’re dancing in your kitchen, when you’re relaxing on the couch in those little shorts you wear around the house.” As he spoke he kissed along your jaw and pressed gently with his finger at your entrance. Almost inside. “I think about your hair on my pillow, your thighs around my head, your mouth on my cock, your pussy on my face, your legs around my waist in my shower, and I can barely keep myself from coming in my pants like a teenager.” He slid his finger inside you, and you moaned again, clutching at his shoulders. “That’s it, baby. Now tell me. Do you get this wet when you touch yourself and think of me?” His voice was stern and his finger curled inside you, making you push your hips towards his hand. 

“Yes,” you breathed, turning your lips to his. “I’m always wet for you, Joel.” He took your mouth again, thrusting his tongue as he thrust his finger inside you. 

“Good girl.” His voice rumbled, low, deeper than you’d ever heard it. He slipped another finger inside you. “That’s two fingers, baby.” He thrust his fingers in and out of you as he devoured your mouth. He slid his left forearm along the bed until his hand was behind your head and he gripped the back of your neck again. “Let’s try a third, hmm?”

You curved your hips into his hand as he added a third finger, stretching you wide and filling you up. You could feel a buzzing in your ears and a tingle at the back of your neck where he held you in his strong grip. 

“That’s so good, baby. Taking my fingers so well. How does it feel?” He squeezed the back of your neck with his left hand as he curled his fingers upwards inside of you. You heard yourself whine before you realized you were doing it.

“Tell me, pretty girl. How does it feel?”

You sucked in a breath, and replied, “it’s so good, Joel.” You clenched around his fingers. “I – I need–”

He sucked a kiss into your neck, and then under your ear. “Tell me.”

“My clit—” you trailed off again as he moved his thumb right where you wanted it. You closed your eyes. He started drawing circles with his thumb as he thrust his fingers into you. You clenched your fists in his hair and in the sheets. You could feel it coming.

“Joel, I’m close,” you arched your back into him as he held your neck down in his hand. 

“I can see that, baby. Don’t you want to be good for me? Let go, and let me see you come. I want to see it up close this time, see your pretty face.”

As soon as he told you to, you did. Blood rushed in your ears as you arched your chest off the bed, thrusting your hips toward his hand. The orgasm took you hard – you saw stars, felt it radiating out from your core to the tips of your fingers and toes. You might have called his name, but you couldn’t be sure. When you came down you heard yourself breathing hard and realized Joel was murmuring your name in your ear. “That was beautiful, darlin’, I’ve never seen anything so pretty. I knew you’d come so nice, you had to, so fucking gorgeous. Prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen, and all for me. You were such a good girl for me, honey.”

You caught your breath, and then caught his face between your hands, pulling him into a searing kiss. He smiled at you after. You slid your right hand down, trailing over his chest and into his underwear. You gripped his cock in your hand. “I believe you promised another on this cock, cowboy.” It was his turn to moan and thrust his hips forward as you ran your thumb across the tip.

“You know I’m good for it.” You helped when he reached to push his underwear down, then kicked it somewhere on the floor. You took his cock in your hand again, marveling a little at the girth. 

“I knew you were big, Joel, but damn.” He straightened his shoulders a little, looking smug. He caught your eye and winked. 

“You knew it, huh?”

“You weren’t the only one looking, baby. I’ve seen you in your swim trunks. And that day your pants slipped down a little, on the ladder? Well, you should have worn a belt, is all I’m saying.” He laughed.

He raised his right hand to trail his fingertips down your face and neck, and traced the shape of your right breast lightly. “Maybe I wanted you to look.” You tightened your grip on his cock and he pinched your nipple in response before moving his hand lower and cupping your pussy. 

He pressed his forehead to yours. “Are you ready for me, pretty girl?” he shifted his hand to your thigh, pushing slowly to make you bend your knee up to your chest. You nodded. “Hmm, I want to hear you say it.”

“Fuck me, Joel. I’m not waiting any longer.” He lifted his head and grinned at you. You grinned back. He reached over and grabbed a condom from your nightstand and made quick work of opening it and slipping it on. 

“Well I know better than to keep a pretty girl like you waiting.” He shifted his weight, hovering over you. You moved your hands to his hips, but he picked up your right hand with his left and laced his fingers through yours before pinning your hand to the bed above your head. You shifted into it, loving the feeling of being held in place. You traced his shoulders with your eyes, watching as his muscles moved to hold you there. He tucked your left leg around his waist, your right rising immediately to meet it. 

Then he reached down to take his cock in hand and tease along your pussy from your clit down to your hole. 

“You’re so wet, baby. Ready for me, hmm?”

You curved your hips towards him, catching the tip of his cock between your folds. “Always, Joel.”

He thrust his hips forward in response, notching the tip right at your entrance. “Christ, darlin’, this is already so fucking good.” He was watching, looking at his cock just kissing your pussy. You felt heat rushing through you, watching him look.

“Now, cowboy. Give it to me.” He met your eyes again and did exactly as you said, pushing inside, studying your face. Your mouth fell open as you felt first the head and then the rest, stretching you wider than his fingers. You watched him lick across his bottom lip as he filled you up. He was staring at your open mouth. You were panting, tongue lax, surrendering to the stretch. You watched as he let spit gather on his tongue and then slip out, falling directly from the tip of his tongue into your open mouth. You caught it on your tongue and held it there. Your eyes snapped back to meet each other’s gaze as you moaned, loud. He thrust his hips forward, filling you the rest of the way in one swift motion.

He leaned down and licked inside your mouth, running his tongue along yours as he pulled back and slammed into you again, pushing you up the bed. For a moment you were both in a frenzy, your hips crashing together as you opened your mouths wide, tongues tangling, breaths coming hot and fast.

You twisted your hips, squeezing your legs around him, and he pulled his mouth away from yours. “You are so fucking hot, you know that? I ain’t never seen anything like you, never felt anything like this.” He was breathing heavily as he sped up his thrusts, reaching around your left hip and squeezing your ass cheek in his right hand. Pulling your pussy closer with his grip. “You’re taking me so well, such a fucking good girl for me.” You gasped, tossing your head back. “Feels like this pussy was fucking made for me. Christ.”

You could barely breathe, but you managed, “It was, Joel. All yours. No– nobody else.”

“Fucking right, all mine.” He pulled almost all the way out before slamming his cock back in. He tilted his head down and nipped at your neck where it met your shoulder. “All for me.”

“Yes, baby. Give it to me.”

He growled, speeding up his thrusts. He slipped his right hand from your ass back around your hip, sliding his fingers down to your pussy again. He tapped your clit once, sharply, and you let out a sound you’d never heard yourself make before. It sent a piercing arousal through you that made you tighten your legs around his waist. He grinned, and did it again, before starting to work at your clit in time with the strokes of his hips. 

He licked from your collarbone to your ear, whispering, “You ready to give me that third one, baby? I want you to come on my cock.” You whimpered and nodded. “Let me have it then.” He was filling you so perfectly, you could feel your orgasm building again. “Let me see it again. Prettiest sight I’ve ever seen. Show it to me, baby. Please.” He bit down on the hinge of your jaw and you felt it hit you again. You squeezed his cock, tight, clenching your pussy as you came. This time it didn’t stop, the movement of his hips and fingers just kept it going, longer than you’d ever felt before. You fell into it. “Good girl,” he grunted as you felt his hips speed up, losing his steady pace. You felt like your orgasm shifted into a new gear as you clutched at his hair and cried out. He thrust hard into you one last time and your eyes flew open, yanking his face from your neck to watch his face as he came. 

You locked eyes as you both tumbled over and came down the other side of the most intense orgasm you’d ever had in your life. You were breathing hard, breath mixing together as you stared at each other. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, and one corner of his mouth lifted in a ghost of your favorite half smile. “Holy shit, Joel.”

He brushed his nose slowly along yours and moved his hips forward one more time. You gasped. “I knew it’d be this good,” he murmured. “Had to be. Fucking made for me, I knew it.” You smiled softly and pressed your lips to his cheek and the corner of his mouth. He caught your lips in a gentle kiss. “Such a good girl, all for me.” Despite how you’d spent the last hour with this man, you felt your face heat a little. He kissed your cheek. 

You both took a deep breath and he pulled out slowly, catching the condom with his right hand. He moved away to dispose of it and you stretched languidly, twisting your hips. You’d never felt so content, so satisfied. 

He came back quickly, cloth in hand to clean you both up before slipping under the covers with you. He pulled you close, tucking your head onto his chest and gripping your waist firmly with his arm down your back. With the other hand he traced designs on the arm you had flung across his chest.

“I’m mighty glad I asked you out tonight, darlin’.”

You smiled into his chest. “I’m mighty glad I said yes, cowboy.” He laughed at your imitation of his accent.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“You sure do.” He reached down and tapped your ass lightly in retaliation. 

“Don’t you want to be nice to me, after I was so nice to you?” 

You lifted your head to look at him, and he was grinning. You shifted your weight so your left hip rested on top of his, bringing your left hand to support your chin on his chest as you looked at him. “You and I both know you like it when I tease you.” He shook his head, but couldn’t hide his smile. 

“Well, you got me. But it just means you fit right in.” You were a little dazzled at the idea of fitting in so well with his family – you knew he meant Sarah and Tommy.

For a moment you just looked at each other. His eyes swept over you, catching on where his now soft cock rested against your hip. You felt your heartbeat begin to slow and enjoyed the feeling of Joel pressed against you everywhere. You let your eyes start to fall shut. He reached over and tapped your chin lightly. 

“I know it’s early, darlin’, but I can’t help but imagine sharing a bed with you like this all the time.” He met your eyes, a little hesitant, as he said it. 

You tilted your head into his hand and twisted your knee between his, trying to sooth him by getting closer. “It might be early in terms of how long we’ve been doing this, Joel, but we’ve been heading this way for a long time. Since we met.”

He nodded. “I know it. But I still don’t want to rush it – I want to savor every moment that gets us there.” You smiled at the acknowledgement that you were both in this with the same goal, same dream. “And it’s not just about this, you know, even though you blew my fucking mind tonight. I love watching you get to know Sarah too, and seeing how we fit together. Everywhere.”

“Me too, Joel. She’s important to me, and I want this to last.” You looked at him for a moment, and then smirked. “We can take the long way, get lost in it a little bit. Do some exploring.”

He eyed you, and you could see that he was trying not to smile. “Exploring, huh?” He moved his right hand to your lower back and pushed down firmly, moving your hips to meet his as he thrust upwards. You felt his cock stir against your hip. “Well, you just let me know what you have in mind. I’ll be ready.”

...

a/n: chapter 5 coming Sunday, 8/27 :)

a/n: ch 5 now posted!

Tag list: @morgaussy  @jay-zzle @bluetattoos @dins-riduur-anthe

Club playlist (all songs are on the series playlist) Ain't Goin' Down ('til the Sun Comes Up) John Deere Green My Maria I’m in a Hurry (And Don’t Know Why) (This Ain’t) No Thinkin’ Thing Man! I Feel Like a Woman! Be My Baby Tonight Daddy’s Money Shut Up and Kiss Me Fast as You God Blessed Texas What About Now Boot Scootin’ Boogie

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #my fic #over again fic #x reader

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | seventeen

🐴Chapter summary: Taehyung tries his best to fit in on the ranch, and you and Jimin visit a second hand shop to get decor for your rebuilt ranch. But something happens on the way home that will alter your future together.

🐴Chapter title: Love of Your Life

🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc

🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters.

🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst

🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

🐴Chapter warnings: explicit smut in the form of unprotected sex, nipple play, spanking, dirty/sweet talk, multiple orgasms, praise kink, marking, biting, back scratching, hair pulling, crying, rain, like a loooot of rain (yes this is a warning and you will understand later), melancholy, happy tears, promises and confessions.

🐴Status: completed 🥳

🐴Word count: 13.3k

🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “All I See” by Kate Voegele. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?]

🐴Author’s note: welcome to sunshine and rainbows!!!!! Finally! All the angst is gone, and it’s time to bask in all the love and glory ☀️ This was so fun for me to write, I’ve honestly been excited to write this chapter FOR MONTHS. So I’m so happy with it, I love it 😭 I really hope you do too— please let me know 💜

You can send in your questions for the characters or me here → Ask away 💜*

*for people on AO3 you can also participate if you want to, just leave a comment (guest/anon or not), and I’ll reply to that and I’ll add your question in the Epilogue💜

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there.Wanna see the book cover?

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“Your touch is soft And it makes me tremble In your armsIt feels so right” - ‘Trust the Night’ by Rebecca Lavelle

You gently straddle Jimin’s slumbering figure, leaning close to his ear as you murmur softly, “Jimin, my love, wake up.”

You hear him emit a soft groan beneath you, prompting you to press your needy core against his crotch, causing a shiver to run down his spine as a low, guttural moan escapes his lips.

As he gradually emerges from his slumber, his expression carries a drowsy allure, a mix of exhaustion and irresistible charm. His tousled blonde locks frame his face in disarray, accentuating his soft, almost angelic features. With a gentle flutter, his eyelashes part, revealing the depth of his sleepy gaze, stirring a whirlwind of butterflies within your stomach.

He shifts beneath you, your thighs snugly framing his sturdy body, and he grumbles softly, his voice laced with the remnants of sleep. “What’s wrong, love?” He drawls, his words slow and husky, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

His teeth graze his lower lip, a subtle gesture that sends a surge of desire coursing through you as you feel his dick harden against your folds. You rock against him, craving the delicious friction, and a low groan escapes his lips. Though he’s still tired and not fully awake, his body instinctively responds to your rhythm, his arousal evident despite his drowsiness.

“I want you babe, so bad,” you murmur huskily into his ear, your breath hot against his skin. He chuckles in response, his chest rising and falling beneath your hands.

With a playful smirk, he finally opens his eyes fully, the warmth in them sending shivers down your spine. His hands wander to the curve of your hips, drawing you closer as he teases, “Needy, huh?” His grip tightens, pulling you into him with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

His playful tone dances in the air as he teases, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “You’re not wearing panties?” He asks, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. His gaze drifts lower, down to where your pussy grinds over him, and he grins knowingly. “And you’re already dripping. Did you have a wet dream?” He adds with a suggestive raise of his eyebrow, his voice laced with playful temptation.

You grind down on him again, your voice is high, almost airy and incredibly needy, “I did.” You confess as you drag out the words in the rhythm of your movements as you drag your slick pussy over him, his dick teasing your folds. Each friction sends electric pulses through your body, leaving you yearning for more of him, oh God, you’ll never get enough of his dick.

“Then help yourself,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, as he intertwines his fingers behind his head, accentuating the grace of his muscular frame. Your eyes roam hungrily over his form, captivated by the effortless allure he exudes. With a soft, inviting smile, he reclines on the bed, the epitome of relaxed confidence, beckoning you closer with an inviting gesture. Caught in the magnetic pull of his gaze, you hesitate for a moment, questioning him with wide eyes.

You’re so needy, the lust coursing through your veins like a tidal wave— the memory of your dream, where he took you from behind with your face shoved down into the sheets has left you dripping. With a needy whimper, you realize that he’s serious. He really wants you to just do everything yourself and simply take him like that. Somehow that thought alone makes you even wetter, and you finally begin to move your body, just a bit off him, so you can grab his boxers and slide them down his powerful thighs.

With a throaty chuckle, he watches as you rid him of the garment, tossing it aside with theatrical flair. His laughter fills the room, a symphony of desire harmonizing with your own as you sweep the duvet aside, to make more space for you.

You straddle him once more, a low moan escaping your lips as his unclothed dick comes in contact with your slippery pussy, sending electric tingles through your body. The sensation alone is intoxicating, but you crave more, yearning for the fullness only he can provide. You want all of him lodged deep inside you. Fuck. With a suppressed curse, you bite down on your lip, gradually lifting your body, aligning your throbbing pussy with his dick.

You grab his cock, lowering yourself onto him with tantalizing slowness, a gasp escaping your lips as he stretches you deliciously wide. Each inch of him sliding inside sends shivers of ecstasy coursing through your veins. You love this feeling, being filled like this by him— you can never get enough of it. With each deliberate movement, you moan softly, relishing every moment, wanting to etch it into memory. As you finally cast your gaze upon him, his expression is a portrait of pure bliss, his features sculpted by pleasure. His lips part in silent rapture, his eyes, though almost closed, fixated on you, drinking in every detail, every nuance of your body.

You finally meet his skin at the base, your bodies melding in a primal embrace, taking in every inch of his girthy cock. “Jimin,” you exhale, the name a reverent whisper as you rest your hands upon his chest, seeking stability amidst the whirlwind of sensation. For a heartbeat, you simply remain still, savoring the electric lust between you, and you catch the playful glint in his eyes, a knowing smirk dancing upon his lips.

“You wanted to fuck me, then get to work love and show me what you’ve got,” he teases, his voice dripping with desire and a hint of mischief. He reclines leisurely, every line of his body exuding anticipation, silently urging you to take the lead and unleash your passion upon him.

You groan deeply, a surge of arousal flooding through your core, as you slowly lift your hips and then lower them again, each movement accompanied by a fervent moan. The sensation of him filling you so completely ignites an inferno of pleasure within your depths, leaving you intoxicated with desire.

You establish a deliberate rhythm, each movement a tantalizing dance upon his incredible dick. Jimin’s unwavering gaze follows your every motion, and though you’ve shared such intimate moments countless times, the intensity of his stare sends shivers down your spine, igniting a blush that spreads like wildfire across your skin. Maybe it’s the raw vulnerability of this position or the newfound sense of empowerment that leaves you feeling exposed, but as you surrender to the ecstasy and lust, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Fuck, babe, you look absolutely stunning riding me like this,” he pants, his voice thick with desire. His hands, which had been idly resting behind his head, suddenly find purchase on your hips, fingers digging into the supple flesh with a satisfying slap. “And the way you’re taking me, fuck, it’s like you were made for this,” he groans, his arousal evident in every word.

“Get that shirt off,” he commands, his voice low and urgent, the desire evident in his tone. “I need to see those gorgeous tits of yours.” His hands grip the hem of your nightshirt, which is actually one of his, and he pulls it upward with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine. You’ve taken to wearing his shirts to bed, finding comfort in their familiar scent, a constant reminder of him even when right next to you.

You comply eagerly, crossing your arms and grasping the fabric of the shirt tightly. With a swift motion, you peel it off your body, revealing your breasts, their gentle sway drawing Jimin’s gaze like a magnet. His hands tighten on your ass, his touch electric against your skin as he hungrily takes in the sight before him, a hunger burning in his eyes.

Your hair cascades around your face like a veil as you continue to ride him at a leisurely pace, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, each one laced with anticipation. Despite the blissful sensation washing over you, a primal urge begins to stir within, urging you to quicken your pace, to chase that elusive peak of ecstasy that awaits you.

With a surge of desire coursing through you, you amplify the rhythm of your movements, grinding your hips against his throbbing dick. Yet, despite the primal intensity of the moment, Jimin’s hands rest on your hips without guiding or directing you; you’re in complete control.

God you love this— you enjoy being in control like this, but you equally love it when he just rams himself into you uncontrollably, or when his touch is slow and tender. Fuck, you love it all. It’s the entirety of his essence, the fierce intensity, the tender intimacy, that leaves you utterly enraptured.

You continue to ride him with fervor, each bounce driving you deeper onto his dick until you can feel the delicious pressure of his balls against your ass.

Every sensation is heightened, every movement sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. You arch your back, seeking the perfect angle to hit your g-spot, and when you finally find it, it’s like fireworks exploding behind your eyelids, your entire body alight with the ecstasy of his touch.

As you pant for air and moan, the exertion of maintaining the pace begins to take its toll. You gradually slow down, but compensate by riding him deeper, each thrust driving his cock to graze your sensitive spot with even more intensity.

Your fingers tremble on his chest, a silent plea for him to reciprocate the intensity coursing through your body. Biting your bottom lip, you observe his nonchalant expression, seemingly unaffected by the passionate dance unfolding between you. Despite the beads of sweat forming on your brow, there’s not a drop to be seen on his honey-kissed skin. Exhaustion begins to creep in, weighing heavy on your limbs, but driven by the mounting arousal coiling in the pit of your stomach, you press on. You’re on a relentless mission to chase down your orgasm, every movement calculated to edge you closer to that elusive climax.

“Are you close, love?” He teases, his voice laced with playful anticipation, punctuated by a chuckle that dances through the air like a mischievous melody.

You nod eagerly, your breath hitching as you admit, “I am. But I need you,” each word punctuated by the rhythm of your body moving sinuously up and down his throbbing dick.

He raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m not doing anything or helping you,” he quips, his teasing tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“But I need you. I need your hands on my boobs,” you plead, your voice tinged with desperation as you teeter on the brink of release— you just need that little thing to push you over the edge. “Please,” you implore, leaning into him, your boobs pressing against his chest. “Just touch my tits, please.”

You observe him closely, noting the flicker of conflict in his eyes as he wrestles with the decision. His brow furrows in silent contemplation, betraying the inner turmoil he’s experiencing. You recognize that familiar crease of indecision on his forehead, a telltale sign that he’s grappling with his resolve. You know all too well that he always has a hard time saying no to you, his resistance crumbling under the weight of your persuasive plea.

With a decisive grunt, his hands abandon their hold on your hips, embarking on a tantalizing journey toward your awaiting breasts. His touch ignites a fiery anticipation within you, each caress a promise of impending ecstasy. “Fine,” he concedes with a playful lilt in his voice, “I’ll help you.”

As his fingers encircle your taut nipples, a wave of intense pleasure courses through you, eliciting a passionate cry of his name. “Thank you,” you exclaim with a breathless fervor, gratitude and desire intertwining in your voice.

You ride him with fervent abandon, as he skillfully toys with your breasts, his fingers teasing and tantalizing your hardened peaks. Each tug and caress sends electric currents of arousal pulsating through your entire being.

“Shit, Jimin,” you gasp, your voice strained with lust, feeling the tension within you building to its breaking point. Despite the exhaustion and the trembling in your thighs, you refuse to relent, driven by an insatiable desire to reach the peak of pleasure. “I’m coming,” you moan, the words escaping in a fervent declaration of impending release. As the wave of orgasm crashes over you, your body tenses, and you feel every muscle contract around his throbbing dick, your essence flooding over him in a torrent of blissful surrender, painting his cock with your essence that trails all the way down to his balls.

His fingers tighten around your breasts, eliciting a shiver of pleasure as he watches you unravel in ecstasy. “Fuck, you’re stunning when you come,” he breathes, his voice laced with awe and desire, his eyes tracing every quiver and tremble of your body as you succumb to the overwhelming waves of pleasure.

You collapse against him, feeling his dick still pulsing within you, aching for release. With exhaustion clouding your senses, you gaze down at him, your voice soft and pleading. “Jimin, can you... take over and fuck me?” you ask, your words a gentle plea. “I want you to finish too, but I’m... so tired. My thighs... They are so sore.”

He chuckles, a knowing gleam in his eyes that tells you he anticipated this moment. His hands, familiar and possessive, return to your ass, and with a swift motion, he delivers a playful spank, reigniting the flames of arousal coursing through your veins. 

“Can’t fuck yourself on me anymore?” He teases, his voice laced with desire, as you feel his dick twitch inside you.

“I want to, but my thighs,” you plead with him, your touch grazing over his chest, tracing the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

With a sudden fluidity, he wraps his arms around your back, effortlessly flipping you both around, leaving you wide-eyed as you find yourself beneath him, him over you, his dick still nestled inside your pussy. His face hovers above yours, a smirk playing on his lips as he presses down, his warm breath brushing against your skin. “You want me to finish what you started?” He murmurs, his voice laced with desire and mischief.

His voice drips with a potent mix of danger and desire, its weight hanging heavy in the air, sending tantalizing shivers cascading down your spine.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, you’re begging for it?” He taunts once more, his voice laden with desire as he presses his dick deeper inside you. Fuck, you just want him to move, for him to fuck you so good.

Your desperation mounts, compelling you to plead with him once more, your voice raw with need as he remains motionless within you. “Jimin, please,” you implore, your urgency palpable, “I need you to fuck me, now. Please.”

With a primal hunger, he descends upon your neck, his kisses igniting a fire within you, his bite both painful and intoxicating, but he soothes it with his breath. As he moves upward, his breath hot against your ear, he whispers, “Oh, I’ll fuck you until you can’t think straight, love. So you can finally rest those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

As he finally starts to move within you, every thrust feels like a divine revelation. You can’t help but moan at the sheer ecstasy coursing through your body, each sensation more intoxicating than the last. Damn, it’s beyond good.

He establishes a rhythm that’s slow yet intense, each thrust penetrating you so deep it’s enough to ignite fireworks in your mind.

“Yes, Jimin, right there!” You cry out, his precise thrusts hitting you in all the perfect spots, his lips on your neck, leaving a trail of sensations that electrify your entire being. You can feel your pussy tightening with each movement, his bites sending a delicious shiver down your spine. You just know he’s leaving marks on your skin again, but fuck, you both love that.

“You just love my cock so much, you can never get enough of it?” He bends down and whispers in your ear, and it sends shivers down your spine, so much so that you can feel how all the hairs over your body raise in anticipation. You moan in pleasure, as your hands travel to his back, where your nails dig into his honey-kissed skin.

“Yes,” you moan, surrendering to the pleasure coursing through you, “I love your cock, can’t get enough of it, or you.” Your words are punctuated by the exquisite sensations of his deep and slow thrusts, making you feel so close to another orgasm.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs huskily, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine, “can’t get enough of you or your pussy either.” His lips find solace on your neck once more, teasingly nibbling and sucking on your skin, igniting a wildfire of sensations within you.

And then it hits you like a tidal wave, that electrifying surge as the coil inside you snaps and your entire being is engulfed in the ecstasy of another orgasm. Your pussy clenches frantically around his dick, milking him with every pulsating wave of pleasure. You’re lost in a symphony of moans and pants, his relentless thrusts fueling the fire as he continues to kiss and nibble at your neck, amplifying the sensation to unimaginable heights.

“Fuck,” you moan, every syllable a testament to the whirlwind of lust swirling within you, enveloping you in a delicious haze of pleasure. In this moment, you feel utterly consumed, every fiber of your being vibrating with a primal satisfaction, as if you couldn't possibly contain all the desire coursing through your veins.

Jimin leans up, his gaze a fiery fusion of love and raw desire, igniting an inferno of longing within you. With a tender yet commanding touch, he lifts one of your legs, cradling it against his body, before repeating the motion with the other, each movement deliberate and intoxicating. As he leans closer down to you, you feel how sore your thighs really are, as he stretches them out for you in the process, and then, he quickens his pace, fucking you faster than before.

You’re swept away in a whirlwind of sensation, barely able to catch your breath as he relentlessly drives you to the brink and beyond. With each thrust, he propels you further into the depths of ecstasy, seamlessly transitioning from one climax to the next, until you’re consumed by a tidal wave of pleasure, threatening to wash over you.

Jimin’s primal groans fill the air, mixing with the rhythmic symphony of skin on skin as he drives into you with unrestrained intensity. His face, a canvas of raw pleasure, tells a story of desire as he relentlessly pounds into you. With each thrust, the bed creaks beneath you, and your hands grips the sheets tightly as you surrender to the lust running through your veins.

You sense his impending release in the ferocity of his thrusts, each one driving you closer to the edge. Your own climax builds, a tidal wave of pleasure gathering strength with each movement. The intensity of the moment ignites a fire within you, burning hotter and more fiercely than ever before.

Every fiber of your being is ablaze with ecstasy as you lock eyes with Jimin, his hazel eyes a mesmerizing blend of desire and devotion. With ragged breaths, you confess, “Fuck, Jimin. I’m gonna come again.”

As beads of sweat finally cascade down his glistening body, a few droplets find their way onto your chest, trickling sensually between your breasts. His demeanor, a mix of intensity and restraint, is nothing short of sinful. His brows knit together, lips caught between his teeth, and as he inches closer to the brink of ecstasy his nose begins to scrunch, and you find yourself captivated by his raw, primal allure. It’s a sight you relish, a testament to the intoxicating power he holds over you.

His voice, ragged and urgent, cuts through the air like a primal plea. “Fuck, yeah, come again, before me, babe,” he urges, the words tumbling from his lips in a breathless rush. You can sense the urgency in his tone, a desperate need for release that mirrors your own. He’s held back his own climax for what feels like an eternity, and now, he’s almost there.

As he thrusts deeply into your pulsating pussy, you surrender to another wave of pleasure, your essence surging around him like a wild, untamed force. The world around you blurs as your senses are consumed by ecstasy, your vision dimming at the edges— you feel so gone. With a shuddering sigh, you close your eyes, savoring every electrifying sensation of him buried deep within you.

“Fuck, love,” he pants, his fingers digging into your thighs as he plunges deeper, his rhythm slowing as he approaches his climax. With bated breath, you watch his expression intensify, his eyes fluttering shut, his nose scrunching in that adorable way you love. A guttural moan escapes his parted lips, your name a whispered mantra on his tongue. The sight of his release nearly overwhelms you, a surge of desire igniting within you, tempting you to join him in another orgasm.

He fills you up with his warm seed, his movements still gentle yet purposeful, blending your fluids together in a passionate fusion. You’re certain most of it trickles out, staining the sheets below, but at this moment, neither of you gives it a second thought. The sheets can be washed later anyway.

He gasps for precious air, his fingers threading through his tousled locks, his lip caught between his teeth in a display of post-climax bliss. As his gaze meets yours, you see the raw emotion there, an unspoken language of love that binds you together, stronger than ever before.

“Good morning, my love,” he murmurs, releasing your legs to slide gently down the sides of his body. Leaning in, he presses a tender kiss to your lips, igniting a warmth that spreads from your mouth to your fingertips.

You thread your fingers through his tousled hair, playfully tugging at the strands, and as you release, you meet his gaze with a tender smile. “Good morning,” you whisper, your voice carrying the warmth of a new day and the promise of endless affection.

He settles his weight atop you, his presence a comforting weight against your skin, and you revel in the sensation of his warmth enveloping you. Despite the softening of his dick inside you, you relish the intimacy, content to stay intertwined in each other’s embrace for what feels like an eternity. Time seems to melt away in the blissful haze of the moment, where nothing else matters except the connection between your bodies.

“We really should get up,” Jimin chuckles as he reluctantly lifts himself from your body. You emit a groan of protest, the thought of spending the entire day wrapped up in your boyfriend’s arms, fucking each other the whole day is tempting you to stay in bed indefinitely.

He withdraws from you, and you can sense the trickle of liquid escaping your pussy, coursing down your ass and staining the sheets beneath you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean you up,” Jimin assures you, swiftly donning his boxers before darting downstairs to the bathroom, his footsteps echoing in the silent house.

He returns with a handful of washcloths, his presence comforting as he approaches your side. Gently, he parts your legs with his hands, his touch igniting a delicate warmth that courses through your body. As he presses the warm washcloth to your sensitive pussy, a shiver dances up your spine, eliciting soft mewls of pleasure. With careful precision, he begins to cleanse away the remnants of your passion, his attentive ministrations a soothing balm to your senses.

He descends eagerly, his lips tracing a path along your inner thigh as the warm washcloth glides over your sensitive flesh. A surge of anticipation courses through you, the proximity of his tantalizing lips to your core igniting a primal desire deep within. With each tender kiss, you can feel the intensity building, another wave of ecstasy threatening to consume you as his dangerous lips draw nearer to your pussy.

You bite down on your lip, struggling to contain the electric tremors racing through your body. There’s an inexplicable tension, an ache building deep within you at the mere sensation of his lips caressing your thighs. With every delicate kiss, it’s as if fireworks explode beneath your skin, igniting a fierce yearning that threatens to consume you whole. Your breath quickens, anticipation mounting as your pussy tightens in desperate anticipation. Yet, he deliberately avoids your most sensitive spot, his lips trailing to the other thigh, bestowing the same tender devotion with each fleeting touch.

Fuck. Could you come with just those tender kisses on your thighs and the damn washcloth teasing your core?

Oh god, you’re craving his touch on your pussy— it’s insane. Yearning for that final release, because it’s right there, tantalizingly close, and you’re already so worked up, knowing it wouldn’t take much to push you over the edge.

“Jimin,” you groan, urgency lacing your voice as you grab his hair, pulling him towards your throbbing pussy, and pressing his face down into your quivering folds.

“Make me come again,” you pant and plead, your voice trembling with an insatiable hunger for release.

He doesn’t need to be told twice; you feel the warmth of his tongue on your folds, savoring every lingering drop of your essence. Then, he ascends towards your clit, sucking on it with fervor, causing you to arch your back and lose yourself in the sensation. Your head falls back into the sheets, your body writhing with ecstasy as you grind your hips into his eager mouth.

Your fingers grip his hair tighter, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, and your voice forms a rhythmic chant of his name, interspersed with moans that echo through the room. Every sensation heightens, your body tingling with anticipation, toes curling involuntarily as you teeter on the edge of euphoria.

His teeth graze your sensitive nub, sending electric waves of pleasure through your body, and as he sucks on it, you feel yourself unraveling, like putty in his hands. A flood of your essence pours out, your body convulsing with ecstasy, fingers clenching in his hair as you cry out his name. Your hips buck uncontrollably as you reach the peak, and he expertly licks up every drop of your essence.

He keeps sucking until you’re dry, until every last drop of your essence is consumed, leaving only the lingering traces of his saliva glistening on your skin.

You tug on his hair, urging him up to your face. Flustered and panting for air, you’re consumed by the desire to kiss him. Pulling him close, you press your lips against his, a passionate exchange that tastes of your essence mingled with his, a heady blend you don’t mind.

As you part for air, you draw him into a warm embrace, molding his body against yours. Soft giggles escape Jimin’s lips, his affectionate words filling the air, “I love waking up like this, you know,” his voice brimming with adoration.

Taehyung stands out like a vibrant splash of color against the rustic backdrop of the ranch, but he’s determined to blend in as seamlessly as possible.

Jimin and Jungkook reluctantly agree to let him stay in one of the smaller guest houses, swayed by Taehyung’s persistent desire to reconnect with his brothers and catch up on lost time. However, a shadow of doubt looms over Jimin’s mind, a residue of skepticism lingering from the Deiji debacle. Despite Taehyung's assurances, Jimin remains cautious, his trust not easily earned after the betrayal he’s endured. Yet, Taehyung’s unwavering determination and the solid proof he provides gradually chip away at Jimin’s reservations, paving the way for a tentative reconciliation.

However, you can’t deny that tensions are running high, especially with Bell Ranch overflowing with people while your own ranch is still under reconstruction—though it’s nearing completion. It’s a bittersweet anticipation, a mix of excitement for the new beginning and reluctance to leave behind the life you’ve built with your boyfriend, which you cherish dearly.

Today is bustling with activity as everyone pitches in to shear the sheep. Amidst the flurry of tasks, you’ve made a mental note to seize the opportunity to interrogate Taehyung about his true intentions for staying. After all, you’ve learned the hard way that vigilance is paramount, and you refuse to let your guard down again.

Jimin sidles up to you, enveloping you in a warm embrace, his arms encircling your frame as he rests his head on your shoulder. “Ready to shear some sheep, babe?” He murmurs, his voice filled with affection and anticipation for the day ahead.

You chuckle softly as his hair tickles your neck, savoring the intimate moment as you lean into his embrace. “I was actually thinking that Taehyung and I could handle sorting the wool,” you suggest, your voice carrying a hint of determination. “It’ll give me a chance to have a chat with him.”

Jimin gently guides your body to face him, his expression tinged with curiosity. “Are you planning to interrogate him?” He inquires, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and concern.

You let out a scoff, rolling your eyes in jest, but a playful smile graces your lips as you meet your boyfriend’s gaze. “Yes, someone has to get to the bottom of things,” you retort, your determination shining through.

He nods in understanding, and you find solace in his agreement, grateful that he doesn’t resist your decision. Not that he typically would, but after everything you’ve weathered together recently, it feels reassuring to approach things with a heightened sense of awareness and scrutiny.

As Jungkook and your sister step into the shearing shed, you greet them with a cheerful wave and a warm smile, grateful for their presence amidst the bustling activity.

“Shall we get to work?” Your sister’s voice rings out, punctuated by the sound of her stretching. Clad in a white tank top that seems to repel the relentless heat, she’s ready for action, as is Jungkook beside her. You and Jimin match the attire, sporting fitted tank tops of your own, ready to tackle the tasks ahead with determination.

“We’re still waiting on the others,” you remark with a smile, your gaze drifting towards the wool sorting station. Just then, the door swings open, a cacophony of voices flooding the space, signaling the arrival of the rest of the crew.

Yoongi, Hoseok, Ha-rin, and Soo-ah saunter in, their laughter echoing joyously throughout the room. While you’re unsure of the source of their amusement, their infectious laughter is enough to brighten your spirits and elicit a genuine smile from you.

As Ara strides in alongside Taehyung, their hushed conversation catches your attention. Despite the serious undertone, there’s a glimmer of warmth in their eyes, and a hint of a smile plays on their lips. Intrigued by their demeanor, you can’t help but wonder about the topic of their discussion.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here,” Jungkook declares, his clipper in hand, “let’s get down to business.”

“Taehyung, join me at the wool sorting station,” you beckon, motioning for him to join you. With a soft smile gracing his lips, he strides over, ready to lend a hand.

“Jimin, Hobi, Yoongi, and I will tackle the shearing,” Jungkook announces, a wide grin lighting up his face. “The rest of you ladies can lend a hand by rounding up the sheep for us.”

“What? I wanna shear sheep too,” your sister protests, her arms crossing defiantly beneath her chest, a playful pout adorning her face.

“And I’m not in the mood for shearing either. How about we switch?” Yoongi suggests with a smirk, eliciting a grin from your sister. You catch Jungkook rolling his eyes at the exchange, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.

With everyone settled into their roles, you dive into the tasks at hand. The rhythmic hum of clippers fills the shed, accompanied by the gentle rustle of wool and the occasional laughter echoing off the walls. As the temperature rises, beads of sweat form on your brow, your tank top clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Sorting through the wool handed to you by either Yoongi, Ara, Soo-ah, or Ha-rin, you work diligently, the camaraderie of the moment overshadowing the discomfort of the heat.

Yoongi strides over, arms laden with wool, and deposits it onto the table with a resounding thud. “Here you go,” he declares, his voice tinged with determination as he joins you and Taehyung in inspecting the fibers for any imperfections that could downgrade its quality.

“Thanks, Yoon,” you offer with a grateful smile, appreciating his contribution before he swiftly turns back to the task at hand, disappearing into the flurry of activity as he assists in gathering more sheep.

Turning his gaze towards you, Taehyung’s curiosity piques. “You’re from the city too, aren’t you?” He inquires, a hint of intrigue lacing his words.

You offer him a warm smile, pausing your inspection of the wool to meet his gaze. “I spent my childhood here. But yes, I’ve mostly lived in the city,” you explain. “What about you? What’s your reason for wanting to reside in the middle of nowhere?”

His grin widens, a boxy and infectious smile lighting up his features as laughter dances in his eyes. In that moment, you find him utterly endearing. “I’m just craving a change of scenery,” he admits, his voice tinged with longing. “Something slower, calmer, and more peaceful.”

“Ah, yeah I get that. Everything’s more calm out here surrounded by nature, all the greens and the mountains,” you remark, your smile reflecting the tranquility of the landscape. Returning your attention to the wool, you scrutinize it meticulously, determined to ensure its perfection. After all, securing the highest classification means fetching the best prices—a goal you’re committed to achieving.

“And I also want to get to know my brothers better,” he adds, his voice carrying a weight of longing and earnestness.

You nod empathetically, grasping his sentiment. “So, did your mom just break the news to you?” You inquire, your curiosity piqued.

His nod is accompanied by a somber shift in his demeanor, a flicker of anger crossing his features as he clenches his teeth. “Yeah. I have a father—or a dad,” he corrects himself, bitterness seeping into his tone. “But now it turns out he’s not my biological one. My mom only found out recently when he was hospitalized and I offered to donate part of my liver. That’s when we discovered the truth—we’re not related.”

Your gasp echoes through the air, your eyes widening with a mixture of shock, horror, and empathy. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you murmur, your voice heavy with concern. “Is your dad okay now?”

He nods slowly, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. “Yeah, he’s alright now,” he confirms. “But it hit us like a ton of bricks. My mom had to revisit her past, all those guys she dated, trying to piece it together. And here we are,” he adds with a shrug, his pain palpable in the weight of his gaze.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” you offer sympathetically, briefly squeezing his arm in reassurance before returning to the task at hand. With determined focus, you gather the wool and feed it into the crushing machine, watching as it transforms into compacted bundles ready for bagging.

Taehyung trails after you, his voice tinged with gratitude. “Thanks. It’s okay. But,” he hesitates, leaning in closer over your shoulder, “How can I win them over? They don’t seem to warm up to me much.”

Your laughter rings out as you pivot, beckoning Taehyung to join you back at the table. “Just be genuine, kind, and humble,” you advise, meeting his gaze earnestly. “Jungkook and Jimin had their share of disagreements when they first discovered they were siblings. But genuine kindness can get you far.”

Your smile widens as Ara approaches with another batch of wool, her shy grin directed at Taehyung drawing a chuckle from you. It’s a rare sight to see Ara in such a bashful state.

“I just really want them to accept me,” Taehyung confesses, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his expression, his features taking on a slight pout.

“Then trust me, and stick with my advice,” you reassure him with a warm smile, conveying your confidence in his ability to win them over. Taehyung exudes genuine kindness, and you sense no ulterior motives in his intentions.

As you work, Jimin approaches from behind, his hands finding your hips and playfully trailing down to grasp your ass, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He leans in close, his warm breath tickling your ear as he murmurs softly, “Let’s take a break, my love.”

With a chuckle, you spin around to face him, your laughter fading as your lips meet his in a tender and affectionate kiss.

As the rest of the guys gather around the sorting table, Yoongi wastes no time heading for the cooler. “Anyone up for some water or maybe a cold beer?” he offers, casting a glance around the group.

“Feel like sharing a beer?” You suggest to Jimin, a playful glint in your eyes. His smile widens, and he nods eagerly, joining you at the cooler to fetch a cold one, while the others help themselves to either water or beer.

“How are you finding it here?” Hoseok inquires of Taehyung, taking a swig of his water, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

“It’s been cool so far. Just trying to get to know everyone,” Taehyung replies, his gaze sweeping across the group with genuine interest.

“I’d be happy to help with that,” Hoseok offers, his grin widening as his eyes sparkle with enthusiasm.

Hoseok’s playful finger-pointing game begins, and as he gestures to each person, a chorus of laughter fills the room. “Soo-ah’s the cute and funny one,” he declares with a grin, before moving on, “Ara’s the tall and orderly one.” 

His gaze sweeps the room, landing on each member in turn. “Ha-rin’s the sweet one who keeps us all fed,” he continues, and then he points to Yoongi, “Yoongi’s the sleepy but hard-working one—oh, and also, my boyfriend,” he adds with a chuckle. Finally, he turns to you, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “And she’s pretty, but don’t get on her bad side; she’ll give you a piece of her mind.” Laughter erupts from the group, and you playfully roll your eyes as Jimin pulls you closer, his embrace warm and comforting, his lips pressing softly against your temple.

Hoseok continues with his introductions, his playful tone keeping everyone entertained. “And then there’s Jessi,” he says, a note of caution in his voice, “Never get on her bad side either, but deep down, she’s a sweetheart, a loyal friend.” 

His gaze shifts to you and Jimin, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “Next up, we have Jimin,” he says warmly, admiration evident in his tone, “Dedicated, kind, and sometimes too good for his own good.” Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he turns to Jungkook. 

“And of course, there’s Jungkook,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips, “Who tends to let his dick do the thinking for him.” Laughter ripples through the group as Jungkook playfully shoves Hoseok, earning a round of chuckles from everyone.

Laughter erupts once more, Jungkook’s protest drowned out by the jovial atmosphere. “Hey, I’ve changed my ways!” he insists, but your sister chimes in with a teasing grin, “It’s okay, Kook. Your dick is getting married to me soon.” Her playful remark earns a round of chuckles and good-natured teasing from the group.

Jessi saunters over to Jungkook, her steps purposeful, and plants a lingering kiss on his lips, a moment that seems to stretch into eternity. The group erupts into playful cat-calls and whistles, their cheers punctuating the affectionate display between the couple.

Hoseok interjects with a playful jab, his finger pointing towards Jungkook and your sister, who are locked in an embrace that borders on scandalous as they have begun to grind their bodies against each other. “And that’s precisely why we say he thinks with his dick. Too much PDA!” he quips, the lighthearted teasing drawing laughter from the group as they playfully rib the amorous couple.

“It really is a bit much,” you remark with a chuckle, stealing a glance at Jimin whose hand finds yours in a subtle display of affection. “At least we try to keep our PDA low-key around the others,” you add with a playful wink, eliciting a soft smile from Jimin as he squeezes your hand in agreement.

Yoongi huffs, his eyes rolling dramatically as he nurses his beer. “You two should just go get a room already,” he quips, the playful annoyance in his voice drawing laughter from the group as he nods toward your sister and Jungkook.

Yoongi chuckles deeply, his laughter infused with a hint of amusement. “That was pretty cool, babe, but also, very stereotypical casting for all of us,” he remarks, shooting a playful glance around the group. Hoseok joins him at his side, nodding in agreement with a grin.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok chuckles, his tone carrying a hint of mischief that matches the glint in his eyes. Yet, there's a warmth to his expression that makes his lack of apology forgivable. After all, his assessment of all of you wasn't entirely inaccurate.

“Thanks,” Taehyung replies with a genuine smile, a glimmer of gratitude shining in his eyes as he acknowledges Hoseok’s words.

“We should get back to work,” Jimin suggests, his touch on your hip sending a familiar, comforting shiver down your spine, as it always does.

You all return to your tasks, you and Taehyung engaged in sorting the wool while sharing anecdotes about your childhoods and exchanging musings about life in the city.

Ha-rin approaches with a bundle of wool for sorting and sets it on the table before leaning in close to you, her expression carrying a sense of urgency. “I have something important to share with you,” she whispers.

You pivot toward her, your attention fully captured, while Taehyung focuses on the task of sorting the wool.

Ha-rin’s eyes sparkle with an unmistakable glow, maybe happiness or excitement, as her smile widens, and her cheeks flush with color. “Do you remember Seokjin?” she asks, her voice filled with anticipation.

You nod eagerly, a smile stretching across your face, encouraging Ha-rin to continue with her story.

“Well, We’re dating now!” She announces, her voice brimming with enthusiasm as she practically bounces with joy.

“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you!” You exclaim, your voice filled with genuine excitement, as you pull her into your embrace for a tight hug.

“Who’s Seokjin?” Taehyung’s curious voice chimes in from behind you.

“Just my new boyfriend,” Ha-rin says with a proud voice, her eyes shimmering with new love, “You’ll meet him at the wedding.” 

“Cool,” Taehyung says with a smile as he goes back to sorting the wool with you, his movements fluid and purposeful as he assists in the process of crushing and bagging it. 

The rest of the day unfolds much the same, a symphony of shared labor and laughter, until the sun dips low in the sky, casting golden hues across the landscape. With evening approaching, the decision is made to take the festivities outdoors, firing up the barbecue on the terrace.

After weeks of anticipation and tireless efforts, the final touches have been put in place, completing the reconstruction of your beloved ranch. The delivery trucks have come and gone, leaving behind a treasure trove of furniture that now adorns your home. With the major pieces in place, your attention turns to the finer details — the trinkets, accents, and embellishments that will infuse warmth and personality into every corner of your space.

The rain beats relentlessly against the windshield, but Jimin’s presence beside you provides a comforting contrast to the gloomy weather outside. Despite the downpour making visibility scarce, your determination to find the perfect pieces for your home remains unwavering as you navigate through the storm into town, eager to explore the treasures waiting within the second-hand furniture store.

You both step out of Jimin’s truck, the sound of the rain intensifies, its rhythmic patter echoing through the streets. Jimin’s hand finds yours, fingers interlocking as if seeking solace in each other’s touch amidst the storm. Together, you brave the downpour, your clothes already drenched, yet the warmth of his hand in yours provides a shield against the chill of the rain.

He squeezes your hand reassuringly, and Jimin’s gaze meets yours, his eyes reflecting concern and affection. “Do you have a clear idea of what you’re looking for?” He inquires, his voice cutting through the sound of raindrops drumming against the pavement.

You pause for a moment, the weight of your loss heavy in your words, “I don’t really know. I suppose I’ll recognize it when I see it. It’s just... devastating, you know? All those irreplaceable things, gone in an instant.” The ache in your voice echoes the memories lost in the fire—photos of cherished moments, mementos of family and your shared history with Jimin. Yet, despite the devastation, there’s a glimmer of solace in your next words, “But we still have each other, and that’s what matters most.”

Jimin’s voice carries a tender reassurance, “I know, love. It’s not the same, but we can create new memories— together.” His hopeful smile glimmers through the rain as you reach the door of the store, promising a future woven with shared moments and fresh beginnings.

As he pushes open the door, you’re enveloped in the scent of old wood and nostalgia, a comforting embrace from the past. Inside, Jimin guides you through the aisles, where small lamps cast warm glows, paintings whisper tales of distant lands, and bedding invites dreams of serenity. Yet, amidst the array of treasures, nothing seems to call out to you, each item silent in its appeal.

You find yourself yearning for the familiarity of your old belongings, their absence casting a shadow over the task of replacement. Amidst the sea of options, uncertainty looms large, leaving you grappling with indecision as you navigate the aisles.

“Nothing here seems to resonate with me,” you grumble softly, feeling a sense of frustration as Jimin wraps his arm around you, offering silent support in the midst of your indecision.

“You don’t have to force it, love,” he says, his touch gentle as he strokes your arm, understanding the weight of the moment as you continue to wander among the aisles filled with relics of other people’s pasts, none of which seem to fit the future you’re trying to build for your home.

“I know, it’s just... I want my home to feel like mine again,” you admit, your voice carrying the weight of longing and a touch of anxiety. You can feel the restlessness creeping into your veins, a desperate desire to reclaim the sense of belonging that once filled every corner of your space. Even after the rebuilding was complete and you revisited, that familiar warmth seemed elusive, leaving you yearning for a sense of home that now feels like a distant memory.

“I understand. And if it helps, I have some old photos of us as kids. Maybe they’ll bring back some of that warmth,” he offers, his voice tender as he leans in to kiss your cheek. In that moment, flooded with memories and affection, your heart swells with love and a renewed sense of comfort.

“Thank you, my love,” you murmur, leaning into his warm touch, feeling a surge of gratitude for having him by your side, a constant source of comfort and support in your life.

“Shall we head back home, then?” he asks, gently tugging you towards the exit, his eyes filled with a tender reassurance that no matter where you go, as long as you’re together, it’s home.

“Yeah, let’s head back home,” you agree, following his lead out into the rain. The downpour has only intensified, each raindrop drumming a frantic rhythm on the pavement. You quicken your pace, darting towards his truck with eager steps, eager to escape the deluge and find refuge in the warmth of home.

You share a laugh, the sound mingling with the patter of rain around you, as you both sit there drenched, your hair plastered to your skin and raindrops trickling down your clothes like tiny rivers.

Jimin casually runs his hand through his bangs, a gesture so effortlessly captivating that it sends a shiver down your spine. There’s something undeniably enticing about the way his fingers tousle his hair, igniting a fire deep within your core.

With a satisfying rumble, Jimin turns the key in the ignition, awakening his truck from its slumber. The engine roars to life, echoing the thunderous rhythm of your hearts. As he deftly maneuvers the vehicle in reverse, the world outside the windshield blurs into streaks of rain, a symphony of droplets dancing against the glass. Soon, you’re back on the familiar path homeward, each turn of the wheel bringing you closer to the sanctuary of his home.

You gaze out the rain-streaked windows, the world outside a whirl of fleeting hues and misty raindrops. A pang of melancholy settles in your chest, a silent lament for the unfulfilled promise of finding pieces to restore the warmth of your home. Yet, amidst the downpour and the passing scenery, a glimmer of hope flickers within you. You cling to the belief that with time, dedication, and shared love, you can piece together the fragments of familiarity, stitching together a tapestry of comfort reminiscent of days gone by.

“It’s pouring buckets,” you remark, squinting through the rain that blurs the world beyond the windshield into an abstract watercolor.

“Yeah, it’s like driving on an ice rink out here,” Jimin mutters, his grip on the wheel tightening as the car skids slightly, prompting you to glance at him, relieved to find his attention still fixed on the road ahead.

Damn you hate driving in rainy weather— you know it takes so much focus and attention. Your muscles tensing with each unpredictable swerve of the car. Every moment feels like an eternity, your only wish for the storm to relent and let you reach your destination unscathed.

“Shit!” Jimin’s expletive slices through the tension as a deer darts across the road, forcing him to swerve sharply and the truck skids to a halt. Your heart lurches against the seatbelt, grateful for its hold as the truck jerks to a stop. With wide eyes, you glance at Jimin, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel, a symphony of muttered curses escaping his lips.

He presses down on the accelerator, but the wheels only spin uselessly, kicking up mud and gravel. 

Damn it, you’re stuck, aren’t you?

You turn to Jimin, your eyes widening in alarm. “Are we stuck?”

Jimin huffs, frustration evident as he runs a hand through his hair again. “I’m afraid we are.”

“At least the deer made it out okay,” he grunts in frustration.

“Yeah, yeah, great for the deer, but now we’re stranded,” you grumble, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, frustration settling in as rain pelts the chassis of the truck.

You release a frustrated huff as the reality of the situation sinks in. “What do we do now, Jimin?” You turn to him, concern etched in your eyes.

“We could try to push the truck back onto the road,” he suggests, his breath heavy with resignation.

You gape at him, disbelief etched across your face. “Why can’t we just call for help?”

He lets out a frustrated chuckle, the sound laced with tension. “It’ll take forever for help to arrive out here. We might as well give it a shot, see if we can push it out of the mud. If we can’t, then we’ll call for backup.”

“Fine,” you grunt, regretting not grabbing your raincoat before this impromptu adventure. Anger simmers beneath your skin, though you know it’s futile. Still, frustration pulses through your veins as you swing open the door and step out into the relentless rain, each drop feeling like a reminder of the day’s misfortune.

Jimin joins you, and together you march to the rear of the truck, determination etched on your faces as you brace yourselves against the heavy load. With gritted teeth and strained muscles, you throw your weight against it, but it remains stubbornly unmoved, resisting your efforts with an infuriating steadfastness.

“Jimin, have you even put it in neutral?” you demand, your patience wearing thin, the frustration evident in your tone as irritation simmers beneath the surface.

“Shit, I forgot that,” Jimin apologizes, rushing back to the driver’s seat to rectify his oversight and shift the gear into neutral. You can’t help but roll your eyes and emit a frustrated grunt. Forgetting such a crucial step isn’t exactly conducive to getting the truck unstuck, and you're feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on you.

“Seriously, love,” you grumble, the frustration mounting within you like a tempest.

“Are you mad now?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity and concern.

“Yeah! I’m so frustrated that we’re in this situation at all!” you huff in anger, your voice resonating with frustration. You plant your hands firmly on the load at the back of the truck. “Help me push it.”

Jimin joins you, his expression apologetic as he understands your frustration. Despite his remorse, you’re determined to push the damn truck back on the road and get back home. The rain continues to soak you both, and while the weather isn’t freezing, you're aware that staying outside in wet clothes isn’t ideal.

You exert every ounce of strength to push the damn truck, but it remains stubbornly stuck in the mud. Your feet struggle for traction in the slippery terrain, and with a frustrated grunt, you lose your balance, landing with a heavy thud in the mire. Jimin, ever beside you, extends his hand, offering support in the midst of your muddy ordeal.

As you grip his hand, now coated in mud like the rest of you from your unplanned plunge, Jimin’s concern is palpable in his voice. “Are you alright?” He inquires, his eyes scanning you for any signs of injury amidst the muck.

Frustration boiling over, you unleash a torrent of emotion, your voice echoing in the rain-soaked air. “I hate this fucking truck!” You scream, the words carrying your exasperation and anger into the stormy air.

With a surge of frustration, you unleash a primal act of defiance, kicking the stubborn truck with all your might. Storming around to the passenger side, you yank open the door, then dive into the glove compartment, your hands fumbling desperately for anything to wipe the mud from your face.

In the heat of your fury, items tumble from the glove box, but you pay them no mind. Enveloped by anger, you allow the contents to spill onto the muddied ground, a chaotic symphony of frustration. Finally, your hand closes around a fabric, and as you draw it out, relief washes over you at the sight of the handkerchief clutched in your grasp.

“I’m so sorry, but there’s no reason to be mad,” Jimin’s voice breaks through your fury, gentle and soothing, yet you can’t shake off the bubbling anger as you tighten your grip around the cloth, your frustration simmering beneath the surface like a tempest ready to erupt.

“This is your fucking fault! If you hadn’t swerved to avoid that deer, we wouldn’t be stuck here!” You erupt, the words laced with bitterness and frustration, punctuated by the slamming of the door. Bending down, you scoop up a handful of mud, your movements fueled by anger, and hurl it at your boyfriend, the wet earth splattering against his chest with a muddy thud.

“Hey!” He shouts, his voice tinged with both surprise and frustration as the mud hits him squarely in the chest. “If I hadn’t swerved, we would’ve collided with the poor animal,” he huffs, his words defensive yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

“I don’t give a Shit! Why do you have to be so damn sweet?” You curse, frustration dripping from every word as you slump against the passenger’s door, letting your body slide down to the dirt. At this point, you couldn’t care less. You’re drenched, the rain relentless, and your clothes are soaked and caked with mud. You scoop up more dirt, hurling it at him, but a small smile tugs at your lips nonetheless.

“Why are you throwing mud at me?” He chuckles as you continue to hurl clumps of mud at him.

“You deserve to be as filthy as me. After all, this mess is all your doing,” you retort with a laugh, embracing the absurdity of the moment. You feel utterly ridiculous, but in the midst of your misery, why not find a bit of humor?

Your fingers coil around yet another clump of mud, but this one has an unfamiliar weight to it. Just as you’re about to launch it at him, a flicker of caution halts your arm mid-swing. What if it’s not just mud? What if it’s a stone? You freeze, the gravity of potentially hurting him suddenly sinking in. With a conscious effort, you halt your motion and peer closely at the object cradled in your palm.

As you inspect the object further, it dawns on you that it’s not a stone at all—it’s more box-shaped, its contours distinctly different from the surrounding mud.

You pull the object closer, curiosity piqued. With both hands now engaged in the inspection, the handkerchief falls forgotten into the mud below.

As you remove the mud from the box, your heart races with anticipation, and a surge of emotions washes over you—love, excitement, and a hint of disbelief. With trembling hands, you begin to realize the significance of what you might have stumbled upon.

Jimin notices the box in your hands, and as your eyes widen with realization, he senses a shift in the atmosphere. His own expression morphs into one of nervousness and shock as he hurries over to you, his voice pleading, “Don’t.”

“Jimin,” your voice quivers, uncertainty laced with a trembling anticipation as you gaze at the box in your hands. A strange mix of fear and longing swirls within you, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as your body trembles with emotion. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Please don’t open it now,” he implores, his voice tinged with urgency as he kneels before you, eyes pleading.

You disregard his pleas, your focus solely on the mysterious box in your hands. His touch, though comforting, fades into the background as tears blur your vision. 

“Is this... for me?” The question trembles in your voice, laden with hope and uncertainty.

He takes a deep breath, a hint of frustration flickering across his features before he confirms with a soft, resigned tone, “It is.”

You lock eyes with him, your gaze searching for answers. “Why can’t I open it then?” You ask, your voice a blend of curiosity and longing, yearning to unravel the mystery within the box.

He bites his bottom lip, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he weighs his words carefully. “It’s not the right time,” he murmurs softly, his tone laden with hidden meaning, leaving you wondering what secrets the box holds and why now isn't the moment to unveil it.

“Right time?” You echo, your voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and longing, your fingers tightening around the box as if it holds the answers to all your questions. You draw it closer to your chest, the weight of it pressing against your heart, desperate for the secrets it guards to be revealed.

You feel as if the air has been sucked out of your lungs, a lump forming in your throat, making it hard to speak. “I don’t care about the right time,” you manage to say, your voice strained with emotion, your heart pounding against the confines of your chest.

Your voice quivers with raw emotion, the weight of your longing evident in every syllable. “I want to open it,” you insist, your words carrying the depth of your desire, echoing the urgency in your heart.

You catch a glimpse of uncertainty flickering in his eyes, a silent plea for patience. Yet, an undeniable yearning propels you forward. Damn it, you need to uncover the mysteries held within that box!

“Or better yet, you open it for me,” you press the box into his trembling hands, your voice a whisper of longing, “Please.”

He accepts the box from your hands into his own, his fingers tracing its edges with a tenderness that mirrors the emotion swirling in the air around you. For a timeless moment, the rain’s relentless patter provides the only soundtrack to your anticipation.

“Alright,” he whispers, his voice a gentle breeze in the midst of the rainstorm, laden with layers of emotion—love, adoration, and a hint of vulnerability that draws you closer.

With deliberate care, he unfurls the box’s lid, revealing its hidden treasure, as you stand there in the rain, every droplet echoing the rapid beat of your heart. Your breath hangs suspended as the ring emerges, a golden band adorned with a mesmerizing purple gemstone. Your hands quiver with anticipation, your gaze flitting between the ring and your beloved, each moment pregnant with emotion.

Jimin kneels before you, his eyes alight with a blend of love and hope that sparkles even in the rain-soaked dimness. His hair, drenched and plastered to his head, gives him an endearingly disheveled appearance, yet there’s an undeniable allure in his vulnerability. With the box cradled in his hand, he exudes a nervous energy, his lip caught between his teeth.

In that suspended moment, every beat of your heart seems magnified, echoing in the space between you and Jimin. Emotions swirl within you, a tumultuous mix of love and anticipation, rendering you speechless. Your affection for him surges, a tidal wave of adoration that threatens to overwhelm you. All you want is to feel the weight of that ring on your finger, a tangible symbol of your boundless love. 

Yet, as the seconds tick by, the question remains unspoken, hanging in the air like an unclaimed promise.

With a deep breath, he begins, “My love,” and the mere sound of those words sends a shiver down your spine, a surge of emotions welling up within you, threatening to overflow. His voice, soft yet laden with sincerity, washes over you like a gentle breeze on a summer day.

“I’ve loved you for so long, with every beat of my heart,” he confesses, his voice wavering with emotion amidst the relentless downpour. “I want nothing more than to spend eternity by your side, to cherish every moment with you. Will you marry me?” With those words, he offers you not just a ring, but his soul, laid bare before you, his eyes reflecting the depth of his devotion despite the storm raging around you.

Tears mingle with the raindrops, cascading down your cheeks, as you gaze at him, your heart a tumultuous symphony of emotions. In that moment, the world around you fades into a blur, leaving only him, his earnest expression etched into your soul.

“Fuck yes, you beautiful fool,” you manage to gasp amidst tears of joy, your muddy fingers staining his cheeks as you pull him into a fervent kiss. In that embrace, it’s as if the universe itself has aligned, every piece falling into perfect place. Your kiss is a declaration, a promise of endless love and boundless passion, a testament to the unbreakable bond between your souls. As you meld together in that moment, you can’t help but release a guttural sound of longing and satisfaction into his mouth.

With a tender chuckle, he breaks the kiss for a moment, and as you catch your breath, your left hand trembles with the weight of your affection as you extend it towards him.

Gently, he slides the ring over your muddy ring finger, his eyes never leaving yours, and when it finally settles in its place, you glance down at the ring. There, snug on your finger, it feels like it belongs, a tangible emblem of your love. You’re overwhelmed with an indescribable sense of completeness, your heart brimming with an abundance of love.

With a soft smile, you meet his gaze, captivated by the dimples adorning his cheeks. Eager for another kiss, you lean in, your enthusiasm propelling you forward, but in your haste, you inadvertently push him down onto the muddy ground. His back meets the wet earth, but undeterred, you lower yourself on top of him, your lips meeting in a fervent embrace, each kiss imbued with the passion and love that fills your heart.

You couldn’t care less about the rain, the mud coating your clothes, or the dampness seeping into your skin. In this moment, with his proposal still echoing in your mind, you’re consumed by an overwhelming sense of love and euphoria. It’s as if the world around you fades into insignificance compared to the depth of emotion swelling in your heart.

“Jimin, I…” You pause, your voice cracking with emotion as you lock eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze conveying volumes of unsaid words. “Damn it,” you continue, your voice trembling with raw sincerity, “I love you more than words can express. We’ve weathered storms together, faced hardships, but through it all, my love for you has only grown stronger. I want to spend eternity with you, by your side, through every high and every low.”

Tears stream down your cheeks, a mixture of overwhelming joy and profound emotion washing over you. But instead of words, you convey the depth of your feelings through a tender kiss, your lips meeting his with a fervor born of love. As you press against him, you feel the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling, a comforting reassurance amidst the storm of emotions. With each tear that falls, you’re reminded of the depth of your love, your journey, and the unwavering bond that binds your souls together.

With a gentle touch, he reaches for your face, his fingertips tracing the path of your tears, a futile attempt to wipe them away amidst the mud and rain. Despite the grime that now marks his hands, his touch carries a tenderness that speaks volumes, a silent promise to be there for you, even in the messiest of moments.

He lifts you gently, his hands cradling your face as he meets your gaze with sincerity. “I’m so sorry for everything, love,” he murmurs, his voice carrying the weight of his remorse and the depth of his affection.

You gently shake your head, your eyes meeting his with a soft intensity. “I know you’re sorry, and I am too. But we’ve said sorry enough,” you whisper, your voice carrying a note of resolve. “I just want to look ahead, please.”

With a solemn nod, mud now smudging his hair further, he reciprocates your kiss, his lips molding against yours as if they were made for each other. His lips, soft and warm against yours, feel like a sanctuary, each beat of your heart syncing with the rhythm of his own.

You break the kiss, your fingers intertwining with his as you guide him to sit beside you, eager to admire the ring together. The sight of it takes your breath away; it’s not just beautiful—it’s downright stunning. The way it catches the limited light, shimmering with a brilliance that reflects your love, leaves you speechless.

“How long have you had it?” Your question lingers in the air, accompanied by the gentle patter of raindrops. You can’t help but smile, feeling like the luckiest person in the world, despite the downpour soaking you both.

His laughter dances in harmony with the rhythm of the rain, a melody of joy amidst the storm. As his hand navigates through his hair, smearing more mud across his face, you can’t help but join in, your laughter echoing through the downpour.

“You won’t believe me,” he chuckles nervously, a hint of mystery teasing his words. You playfully shove him on the shoulder, your laughter mingling with the pitter-patter of raindrops. Leaning into his sturdy frame, you find comfort against the backdrop of the truck, a sanctuary in the midst of the storm.

“Try me,” you tease, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as you place your muddy hand over his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your touch.

“I’ve had it for months,” he confesses, and you let out a gasp, pulling away to gaze at him with wide eyes, surprise painting your features.

“Shit, really?” You exclaim, disbelief evident in your voice. It’s hard to fathom that he’s been carrying the ring around for so long.

“I got it before Deiji came back and announced her pregnancy,” he confesses, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips, though a hint of sadness lingers in his eyes.

“I’m still sorry about that, but I’m also relieved that we don’t have to deal with that anymore, to be honest,” you confide, a wistful smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah. I know,” he murmurs, his voice carrying a weight of longing and resignation. “I was really looking forward to being a father, I guess.”

You gently cup his cheeks, locking eyes with him. “I know, love. But you can still be a father-– a father to our kids. I want everything with you, even kids. Maybe not right at this moment, but in the future, absolutely.”

You witness the spark in his eyes ignite, tears welling up and cascading down his cheeks, his whole being pulsating with emotion. Without hesitation, you draw him close, enveloping him in a tight embrace, sharing in his overwhelming moment of vulnerability and love.

“Thank you. I love you so much,” his words, though muffled against your shoulder, resonate deeply within you, carrying the weight of his love and gratitude. You hold him tighter, cherishing the warmth of his embrace and the sincerity in his voice as he expresses his boundless affection.

You gently stroke his back, feeling the rise and fall of his trembling breaths against your chest. With tender reassurance, you speak softly, your words carrying the weight of unwavering devotion. “You beautiful fool,” you murmur, “I love you so much too.”

As the rain continues to cascade around you, mingling with the mud beneath your feet, Jimin’s resourcefulness shines through. With a determined glint in his eye, he offers a solution amidst the downpour. “How about this,” he suggests, his voice cutting through the rain’s steady rhythm. “You take the wheel, and I’ll push the truck forward from the back.” His hands grip a sturdy piece of wood, strategically positioned beneath the wheels for added traction.

Feeling a surge of determination, you nod decisively and make your way to the driver’s seat. With a sense of purpose, you settle in, the familiar hum of the engine beneath you. Guiding the gear shift into place, you take a deep breath, your focus unwavering. As the engine roars to life, you ease your foot onto the accelerator, the truck finally inching forward with each determined push from Jimin’s hands against its frame.

With each concerted effort, the truck gradually inches forward, overcoming the resistance of the mud with each determined push. A surge of triumph floods through you as the tires find traction, guiding the vehicle back onto the solid ground of the road. As Jimin approaches, his eyes bright with pride and relief, he leans in and seals the moment with a tender kiss, a silent celebration of your shared victory.

His grin widens as he gazes at your hand, adorned with the beautiful ring, and then back up at you. “Do you want to take the wheel?” he asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

Your laughter fills the cabin, a delightful symphony against the drumming rain outside. “No way, not in this weather,” you chuckle, relinquishing the driver’s seat and venturing back out into the rain. Jimin flashes you a grateful smile as he settles back into the driver’s seat, ready to navigate the wet roads once more.

Through the rain-streaked windshield, he guides you home with a steady hand, the soft hum of the engine blending seamlessly with the pitter-patter of raindrops. In this tranquil cocoon of affection, words seem unnecessary as your love speaks volumes, enveloping you both in a comforting embrace.

With practiced precision, he guides the truck onto the familiar terrain of the yard, the rain still a faithful companion to your journey.

You both leap out of the truck, a contagious giddiness infusing your steps, your hand instinctively seeking Jimin’s as you scan the expanse of the ranch for your friends, the anticipation palpable in the air that mirrors the fluttering excitement in your hearts. You can’t wait to tell your friends and sister what has happened.

As you scour the house and comb through every corner of the property, your curiosity leads you to the stables. With a creak of the door, you’re greeted by a chorus of voices resonating from within, hinting at the presence of your friends.

You tread down the rustic aisle of the stables, the earthy scent of hay and sawdust swirling around you. There, amidst the soft glow of fluorescent light, you spot your sister, Jungkook, Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok engrossed in the meticulous task of cleaning out the stalls, their laughter echoing off the wooden beams.

You beam, your eyes catching Yoongi’s in the warm glow of the stable windows. His puzzled expression prompts a chuckle as he gestures towards your muddy attire, “What happened? You’re all covered in dirt.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling like the protagonist in some quirky romantic comedy. Grinning ear to ear, you confess, “We drove off the road.”

You observe as the guys down their tools, their attention instantly drawn to you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and worry.

Concern etches across your sister’s face as she strides over to you along the aisle, her voice soft with worry as she asks, “Are you okay?”

Grinning, you reassure them, “We’re all good. Managed to push the truck back on the road,” your laughter intertwining with the warmth of Jimin’s hand in yours.

Yoongi’s curiosity draws him closer, his eyes narrowing in on your beaming expression. “What’s got you grinning like a fool?” He prods, his voice a mix of amusement and genuine interest.

Yoongi’s playful smirk widens, his gaze shifting between you and Jimin. “Did you guys do it in the truck or something?” He teases, his tone laced with humor and a hint of mischief.

You burst into laughter, shaking your head at Yoongi's jest. “Nah, not this time,” you reply between chuckles, exchanging a knowing glance with Jimin.

“Gross,” Taehyung grunts in mock disgust from one of the stalls, his voice echoing playfully through the wooden space.

With a gleeful grin, you extend your left hand, showcasing the glimmering ring adorning your finger like a prized possession, the sunlight from the windows catching the gemstone and casting colorful reflections around the stable.

Yoongi’s eyes widen in surprise as they dart between the ring on your finger and Jimin’s face, his voice tinged with disbelief, “You proposed?”

Your sister practically shoves Yoongi away in her eagerness to get a closer look, grabbing your hand despite the mud, her eyes widening as she takes in the glinting ring. Then, her gaze shifts to Jimin, a mixture of joy and teasing in her voice, “You finally did it, huh? I’m so happy for both of you! Congratulations!”

You give Jimin and your sister a puzzled stare, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What do you mean? Did you know he was going to propose?”

Your sister chuckles, her eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “Yeah, me and Jungkook knew. I saw Jimin in the jewelry store, and he showed the ring to me. It’s perfect, right?” As she speaks, Jungkook appears behind her, wrapping his arms around her in a loving embrace, a grin playing on his lips.

“It absolutely is,” you reply, wiggling your fingers and soaking in the sheer joy of the moment.

With no regard for the mud covering both of you, Yoongi envelops you in a tight embrace, drawing Jimin into the hug as well. “I’m so happy for both of you,” he declares, his voice thick with emotion. As he releases you and moves toward his boyfriend for a hug, you feel the warmth of his happiness lingering in the air.

As you prepare to return home, a strange sensation grips you, a reluctance to part ways with Jimin. Despite the completion of your ranch project and the fond memories made there with him, the idea of leaving him behind feels unsettling. You feel like you’re leaving a piece of your heart behind with him. Yet, it’s a decision you’ve both agreed upon, a part of the plan to return home.

You and your sister pull up to the two-story ranch, freshly painted and gleaming in the sunlight, and a wave of disbelief washes over you. The transformation is remarkable, almost surreal. Where once stood a weathered, tired structure now stands a vibrant testament to renewal and hard work. It’s as if you’ve arrived at the wrong address, the familiarity of the old ranch replaced by the unfamiliarity of its rejuvenated form.

Your sister’s voice breaks the momentary trance, her words a gentle reminder of the significance of the place. “Home sweet home,” she declares, stepping out of the truck, her tone imbued with warmth and nostalgia.

“Yeah,” you respond, the word carrying a weight you hadn’t intended. As you shut the truck doors, a melancholic sigh escapes you, a silent acknowledgment of the bittersweet feeling settling in your chest.

Stepping into the once-familiar yet now transformed house feels like entering a parallel universe. Everything appears unchanged on the surface, but the atmosphere is different, charged with an unfamiliar energy that leaves you feeling like an outsider in your own home. Memories, both joyful and sorrowful, linger in the air like whispers of a past life now distant and unreachable.

You trudge your way to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed that feels foreign beneath you, devoid of the familiar impressions of nights past. Your gaze sweeps across the room, noticing the barren walls and the stark emptiness of the new dresser. It’s as if the fire that swept through, consumed every trace of the life you once knew, leaving only ashes in its wake. Anguish tightens your chest as you stare up at the ceiling, the truth settling in like a heavy weight on your shoulders—this place, this shell of a home, it’s not where your heart resides.

Nothing is home if Jimin isn’t there.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜 Remember the Q&A that is coming in the Epilogue— if you want to send in some questions for the characters, you can do it now (and later too) → Ask the characters (or me), anything ❣️

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#jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #my heart's home series #reader: female #au: cowboy #au: ranch #au: soulmates #au: childhood friends #au: friends to lovers #au: slice of life #theme: summer #vibe: smutty #vibe: romcom #vibe: angst #vibe: fluffy

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Fear of Falling [Emily x Reader]

Photo credits: Center (@chanelmonamour) Left and Right (@foxy-eva)

Prompt: Emily and the non-BAU reader meet each other due to a game of truth or dare that does not turn out how either of them expected. 

Pairing: Emily x female reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns 

Category: Comfort/fluff/smut

Word Count: 13.3K 

A/N: Hi, loves! First off this story is 18+ Minors DNI. Please respect this boundary. Content warnings are below the cut. I hope you had a fun and relaxed Christmas/Holiday season. The lovely @shqtteredcrystql1 requested a fic with a reader who had never dated a woman before and is not very experienced with intimacy. I loved this idea and jumped on it, and it grew from there. It seems I’m not able to write anything short anymore. I also included a lot of “pick your own” options, but you can just jump into the story and go back when you get to one of those options. If you like this, I might write a second part. Lastly, my requests are open. If you'd like to submit a request/idea, please see this post, CM Request Post (linked) With all that being said, I hope you all like this, it was so fun to write! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! - Love Levi -❤️

Content Warnings: Drinking [reader and Emily], unwanted physical touch, mention of workplace harassment, sex [oral, fem receiving (reader)]. If I missed any, please let me know.

List with all stories 

_y/n_ = your name 

_y/c/h_ = your color hair 

_y/f/c/l_ = your favorite color lipstick 

_y/f/b/o/b_ = your favorite brand of bag

_y/f/s_ = your favorite scent 

_y/j_ = your job 

_y/h/t_ = your home town 

_y/f/c_ = your favorite color 

_i/s/p/h_ = insert special person here (mom/dad/guardian/friend/mentor etc.) 

_y/e/w/m/b_ = your experience with men before (if you don’t have any, then say that) 

_w/y/d/w/ys_= what you’ve done with yourself before 

The tap on _y/n_’s shoulder surprised her. _y/n_ was so absorbed in her own thoughts that the physical contact had her whip her head to the right. _y/n_ didn’t expect to see a very pretty, keen-eyed woman who was sporting a rather bashful smile on such a pretty face. Any annoyance _y/n_ had felt at being disturbed melted away and she relaxed as little. _y/n_ said, “Sorry, you scared me. Is there something I can do for you?” The woman flushed and replied, “Don’t be sorry. I should have said something before. I just wanted to give you this.” The woman handed her a small piece of paper that was folded into fours. Before _y/n_ could even ask the tall brunette her name, the woman was walking with a determined pace back toward the group she had come in with. With incredulity, _y/n_ opened the note. There were just a few words scribbled in semi-sloppy penmanship saying, “Emily Prentiss 512 - 198 - 4459. Call me if you’re interested/open.” The simple note had _y/n_’s head whip up once more and looked at Emily’s retreating figure. _y/n_ had noticed Miss Prentiss when she walked into the bar. _y/n_ thought, “I mean, how couldn’t you notice her? She’s the prettiest person in this joint.” _y/n_ had tried to not gawk for about ten minutes until she got a text that had soured her whole mood. Had pulled her mind away from the beautiful woman sitting at a table full of friends and laughter, unlike her own. Now _y/n_’s mind was fully back on Emily. Looking at Emily’s beautiful figure, _y/n_ thought that there was no way that someone so lovely would be marginally interested in her. Just as _y/n_ felt a spark of excitement, and hope after a very long week, it was snuffed out immediately when Emily got back to her table and a chorus of laughter erupted from her friends. _y/n_ didn’t see Prentiss’s face as she sat back down, or how flushed she was. All _y/n_ could interpret from that interaction was that she had, yet again, been the butt of someone else’s joke. _y/n_’s inner voice said, “What, you’re surprised? This isn’t new, _y/n_. Get a grip. It’s just the first time this has happened with a woman.” And though it was cruel, it was true. _y/n_ had been let down by lots of men before, but she had started to question if men were something she was even interested in. Not that she had much physical experience with men to begin with, but even with that being the case, _y/n_ had started to be drawn to women more. Those types of thoughts had always lingered in her mind, even since childhood, but she had suppressed them. Thinking, “That can’t be me. I must be making it up.” But the more, _y/n_ interrogated those thoughts, the more she realized she had feelings for women were just as strong, if not stronger as those she held for men. What this all meant, _y/n_ wasn’t sure, but her encounter with Emily did have her feeling very good about her chances. The bartender was perceptive to _y/n’s disappointment and asked, “You look like you need another drink, sweetie. What can I get you?” _y/n_ looked at him with half-blurred eyes from tears and said, “The strongest, cheapest thing you’ve got. Keep ‘em coming.” 

While this was all transpiring, Emily was blushing like a mad woman. The young lady who she had given her number to was pretty. There was a look about her, a sort of glow that permeated the space she sat near. If she wasn’t with Derek, Spencer, JJ, and Garcia, Emily would have happily planted herself next to the woman and basked in her glow for hours. But Prentiss, for heaven’s knows why, had agreed to play truth or dare with the members of the team. It was the moment that Derek had suggested the game that Aaron and Rossi agreed it was time for them to head out. Once their superiors were gone. Morgan smiled and said, “Alright, we draw straws to see who gets to ask the first question. Remember, you get to pick truth or dare, but once you’ve chosen, you’re locked into that choice.” Everyone nodded in agreement. Penelope had drawn the short straw which let her ask the first question. The questions and dares had started simple like asking about small embarrassing stories or minor challenges for the dares, but as the drinks flowed, the conversation had gotten more personal. There had been two rounds with Emily picking dare each time, and she wasn’t planning on stopping now. As much as she loved her friends, the team didn’t need to her about her sex life or dating woes. Revealing any of those details would only expose how lonely she had been for the last four months. So when it came down to her turn again, with JJ asking the question, Emily happily said, “Dare.” JJ had been expecting this and planned her dare well, saying, “Give your phone number to the most attractive person in this bar right now.” Emily’s eyes widened at the challenge. It was the best one yet. Derek doing push-ups in the corner was not nearly as interesting as making Emily pick the most attractive person in a bar. Emily shot JJ a small look. Just last week she and the empathetic media liaison had been talking about dating and JJ’s upcoming engagement party. Emily had revealed to JJ that she hadn’t even tried seeing anyone for months. That she’d slightly given up on the dating scene. JJ’s dare was a soft push to try again. The glow from the woman at the bar had drawn Emily’s attention again, and Prentiss pulled out a small notepad, tore out a page, and wrote a quick message. Emily had never had success with giving her number to people, but heck, she didn’t see how it could hurt now. The interaction with the stranger was quick, but whoever she had given her number to, was so beautiful with her _y/c/h_ and _y/f/c_ lipstick. Even though it was less than a minute-long interaction, Emily felt like some of the stranger's warmth had rubbed off on her. As Emily made it back to the table, the group cheered her on. Little did they know, their claps and laughter were having such a negative effect on the woman sitting at the bar and looking at Emily’s turned back with a deep sense of longing. 

A half-hour later, the BAU members had sobered up considerably and planned on heading out. As they all got out of their chairs, Derek looked over to the bar and said to Emily, “You might want to reconsider accepting messages for that girl you gave your number to.” Prentiss quirked an eyebrow in confusion. Before she could ask, Derek took her shoulder and turned her one-eighty degrees to face the bar. It took a microsecond for Emily to see the aforementioned woman at the bar laughing at some guy's joke. As Emily looked closer, the man had his large splotchy hand on the small of the woman’s back. Worse still the guy started slipping his hand under the back of the woman’s shirt. That was enough for Emily to want to step in. Something, be it intuition or personal experience, told Prentiss that if this lovely woman was sober, she’d have told the guy invading her privacy off minutes ago. As Emily stepped forward, Garcia asked, “Do you want me to wait for you?” Prentiss nodded her head no and said, “I’ll take an Uber back. Thanks for picking me up, Penelope.” Garcia smiled and said, “Of course baby. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Emily nodded and turned, but Penelope stopped her once more by saying, “And Emily, don’t bite his head off. I don’t think Hotch would appreciate that.” Prentiss gave her friend a small, reassuring smile before turning on her heel and moving quickly to the bar. 

Once Emily had reached the bar, she stepped between the man and the woman. Before the man could protest, Emily said, “Hey sis. Sorry, I lost you. Collin talked my ear off at the restaurant. You should have called me and told me you moved to a bar. I would have joined you a half-hour ago.” Emily mentally crossed every part of her body that could be crossed, and some parts that couldn’t, that her ploy would work on the man breathing heavily behind her. There was a tense minute before the man slipped away and back to the upstairs section of the bar. When the creep had gone, the woman turned her head toward Emily. Her cheeks were severely flushed and the woman said, “Good job, you had your laugh and white knighted. You can leave me alone in my misery now.” Emily’s brow furrowed a bit at the comment. She got the “White Knight” bit; she had swooped in like some kind of savior, but Prentiss didn’t like the way that guy had been touching the inebriated woman in front of her. But the bit that she didn’t understand was the laughing bit. Emily hadn’t laughed at the woman. The added comment about misery had Prentiss look at the woman more closely. _y/n_ kept Emily’s gaze. She might be upset, but that didn’t mean she was going to miss out on looking at someone as radiant as Emily. Even if she’d made fun of her, Emily was still brilliant. _y/n_ reasoned, “When am I going to get to see someone so pretty again? Might as well enjoy it.” The fact that _y/n_ was drunk was also helping. 

While the yet unnamed woman looked at Emily, the profiler took a closer look at her face. It seemed the cheerful facade from a few minutes earlier had slid off like bad veneers. The woman did look miserable. As Emily looked at her, she could see the apathy in the woman’s eyes. The dark circles from lack of sleep or stress. Prentiss asked, “Why did you say I was laughing at you? Is that what’s making you so sad?” Emily felt an odd desire to comfort the woman in front of her. To understand where the look of resigned desperation was coming from. _y/n_ sniffled and said, “Well you know. Go up to someone, get their hopes up, make them think that they’re something, and then go back to the table with your friends and have a big old laugh about it. Like ‘Hahaha Good one, Emily, I bet she bought that. Like I’d touch that with a ten-foot pole.’” _y/n_ was crying now, feeling re-humiliated. 

As Emily heard the story of JJ’s dare from the woman’s perspective, her face fell. She hadn’t meant her giving her number to come off as some kind of cruel prank, and Emily said, “Hey, …. Um, what’s your name?” _y/n_ murmured, “_y/n_,” into a napkin, as she wiped at her nose which was now unbecomingly dripping due to the crying. Emily placed a hand on _y/n_’s shoulder and said, “_y/n_. I am so, so sorry if me and my friends' actions felt like we were mocking you. Treating you like a game.” _y/n_ looked up at Emily, and with a sharpness in her voice, she said, “Well what was it then? Because it certainly felt like one to me.” Emily wondered how to phrase her next response. She felt horrible for making _y/n_ feel this way. In all honestly, Prentiss thought about lying and saying that her friends had just made a joke when she got back to the table, and everyone had laughed at the right time. _y/n_ was drunk enough that she wouldn’t remember the lie in the morning. But Emily didn’t believe in starting relationships, even friendships based on a lie. Emily took a deep breath and said, “Let me tell you what happened, please?” _y/n_ nodded that she was listening, even as her face still burned in shame. 

Emily swallowed once before saying, “My friends and I were pretty tipsy already. We decided to play truth or dare.” This had _y/n_ freeze, because it fucking confirmed that it had been a game. Emily continued anyway. “I’d been going on all night about being lonely and crap and then you walked in, and I kind of stopped talking. I was just captivated by you.” Prentiss remembered how Spencer had had to tap her to get her attention away from _y/n_. Derek had teased her, “Someone caught your eye, Em?” To which she had blushed furiously. Derek then said, “You should give her your number you know.” That was where JJ had gotten the idea for her next dare from. Emily blinked and said, “Well my friends had seen how I’d reacted to your very presence, and my friend dared me to give my number to the the most attractive person in the room. And that was you. I swear that my friends didn’t mean it as a joke. I didn’t mean it as a joke. You are the most pretty person in his building, on the block, in the whole city, I swear.” _y/n_ looked up at Emily, eyes, still red, and asked, “Then why did they laugh when you got back?” As _y/n_ reflected, given the new context, perhaps she had been overthinking again. But that didn’t explain the laughter. 

Prentiss sighed and said, “I have a bit of a tough guy reputation at work. It’s unusual for me to be so nervous about something. That’s why they laughed.” A hint of understanding came to _y/n_’s eyes and she said, “Why would you be interested in me? I’m nobody special.” Emily patted _y/n_’s hand and replied, “_y/n_, I know I don’t know you at all, but you’re certainly not a nobody. I think you’re far from nobody.” _y/n_ blinked back fresh tears and said, “Well you’re the first person to see me like that in a long time. I’m sorry I’m so emotional. This is so embarrassing. I think I’ll go home.” _y/n_ really felt like getting under her heavy covers and sleeping for two months, hoping to wake up and have her whole life changed, and particularly to forget tonight. 

Emily nodded, getting out of her chair to make room for _y/n_. Prentiss wasn’t sure _y/n_ had really sobered up enough to drive or even call a cab, so she was going to ensure that _y/n_ got back home, wherever that was, safe. Once _y/n_’s feet hit the ground, she listed forward. Emily could immediately tell that _y/n_ would need help getting home and said, “_y/n_, let me call you an Uber or a Lyft. You shouldn’t be trying to drive after, well, after tonight I think.” _y/n_ brushed Prentiss off and said, “I just live two blocks down. I didn’t drive here. I’ll be fine.” The false cheeriness was back and this didn’t make Emily feel any better. The agent replied, “Well, it’s good to hear that you’re not driving, but can I walk you back to your place? Just to your front door.” Emily knew this wasn’t like her, but she wouldn’t just let _y/n_ walk out of the bar while she was still pretty sloshed. Furthermore, Emily still felt bad about the dare. The unintended impact it had had on _y/n_ seemed to weigh Prentiss down. After a moment, _y/n_ nodded and slurred, “Yeah, sure.” Emily let out a small breath of relief. The pair moved out of the bar, and _y/n_ led the way on unshakey feet. Emily ended up having to keep _y/n_ up a few times, as they walked down the two blocks. As _y/n_ took a left at a red light, the luxury houses came into view. Prentiss knew the area was rich, but not that rich. Emily looked over at _y/n_ and gently, trying to be sensitive, asked “Are you sure this is where you live?” _y/_ scoffed and said, “Listen, I’m no Daisy Buchannan, alright. One of the older ladies who lives in the neighborhood had a mother-in-law suite that she never uses. She rents it out. I was lucky enough to find the advertisement before anyone else. I don’t think she understands inflation. I barely pay anything for it. I do help her with her yard when she asks me to make up for it. I get lucky because I could never afford it at full price.” After that, there was a soft silence as they walked one more block. Emily assumed the drinks had _y/n_ speaking so candidly. It wasn’t something Prentiss would do with a stranger. Even a hot one. At the end of the street _y/n_ stopped at a little gate that had an old-looking lock on the side. Emily watched as _y/n_ fished through her bag and produced a set of keys that jingled like a bell as _y/n_ attempted to find the right one. When _y/n_ had, she shakily put it in the lock, but her fingers trembled and she dropped the keys into a small dirty puddle on the red brick sidewalk. This happened once more before Emily stepped in and unlocked the gate for _y/n_. Prentiss put her hand on the small of _y/n_’s back and led her over the uneven stone path that went to a very small house that was in the shadow of a huge art deco style mansion. Suddenly the reference to The Great Gatsby made sense. _y/n_ didn’t even try for the two locks on her door. Instead, she found the right key and handed it to Emily to unlock. The brunette easily opened the door and helped _y/n_ to the couch in the space. She turned on the lamp on a small table. With the cozy space illuminated by the soft lamplight, Emily moved back to the couch and asked, “Do you have everything? Your ID, wallet, cell phone, or anything else important?” _y/n_ pulled her _y/f/b/o/b_ into her lap and rifled through it again. When _y/n_ pulled out all of the things Emily had said, there was awkward silence which Emily broke by saying, “I’m gonna head out now. I’m sorry again for tonight.” _y/n_ nodded and watched as the tall woman quickly left the room like this was the most normal thing that had happened to her this week. _y/n_ sighed in resignation and just sat for a few minutes once Prentiss was gone. 

When _y/n_ had composed herself, she moved to her bedroom, stripped, and moved to the bathroom to take a hot shower. As _y/n_ stepped under the shower head and lathered _y/f/s_ed soap over her body, she reflected on how the night had gone. Embarrassingly. Almost as embarrassing as when she’d been invited to a fraternity dance and then found out the day that her date had asked someone else behind her back. It had been humiliating. This night had been the same, except on this occasion, it had been her fault as she had partially misinterpreted the situation. Not that the situation was totally easy to understand, but still, it was awkward. When _y/n_ had taken off her tweed pants, Emiy’s phone number fell out of the pocket. _y/n_ had considered crumpling it up and throwing it in the trash, but her heart had told her to keep it in case she ever got the nerve to text Emily. Given how the night had gone, she doubted it would ever happen. But despite her negative attitude, _y/n_ folded the phone number in two and put it in the top drawer of her bedside table. As _y/n_ finished her shower, she hoped she would wake up feeling better or having forgotten the whole evening. Once the shower was over, _y/n_ slipped into her pajamas, and slumped onto the bed and under the covers. She turned off the light and quickly fell asleep. 

Unfortunately, in the morning, neither of her wishes had come true. Her head pounded from a hangover, and _y/n_ remembered the whole fiasco with Emily too. _y/n_ groaned and got up. She stumbled to the bathroom and drowned a glass of tap water and two aspirin. She’d overslept and she would need to rush to get to work on time. _y/n_ just barely made it to _y/j_. This had been happening more and more often recently. At the beginning of the year, _y/n_ had finally landed a job that she was excited about. But as it turned out with most things that seemed too good to be true, the job had ended up being more of a pain. There was a high turnover rate, and _y/n_ ended up taking on projects and work that weren’t under her purview. Because of this, her performance plummeted due to not being trained on her new tasks. And another problem had come up as well. Her manager, who had seemed cool and understanding in her three interviews had turned out to be more of a bother than a help. He had started making small comments about her appearance, and then he’d started offering to take her out to dinner or drinks, and he’d become more and more insistent about getting to know her better outside of work hours. Things hadn’t escalated too far. That was until the previous day. The older man had called her into a private meeting and threatened to cut her pay if her performance didn’t improve. And he’d personally told her he would train her on the things that she didn’t know, but only if she’d go with him to drinks that weekend. _y/n_ had wrestled all day with whether to contact HR about the man’s unwanted advances. Now that things had escalated to threats it seemed justified. However, she was so new to the job, and HR and everyone seemed to love her boss. That had led to a personal crisis, thus the night of drinking at the bar. As _y/n_ reflected, she steeled herself for the day and just decided for the moment to deal with it. To do her job, ignore everything and everyone, and solely work. _y/n_’s bosses harassment and threats, along with _y/n_’s avoidant behavior went on for another week. The man remained relentless. That afternoon he had even touched _y/n_. His hand trailed it down to her lower back. The sensation made _y/n_ want to scream. The tension built for the week and _y/n_ let everything in her personal life fall apart, including her house. 

That Friday she had a panic attack in the bathroom and decided enough was enough. She went to HR and told them about what had been happening. About her discomfort and the growing threats. _y/n_nwas eternally grateful to be taken seriously and the personnel team took her statement and promised to look into the matter discreetly. When _y/n_ got home that day, she decided it was finally time to clear up the mess she’d left behind. It took a good four hours with her bedroom being the last thing she decluttered, swept, and put back together. The top drawer of her nightstand had accumulated lots of junk and receipts, and _y/n_ quickly moved to throw them in the small trashcan by her bed. However, a folded slip of paper made it out of her hands and fluttered to the floor. _y/n_ sighed as she threw away the rubbish and bent down to grab the last piece of trash to get rid of it. _y/n_ didn’t recognize it and unfolded it. It was Emily’s note from a few weeks back. The instant _y/n_ saw the neat handwriting, Emily’s bright face flashed into her vision. Prentiss’s dark eyes and the way she spoke with a confidence _y/n_ lacked. The beautiful woman’s image seemed burned into _y/n_’s mind. Of course, she remembered the embarrassing parts of the evening as well, but something about Emily Prentiss had engrained itself in _y/n_’s head. _y/n_ held the paper in her palm and sighed. She moved to the kitchen and started cooking a simple meal. She sipped on a glass of wine and pondered if it was too late to text the woman back. _y/n_ realized that she’d never get Emily out of her mind unless she did something about it. _y/n_ pulled up her phone. She started a new message and input Emily’s number. _y/n_ tapped the counter before finally texting: 

Hey, Emily. This is _y/n_ from that bar on 6th Street. I’m really sorry if I made the end of your evening awkward or if you had other plans. You were nice to me, and I want to thank you for that. I hope you're having a good start to your weekend. - _y/n_. 

With that, _y/n_ hit the send button and then promptly moved her phone into her bedroom, not wanting to see if she got a response. Instead, she moved back to the kitchen, stirred her two pans with a wooden spatula, and metaphorically patted herself on the back. She’d done a brave thing, which for _y/n_ was not something that came easy to her. In fact, over the last few weeks, she’d been finding herself doing more and more brave things, and this was the latest of them. _y/n_ didn’t particularly like change, confrontation, or anything that would have made her stand out in any way. _y/n_ hadn’t always felt good about herself, and adding a spotlight to her actions was the last thing she wanted. But moving to D.C. from _y/h/t_ had been a change she had hoped would push her out of her comfort zone. It might have taken about eleven months, but _y/n_ was finally beginning to think, that maybe, it was happening. After dinner and some light reading, _y/n_ moved to her room. It was a bit early for her to go to bed, but she felt the call of the mattress. _y/n_ slipped into her pajamas and moved under the covers. Before going to bed, _y/n_ grabbed her phone to set an alarm. She’d sleep in, but she didn’t want to waste the whole next day in bed. As her phone blinked on. There was a text from a number she didn’t know. With her heart skipping a beat, _y/n_ unlocked her phone and opened her messages. There was a simple reply to her previous text to Emily. It read: “Hey, _y/n_. It’s good to hear from you. Unfortunately, work has me busy and out of town, but I hope you’re doing well and feeling okay. Keep your head up. Emily.” Although the text was short and simple and didn’t quite open the dialog for further conversation, that hadn’t exactly been _y/n_’s goal. The goal was doing the hard thing, and it had been done and there had been a nice reply as a cherry on top. So, with that, _y/n_ set her alarms and went to sleep contented. 

Emily looked down at the hard ice under her. It was glossy. So glossy that she could see her reflection almost. The sound of the other skaters' laughter and skates against the ice made her sigh. The ice had just been smoothed by the Zamboni. Emily had known it was a bad idea to go out on the ice when it was so slick. However, she had waited a whole half-hour for Benette from Hinge to show up. He had seemed nice, He had blue eyes and a kind smile. One that seemed normal enough to be someone real and not a catfish. They had texted for two weeks and spoken on the phone once before he’d offered to take her on a date to the ice skating rink. The idea had been a new one to her. Most of the people who she went out with on-first-but-never-second-dates, took her to bars or dinner. The prospect of not drinking or eating had been refreshing, and Benette had been original, which put him on the plus side of things. However, the fact that he was so late began to irk Prentiss. When the half-hour mark came and went, Emily gave up on the man in private equity, rented her skates herself, and ventured out on the ice. She was already here, why not take a lap or two? She had only made it halfway around the rink before she ate it. The ice against her legs reminded Emily that she wasn’t sixteen anymore. She was sure there would be a bruise on her hips in the morning. And when she got to work on Monday, Derek would ask why she was limping and she’d have to explain. Then Morgan would laugh and gently tease her about being a geriatric, and by that point, she would have forgotten how her second date in a row had stood her up. Emily rested her hand on the frozen water before getting ready to get up onto unstable, cold, wet, legs. Before she had a chance, a skater, who had been moving quite quickly over the ice stopped neatly in front of her. There was a pair of white skates and _y/f/c_ leg warmers. 

After a second, Emily looked up to see who exactly was offering her a hand up. From the attire, she highly doubted it was Benette unless he had a very big secret to tell her. But when Emily’s eyes settled on the person in front of her, she recognized the face. It took a second before she realized she knew that face. At this point, Emily was back on her feet thanks to the hand up, and only then did she say, “Hey _y/n_. Fancy seeing you here.” At this point, she was blushing and slightly embarrassed. _y/n_ smiled at her and said, “Hey, Emily. I never really expected to see you again. Are you alright? That looked like a nasty fall.” _y/n_’s comment only had Prentiss blush further, and she said, “Oh, well, you know, I’ll probably be sore for a week, but nothing’s broken.” _y/n_ noticed the flush on Prentiss’s face. _y/n_ didn’t take her hands off of Emily. Now it was _y/n_’s turn to worry that Emily might fall. Eventually, their hands grew warm, and they dropped them. _y/n_ looked over at Prentiss and asked, “Are you waiting for someone? I’ve been here for about an hour, and well, I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been here for a while. Sorry If I’m being nosy.” Emily sighed and said, “I was waiting for someone, but I don’t think they’re coming. That’s pretty depressing, isn’t it.” _y/n_ tipped her head and said, “I’m sorry. And sorry that you had to be out of town for work during the holidays. That always reeks.” Emily nodded. The case had been bad. Plus being stood up was never fun, but it was nice to see _y/n_ again. Nice to know that _y/n_ had made it past their shared night in the bar and their brief text exchange. Emily had forgotten how pretty _y/n_ was, but being in front of her again, she felt the unfamiliar pull toward _y/n__y/n_ pushed off the rink wall and moved to Emily’s side. Emily attempted to move forward, but she very shortly after almost fell again. Because of this fact, _y/n_ had stayed close by. As Emily nearly fell, _y/n_ skated in front of her and took her hands firmly. Steadying her. Emily watched with some surprise as _y/n_ skated backward with ease as _y/n_ kept her steady. After a minute of moving along the wall, _y/n_ asked, “Would you like me to let you go?” Prentiss considered it for a second and then said, “I’d rather you didn’t. If you don’t mind.” _y/n_ smiled and said, “I don’t mind.” Emily nodded. 

There was a short silence before Emily said, “So, um, are you feeling better since the last time I saw you?” _y/n_ flushed thinking of the last time they’d seen each other, but _y/n_ had grown since then, and replied, “I have actually. Well, at least I haven’t gotten so slooshed that I can’t tell when a pretty woman tells me that I’m the pretty one and that I matter for some inexplicable reason.” The bluntness with which _y/n_ made the statement had Emily chuckle and she said, “Well it’s true. You are pretty, and  you do matter.” _y/n_ felt a flush bloom over her face, and to divert the attention from her, _y/n_ asked, “So, what asshole decided to stand you up? I might just give them a kick in the teeth.” Where this confidence was coming from, _y/n_ couldn’t say, but the small shine in Emily’s eyes made it all worth it. Prentiss sighed and replied, “Hinge. I should learn that my luck with dating apps is cursed. I’ve been stood up on four dates from Tinder and Bumble in the last three months. Talk about a track record. Also, you’re very good at staking backward. If that was me, I’d be on my ass already.” _y/n_ chuckled and said, “Well they’re all idiots for standing you up. And the ice skating thing, that was more of my _i/s/p/h_’s idea. You know, every kid needs a hobby, and they stuck me in skating. It wasn’t a very practical choice on their end. It’s not like I’m going to the Olympics or anything.” Emily smiled and replied, “Well, you say that, but it’s proving a very practical skill to me right now. And it’s gotta look cool if nothing else. My mother had me in language schools since I was five and then after all that, she had me practicing piano for three hours a day.” _y/n_’s eyes grew wider at the revelation. Emily Prentiss didn’t exactly seem like the type of person to just open up, but she had said something about her childhood, and perhaps Emily was simply reciprocating. After a beat, _y/n_ replied, “That sounds, lonely. Do you find either the languages or music skills still helpful to you?” Emily thought back to her first case with the BAU and how her Egyptian had helped the team. How it had bought her points with Gideon and Hotch. Of course, both men saw her for more than that after she’d become a permanent fixture on the team. Sometimes Emily wished she’d had more time with Agent Gideon. She felt like they could have been friends, but, the past was the past, and she let out a sigh before saying, “The languages come in handy when something comes up at work. However almost everyone in my department is multilingual, and if they’re not, well, I’ll just say that they make up for it with an abundance of talents in other areas. As for the piano lessons. Like most little girls and boys, I hated the practice. I gave it up in high school, and I regret that now. I have a keyboard at my place and if I ever find the time, I tinker, but not much more than that.” By the time Emily had finished talking, the pair had made it back to the opening of the rink. Prentiss had hardly noticed as she looked into _y/n_’s eyes and talked like they were friends. _y/n_ had made it easy to glide along the ice unafraid of falling or bumping into people, or worse, taking down some kid with her as she fell. _y/n_ stopped just beyond the opening, giving Emily a prime place to step out. However, Emily was hesitant to let go for a second, either from fear of falling or something else, she couldn’t say. 

_y/n_ looked at Emily and asked, “Would you like to go around another time?” It was the only reason _y/n_ could think of why Emily would still be holding her hands. Prentiss seemed to snap too, and replied, “Oh, no. thank you.” _y/n_’s face fell a little, But Emily was still looking into her countenance, and she was thinking that she did want to spend more time with _y/n_. Talking with her had been so calming. So easy. Like they were good friends who just hadn’t met yet. It took another second before Emily realized that she hadn’t shared the second part of her sentence aloud, and she blushed madly as she said, “But I’d like to hang out, maybe. Just someplace where I’m less likely to break a wrist or hip. There’s a cute coffee shop down the street if you’re down?” The words came out in a jumble, and Prentiss wondered why she was suddenly so bad at talking to women. Why did every attempt at flirting or a friendship with _y/n_ come off as vaguely insulting? She hadn’t dated a woman in a while, but Emily wasn’t that out of practice. It’s not like she’d been dating men in the recess. All Prentiss could do was wait and see how _y/n_ responded to yet another botched attempt at flirtation. After a second, _y/n_’s face broke out into a soft smile and said, “Yeah. I’d like that.” Emily beamed, and once she was off the ice, Emily helped _y/n_ step off the ice even though she clearly didn’t need her help. Emily asked, “Did you get a locker for your things?” _y/n_nodded and said, “Yes, right over there.” _y/n_ pointed to a row of lockers on the far side of the space. Emily’s purse and black boots were in a locker on the other side of _y/n_’s and they both moved in that direction chatting about the weather over the last week. A conversation that was easy to cut off when they both got to a place where they needed to split up for a second. Emily moved close to her locker and sat on the wooden benches taking off her skates. Emily moved to her locker and slipped the finicky key into her locker’s lock. She grabbed her shoes and zipped them up. The last thing she needed to do was sling her handbag over her shoulder, and then she’d go over to _y/n_ and they’d walk over to the coffee shop together. Just as Emily was walking over to _y/n_. She looked at the ground, trying to avoid the numerous puddles that spotted the ground. She didn’t want to get her leather Hermes shoes wet. However, the sound of _y/n_ shouting, “Hey, hey! Let go of it,” and then the sound of a sharp hand on flesh snapped Emily’s eyes up. Prentiss watched as the man ripped the purse from _y/n_’s hands, as _y/n_ moved her hands to her face which had just been hit. The fact that some punk had tried to and was now running away with _y/n_’s bag was bad, but the fact that the whippersnapper had hit _y/n_ had Emily running after him with a determination she would on a case. She flew past _y/n_ and tossed her purse over to the half-stunned woman to allow her to run unencumbered. 

Emily’s footsteps pounded on the half-frozen ground. She deftly avoided the slick patches of ice that peppered the sidewalks and street. The vandal was not so lucky and took a few falls which slowed him down. The young man did make it past the crosswalk just before the warning hand popped up. The man had realized he was being followed and hoped to put some space between himself and the agent hot on his heels. Unfortunately for the thief, Emily was undeterred by the flashing orange hand and oncoming car. She wasn’t letting this punk get away with _y/n_’s things, or the fact that he had hit _y/n_ in an attempt to do so. Prentiss moved into the two-lane street and dodged a small Kia that honked at her furiously to get out of the way. She didn’t pay attention to the angry driver, as she made up some distance with the man. Emily felt her breath coming fast inhalations and exhilations as the man quickly, dangerously rounded a sharp corner in an alley full of trash and gunk. Prentiss was close enough to tackle the man, so she did. They both went down with a smack on the pavement, but the man had it worse as he went face-first into the street while Emily’s face and chest were padded by his legs. The man groaned, “Goddamn it. Where do you get off taking a guy down like that? Who the fuck are you anyway, J.I. Jane?” Emily smirked and said, “Who I am doesn’t matter. Maybe don’t try stealing shit in the open. Better yet, don’t try stealing anything at all.” Emily hauled the man up and toward a still police car that she had passed in her foot chase. Prentiss tapped on the window and flashed her badge. Thankfully didn’t take long for the officer to her statement and number for a follow-up call if he had more questions. _y/n_ watched as about twenty minutes later Emily came back into view. Her cream-colored pants looked dirty, like she’d rolled in some mud, but the smile on her face, as she held up _y/n_’s purse in triumph, had _y/n_ smiling as well. When Prentiss, who seemed to be out of breath, reached _y/n_ they both asked in unison, “Are you okay?” Emily repeated the question first and said, “Did that guy hurt you? Is your face alright?” _y/n_  nodded yes and said, “It’s fine, just a split lip is all. Nothing to write home about.” Even as _y/n_ said this, Prentiss looked more closely at _y/n_’s face, softly running her thumb over her mouth. _y/n_ cringed ever so slightly and let out a breath, as Emily’s warm hand brushed over her face, and the rush of warmth she felt as the brunette checked over her for any damage was something she hadn’t felt in months. The sensation was not unwelcome. When Prentiss had composed herself, _y/n_ gently brushed over her pants, trying to clean them a little, and see if Emily was hurt too. But the tall woman did not react. She just let _y/n_ fawn over her for a few minutes before Emily took _y/n_’s hands in hers saying, “I’m alright _y/n_, really. I just need to get these pants clean once I get home.” _y/n_ nodded, no longer in a daze from the events, but now by the woman in front of her. _y/n_ looked at her and asked, “How did you just do that, exactly? Are you often running down random pickpockets?” Prentiss chuckled and said, “Maybe. How about we talk about it over coffee? We seem to be continually interrupted by stuff, but I’m not going to let this stop us. Not even these dirty pants.” _y/n_ nodded and they exchanged purses and walked the short way to the quaint coffee shop named Doubles. Emily got them a seat and _y/n_ took her order of a flat white with vanilla. _y/n_ insisted on paying for her drink because she’d saved her purse. At the counter _y/n_ got her favorite winter drink and Emily’s. The line was shockingly short, and _y/n_ had their beverages in a few moments. 

They sat in relative silence as they blew on their drinks and then sipped them with trepidation and fear that their mouths would be burned. As the drinks cooled, _y/n_ looked at Emily and asked, “What is it you do exactly? You seem so capable. Like you could do anything in the world.” Prentiss hesitated. She wasn’t one to disclose her job easily, but when she looked at _y/n_, she felt the openness she had when they were on the rink, like old friends. And Emily said, “I work for the FBI.” _y/n_ seemed surprised and she said, “And I’m guessing it’s not the tax fraud department?” Prentiss laughed low, and replied, “Yeah, not tax fraud, that’s for sure.” _y/n_ thought for a second and asked, “When you said you were out of town for work, was that FBI-related?” Emily nodded and said, “Yeah it was. We kind of just get called in and we go where we’re needed.” _y/n_ reflected on what Emily had said about her childhood. It seemed like a controlled childhood, and now a demanding job, _y/n_ had to ask, “Do you enjoy it? Your work?” There was a tense pause before Prentiss sighed and said, “I do. I know I’m making a difference, in my way. Both to my team and to society. But we all have our regrets about work, don’t we?” _y/n_ nodded in agreement. 

Her recent work affairs had tainted her image of the company as HR had contacted her manager and he’d made a big stink about the whole affair. He’d blamed _y/n_ for coming onto him and not the other way around. HR had taken her side of things in the end. There had been too much evidence to prove anything that _y/n_’s boss had said, but whatever the case was, it was still uncomfortable. Emily saw _y/n_ retreat into herself and asked, “What is it you do, _y/n_?” _y/n_ snapped out of her head and said, “Oh. Nothing important. Just _y/j. Nothing like what you do, I assure you.” Prentiss noticed her uncertainty, the way _y/n_ spoke down about herself again and said, “_y/n_. Your job isn’t any more or less important than mine. We all have to work in this economy unless you're an heiress or something. But as long as it doesn’t drive you crazy and you get paid then I think that’s enough.” There was a pause and Emily asked, “Do you enjoy it?” She couldn’t be sure, as _y/n_’s face shifted into an uncomfortable look. Prentiss quickly tacked on, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” _y/n_ sighed and replied, “I don’t mind talking about it. I’m just disappointed. I moved here a few months ago for this new job, and my boss turned out to be a real ass. It was a whole ordeal last month and the start of this month. I just lost the joy I had for the company I guess.” Emily frowned and said, “That sounds disappointing. I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it more?” Emily realized that she was dancing around a potentially sensitive subject and wished she’d kept her mouth shut. _y/n_ shifted in her seat a bit and said, “It’s getting better actually. I’ve been trying to stand up for myself a bit more. To be honest I’ve been a bit of a doormat most of my life and I’m sick of it. I’m not quite at tackling a guy that steals my purse yet. I think that’s when you graduate from beginner-level non-doormat status. That’s why I’m lucky to have someone like you around. Even if it is serendipitously. But, maybe there are nicer things we can talk about?” 

Emily smiled and nodded, acknowledging how open _y/n_ had been with her. However, she realized that having a lighter conversation would be more enjoyable. And they’d get to know each other better that way. So, for the next hour and a half, they talked about everyday things. Like the worst movie they’d seen that year, or the best album they’d listened to. What had made them laugh so hard that they’d cried. And by the end of the conversation that flowed with ease, as Emily asked _y/n_ if the bar on 6th street was her favorite, or if she just went there out of convenience because it was so close to her house, when Prentiss held out her hand on the table in front of her, and _y/n_ took it. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. _y/n_ and Emily finished their conversation and _y/n_ looked at the woman in front of her. She wasn’t sure what was going on. If this was flirting or friendship or something else entirely, but as things seemed to be wrapping down, _y/n_ didn’t want it to end. So _y/n_ asked, “Emily, would you want to do this again sometime? Like, sometime soon? I don’t know if you can tell or not, but I don’t have many friends, and talking to you, well talking to you is so easy.” Prentiss squeezed _y/n_’s hand slightly and replied, “Yes. I’d like that. Is there a day in the next two weeks that works well for you?” Emily was very happy that _y/n_ had asked, because if _y/n_ hadn’t, then she would have had to, and that somehow felt like pressing her luck. But _y/n_ had asked, and they agreed on a day, and then Emily explained how, due to her work schedule, she had to be very flexible with plans. And if she should have to take a rain check on their next meeting, that it had nothing to do with _y/n_ and everything to do with work. And, although if a statement like that had come from anyone else but the enigmatic Emily, she would have thought they were canceling on her already. But with Prentiss _y/n_ believed her. Or at least she wanted to believe her, and _y/n_  hadn’t had that kind of hope in anyone in a long, long time. So _y/n_ chose to believe Emily and see where it went from here. _y/n_ and Emily said their goodbyes until the next time, and Prentiss gave y/n_’s arm an affectionate rub just before she hopped into that taxi that would whisk her away like a sprite in the wind. 

Both Emily and _y/n_ thought about the other on and off between the next time they would meet. To _y/n_ it all felt new. As she pondered their first and second meeting, _y/n_ contemplated how her stomach fluttered in a way it had in high school, but not since then. _y/n_ wondered if it was love, lust, or something secret thing that she’d not learned about yet that happened when one liked women. She also wondered if it was too fast to be falling head over heels for someone she barely knew. It felt like Twilight but make it homoerotic. _y/n_ wished she was more sure of herself. Wished she had the confidence to just be honest with herself. But for now, she was just happy to be seeing Emily again. And if things went well, which she hoped they would, then she would ask the most beautiful women she’d ever laid eyes on, what exactly it was that they were trying to be. 

Even just as a friend, Emily Prentiss seemed like a good person to have on one’s team. Emily, on the other hand, was trying to figure out how a stranger had gotten her to drop her walls with no prompting, prodding, or intrusive questions at all. Prentiss’s mother had instilled in her, from an early age, a ‘personal none-disclosure policy, no matter what the personal cost.’ And the astute agent stuck to it for the most part. But _y/n_ had managed to weave her way past her barriers so easily, without even trying. And, as Emily thought about it, she realized that _y/n_’s not trying had been the key. If anything, she had been the one that had pressed _y/n_ for information, and _y/n_ had answered honestly. At least all of her tells had indicated honesty. So many of her previous lovers and would-be lovers had pressed and pressed, and pressed, like those accusing witches in Salem. But _y/n_ hadn’t done that. There was just a kindness to _y/n_ that seemed to permeate the air she inhabited. _y/n_ seemed to have a genuine desire to know her, but in a gentle way that didn’t make her feel like a thing being examined under a microscope. Her internal and external flaws were being picked apart one by one via vivisection. No. getting to know and being known by _y/n_ was like gentle hands running up her body, discovering every part of her. Letting herself be known. 

Suddenly Emily felt flushed all over. She was sure she was red in the face because Derek had come up beside her with Garcia nearby and said, “What are you thinking about, baby girl?” Morgan had Emily nearly jump out of her seat, and she said, “Geeze Derek, you didn’t have to scare me to death.” Morgan laughed and said, “Well, if you’d been paying any attention, you’d know I called your name twice before speaking louder. What’s got your mind so busy? You have another hot date last night with a guy?” Morgan couldn’t help but notice Emily’s flushed state, and that her breathing had picked up ever so slightly. Emily sighed and rolled her eyes. Garcia, as if she were a profiler herself, commented, “She rolled her eyes, so it’s probably not a boy. Is it a girl? It could be that or someone who’s non-binary. Oh please Em, spill the beans. My love life is as dry and old bones right now, and I need someone vicarious to live through to make it through the drought.” Now Prentiss rolled her eyes because of Penelope’s antics. Emily had reigned in her straying thoughts and her flush. Morgan chimed in, “I’m siding with Garcia on this one. I haven't heard you complain about a bad date in ages Prentiss. You finally find someone worth your time?” Emily replied, “You know ya’ll two are the biggest gossip’s in this building, right?” Garcia grinned and said, “Guilty as charged. Now spill the tea.” Em sighed again and said, “Listen I don’t even know yet. This is very new and I’m trying to understand my own feelings about the whole situation. As for the gender of this person. I think that can wait. Last time I told you both the restaurant I had dinner with on a second date on Penelope had found that dude’s Insta by the afternoon, so I’m not making that mistake twice.” Before either Morgan or Penelope could protest, Hotch called the team into the conference room to debrief the newest case. It was a mercy for Emily, and she let her mind wander back to the image of her and _y/n_ being that close, or exploring a deeper intimacy together before she fully pushed it aside to focus on the case. 

Emily was back in the David Copperfield Bar, the one on 6th that she’d met _y/n_ at. The last week had been rough. The case was a hard one, bumping right up to the Holidays. Then after that, she got word from her mother that she wouldn’t be able to visit her in London because her mom had to go to an emergency security council meeting in Brussels which had been a big bummer. Emily hadn’t seen her mom in over two years, and this was going to be her chance, but fate had other plans. Plans that even Emily was unaware of. She had found herself in _y/n_’s neck of the woods because she was doing some retail therapy. She’d bought a new dress which she wore out of the Prada. Rossi had offered for her to come and celebrate Christmas with him, but as the rest of the team was mostly away with family or friends, Prentiss felt that it was a little sad and had said no. So she had spent the holidays alone. That depressing fact was still catching up with her. As  Emily sipped on a Cosmo, the doorbell jingled and she was surprised to see _y/n_ step inside and shake off some snow from a warm-looking coat. Her and _y/n_’s next meeting slash date was set for next week on Friday, and Emily hadn’t expected to see her again until this. But the sight was far from unwelcome.

_y/n_ noticed Emily too. _y/n_ moved across the mostly empty space to where she was sitting and said, “Well fancy seeing you here, Emily. Did something drag you to this side of town during the holidays?” _y/n_ couldn’t imagine a person like Emily drinking alone. There must be some other reason. Prentiss sighed and said, “No it’s just me. I was spending my Christmas money, as you can see.” She pointed to her Prada bag, and _y/n_’s eyebrows went up. _y/n_ jokingly asked, “Wow, if the FBI paying that well. I should consider a career change.” _y/n_’s joke didn’t seem to land and Emily still looked glum after. _y/n_ tipped her head to the side and said, “Mind if I join you after grabbing a drink?” Prentiss nodded yes, and _y/n_ was quick to grab her standard drink and then sit down across from the demure woman. After a few moments of silence, _y/n_, “What’s the matter, Emily? You seem so sad.” Emily looked into _y/n_’s empathetic eyes and sighed before saying, “It’s nothing really. I had a bad week at work and then I was supposed to fly out to see my mom but that got mixed up. I’m just throwing myself a pity party by having a cheap drink and having some retail therapy. I’ll be alright, _y/n_. I’m just going to finish this round, closeout, go home, and sleep for a solid eight hours. I’ll feel better then.” Emily was feeling sad, and she didn’t want to dampen _y/n_’s evening with her mood. However, _y/n_ worried about Emily a little. This wasn’t her confident, chipper self. _y/n_ replied, “Do you want to be alone tonight? You can come over to my place. It’s two days after Christmas. If you don’t want to be alone, you don’t have to be Emily.” The words came out of _y/n_ like water. Like they’d been there all along and they’d finally slipped out of her mouth for good. _y/n_ didn’t mind them, but they seemed like something someone far more confident than her would say. Emily similarly seemed taken aback, but mostly because it sounded so nice after all she’d been through that week. To be in _y/n_’s company felt like a balm. Prentiss said gently, “_y/n_, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to take time away from your life, or if you’ve still got friends or family around.” _y/n_ smiled and replied, “I’ve spent time with the people that matter to me. If I couldn’t see them in person then we called. And I managed to mostly avoid the people I hate. But my house is empty, and you’re welcome in it even if it’s just for an hour so you don’t feel alone.” Emily looked at _y/n_ and again there was no dishonesty in her countenance. Emily wasn’t sure if _y/n_ could tell a lie. And because she badly wanted to feel seen, Prentiss nodded a small yes. They both finished their drinks, and _y/n_ paid for both of them with Emily softly insisting to pay _y/n_ back, but it really didn’t matter either way. 

The pair took their time walking to _y/n_’s house as the flurries floated down in soft waves that made a satisfying crunching sound beneath both _y/n_ and Emily’s feet. Neither spoke as neither knew what was going to happen once they got to _y/n_’s place. But they made it eventually and _y/n_ unlocked the gate and then the door and then she was turning on the lights and telling Emily, “Make yourself at home? Would you like something to drink? Some water or a glass of wine? I’ve got cold brew if you like that at nine p.m.” That finally got Emily to laugh as she took off her coat and rather unceremoniously slumped down on the couch. Hearing Prentiss laugh had _y/n_ turn her head back and say, “Now that’s the girl I know.” Hearing those words had Emily flush. She cleared her throat and said, “A glass of wine would be nice, _y/n_. Thank you for having me.” _y/n_ nodded, and as she poured two glasses red. _y/n_ set the glasses in front of them and then sat next to Emily. She sat so close that she could feel the heat radiating off the brunette beside her. They both took their glasses, gave them a small clink and Emily said, “To friends, we didn’t know we needed.” _y/n_ smiled, placing a hand on Emily’s thigh. _y/n_ took a small sip of wine and then asked, “Is that what we are Emily? Friends?” Prentiss’s eyes had gotten wider, pupils slowly blowing out. Emily softly ran a circle with her thumb over the soft flesh of Emily’s upper leg.

_y/n_ felt like she must be possessed by Aphrodite with the confidence that had up until now, never emerged like this before. _y/n_’s desire for Emily was strong, stronger than it had ever been, and more shockingly was the fact that Prentiss wasn’t pulling away from her touch. She was leaning into it, into her. And before _y/n_ could fully understand what was happening, their lips were meeting and the scent of Emily’s perfume filled her head like a hallucinogen. Emily similarly reveled in the sensation of _y/n_ soft lips pressed against hers. She snaked her hands into _y/n_’s hair, just to make sure this wasn’t a dream. When they had to pull back, Prentiss took a quick breath. She kept her hands woven in _y/n_’s smooth locks and then kissed her forehead tenderly. Emily didn’t consider herself a woman of lust, but the feelings that _y/n_ had pulled out of her made her want more. Made her want to get drunk on _y/n_ alone. Finally, she pulled back, and _y/n_ was flushed and her chest rose and fell more rapidly as if she was still trying to regain her breath. Emily placed a hand on the side of _y/n_’s face. She wanted to ensure that there was consent for everything going forward, so she asked, “_y/n_, do you want to keep doing this? Doing more? I’d like that with you _y/n_, but only if you're comfortable with it. I don’t want to move too fast if it’s unwanted.” Emily’s words seemed to zap all of _y/n_’s confidence from her, and she pulled back a little. Prentiss took this as a “Yes, let’s stop for now,” but didn’t understand the internal conflict _y/n_ was having. Didn’t understand why _y/n_ felt like she couldn’t say yes even though she desperately wanted to. But how could _y/n_ admit that she’d never been with a woman before to someone as pretty and cool as Emily? What would Emily think of her after that? But Prentiss could see _y/n_ look aside, the loss of confidence that had looked so good on her. In a gentle voice, Emily asked, “Penny for your thoughts, _y/n_.” _y/n_ bit the inside of her lip and realized if she was going to be brave with anyone in this area of her life, Emily was probably the best person to do it with. After all, it was Emily, she had just been making out with like it was nothing. So risking whatever there was between them, _y/n_ said, “I, I want to be with you like that Em. It’s just, well, I’ve never been with a woman before and I know, I know it’s stupid, but I don’t know how. I don’t want it to be mediocre. Not for you. With guys, it’s whatever, but not with you. You deserve the best, and…” _y/n_ realized she was rambling and cut herself off, embarrassed. 

Emily nodded a bit in understanding and replied, “_y/n_, did you think I was going to laugh at you or something for not being experienced?” _y/n_ turned her head back to Prentiss and gave a small affirmative nod. Emily sighed and took her hands saying, “_y/n_ we all have to start somewhere. My first time with a woman wasn’t great, I can tell you that. It was all teeth and tongue.” Emily flushed at the memory. She’d grown a lot since then in her sexuality and experience. _y/n_ knew where Emily was coming from but said hesitantly, “Yes, but you’re my first woman to be intimate with Emily and I can only imagine that it will be tongue and teeth when I reciprocate.” Emily squeezed _y/n_’s hand and said, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I want to make you feel good _y/n_. Making you feel amazing will make me feel very happy. And if you want to try with me, I can tell you what I like. Show you what to do? But you don’t have to. You make me feel so open, _y/n_. And I’d like to share that with you, for you, if you’ll have me?” _y/n_ looked at Emily. _y/n_ thought about everything, about how she didn’t know what this relationship was, but how good it had felt to kiss Emily. How natural it was. How Prentiss had booked after a robber just to get her purse back with her. Yes, _y/n_ felt the nerves in her stomach clench in apprehension, but the desire to have something more with Emily gave her the courage to nod and eventually say, “Yes. I want that with you too, Emily. Would you show me how it works?” Emily softly smiled and said, “Of course. I’d be happy too. How would you feel about moving to your bedroom? I think this might be more comfortable there than on the coach.

_y/n_ nodded and stood. Emily placed a hand on her lower back, as they moved a few feet to _y/n_’s bedroom. _y/n_ turned on some lamps and then stood in front of Emily, hands down in supplication. Prentiss moved toward her and said honestly, “You can tell me to stop at any time. If at any point you want to stop, we stop, alright?” _y/n_ nodded yes, and Emily asked, “Please tell me yes.” _y/n_ cleared her throat, a blush rising at the idea of what was about to happen, and said, “Yes. I promise.” Emily smiled and said, “That’s my girl,” before leaning down and kissing _y/n_ again. This kiss was more passionate. Now _y/n_ ran her hands through Emily’s dark hair, while the agent's hands slipped behind _y/n_ back and shoulders. Pulling _y/n_’s body more flush with hers. Prentiss ran her tongue over _y/n_’s low lip and _y/n_ opened her mouth in surprise at the warm, wet sensation. Emily pulled back ever so slightly and looked at the hazy gaze of desire in _y/n_’s eyes. Emily whispered, “Can I slip my tongue in your mouth? I want to taste you here before I taste you down there?” _y/n_ flushed further and nodded her consent. _y/n_ more excitedly pressed her lips to Emily’s opening her mouth again. Emily moved her tongue inside _y/n_’s mouth and softly explored the dark space. Feeling the concaves and upper palette of the space. Emily savored this small step, as she felt _y/n_ press her body even closer to her own as the intimacy and trust grew between them. When _y/n_ let out a soft moan, prompted by Prenitss slipping her hand under her shirt, and to her bare back, Emily pulled away. 

Whatever hesitation or fear had been in _y/n_ before was slowly seeping away as she longed for more sensation from her guide in this new realm or pleasure. Prentiss asked, “Is it okay if I help you out of these things you’re wearing? You get to choose how much you want me to see.” _y/n_ smiled and said, “I’d like you to see everything. And I’d like to see all of your too,” as _y/n_ began undoing the buttons of her shirt while Emily moved her slender hands to _y/n_’s skirt waistband. When the zipper was undone, it slipped to the floor along with _y/n_’s shirt which she cast aside. Emily looked over _y/n_ in her semi-naked state. She was luminous, glowing under the lamplight in _y/f/c_ bra and panties. Emily affirmed her as she had the first night they met. “You are so, so beautiful, _y/n_. With your clothes, without your clothes. You’re like a sun, like a light.” _y/n_ chuckled and moved softly behind Emily, with the profiler watching her graceful steps. _y/n_ said, “May I get you out of this dress?” Prentiss nodded and _y/n_ pulled down the zipper on the back. The gold teeth unwound one by one down to Emily’s lower back Once there, _y/n_ pushed either side of the body off of Emily’s arms. The outfit was formfitting and it took one or two more tugs to get the dress to join the rest of _y/n_’s clothes on the floor. When it was off, _y/n_ moved to face Emily head-on again. Now _y/n_ looked over the goddess that was in front of her and said, “Have you considered that I might just be a mirror and that you’re the one that’s the sun, Emily?” _y/n_ really hadn’t allowed herself to consciously think about Emily like this. Or even look at her that closely until now because an insecure part of her, deep inside, had told _y/n_ that someone like Emily would never be interested in her. But now the most beautiful woman in the world was in front of her, in only a white lace bra and matching underwear and it was all a bit overwhelming in the best possible way. It felt like the relief of getting a breath of oxygen after being pushed underwater by a big wave for too long. It didn’t even take Emily asking to get _y/n_ to take her hand and lead them both to her bed. Once they were on the mattress with _y/n_ laying up on her elbows and Emily slightly over her, Prentiss kissed her mouth and then down her jawline and neck. Once between the valley of _y/n_ breasts, Emily slipped her right hand behind _y/n_’s back and easily undid the clasp of _y/n_’s bra while her left slipped the straps off _y/n_’s shoulders. _y/n_ helped in removing the intimate article. _y/n_’s nipples upon exposure to the cool air formed their taut buds, ready to be rubbed or sucked. However, before Emily moved forward, she sought clarity, 

Emily sat up a bit, and _y/n_ looked slightly disappointed as Prentiss said, “_y/n_. Just so I know, how much experience do you have with sex and intimacy? Be it with men or yourself?” _y/n_ flushed but replied honestly, “You know, I’ve messed around. Had a boyfriend or two. It was mostly _y/e/w/m/b_, but not much more than that. As for what I’ve tried myself is just _w/y/d/w/ys_.” Somehow _y/n_ had imagined that sharing her history with Emily would be embarrassing, like saying she’d never been with a woman would be embarrassing. But Prentiss took it in stride and said, “Thank you for telling me. I’m going to go slow for now. If you want more or less, or to stop, all you have to do is tell me.” _y/n_ nodded and watched as Emily dipped her head down to her chest, taking her right nipple into her mouth and swirling her tongue over the sensitive area.” Almost instantly _y/n_ moaned and closed her eyes. As _y/n_ tipped her head back, Prentiss used her left hand to rub over _y/n_’s left nipple and used her right to trace down _y/n_’s side, and then between _y/n_’s legs. With practiced pressure, Emily rubbed circles over _y/n_’s clothed sex. _y/n_ let out another moan, and Emily knew that if she slipped her right hand under _y/n_’s panties, she would feel the beginnings of desire slick her fingers. But she worked slowly, making sure _y/n_ was ready. After a few minutes and many more needy sounds for _y/n_, Emily asked, “Can I taste you down there? It’s not invasive or overwhelming generally speaking like traditional sex. I think you might like it. It’s a good starting place for this type of intimacy.” _y/n_ stopped herself from recounting how the one time she’d asked a partner about cunnilingus, they had said, “That stuff’s gross,” and instead said, “Yes, please.” Because _y/n_ had wondered what it felt like, and if it was Emily's offering, it had to be mindblowing. Everything else the brunette had been doing to her body had been ecstatic. Eliciting feelings and responses she’d never felt before. Emily nodded and again, saw the desire in _y/n_’s eyes. Prentiss kissed down _y/n_’s stomach and navel and then made it to the elastic of her underwear. Because Emily had been continually teasing and applying appropriate pressure to _y/n_’s clit, she knew that _y/n_ was soaked already. That it wouldn’t take much to get her over the edge. Prentiss pulled off _y/n_’s last piece of clothing with _y/n_’s help by lifting her hips. It was just the sound of their shared breath as Emily positioned _y/n_’s legs apart and slightly bent. Emily repositioned herself on the bed and gave one final look to _y/n_ between her legs. _y/n_ nodded her final consent, and Prentiss moved her mouth to _y/n_’s most intimate area. 

Even as Emily’s tongue made its first pass in tasting _y/n_’s arousal, the new sensation had _y/n_ clench her stomach in the most pleasurable way. Similarly, Emily loved the taste of _y/n_ so much that she lapped up and down _y/n_’s sex from her entrance to her sensitive bundle of nerves, taking everything she could with each pass. _y/n_ gripped the sheets of the bed with clenched fists; saying Emily’s name as she struggled to get the word out around her pleasure. Emily slowed her mouth a bit, realizing she was getting ahead of herself with her desire. As Prentiss started to draw small circles up and then down _y/n_ weeping sex, she used her other hand to run up and down _y/n_’s side. After a few minutes of this, _y/n_was panting. The tingling in her core had built up to a fire that was daring to be let out. To flare with just the smallest addition of oxygen. Emily’s mouth and nose were wet with _y/n_’s slick, and when _y/n_ said, “Please, Emily. I don’t think I can take it much longer.” Prentiss moved her attention to the _y/n_’s clit. Emily sucked and licked the area in tight circles. That was all it took for _y/n_ to intensely climax. _y/n_’s orgasm felt like water finally coming to a boil. The sensation was so strong that she spasmed uncontrollably for a moment and then collapsed into the bed. The euphoric feeling was so filling that _y/n_’s mind went blank for a few moments. It took _y/n_ a few minutes to realize that Emily had moved from between her legs and was now by her side, checking in on her, and running a hand up and down her arm to ground _y/n_. When _y/n_ opened her eyes, she said, “That was so good Em. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I want to give that to you too. I’m just not sure if I can do it tonight. My brain, it’s like, turned into soup or something.” _y/n_ chuckled, closing her legs and saying, “Maybe you broke me. I’m not sure if humans are supposed to feel that good.” Prentiss smiled at _y/n_’s words and how flushed she still looked, even minutes after her release. Emily ran a hand through _y/n_’s hair and said, “You deserve to feel that way often, _y/n_. I’ll make it your new normal if you’ll let me. I feel drawn to you in a way I’ve never felt pulled to anyone before. I’d like to show you more. Get to know you more. Keep spending time together.” _y/n_ nodded and said, “I’d like that, But only if you promise to show me how to make you feel this way too?” Emily nodded and said, “It would be a pleasure.” There were a few moments of silence before _y/n_ said, “Spend the night with me, please? It’s late, and I need my sun near me for a warmth I never knew I needed.” Emily smiled and nodded, wordlessly nestling close to _y/n_’s body, finding solace in their proximity. 

After composing herself a bit _y/n_ moved, turned off all of the lights, and lay down next to Emily again. With an arm draped over Prentiss’s waist. _y/n_ asked in the darkness of the room, “What are we exactly, Emily? Is this what people always talk about with love at first sight?” Emily’s laugh reassured _y/n_ that she felt the same way about that trope as her. Emily replied softly, “I don’t know yet. I don’t think this feeling I have around you has ever happened to me before. But maybe we can figure out a label tomorrow if it will bring you comfort. All I know is that I love you, _y/n_, and I don’t want to let you go.” As _y/n_ felt Emily fall asleep in her arms. _y/n_ whispered, “I love you too, Em.” As _y/n_ slipped into oblivion, she pondered how she’d never really allowed herself to fall in love before. Because it could hurt, because she’d been rejected before. The fear of falling seemed so stupid now that Emily was nestled next to her, and with that, she slipped into sleep.

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#criminal minds #fanfiction #cm #emily x reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss #reader insert #reader x emily #criminal minds x reader #emily drabble #emily blurb #emily smutt #derek morgan #spencer ried #penelope garcia #female reader #i hope you like this #I love writing emily #fluff #comfort #winter with emily #requested #sorry this is so long

[familyvideostevie]

𝕟𝕠 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣

a farmer's market steve harrington x reader au

part 1 [7.2k] | part 2 [8.3k] | part 3 [13.3k] | part 4 [4.7k] | au masterlist

Every day you wake up and wonder if today is the day you'll cry. It hurts to look at the blank walls of your bedroom and the small pile of things on your dresser you were going to put up: the drive-in ticket, a polaroid Jonathan took of you at the New-Bee's stall, a candle label from your first batch. Does it even matter now?

But the tears don't come. So you decide to push on the bruise in your chest, the ache that has returned full force but worse. It's in the shape of Steve.

You think about the first time you saw him, how you wanted him to touch you so badly even though he made you so mad. You think about him in the rainstorm, wet and willing to help you, you think about him under you at the drive-in, hands eager and rough. You think about him on top of you in his bed, gentle and tender as he panted your name. 

And you've ruined it all. You've ruined whatever was between you, that glowing, beautiful thing, and you've hurt him in the process. Which is the thing you can't forgive yourself for. 

You're eating breakfast in the farmhouse kitchen the morning of the first November market. Bob knows you're not coming -- you told him you weren't feeling great and he totally understands. You've worked hard the last few months and he knows it. He also knows that something is wrong, that Halloween changed something. That the phone call with Steve was about much more than just you getting home safely.

"Hey, kiddo," he says, packing his lunch before he leaves for the market. "Have you thought about what you want to do after the last market next week?" It's hard to believe that there really is only one more week in the season. The leaves are almost all gone and you can smell winter in the air. 

You swirl your spoon in your oatmeal and don't look at him. "I'm not sure yet," you sigh. A call home last week hadn't helped, though it did convince you that the last thing you want is to move back in with your parents. "Mom says it's up to me."

"Well," he says, dragging out the word. "You're welcome to stay here and keep working on the farm. We've got lots of things to make for the holidays. Or you can get a job in town!" You don't realize that you never thought Bob would want you to stay until the words leave his mouth. But how silly of you to think that he'd be anything but kind to you, even if you're not contributing to his business. "Point is," he continues, "you can stay here as long as you want."

For a long second your heart considers it. Staying in Hawkins, making it your home. Regardless of your current circumstances. 

Which you need to figure out. Regardless of how you feel and how Steve feels, you owe him an apology at the very least. 

But you're not feeling very brave yet, so you call Sara's Farm while the market is going on, hoping no one will be there and you can just leave a message. 

The dial tone only rings once before a sweet voice answers. "Sara's Farm, this is Jane, how can I help you?"

"Hi, El," you say. She gasps your name in delight, then says it once more in a tone you like much less. Did Steve tell anyone what you did? That you left him?

"Why aren't you at the market?" she asks. "Are you okay?" Her automatic concern washes away your own. 

"Don't worry about me," you say. 

"I do! Steve said you got sick on Halloween and had to go home. Are you still sick?" She doesn't totally believe you, you can tell. A lump rises in your throat. He's kept your business between you both. It makes your heart do something funny in your chest.

"I feel better," you lie. "Can you tell Steve that I called? That I want to talk to him?"

El pauses before she answers. "Do you think you're gonna figure it out? Whatever happened?" Smart girl, you think.

"I hope so," you tell her. She says your name again, this time sounding like a scold.

"Good, because you both are much more fun when you're happy together." That, more than anything in the last few days makes tears prick in your eyes. 

And maybe that's why you burst into tears when someone knocks on the farmhouse door and you see that it's Robin. You can barely speak when she spills into the kitchen, cheeks rosy despite her hat, gloves, and at least four layers. 

"So you are alive!" she says, and then realizes you're basically sobbing. "Oh, god. Wait, let me just --" She toes off her shoes and drops her gloves and outermost jacket on the ground before she opens her arms. "Okay. Do you want a hug?" You step into her embrace before she's finished asking. Her hands rub up and down your back in a slightly awkward way that's all Robin. 

"Sorry," you hiccup. "This is embarrassing. I don't know why I'm crying." That much is true. There are so many things you're feeling that you don't know which ones you're upset about at this moment. 

"I'm not good with crying girls," she says as you both sway side to side in your hug. "Crying anyone, really. I just never know what to say! But I do know that you have nothing to be sorry about. You can cry all you want. It's great for your skin! Well, I don't actually know that but Nancy told me once. And, well, you know Nancy. If she says it it's probably true, right?" You huff, throat thick but eyes starting to dry. You wiggle out of her arms and turn to wipe your face. 

"Do you want something to drink?" you ask her. "How was the market?" Ever adaptable to a change of subject, Robin sits at the kitchen table as you fill a glass of water without waiting for her answer. 

"It was...boring without you," she says slowly. "Strange, too. Bob told people you didn't feel great so I thought I'd come check on you."

You hum and sniff a little. You must look like a wreck from crying. "I, uh..." You can't look at her. 

"I know something happened." She sighs. "Steve didn't tell me what but I figure you guys had a fight or something? And look, he's my best friend but you're both my friends and I don't want to get in the middle of it but I do care that you're both miserable."

You turn around and she's looking at you with such kindness, such warmth, that you have to swallow another round of tears. "We didn't fight," you tell her. "The opposite, really. But I messed it up and hurt him because I'm scared."

"Kinda looks like you hurt yourself, too," she says, not unkindly. "Is it something...you want to fix?"

"I don't know if I can." You scrub at your swollen eyes with cold hands. "But even if he can't forgive me I need to explain myself and apologize. And then..." you trail off. 

"And then?" she asks. "I know you have a lot going on so I wasn't going to ask but there's only one market left and...do you know if you're gonna stay here? In Hawkins?"

You don't answer right away and Robin squirms in her seat but lets to think about it. Because a not small part of you wants to tell her that yes, you'll stay. You want to. You love it here. But things are a mess right now and it doesn't feel fair to make the choice before you've talked to Steve. 

"I don't know," you finally say. 'I don't know how staying would work. It might be better just to leave. Easier." The words taste wrong in your mouth but you can't take them back.

Robin's chair scrapes on the hardwood as she gets up and walks around the table to stand in front of you. "One thing at a time, then, right? And you'll tell me when you decide?" You grab her hand. 

"Of course, I will. I just have to talk to Steve first."

___

It takes you three days to work up the courage to call Sara's again. Hopper picks up. 

"Sara's," he says gruffly.

"Uh, hi, it's --" He sighs before you can finish your sentence. 

"Harrington!" he yells, though it's muffled as if he covered the receiver with his hand. Your stomach flips. "What do you mean who is it? Who else calls around here looking for you?" You can't hear Steve, and then Hopper's back on the line.

"I don't think I want to know why he won't talk to you," he says. This time, your stomach feels like a lead weight.

"That's fine," you rush out. "Can you give him a message for me? Uh, Hopper, sir?"

"Jesus Christ," he says. "I guess I don't have a choice. He looks like a kicked puppy."

"Tell him to meet me at the lake tonight, if he can? Where we had the bonfire? 8 pm?" You try to keep the pleading out of your voice but you must fail because Hopper's next words are almost kind.

"Sure, kid. I'll tell him." The phone clicks and you hear the dial tone. 

You don't really expect him to show up. It's freezing, cold enough that you're sitting in the cab of the truck with the heat on while you wait in the dark. The remains of your bonfire from weeks ago sit in the fire pit, the ash and charred logs illuminated by your headlights. Why did you think this was a good idea? Steve has no reason to hear you out. He has every right to never speak you to again, no matter how awful that would be. 

But then you hear it -- the rumble of a truck, headlights bright on the shore next to yours. Before the lights in the cab go out you can see Steve take a deep breath. He opens the door and walks quickly through the cold, his breath puffing in front of him, to your passenger door. You have to force yourself to keep your own inhales even at the sight of him. Your entire body feels like it's aching as he climbs in next to you. He feels miles away.

"Hey," he says. He clears his throat and doesn't look at you for longer than a quick glance up and down. "Are you okay? You weren't at the market on Saturday."

"I'm fine," you say, the lie now familiar in your mouth. "Are you okay?" You don't know what possesses you to ask. He looks fine, if a little cold. Same warm eyes, if a bit wary, messy hair pushed into his hat haphazardly. He looks pretty as always.

"Honestly?" You nod, though he's not looking at you. "Not really."

"Steve--" you start, but he interrupts you.

"I wasn't going to come," he says, then shakes his head. "No, sorry, that's not true. I've been jumping every time the phone rings for almost a week, hoping it's you. But I can't bring myself to answer it. I've been desperate to see you again but I also can't look at you because it makes me sad."

"Sad?" you whisper.

"Because I don't understand what happened. And I want to fix it, but I also want to be mad at you. And I can't figure out how to do either."

He doesn't say anything else and you take a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Steve," you say. You've said the words out loud to yourself hundreds of times by now and they taste funny in your mouth. Like missed opportunity. Like your own mistakes.

"Can I ask why?" he says, finally turning to look at you head-on. "Why you left?"

"I--yeah. Yeah, of course. I want to explain myself. I owe you that." How do you do this without telling him you love him? Without sounding like you're trying to manipulate him into forgiving you? Because that's the last thing you want to do. "I hope I don't need to tell you that it's nothing you did," you say. "It's all me. And I know that sounds like it's not you, it's me but that's the truth. It's me. I-- I freaked out. I freaked out because you have changed my entire life, Steve. You've turned it upside down and made me love a place I didn't feel right in at first and you-- you are good and kind and everything wonderful about this town." You've kept your eyes on your hands clenched tight in your lap but you look up at him then. His gaze is steady, brows furrowed. "And I...god, Steve. I don't want this to sound like I'm guilting you or anything because it's only been a few months but that night I realized that I'm falling in love with you and it's scaring the shit out of me."

You're looking at him as you say it, so you see that he doesn't react even a little bit. It makes your chest tighten, but you push that down. It's not about if he loves you or not. It's about apologizing. 

"I understand how that's scary," he says carefully. His own hands are shoved in his pockets. You wonder if he's clenched them into fists. "I just don't know why you'd leave instead of telling me how you were feeling."

"I wish I could take that back." 

He looks away again. "Do you regret everything else, too? Having sex? Everything before?"

"God, no," you breathe out. "No, Steve. I don't regret any of that." You want to touch him but you know you shouldn't. It wouldn't help anything.

"Do you get why you leaving like that hurt?" he asks. "Why the last thing I expected to come back to was an empty bed?" You chew on your lip as he keeps talking. "Because I thought we had figured that out. The whole...not talking to each other bullshit. Dealing with our emotions unfairly, being too hasty and hurtful. You helped me learn how to do that and I tried for you."

There's nothing to say. Other than the truth. "I know, and I'm sorry," you tell him. "I freaked out and I hurt you and that was the last thing I wanted to do. And I understand if you can't forgive me--"

"I didn't say that," he interrupts, tone a hair from desperate. The first real emotion you've heard from him other than frustration. "I just need some space, I think. Okay?" He lifts his hand in the air and it seems to hover in the space between you before he brushes his knuckles against your cheek. You inhale raggedly. 

"Okay," you say. He smiles but it's sad and climbs out of your truck and back into his, driving into the night with a little wave.

You sit in silence for a few seconds before hot tears trickle down your cheeks. But this time, they're of relief. Because he doesn't hate you. Because he might forgive you, someday. Your chest aches but just for a moment, you let yourself feel all of it: the overwhelming sensation of being in love with Steve. It washes over you and all you want is for him to be happy.

Maybe when you tell him you're going to stay in Hawkins he'll even be glad about it. He cares about you, no one can deny that. And maybe, maybe he can love you.

___

After you talk with Steve you allow yourself to lean into preparing for the last market. You barely leave the farm because you make as many candles and soaps as you can. You wander into the farmhouse after finishing your latest batch of candles -- Steve's candles, as you call them in your head -- to find a fairly large size wicker basket on the counter. 

"What's this?" you ask Bob. He's tying string onto honey jars. 

"I was hoping you could tell me," he smiles. The basket contains an odd collection of stuff, all from local businesses. A small bouquet from Byers Flowers, a bag of mushrooms from Rick's, some jam from Sara's. A tiny pumpkin with a face drawn on it and even one of your own candles. 

"Lucas Sinclair and Will Byers biked that over and dropped it off. Said it was for you." He points to the card you'd missed before that's nestled behind. the flowers. 

We hope this humble offering helps convince you to stay in Hawkins! 

It's written in a steady hand you know to be Will's and signed by every kid individually: Will, Dustin, Max, Lucas, Mike, and El.

"Wow," you whisper. "I guess the rumor mill has started."

"I've heard that you might be leaving," Bob says. "Not sure where that came from." Robin, you think. Your darling friend might have gotten ahead of herself. "We don't have to talk about it, but have you thought any more about what you want to do?"

You don't hesitate, eyes on the card in your hand. "I want to stay."

__

The final market is the busiest Saturday you've seen, even though it's practically freezing. The November chill worms its way under your three layers, hat, and gloves. You should have worn two pairs of pants. There is laughter and your candles fly off the stand. There's a stand of hot cider somewhere that smells delightful.

And the weirdest thing keeps happening. People keep stopping you to say that they don't want you to leave town, and then when you tell them you aren't going to, they're so relieved. You've had the same conversation with so many customers that you've lost count. It really is a small town, you think. Your small town.

"Hey!" Eddie bounds over to your stall as the market is about to end, curls shoved into a black beanie with a pom-pom on top. He looks to be wearing at least three flannels under his leather jacket. "I heard you're leaving?" He looks pretty down about it, too. "I'd have brought you some mushrooms but I know you don't like them."

"Where did everyone get this idea that I'm leaving?" you huff. "I only told Robin that was still trying to decide--" Eddie scrunches up his nose and grimaces. "Did she tell you I was leaving?"

"Welllll..." he drags out. "She might have hinted that she thought you were going to and I think the story got out somehow." Then he brightens. "So you're not leaving?"

You smile, allowing the happiness of your choice to fill you for just a second. "I'm sticking around," you tell him. He whoops far too loudly.

"Thank Christ," he says. "Otherwise we'd have to deal with a sad Harrington forever." You look at your feet. "Oh, come on," he says. "You haven't made up yet?"

"How do you know about that?" you mumble, eyes still on the ground.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says. "Anyone can tell just by looking at Steve that he's down as hell. And he won't tell anyone why." 

"I--" You want to ask him more, ask him what he's talked to Steve about, ask him if he's seen Steve today since you haven't, but before you can Robin runs over. 

"You're staying?" she pants. "I heard it from Vickie who heard it from Brenda who heard it from her mom who heard it from you. I thought you were going! I told people you were going!" The memory of you crying in her arms flashes in your mind. Maybe it's not so outrageous that she got the impression you wanted to leave Hawkins.

"Well, here I am," you say. "If you'll have me."

"Fuck yeah we'll have you," Robin cries, grabbing your hands over the stall counter. A few people shoot her dirty looks for her language but she doesn't notice.  "Oh my god, we're going to have so much fun. You have to come visit me at school, and we'll do Friendsgiving, and New Year's Eve, and --"

She prattles on about all the things you're going to do, and you can't fight your smile. But there's a lingering barb in your chest because you still have to tell Steve. Have to see if he's forgiven you if he ever will. If he's okay with you sticking around, regardless. 

You want to ask Robin about him but you don't. He'll come to you if he wants to since he's the one who wants space and you want to respect that. But it would be nice to see him here, at the place where you met. The place where it all started. 

So after your friends wander away with a bounce in their steps, you soak in the last moments of your last market for this year. Vendors wave at you on their way out and you pack up as slowly as you can, stretching out the task as long as possible. And to see if Steve will come say hi after all. He must have hid in the Sara's tent all morning.

You're careful with the candles, eyes on the fading line on your palm. The giddiness of that day in the rain with Steve is a fond memory, even if it makes the ache more profound. His smile, his laugh, his gentle hands. Hands you hope to hold again. The crates are all done and you take a deep breath and tell yourself you have to bring them to the truck when you feel a prickle on the back of your neck. You look up and --

There he is. He looks frazzled, no hat or gloves despite the cold, cheeks and nose pink, and hair a riot. He walks towards you with determined steps, stopping a few feet away. 

"Hi," you breathe. "Hey, Steve," you say again, louder. It's like you willed him to come over here. 

"Uh, hi," he says, dragging one hand through his hair and shoving the other into the pocket of his jacket. "Sorry I didn't come over earlier. It's been really busy today and -- well." He sucks on his teeth and looks at the sky. "Listen, I heard some stuff today and I don't know what's true and I know I asked for space but I had to come ask you because --" He takes a breath. It's unlike him to ramble like this, you think. It's endearing. "Are you staying in Hawkins or are you leaving?" he asks. 

You blink. "Oh," you say. The rumors must have gotten to him and Robin hasn't set him right yet. "Yeah, that. Uh, well, first I just want to say I'm sorry again and I hope that the space is good for you." You clear your throat, swallowing the lump. "I want to fix things between us, whatever that looks like, but only if you want to. And I don't want to rush you, but --"

Steve takes a step towards you and your voice stops working for a second, long enough for him to start talking again. "Sorry, but before you go on and tell me you're leaving I just...please don't let it be because of me." He takes a hand from his pocket like he wants to reach for you but balls it into a fist instead. "If you want to leave I don't want to stop you because you have to do what's right for you and I know I asked for space but I don't think I want that and I should have just told you before." He takes a deep breath.

"Told me what, Steve?" you ask so softly you don't know if he hears you. He runs his hands through his hair again. He takes another step forward, so close that the tips of your shoes almost touch. His eyes are warm and bright when they meet yours.

"I'm in love with you. I love you. I don't know if you meant it by the lake and that's okay but I mean it now. It's soon and it's scary and I don't know what to do about it or where it'll take us but I just have to tell you so you know because...you can't leave without at least knowing that I do. You can't leave thinking I won't forgive you." He laughs a little to himself and takes half a step back. "And we need to work on our communication, especially if you leave, but I just want you whatever way I can have you--"

"Steve," you croak. It feels like your heart is going to beat out of your chest. He loves you.

He blinks a few times, shoving his hands back into his pockets. "Oh, sorry," he says. "Keep going with what you were saying."

Your thoughts are gibberish inside your head. All you can think is how badly you want to hold this boy in front of you. "Steve," you say again. He looks more worried this time, but before he can say anything you throw yourself at him, arms around his neck and chin hooked over his shoulder. He's quick to pull his hands out of his coat to wrap his arms around you and you feel his cold nose on the skin of your neck. 

"I'm staying," you say into his shoulder. "I'm not leaving."

He pulls away just enough to see you, noses almost touching. "Did I hear that right? You're staying?"

"Yeah," you nod. "I want to stay. I love this town and the people in it and it's home now. And I, uh, want to figure us out. If you want to." You are embarrassed to feel your lashes grow wet. Steve brings his hands between you and blows on them before he gently frames your face. 

"Did you think I'd not want to?" His thumbs stroke your cheeks. "I can say that whole speech again."

"No," you say, leaning into his palms. "I did think maybe you'd tell me not to stay. When we were at the lake. So I didn't bring it up." His face does something funny before he touches his forehead to yours. 

"I will never tell you to go because I want you here, wherever here is. I just want you with me." You want to pull him into your chest, to show him how your heart has his name on it.

"I still don't know what I want, Steve," you whisper. "I want to stay here but I don't know how long that'll last. I'm not sure of anything but I'm sure about you. I'm sure that I love you."

"We can figure it out," he says, mouth curling into a smile. His eyes shine bright at your words. You both know that you have a lot of work to do -- learning how to communicate better, how to love each other right, how to deal with your own wounds and insecurities and feelings. There is growing to do. But you can do it together. 

"Okay," you nod. Your noses brush. Maybe it is that easy. Just deciding what you want and seeing it in front of you and taking it. Calling it yours, holding it close. All of the hard stuff has led to this and maybe it was all worth it to get to this point -- the fighting and the misunderstandings and all of the kisses and the ache in your chest that you now know is just love. It's love with all its aches and pains and it's worth it.

"Can we kiss now, please?" he asks you. His breath is hot on your skin, visible in the space between you. 

"Yes, please."

The press of his lips to yours is delicate, soft. It's loving. His thumbs stroke your face lazily and you grab his forearms gently, feeling the strength and the warmth of him through his layers. All Steve, you think. All yours. It's like he's thinking the same thing because his mouth curls into a smile against yours and you're not so much kissing as grinning against each other but it's exactly what you want. It's Steve. It's home.

THE END.

tags: @cheerupbarry @srrybutno @97soroka @sunlitide @gloryofroses19 @carpediem1219 @themarvelousbee @sunshinehollandd @katsukis1wife @imherefortea @spideyboipete @lonelywidow @actual-mom-steve-harrington @steveharringtonscarkeys @pennyllanne @ducky-is-dead-inside @ih3artcry1ng @escape-in-time-x @sea040561 @manyfandomsfanvergent @blandyton @liberhoe @annaisweird @mrs-dr-reid @toomanyacorns @darlingoctober @selfdeprecatingnerd @dullsocietyy @keep-drivng @shireentapestry @mintfrostflower @freezaz123 @dahliamae @localbnbg @palmtreesx3 @eddiethesexy

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#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #no good at waiting

[wardenparker]

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 11

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 13.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* So much cursing because Sophia is a menace, but Jack is even more of a menace because he goes commando. Oral sex (f and m receiving), outdoor sex, public sex, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, cream pie, cum play. Unaltered and pure as fuck fluff.  Summary: A girls’ night out with Sophia and Gabi collides with guys’ night out for Jack with Tequila, Ginger, and Rye and results in shameless shenanigans. Followed by the big opening night for The Rabbit-Hole that you’ve has been working toward for months! Notes: Of course I cried writing and editing this chapter. Don’t look at me like that. 

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

In the week since Tex and Sophia arrived in Louisville, it's been nearly impossible not to spend time with them. Jack and Tex might not be trolling for women together anymore but they're still causing mischief on the campus, and Sophia has been right along with them at each turn. They pop by the restaurant for lunch or just to say hi, they come by for dinner from time to time or to invite you and Jack to go out with them for the night. Tonight is a little different, just by virtue of it being a Saturday. Champ and Diana are entertaining a corporate retreat with live music and a specialized tasting, but they hadn't wanted to do food with it so that left you free as a bird. Tex, Jack, and Astrid are at Shootouts with a few of the other agents and you and Sophia have decided have a girl's night out all your own.

“Are you ready?” The door to Jack’s house swings open and Sophia darts inside. In the week since she’s been here, she’s made herself at home and that extends to coming in when you had told her to come over. “Show me the sights? We can take wagers on how long before Whiskey shows up where we are!”

"You think the boys won't be able to stay away?" You snag your jacket from the hook and shrug it over your shoulders before grabbing your purse. "Honestly, you're probably right. Dinner first and then we can bar hop our way around downtown?"

“I have never seen a soulmate who has to be close to their significant other like Jack.” She muses. “Not that it’s a bad thing.” She quickly adds. “It’s sweet.”

"He's protective of me." That, unfortunately, is an understatement, but you steer her toward your car in the driveway without it becoming a point of conversation. "It's different than the way Tex is so proud of you. He knows you can take care of yourself."

“I don’t think Jack believes that you can’t take care of yourself.” Sophia reasons. “But…why don’t I show you a few things?” She offers with a grin. “Kingsman are a bit more…elegant than our counterparts when we fight. Bit of soulmate bootcamp?”

"Now that's a thought." Your little car is a zippy thing, and there's distance between the two of you and the Statesman campus in no time. "I took a self-defense class in college, but that was long enough ago that I've forgotten most of what they taught."

“It’ll be fun.” She immediately bounces slightly in the seat. “Especially when you are snogging and you take Jack by surprise by flipping him on his back.” She giggles. “Ask me how I know.”

"Tex is not an easy man to flip." The both of you know that firsthand, and you have to appreciate that she doesn't seem to mind your history with him in the least. Actually, it seems to amuse her endlessly.

“Quite.” She murmurs with a very self-satisfied grin on her face. “Your Jack seems to be of the same measure.” She predicts. “Which makes it all the more fun.”

"A little surprise for him, like you said." The twist of a smirk on your lips sends you both into a fit of laughter. "Alright. After I get this restaurant open, a little bit of soulmate bootcamp is in order."

“Fantastic!” Sophia cackles and claps her hands together. “You and I are going to have so much fun ganging up on Tex and your Jack.”

"So how are you liking the States so far?" Hopping onto the highway to head into downtown, you glance at her again out of the corner of your eye. "I know the last Kingsman agent that was here had trouble adjusting but you seem to be having a great time."

"Oh, Danny is such cunt." She rolls her eyes and blows out a breath to tell you exactly what she thought of the last Kingsman agent here. "Of course he wouldn't last. He takes the piss too much."

"Okay, not a fan of his, got it." You snort a little, stifling a laugh. "So you're telling me that Kingsman sent him just to be rid of him for a while?"

"Only way I can see it." She snorts. "He drives Galahad mad. Thinks he knows everything and he's been an agent for two seconds."

"Guess it's only fair that Tex got sent as punishment then." It still makes you a little embarrassed, everything that happened a few months ago, but at least no one is hanging on to grudges. "Hopefully this will work out a lot better. You seem to be doing well here and Bobby is such a good kid."

"I have to thank you." Sophia realizes. "If you didn't have the golden pussy to cause Tex to knock Jack on his ass, who knows when we would have met?" She huffs, almost chuckling as she thinks about it. "Could have never met."

"You would have." It's almost daunting to think that you were part of the reason they met, but you swallow thickly when you realize that she's sort of right. In a very weird way. "You would have been transferred here, or him there, eventually."

"Might not." Sophia can't imagine her life without Tex in it and her fingers play with the ring that is on her hand. "Either way, I get to be with my soulmate and become friends with the woman who arranged it all." She reaches over and slaps your thigh playfully. "All comes out in the wash."

"Speaking of arranging." You click off the radio completely, eliminating even the soft background noise as you cruise road the road. "Do you guys have any thoughts about what you want for the wedding yet?"

"Honestly?" Sophia smiles softly, immediately adopting the magical glow of a bride to be. "I would love to do something at Statesman. On the grounds since Tex loves it so much." She had also fallen in love with the country air and the charming, rustic appeal of the distillery.

"Well, we can certainly do that." It was, after all, what you and Diana wanted to do more of in the future. Tex and Sophia would be the prototype, apparently. "I'm sure Champ would give you the run of the grounds. Whatever and wherever you wanted."

Sighing dreamily, she seems to drift off happily on the thought. "What about you? What would you do for your wedding?" She asks, keeping Jack's request in mind.

"I don't really..." A slowly exhaled breath keeps you from sounding like you're trying to ramble out an excuse, but you shrug anyway. "I don't know that Jack is interested in being married again. So I haven't really...I don't think about it." It’s sort of a lie, or at least a lie of omission, considering you do think about it. You just never admit to thinking about it.

"So think about it with me." Sophia twists her in seat and looks at you seriously. "Just because your soulmate may not want to get married again doesn't mean you shouldn't want it. One, you need to talk to him about it. Two, why can't you get what you want? You shouldn't just give him what he wants."

"I haven't thought about it much..." Alright, don’t flat out lie. And it makes you tilt your head slightly when you realize it. "I haven't given it a lot of serious thought, is what I should say. Just little things."

"Like?" Sophia prods. "Come on, give it to me. I might want to steal it." She teases with a wink.

That seems to unlock something in your inhibitions, making you laugh and relax as you drive. It's just girl talk, after all. Jack would never have to know or feel pressured by it. "We had talked...ya know, off and on, about some things. My mother's dress and his family veil. But...you obviously know I have my tearoom and I love that whole vibe. Like a classy little garden party but with party music, if that makes any sense?"

"That would suit you." She smiles, happy that you are starting to think about things like that. "I can see you liking Jack in a tuxedo and his Stetson." She teases playfully.

"He wouldn't even have to wear a tux if he didn't want to." Sure it's traditional, but it's a little much for a garden party, and you just shrug. "Just a gorgeous suit and his Stetson and freshly shined boots. He'd look like a dream." He looks like a dream no matter what, but that image is going to live rent free in your head for a long time.

Sophia snorts and shakes her head. "You're going to jump him tonight, aren't you?" She predicts with a grin. "I can tell from that little smile on your face."

"Oh yeah." You're not even going to deny it or play coy. Why would you? "Doesn't even matter that he woke me up with it this morning. I'm already missing it."

"I'm surprised he didn't get some while he was there for lunch today." Her filthy chuckle is pure sin. "He looked like he was hungry for more than a crawfish salad sandwich."

“You’re such a bad influence.” Regardless, you smirk so hard that you start laughing. “Jack is…well, he’s my soulmate. So it makes sense that he’s everything I’ve wanted in a partner.”

"That's the dream, right?" Sophia hums and her expression turns thoughtful. "I was worried about it. My mum and dad were horrid together. Toxic. But they stuck it out because they were soulmates." She shudders and shakes off the memories to give you an encouraging smile. "I'm glad he's what you want."

“Things can get in the way. Life and stress and illness, or a thousand other things.” Or other people. Like what happened with Tex or even with the Rollins brothers. You’re lucky that you were able it patch things up with him and move forward. “I’m glad you have someone so sweet, then,” you tell her honestly. The exit you want is up ahead and you head for downtown. “Tex is an angel.”

"Sometimes." She grins and squirms in her seat slightly, biting her lip. "Other times...he's the fuckin' devil, ain't he?"

“I can only speak from my very limited experience.” You smirk at her and smother a few dirty giggles. “But yeah. He definitely can be.”

"That's my Tex." She hums and pumps her fist. "If he hadn't taken care of you properly, I would dress him down."

“You can dress him down for any ol’ reason you want.” A smirk and a wink are tossed Sophia’s way as you pull off the highway, and it makes both of you giggle. “He was a perfect gentleman when he should have been, and devilish when the time called for that instead. I have nothing but great things to report about your Tex.”

"If it's weird, just let me know." Sophia knows that she doesn't think like everyone else, some would say that she should be standoffish towards you just because of the weekend date you had with her soulmate. Even though it was before they knew about each other. "I know I can be a lot."

“Honey, no.” Your free hand clasps hers tightly as you drive. “I love that you’re so free and proud and loud about being happy and caring for people. That you’re so easy-going and so enthusiastic. It’s fantastic. And I hate that anyone has ever made you feel that being a lot of so many good things is bad in any way.”

“Alright.” Even though she’s an agent, she’s still a woman with complex emotions and she has come to view you as a friend. She would hate to lose that because of things that were out of her hands. The past cannot be changed. “Anyhow, let’s go critique your competition!” She jokes.

CASK isn’t hard to get to, and the crowd on Saturday nights is almost mixed clientele owing to the great food. The two of you grab a table after only a brief wait and dive right into the heavily Southern menu. Sophia had said she wanted to go someplace authentically American tonight - well this is it.

“What is a…grit fritter?” She asks, looking up at you over the menu, her brows furrowed. “Grit isn’t something you eat.”

“It is in the South.” You flash her a grin to counteract her bewilderment. “It’s cornmeal, basically. A cornmeal…I guess the closest comparison is porridge? It doesn’t sound good when I describe it like that but I promise they’re delicious.”

“Oooookay.” Her skepticism is very obvious on her face, but she’s determined to try quintessential American food, so she will give it a whirl. “What the hell? We eat beans on toast after all.”

“Yes you do.” And even though you love typically British food, that one never quite made sense to you. “Fried green tomatoes are another classic. Those are one of my favourites.”

“Want to share?” Sophia asks, raising a brow at you with a smirk. “Twice the choices.”

“Oh, we’re over ordering and snacking on leftovers tomorrow.” You nod immediately, only pausing when the waitress comes over to take your first round of orders.

The appetizers and main courses are ordered and Sophia grins when you request to keep the menu at the table to peruse the desserts. “I wager your key lime pie is better.” She teases as the waitress walks away. “I’ve never had something like that and I quite enjoyed it.”

“It’s Jack’s favourite.” That is definitely a bragging point for you, and you loved that you could introduce Sophia to it as well. “That, and my coconut cake.”

“Have you ever thought about making it a cheesecake?” Sophia asks, for purely selfish reasons. “I think it would be marvelous.”

“I certainly could be persuaded to do that.” It sounds like it would be incredible, and you know that Sophia, Tex, and Jack all love cheesecake so there would be people to test it out on. “Would that be an alternate dessert you might want to offer at the wedding? Key lime cheesecake or wedding cake?”

“Ohhhhh.” She’s intrigued by the idea and smirks as she thinks about it. “I think that would be lovely.” Some people don’t like traditional cake, so it would be a very lovely alternative.

“I think it would be really special.” And you point a little at her ring with a grin. “And I can make sure it’s got a fun shade of green to it, if you want. If green is going to be a wedding color, I mean.”

“You’ve noticed that I prefer green, have you?” Sophia grins as she looks down at her green dress and then back at you. “How?”

“Oh, just a lucky dress.” You snort, picking up your cocktail to enjoy the aptly named I Can’t Taste The Alcohol In This, which is delicious. “I’m guessing the bridesmaids will be in green? Or will you throw everything on its head and wear green yourself and have the bridesmaids in white?”

“Now that would be interesting.” Sophia tilts her head and her eyes sparkle with absolute glee. “I honestly love that idea and it would be cheeky as hell when people see the bridesmaids in white and think that is a faux pax.”

“I catered a wedding once where the brides wore color and their bridesmaids all wore white with a little color accent. It was beautiful.” It’s just an idea, but Sophia is exactly the kind of unconventional bride that would be able to pull it off gorgeously. “You think Tex would go for it?”

“Tex will go for whatever I want as long as he gets to strip me out of my dress.” She boasts, although it would be a serious conversation she has with him. She’s not the type to believe that it is just her wedding.

“They’re all just thoughts.” And you would never presume to help her make decisions. That’s not your place. Especially not when she hasn’t officially asked you to be involved in any way. This is just girl talk. “But it would be beautiful.”

"Of course it will be." Sophia smirks. "I want to see Jack's face when you walk down the wrong aisle in white towards him."

“Oh gosh…” You wonder instantly if that would freak him out, but there’s still a smile creeping across your face. “Does that…mean you want me to be a bridesmaid?”

It's adorable that you think you wouldn't be one of her bridesmaids but Sophia just nods. "Of course. Not going to not have my first friend in the States in my wedding." She snickers quietly. "Although maybe we'll put you in a red dress. Just for shits and giggles."

“Ha—ha.” The exaggerated laugh and eye roll is totally dignified, but you sip your drink again in amusement. “I mean it’s accurate, but if you want all the women he’s fucked to show up in red dresses there are going to be a lot of us.” You shrug though, not wanting her to be uncomfortable. “Same for Jack, though. It is what it is.”

"Teasing." She winces slightly and reaches out to touch your hand. "Seriously, I would be honored if you would be my maid of honor?" She asks quietly. "You've been so kind and I feel like we are going to be close for many years to come."

“Soph, of course I will.” Both of your hands squeeze hers tightly and you grin happily. Having been so worried and proven so wrong about how things would go when Tex came back with his soulmate, you’ve been delighted to call her a friend so quickly. “It’s my honor entirely. I promise.”

“Great.” She breathes out a sigh of relief. “I hated all the girls I went to uni with.” She admits breezily. “And between you and Gabi, Astrid and Diana, it feels like I actually have friends now.”

“Moving here is the first time I ever had best friends beyond my siblings.” Pausing to thank the waitress when she delivers your appetizers, you shrug a little and wave it off. “I adore my siblings. But there’s something about people who accept you entirely without having genetic reasons for it that I’ve really come to love.”

“It’s different. But I can’t even claim that.” She shrugs. “Only child.”

“Well.” Holding up your glass with a smile, you sit up a little taller in your seat. “Let me be the first to say it, then. Welcome to the family.”

“It’s an odd family.” She acknowledges with a grin and picking up her own glass to tap against yours. “So I think I’ll fit right in.”

“There’s…a dress shop…” You’ve only gone the one time, just once months ago, with Jack, but you tilt your head at Sophia now. “It’s not a bridal shop, technically, but it might be good for bridesmaids, or if you go looking for something other than white. They’re very good to Statesman employees and Statesman soulmates.”

“Ohhhhh maybe you can take me sometime?” She asks. “I do love a good dress shop.”

“Why don’t we go after you talk to Tex about colours?” It would be a hell of an outing, and you wouldn’t miss it for anything.

“Done.” She grins and leans back in her chair. “Thought it would be a hell of a lot more difficult to convince you to stand up with me.” She confesses.

“Never.” You shake your head and start doling out your appetizers onto two plates to share. “You’re fantastic, and Tex is fantastic, and hell…he already asked Jack to be his best man, so it’s all just a package deal.”

Sophia holds up her drink again. “To everyone being fantastic.” She offers with a wink. “Including you.”

******

“You’re beating around the bush!” Astrid argues, ready to pull rank as the only woman present. “I know Jack wants to know too. He’s a damn softie like me.” She grins, pouring out another round of shots from the bottle that the Shootouts bartender simply handed over when the crew of them walked in. “Tell us how you proposed!”

Tex chuckles and lifts his glass and in mock salute before taking a large swallow. “Asked her in the middle of a mission.” He confesses with a grin. “Slap damn in the middle of a brawl.”

“Oh God,” Ginger groans, despite herself. “Why is that actually cute? That shouldn’t be cute!”

“Hell yeah it should be.” Tex puffs up his chest, offended at the idea that it’s not supposed to be cute. “Woman had just beat the shit out of eight different men and I just—” he shrugs. “I couldn’t keep the question to myself. Dragged her to me, kissed her and demanded she marry me.”

“And you know she’s the right woman for him because she took down eight men and was still willing to say yes to putting up with him,” Rye chuckles, taking a long swig of his beer. “You could’ve gotten decked, too.”

“Damn.” Jack shakes his head and chuckles. “Sounds like a hell of a story for later on down the road.”

“I’m sure she’s tellin’ your girl right now.” Tequila grins broadly. “She likes havin’ a cowboy. Somebody manlier than she was meetin’ before.”

Snorting, Jack leans back and lifts a brow. “That’s rich, boy.” He teases playfully. “Didn’t you just start shavin’?”

“Measure of a man ain’t the hair on his face but the mettle in his heart.” Tequila pronounces, heavily paraphrasing but proud nonetheless.

“Whatever you say, Tex.” Jack huffs, grinning behind his glass and shaking his head at how happy the other man looks.

"I do say." The younger man puffs up like a proud peacock.

“He’s gonna be impossible now.” Jack predicts, looking over as Astrid and Rye. “You know that, right?” He chuckles and sighs. “Head was too damn big before he went over the pond, surprised he could get it on the damn plane comin’ home.”

“It’s sweet,” Astrid laughs, remembering when any little compliment from Gabi would make her feel like she was flying. The early stages with your soulmate are always amazing.

Jack can’t deny that and just settles for another huff that is more like a chuckle as he sips his whiskey. “Wonder what the girls are up to.”

Text checks his watch with a flourish. “A whole thirty-two minutes,” he announces to the table. “That’s all it took for the lovestruck Jack Daniels to miss his woman.”

Everyone laughs but Jack isn’t ashamed of it. “Hell, I was missin’ her when I walked out the damn door.” He jokes.

“She’s a hell of a woman.” Rye had actually gotten a chance to talk to you last weekend and had been impressed with how normal you had been about everything. As if the previous weekend hadn’t even happened.

“Yes she is.” Jack won’t deny that, “tough as nails and pretty as a picture.” He brags. Jack has never been shy about talking up his soulmate. Abigail had been showered with compliments and love and he’s going to do the same thing to you.

“And keeps us well-damn fed.” Rye agrees. He had thoroughly enjoyed the lunch that he had had in your kitchen, finding little sandwiches and soup to be more of an indulgence when they were expertly prepared.

“We’re gonna have to increase our workouts.” Jack chuckles, rubbing his hand over the slight belly that has gotten softer since you’ve come to Kentucky. “By a lot.”

“So I should expect to see you for an early gym time?” Tex teases, knowing that Jack would never get up as early as he routinely does to work out before having to be in his office.

“Shiiiiiit.” Jack huffs, shaking his head. “My work out that early is a different kind of workout. Cardio based.” He winks, grinning at how he had woken you up this morning.

"You can do both, old man." The good-natured joking and prodding between them has returned full force, and Tex belly laughs as he reaches for his drink. "Only person at this table not getting their cardio in is Joe," he chuckles, nodding to Rye beside him. "And maybe we can fix that with a pretty bridesmaid."

Rye chuckles and shakes his head. “Nahhhh, I doubt it.” He swallows down his whiskey and holds out his glass for a refill. “All the bridesmaids are gonna be taken.”

"Well, I don't know who all she's asking, but I know the maid of honour is spoken for." Tequila waggles his eyebrows at Jack and smirks.

“She’s gonna ask my sugar?” He can’t say as it’s surprising but to some outsider it might be. If they knew the history.

"Mmhmm." The younger man nods proudly and sips his drink. "Gonna ask her tonight. Those two are thick as thieves already. We're gonna be in trouble."

“Gonna have to make a pact.” Jack laughs. “Whoever gets in the doghouse lets the other use their spare room to crash.”

"We'll be doing flashlight signals across the neighborhood." Tex laughs, thinking of how ridiculous that would be in the age of cellphones.

“Maybe we need to build a treehouse to sleep in.” Jack adds, leaning into the completely juvenile ideas. “They can’t dump a cup of water on us while we’re sleepin’ if they can’t reach us.”

"Your gal has two siblings and mine is an agent." It has Tex chortling like a madman, and Astrid and Rye join in, shaking their heads in amusement. "What makes you think Soph wouldn't just scale the treehouse and have us under attack all over again?"

“You’re right. They might set the damn thing on fire.” Jack huffs, grinning at the image the banter is producing. “We’re just gonna have to keep ‘em happy, that’s the bottom line.”

"Suppose that's gonna have to be the way we go." Tex raises his glass to his friend with a dopey grin on his face, thoughts obviously trained on his soulmate even as Jack meets his salute and they both drink. "Wonder if she's asked her yet," he muses, also wondering where you've decided to go together and what you're doing.

Jack grins, shaking his head. “Admit it, you’re missin’ her too.” He accuses teasingly. “I just said somethin’ first.”

"Of fuckin' course I am." It earns a sort of dreamy shine to his eyes, and maybe even a blush in his cheeks, but Tex doesn't care. He's got the girl of his dreams - his soulmate - and they're gonna spend the rest of their lives together. It's all he's ever wanted and now it's his reality. "She's the best thing that ever happened to me."

“I’m proud for you.” Jack murmurs quietly, serious for a moment, “proud of you too.” He adds. “You took what could have been looked at as a punishment and turned it into the best damn thing that could have happened to you.”

"It was absolutely a punishment." He might be on the younger side, but Tex isn't a fool. He knows exactly what he did and why he was sent away. But he doesn't regret it. A slight overreaction? Sure. But it led him to Sophia, and that's all that matters. "But things work out the way they're supposed to," he looks his best friend in the eye and meets his seriousness. "Even when it looks like something's gone wrong in the process."

“Plus…” Jack spreads his hands out and gives the boy a grin. “Don’t know if I woulda had a chance against you if you’d have stayed.” Things might not have reached their boiling point and while he could have done without you being kidnapped, it had opened his eyes to what he really wanted.

"Who knows what might have happened." Astrid looks between the two men - her dear friends - and offers them both smiles. "Although I'm sure everything would have turned out alright."

“Like I said.” Jack nods. “Water under the bridge. We just need to get Tex and his lady hitched before she realizes how much he farts in his sleep.”

The table laughs good-naturedly, but Tex fixes Jack with the most intense look imaginable. "I've met my match," he tones seriously, before bursting out into a torrent of sniggers. "Woman's a menace," he admits. "Goddamn I love her."

“That settles it.” Jack slaps the table, tears in his eyes from hooting in amusement. “I’m gettin’ you one of those air purifiers for your bedroom as a weddin’ gift.”

"Scented candles," Rye is laughing through tears as well, slapping the table between belly laughs. "Incense. Anything."

“Don’t show up at their house too early in the morning. Give the place a chance to air out.” Jack adds.

“That’s true love.” Astrid snorts. “Bodily functions that could take down an elephant but he’s got hearts in his eyes.”

“I don’t know if there is a more true expression of love than to put up with someone’s shit.” Jack chuckles, sending Rye into another fit of giggles.

“Thank you, thank you,” Tex is nearly howling with laughter, but has his hand over his heart in mock seriousness. “I am the luckiest man on earth, thank you very much. And I’ll let y’all know my gas mask size after I get fitted.”

It’s amazing that a group of deadly, highly successful agents are giggling like ten-year-olds over body functions, but Jack doesn’t remember the last time he was this lighthearted.

"What do you think about..." Tex looks around the group when their laughter finally calms down, snorting one more time and finishing his drink. "What do you think about crashin’ girls' night? All of us?"

Rye shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “Whipped,” he teases. “You are both whipped.” He shrugs his shoulders and belts back the rest of his drink. “I’m game.”

"If we can't get him a bridesmaid, maybe he can pick up a date wherever the girls are," Astrid suggests with a smirk. She knows exactly where you are, since Gabi had texted her that Diana was babysitting the kids for the rest of the night so she could go meet up with the two of you.

“I like this idea.” Jack muses, slapping the back of his hand against Rye’s chest. “All Champ’s best agents deserve to get laid tonight.”

"I was gonna tell y'all tonight." Rye looks around with a grin on his face. "I'm transferring back to Louisville. Gin asked for the New York office as a reward for her last mission."

“Hot damn.” Jack chuckles and shakes his head. “The band is back together again.” There was a lot of hell raising the last time everyone at this table was together, he expects it will be the same - only with soulmates to add to the mix.

"They're on their way to Tin Roof." Astrid reports with a grin, waving her phone in the air. "Gabi's sister's band is playing tonight and the girls are meeting her there." She knows the answer already, but she still asks. "Should we hustle and get there before them?"

“What are we still doing here?” Jack demands, shooting out of the booth and looking at the other three.

******

"This is it, right here." The club that you're supposed to be meeting Gabi at isn't one you frequent but it's noisy and crowded, and you love the energy from the outside as you park the car down the block. Sophia has the GPS pulled up on her phone in the passenger seat and she's been texting with Gabi. "Is she already inside?"

“Yes!” Sophia chuckles and twists the phone so you can see the picture of Gabi holding a ridiculously blue drink. “She must be ready to get snockered tonight. Without the kids for an entire night?”

"This is her sister's band." You fling off your seatbelt and grab your purse from the backseat, ready to continue the night in this second location. The impromptu invitation from Gabi was a great idea. "I've seen them play once before and I had a blast, but yeah. She's definitely getting blasted already. Love her to death, she absolutely deserves it."

“Well, I want to try whatever she is drinking.” Sophia had eaten too much and would probably regret it, but she has every intention of dancing the meal away with her new friends and getting smashed enough that Tex will have to pour her into bed.

"I've heard this place has a killer drink menu, so we're gonna have fun." You flash your IDs for the bouncer, who has your names on a list, and tug Sophia inside by your intertwined hands. The place is dark and loud and ready for a party, and Gabi nearly screams when she spots you across the bar.

"Babes!" She bounces over with her drink in her hand, throwing her free arm around both of you as well as she can. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

“We’re glad you invited us. This place is wicked!” Sophia gasps, grinning ear to ear as she soaks in the heavy music and swaying bodies in the strobe lights.

"Drinks?" Gabi flashes you both a grin, wanting to at least get you started for the night before revealing the surprise that walked in the door five minutes ago. "Maybe a tequila drink and a whiskey drink, respectively?" She laughs delightedly at the pun.

Sophia snorts and grabs Gabi’s drink playfully. “If that’s the case, you get to stick to ginger ale tonight.” She teases, holding the drink back from her friend for a moment before handing it back to her.

"Not on an actual night out." Gabi's laugh is infectious, and all three of you go to the bar to get drinks. Sophia gets another of the bright blue drinks like Gabi has and you come away with something neon pink. "I've been hanging out on the side, right over here," she tells you and Sophia, leading you to an alcove with a large table. It's not until you turn the corner, though, that you see the table is being occupied.

“Well look who finally decided to show up.” Jack drawls as he leans back in the booth and grins at you. “Hey sugar, trouble’s blown into town.”

“Jack Daniels, as I live and breathe.” You squeal with delight seeing him lounging there and practically bolt forward to throw your arm around him. “You just couldn’t stay away, could you?”

“Tex dragged us here.” He lies with a grin on his face, knowing that he had wanted to be here just as bad. “Shoulda seen it, it was pathetic how he was mopin’ and moonin’ over.”

“Oh yeah?” He makes room for you, and you sit down in his lap at the wide, circular booth. “I bet you weren’t excited at all to haul ass and come over here to surprise us.”

“He damn near broke our necks getting us here.” Tex throws him under the bus easily. “Tried drivin’ the Bronco like it was the Pony Express.”

Jack huffs and cuts his eyes at Tex. “Just because you drive like your Drivin’ Miss Daisy don’t mean I’m a fast driver.”

“You do drive kind of fast, baby.” He does almost everything fast, and you’ve been enjoying the hell out of that ever since the ‘everything’ he does included you.

Jack snickers and shakes his head. “Nahhh, y’all just can’t keep up.”

“Whatever you say.” Sophia snorts, cuddling into Tequila’s side. “I’m just glad you decided to join us.”

Jack pulls you close and presses a kiss to your jaw. “Have I told you how incredible you are lookin’ tonight, sugar?”

"Only about three times before I left the house." You hum into the moment, turning your head so you can slant your lips against his. "I think this might be your new favourite dress."

“If you could only hear the things I’m plannin’ on doing to you in that dress.” Jack drawls quietly in your ear.

“Oh yeah?” One eyebrow quirks curiously at him as you get comfortable in his lap. “You planning on having your wicked way with me?”

“Sugar….” Jack growls and his teeth scrap over your jawline. “If we weren’t in a crowded club, I’d have your dress up right now.”

There’s no way he doesn’t feel the shiver that rolls through you at that promise, or see the way your eyes flit around the space before coming back to land on him with mischief and lust written in your expression. “I see some dark corners to hide in, if we get impatient…”

“We could always go get something out of the Bronco.” Jack suggests, sliding his hand over your knee and to the hem of your dress.

Ever since the…unexpected revelation of being excited by the idea of getting caught, it’s stuck in your head. It’s slipped into your dreams. It’s been at the forefront of your fantasies. And you really just can’t shake it at all. “We definitely could,” you murmur back, shifting in his lap and feeling the unmistakable dampness in your panties that always follows the fantasies. That rush of lust never fails.

“Yeah?” Jack chuckles quietly. “I think we need to get that coat you left in there.” He teases quietly, his cock twitching against your ass.

“We do.” The emphatic nod you give him is laced with a disbelieving giggle. Are you really about to do this? “I’m a little cold…silly me for wearing a sleeveless dress…”

“Silly rabbit.” Jack smirks and dips his fingers under your dress, enjoying the way your flesh breaks out in goosebumps. “You’re cold sugar,” he announces loudly. “Let’s go get your coat out of the Bronco.”

“Back in a minute,” you hum to no one in particular, taking a large drink of your cocktail before hopping off Jack’s lap and grabbing his hand. Are you really about to do this? Asks the voice in your head again, but the rush of heat in your core is absolutely on board.

Jack tucks your hand in his and hustles you out of the club. He knows the wristbands will get you back in, but right now, he’s chuckling as he guides you past the queue to get inside and out towards the nearly deserted parking lot.

“You’re such a bad influence,” you giggle under your breath as Jack makes a beeline for his truck. You would never have considered this with any other partner before him – never. But with Jack you just can’t seem to get enough.

“Me?” Jack huffs, grinning as he pulls you forward and lets go of your hand to slap your ass. “You’re practically begging me to fuck you in that dress.” He teases.

“Do you want me to beg?” Shaking your ass at him just a little, you grin and turn to face him with a pout painted on your lips as fast as a light switch. “Does my Jack have a little bit of a dominant streak in him?”

“Sugar, I thought you knew that.” Jack huffs, even though you had already said he was something more along the lines of a ‘service top’. He hadn’t looked that upset to see what it meant, because you had been whimpering praises when you had said it.

“I must love being a sub then.” His hands are on you, holding you fast against the side of the Bronco, and your legs tremble a little in anticipation. “I’m learning so much about my sexual appetite from you.”

“Yeah, Sugar?” Jack smirks as he presses his thigh between your legs and lifts, so he is firm against your core. “You wanna be my good girl right now? Scream my name as loud as you need to and let anyone around here think you’re bein’ mugged?”

“Fuck.” There’s something about the way he says good girl that makes you ever wetter, core clenching and thighs tightening around his as it presses into you. “I—shit— yes. Whatever you want, baby.”

“Right answer.” His hands slide your dress up, aware that his body is blocking anyone from seeing too much of you, but you like this. Your cunt is already soaking his jeans through the poor excise of panties you have on underneath them. “Do you want me to rip off that lace or wear them after I’m done with you?” He demands, kissing up your throat.

“Need then to keep your cum inside me all night.” Jack had, at least, taken to your preference for cum play with eager indulgence. With an IUD in place, you’re welcome to play as much as you like, and Jack seems to love it.

“Good girl.” He groans against your clavicle, cock jumping in his pants, and he starts to pull them down. “Step out of them for me, sugar.” He orders, pulling his thigh away to kneel down in the gravel parking lot.

“Jack.” Just a gasp of his name comes from your lips in the night air, but you’re obedient in stepping out of your panties for him to shove into his jacket pocket temporarily. When he doesn’t stand up again right away you almost tease him, but he dives forward in one fluid movement to duck his head under your dress and taste your dripping slit so quickly that you can barely clap your hand over your mouth to stifle a moan.

His chuckle vibrates against your clit, smile curving up as his tongue dives into your core for a brief taste and slowly slithers though your folds before he sucks on your clit softly for a second. He would take his time if there wasn’t a group of people waiting for you back inside, but he couldn’t resist a taste as he pockets your panties.

“Oh fuck, baby.” Coming on breathy gasps instead of your usual loud moans because you are out in public, your hips follow his tongue and tilt forward to give him everything he wants even for the single minute he’s on his knees. “You’re so fucking good at that, holy shit.”

Kissing your clit again, he pulls away and shuffles to his feet. “Next time, I’m going to make you cum with my tongue.” He promises, licking your essence from his lips. “Right now I need to be inside you.”

Four hands fumble for his belt, desperate to get the buckle and his jeans open while you slide your tongue into his mouth and groan at your own taste in his kiss. You’re always so eager. Jack loves it, knowing that it’s still new but you’ve not once turned him away when he needs you. Just as eager as he is and it makes him feel like he is the only one in your orbit. “Fuck.” He groans, shuddering when your hand plunges into his jeans to wrap around him. Once again not wearing boxers pays off for him.

“So impatient,” you tease with a throaty chuckle, keeping your voice quiet as you nip at his bottom lip and pump his cock in long, luxurious strokes. There isn’t time for a lot of this, but he deserves a little attention after paying you the same courtesy.

“Fuck you’re so good to me, sugar.” He’s breathless, thrusting into your grip and his own hands flex around your hips. “Put me inside you.”

Shifting back so you’re sitting on the Bronco’s hood, you glance around quickly and feel the rush of adrenaline as you line him up at your entrance and hitch your leg up on his hip to let him sink inside you.

“Fuuuuuuck.” It gets better every fucking time. The way your body accepts him is nothing short of miraculous and he loves the way your walls give to let him in. “So good.”

“Quiet, love.” You remind him, whimpering under your breath and swallowing a gasp as he starts to move. You’re going to have to force yourself to keep your eyes open, but you don’t know how much good it will do when you’re facing a wall.

“Let ‘em hear.” Jack grunts, pulling his lip between his teeth has he starts to work his cock in and out of you. Knowing he needs to do this quick, but not caring as he punches deep and feels your body react.

Immediately your mind protests that you don’t want to get arrested for fucking in public, but the next stroke of his thick cock hits so deep that you forget to care, moaning out loud for the night to hear. Every sound you make for him is perfect, spurring him on as if you are commanding him for more. It’s hot and dirty, filthy in the best possible way and he reaches down between you to rub your clit because he knows he won’t last. “Cum for me sugar,” he growls. “Need you to be a g—good girl.”

It’s the most gorgeous symphony of sinful sounds you’ve ever heard in your life and the place makes you cling to him so that you won’t miss a single sensation. The throbbing veins lining his cock seem to pulse out both of your heartbeats and you whine out an agreement to his command as best you can before finding his lips again. If you can’t pour yourself into kissing him as you cum, you really might scream out in pleasure.

Jack moans against your lips, feeling the liquid rush of head that give him permission to cum. Letting go and gasping as he pours himself into you.

“Fucking hell, baby.” Gasping at the feeling of him spilling inside of you and clutching his leather jacket even as you lay back to feel the cool metal of the truck’s hood on your back.

Jack pants out your name, hunching over you so he can rest his head right in your stomach. Trying to catch his breath. “Warm now?” He chuckles.

“I think we just worked off the calories from dinner,” you joke, giggling breathlessly and running your fingers through his hair.

“Happy to help, sugar.” Jack looks up at you and as much as he would love to stay just like this for the rest of the night, he had to get you back. Pulling back and reaching into his pocket to pull out your panties with a grin.

As soon as he’s slipped then back on, you shimmy into them and sit back up. “C’mere,” you insist, slipping off the Bronco’s hood to bend over and slip his softening cock into your mouth, savouring the flavor of your combined juice and cleaning him up just a little so his jeans won’t be a mess when he tucks himself away.

“Shit.” Jack is spent, but still he moans quietly at the feeling of your mouth around his cock. Loving how you shamelessly want him. “Okay sugar, I need a break between rounds.”

Your satisfied hun makes both of you chuckle, and when you stand up again you feel light as a feather. “I better see if I actually have a jacket back there,” you shrug your shoulders and grin guiltlessly. “For appearances sake.”

“If you don’t, we’ll just say we couldn’t find it and I had to give you mine.” Jack reasons, smirking as he shrugs out of his jacket. He knows you don’t have a jacket in here.

“You just like seeing me in your clothes.” The first time you’d worn one of his old button-up plaid shirts around the house he’d almost pinned you to the nearest surface on sight — and you loved it.

“What can I say, sugar?” Jack grins. “Might be a little possessive.”

“Just a tad.” With both of you redressed, you snuggle into Jack’s side and head for the door again with a jubilant smile on your face. You can’t help it. He just makes you feel incredible and you’re not about to deny yourself the giddiness of it.

Back inside, none of the group has any doubts where you have been, or wheat you’ve been up to. Tex and Rye grin, the former whooping loudly for everyone to hear and slapping Jack on the back. Gabi hands you your cocktail back with a smirk, and you just set yourself down in the booth as innocently as possible before Jack comes to rejoin you, one arm thickly protectively around your body to keep you close.

“No coat in the truck?” She guesses, batting her eyelashes to you in Jack’s jacket.

“I guess not.” Your innocent shrug is fairly lame and you know it. “That’s okay, Jack doesn’t need his.”

“She knows I’ll always give her my jacket if she needs it.” Jack muses, taking a sip of his own drink with a smug grin.

Sophia nearly chokes on a laugh at that, not needing a road map for Jack’s comment in the least. “Very generous, mate,” she snorts, smirking at him and then Tex.

Jack winks at Sophia playfully, tugging you closer with his free hand and looking over at you. “I think so, wouldn’t you?”

“Extremely generous.” You agree with a solemn nod.

“Alright.” Ginger rolls her eyes at all of you like the long-suffering mother she is. “Horny bastards.”

“You are the one who told me I needed to get my head out of my ass and realize what I had.” Jack reminds her with zero shame. “Just took your advice.”

“I wish you’d take all of my advice so literally.” She shakes her head at him but readjusts her arm around her wife. “So much domesticity all at once. It’s like someone cast a spell over Statesman.”

“Something must be in the air.” Jack chuckles, leaning in and kissing your cheek. “Must be the scent of her coconut frosting.”

******

The day of the Rabbit-Hole’s opening party is the biggest piece of organized chaos that you’ve seen so far in your entire life. Bigger than either of your siblings’ weddings or any that you had catered – and bigger still than the last restaurant opening you worked through when you were just the pastry sous chef. Now, with the entire kitchen under your command, you’re just grateful that Diana is coordinating the party so you can focus on your food.

The cake case is full is bursting with every flavour, the decorations are as over the top as you could manage and still have the place feel cozy and inviting. There’s room for the bandstand on the patio, so that the open French doors will let music flow through the restaurant and anyone who wants to dance can be inside or out. Every single seat has been reserved and about a third of the guests have put in their reservations that they would like to partake in the tea service menu or have one of your signature soufflés as a part of their meal. And on top of it all - only three small disasters have happened today and each of them was resolved relatively easily.

Now, at four in the afternoon, you’ve run home to shower the flour out of your hair and the sweat off your skin, and to change into fresh clothes and a clean chef’s coat for tonight. Jack is back from the office early so he can meet your family at the airstrip, and you couldn’t be more grateful that he’s so willing to jump in and help.

“Hey.” Jack grins at you, excited for your gift that he has for you. “Are you ready?” He asks cocking his head slightly. “You look like you’re missing something.” You are freshly showered, in clean clothes but he gives you a playful grin as he leans in to kiss your lips.

"What?" A quick inventory of your outfit - appropriate pants and shirt, new slip-resistant boots, bracelets from your sister and from Jack, even the earrings shaped like teacups that your mother had sent you - says you've got everything in place. Even your hair and makeup are appropriate, if simple. You would sweat off anything elaborate in the kitchen. "No? I'm pretty sure I have everything. Unless—" Your hand flies to your belt loops and you sigh in relief. Your keys are where they should be. "No. I'm good."

Jack chuckles at your efficiency and shakes his head. “No, you’re definitely missing something.” The elaborately wrapped box is thanks to Astrid. Jack couldn’t wrap his way out of a room and he wanted the gift to be perfect for you. “I think this is what you need.”

"Wh—what is this?" Your eyebrows rise when he holds the box out to you, but the second it's in your hands you're eager to tear the bows and ribbon off. Jack's tendency toward gift-giving is usually smaller things - like a perfectly made cup of coffee in the morning. But this is not small by any means. You nearly giggle tearing the wrapping away, and carefully lift the lid of the box to reveal a layer of tissue...which surrounds a brand-new chef's jacket. Crisp white with The Rabbit-Hole's logo embroidered in red and black, with Chef and your name in the same style and colours underneath. "Oh my god," you gasp, feeling tears in your eyes immediately. "You didn't have to do this baby, but oh my god, it's perfect!"

“Of course I did.” Jack huffs, proud that you are touched by the gift. “No chef can attend the opening to her own restaurant without the proper wear, sugar.” Jack teases, sliding forward to unbutton the plain chef’s coat you have on right now. “Want you to remember tonight as the day all your dreams come true.” Later on will be another dream, he hopes.

"I'm so nervous." The jacket fits you perfectly, and you smooth your fingers over the embroidery with a watery smile of pure pride. "I'm terrified, honestly, but also excited. Like I have enough anxiety and adrenaline that I could vibrate into space."

“We are all here behind you.” Jack assures you, reaching up and squeezing your shoulders reassuringly. “Just let me know if you need anything, sugar.”

"Right now all I need is a kiss," you're beaming at him, unashamed to claim that prize and give him a squeezing tight hug. "And for you to pick up my family from the airstrip. I know they're only in for the one night, but I'm so glad they could all come."

“As soon as I leave here, I’m off to get them.” He promises, pulling you close and kissing you. “The jet is already starting to descend so they should be landing in ten.”

"Thank you, baby." One more kiss and you have to pull yourself away, admiring the embroidery on your coat all over again. "I have to run back to the kitchen, but I'll see all of you tonight." The opening is due to start in just two hours, and there is so much to do, but you actually - miraculously - feel ready.

“Break a leg.” Jack jokes. “Or a dish.”

"I love you." You squeeze his hand and shoot out the door, ready to get your hands dirty for the first few hundred people to ever eat at The Rabbit-Hole.

******

Meeting your family at the airport is nerve wracking. Not because of any changes of opinion or because you aren’t there to provide a buffer, but because of what your father is bringing Jack. Sending him a picture, Jack had bought a band to be an accompanying piece and would be completed by the wedding band to come. Anxious to see the ring in person and to put the pieces together so he can ask you to be his wife tonight after you have had one hell of a launch.

"Jack!" It's your little sister who jumps forward on the pavement first, ready to hug it out and enjoy the hell out of a weekend without the kids. "How terrified is she? Freaking out? Shaking in her stylish yet affordable boots?"

“She’s shaking in her custom embroidered chef’s jacket.” Jack accepts the bone crushing hug with a laugh. “But she’s got nothing to worry about, she’s going to kill it. You should see the place.”

"We will." Sherry steps up to be the next in line for a hug and is much gentler when she puts both arms around her daughter's soulmate. "In about a half an hour. How are you doing, honey? Work is good? Moving her in went okay?"

“Everything is floatin’ along perfectly.” He assures her, hugging your mother with a bit more restraint and smiling as he pulls back. “She’s all moved in and says she’s happy as a lark. I think that’s because she’s gotten used to me wantin’ to make her rest when she gets home. Ask her when she gets tired of eatin’ off the grill.”

"It'll take a long time for her to get tired of that." Stepping up behind his wife, your father puts his hand out to Jack with an approving smile. "But it's good to hear things are going well." He clears his throat and glances around as his family starts moving toward Jack's Bronco. "Still feeling good about tonight?" He asks Jack quietly.

“I am.” Jack nods, looking into your father’s eyes seriously. “I have your permission to ask your daughter to marry me?” It seems important to make sure, even though everyone knows it’s been leading to this. He respects the man enough to ask again.

"Yes." Jeff chuckles quietly, appreciative of the respect but knowing that you would do what you damn well liked with or without your father's permission. The ring box in his jacket pocket is Jack's now, and he offers it to the younger man easily. "I hope you don't mind, but I told them this morning. My wife wanted to know why I was going into the safe, and it seemed okay to let it out."

“Absolutely.” Jack chuckles as he opens the box and smiles down at the simple, yet gorgeous ring that had been your grandmother’s. “I have the first part of the wraparound here.” He tells him, pulling out his own small box to open, showing the band he had designed to fit around it. The wedding band would go on the other side in time.

"Oh, it's beautiful," your mother gasps with delight, inspecting the delicate details on the wrap band that Jack had picked out. "Honey, she's going to love it. I just—" She's a little misty-eyed, but who can blame her. "I'll save the congratulations for later, but I'm so happy for both of you."

“I hope to make her happy every day,” he promises Sherry. “I know I won’t succeed every day, but that’s the goal.”

"Never go to bed angry, son." That's her best motherly advice, and she hands it out with a sage nod. "That's the key to everything. No matter which one of you gets stubborn, always work it out before bed."

“Honestly, I don’t know if I can sleep without her in my arms.” Maybe it’s a little too much information for your parents, but he doesn’t mean it in a sexual way. Just the comfort of you in his arms helps him sleep.

"Oh god, they're happy," Matt groans, making gagging noises and playing his essential role as older brother. "Absolutely disgusting," he deadpans, grinning broadly at Jack.

“Completely disgusting.” Jack agrees wholeheartedly, chuckling at the way your brother likes to tease. “You should see Tex with his soulmate if you think we’re bad. She’s a Brit with a mouth that is fouler than a sailor’s and a love for him as big as Texas.”

"He found her?" Sherry clasps her hands over her heart and practically does a happy dance as the group of them climbs into the Bronco. "That's such good news. He's a nice boy. Are they going to be at the opening tonight?"

“Of course they are.” Jack climbs behind the wheel and turns the engine over. “They have become fast friends. To the point where she’s gonna be Sophia’s maid of honor this summer.”

Matt and Jeff let out an identical whistle from the backseat that sends everyone into a soft laugh, and Sherry nods her approval in the passenger seat beside Jack. "Everybody's happy. Just the way it should be." After all, she'd liked Tex when she thought that he was her daughter's soulmate, she doesn't like him any less now that he is someone else's.

“Everyone’s happy.” Jack agrees, smirking as he pulls away from the tarmac. “Let’s go down the Rabbit-Hole, shall we?”

"To The Rabbit-Hole." Sherry aims one finger in the air like the call of a charge and laughs again, excited to see the restaurant that was barely beginning to take shape the last time they were in Louisville.

By the time Jack pulls up to the distillery, the parking lot is already starting to fill up. “Oh boy, here we go.” He chuckles as he jumps out. The grand opening banner has been draped over the entrance and he beams at how everything looks. “It’s all come together.”

"Hot damn." Jeff pops out of the truck with a grin. "She's really done it, hasn't she? The whole place is hers."

"Dad, we're not even inside," Eliza laughs, pulling her husband along with her in an eager attempt to get to the door ahead of the rest of her family. "Daniels, party of six," she tells the hostess at the stand just inside the doorway. There's music pouring softly through the building and the smells from the kitchen are completely divine. "Oh my god, look!" She squeaks while the hostess is checking in their reservation, pointing at the pastry case. "The coconut cake is front and center!"

“She wanted to make that a permanent part of the menu.” You have too many ideas to have a permanent menu without some rotation, but some items were going to always be available. “I think that is the star of The Rabbit-Hole.”

The six of them follow the hostess out into the dining room, the whimsical decor and rich colors grounded by walnut-stained tables and chairs and brass accents. Soft white linen tablecloths give a feeling of elegance, and your mother can’t help cooing at every detail as they’re seated at one of the larger tables.

Jack beams as he looks at everyone taking in the atmosphere, snapping photos and looking excited as a line of servers show them to their tables. You had even gone so far as to have the party name engraved on heavy card stock and placed in the middle of the tables for a touch of whimsy and practicality, making the best use of the configurations for ease of seating. “She’s outdone herself.”

“It’s perfect,” Eliza breathes as she sits down, twisting her head to see all around the dining room and as much of the patio as she can. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

“The menu is specialized for today.” Jack boasts as he looks at the elaborate scroll of the paper.

“Everything sounds good.” Your brother-in-law groans, knowing it will be impossible for him to make a decision.

“Can I recommend the meatloaf?” Diana flashes everyone a grin, appearing at Jack’s side with the proud glow of a happy friend. She’s been pointing out to absolutely everyone that the menu says Diana’s meatloaf and glowing over it.

“I still can’t believe that you gave her your prized recipe.” Jack knows that the special will only be a once a week offering, but it’s a point of pride for him to see her so happy about it.

“If I was ever going to share it outside the family, it would only be for someone like her.” She greets your family with hugs all around, sharing in the excitement of opening night. Everyone is bubbly and jittery all at once and it’s making the restaurant feel so active.

“How is she holding up?” Jack asks quietly, having promised you he wouldn’t slip into the back while the work was going on. You were too busy for distractions.

“I heard her laughing in the kitchen just before you came in, so I think we’re okay.” Jack gets the biggest hug, of course, and Diana pats his back soothingly.

“Good.” Diana knows that he is planning on proposing after the opening is done. Making sure that there is plenty of champagne for more than just the after party.

“How are you feeling?” She asks him quietly, knowing that he must be nervous. She would be, anyway.

“Honestly?” Jack surprises himself. “I’m feeling great.” He knows you will say yes. His only worry is that he will disappoint you by proposing on your big day.

“Good,” Diana’s smile widens, overtaking her face. “Ride that wave, honey. It’s going to be great.”

“She’s going to love it, right?” Jack looks around the table at those who know you best. No one has argued with his plan, so he’s taking that as a good sign, but he wants to be sure. “Proposing tonight?”

“Absolutely.” Your sister has no hesitations about Jack’s plan, and offers her soon-to-be brother-in-law a nod of encouragement. “My sister is many things, but quiet about her happiness shouldn’t be one of them. The grand gesture is the perfect plan.”

“Good.” Jack deflates, relieved to be reassured that he’s doing the right thing. “That’s damn good.”

“Just give me a signal so I can film it,” your mother insists, always being the documentarian of the family. It’s because of her that there is such a complete photo history of your childhood.

“Of course.” Jack nods, grateful for your family’s support. “Diana, you have her dress here?” He knows you wouldn’t want to be proposed to in your chef’s uniform, so he had arranged for Diana to bring one of your favorite dresses, knowing the older woman could convince you to change for the little after party without arousing too much suspicion.

“It’s all set up.” She promises him. She had also arranged for the band to do a little rendition of the Elton John classic Your Song after you say yes, but that’s a surprise for both of you. “Don’t you fret, honey. We have everything taken care of. Just enjoy your dinner and be proud of your soulmate.”

“You know I’m going to.” Jack nods to Diana as she slides away to greet another table and he grins at everyone. “How about we order us our first drinks?”

They all knew the food would be good. They knew the food would be great, even. But whatever you’re doing back there in that kitchen tonight is magic because this might be – according to your father between giddy bites of fried chicken – the very best you’ve ever cooked.

“Whatever is in this, it’s gotta be illegal,” your brother groans, when not a single speck is left on his plate.

“And yet?” Your sister is beaming, soufflé and pork erased from existence and sitting happily in her stomach. “I can’t wait for dessert.”

“She’s been busting her ass to make sure that everything is perfect. You don’t know how many times she’s thrown out a recipe and started from scratch for tonight.”

“Sounds like her finals in culinary school.” Eliza groans happily and sits back, patting her stomach. “I think there’s just enough room for dessert.” She flashes Jack a grin. “And champagne.”

“Always room for champagne.” Jack contends. “Especially when you have to know this woman has even made an after-party menu.”

“She didn’t?” Although why your mother is surprised is anyone’s guess. Of course you went overboard. “That girl, I swear.”

“To thank the staff for all their hard work.” Jack shrugs, accepting that you do too much.

“Accidentally catering her own engagement party sounds pretty on point.” Matt chuckles at it, knowing you’ll get a kick out of it when you think about it later. “Get ready,” Diana sweeps by the table with an excited aura radiating from her. “I’m gonna go make sure she’s changed up and ready to give her ‘thank you’ speech.”

Tonight was just going to be one seating. It wasn’t going to be an all-night affair. It was the beauty of this because every table was saying they needed to book another reservation now. “It’s time.”

******

“Di!” When your friend appears in the kitchen you’re in your element, executing the last few desserts to go out and wiping sweat from your forehead with a kitchen towel with a giant grin on your face. “Is it time already? Shit…I completely lost track.” One glance at the clock shows yes, you’ve completely lost track of the hour. It seems like the night only started ten minutes ago. “How is…do they—do they like it?” You ask, almost afraid to hear her answer.

“Babe, you can guarantee that your tearoom will be packed from here on out.” Diana laughs, throwing her arms around you. “They are already asking for reservations to come back.”

“Really?” It would enough to have you in tears if you weren’t flying on so much adrenaline. Instead you hug Diana back fiercely. “Okay, let me just make sure we have the buffet trays ready for the after party and I’ll change.” The idea for the rest of the night is to be informal, and to let your staff join the fun. All you’ll do later is clean up the dining room. Doing the last batch of dishes before lunch service tomorrow will be a snap.

“Go change, I’ll take care of that.” Diana shoos you away from the table where the staff party supplies are sitting. “Go on. I can handle this part.”

The dress was Diana’s idea, and she had somehow magically managed to convince you to pull the vintage party dress out of the back of your closet that you had only worn once before. The little blue number was perfect, she insisted over and over until you gave in. Now you come out of your office after cleaning up and changing your clothes feeling a little silly. “It’s not too much?” You ask her, uncertain.

“Honey, it’s perfect.” Diana gushes, nearly tearing up but she knows that would make you suspicious as to why she’s crying over your launch party dress. “You deserve tonight.” She tells you honestly. “Every bit of it.”

“If you say so.” The speech of thanks and encouragement was given to your staff at the beginning of the night, and you’ve been giving them so much praise as they worked their asses off for this dinner service, and even now you flash them a big double thumbs up from one end of the kitchen. “Time to wind down, guys!” You tell them loudly, absolute giddiness clear in your voice. “Get your stations cleaned up and come out to join the party!”

Diana is just putting the finishing touches on the table with Eliza’s help while Champ and Jack start pouring glasses of champagne into flutes for all the staff. Jack wants to let you have this moment first, to bask in the success before he steals the spotlight for a moment. Matt, your father and mother are all setting the dining room to rights, giggling over the fact that every single table had taken the menus and their place cards home with their to-go pastries from the now completely wiped-out case.

The friends and family that have stayed behind for the party are all doing their part, and when you walk out of the kitchen with your staff behind you, the applause is deafening. These people – these wonderful people – are on their feet for you immediately. Cheering and whistling as they put their hands together for your efforts. And it has you nearly in tears as you take the seemingly long walk to the center of the dining room. “Well that was unexpected,” you laugh, holding the microphone that the band leader hands you away from your face when it gives you feedback. “I—thank you, everyone, from the bottom of my heart. Tonight was a dream thanks to all of you and the amazing staff of The Rabbit-Hole. Please give them another round of applause because they executed flawlessly tonight.” A second round of cheers and clapping deafens the room for a second as your staff cheers right back, already accepting flutes of champagne from Diana, Astrid, and Sophia as they walk around with trays. “Most of you probably think of this place as being three months in the making but the truth is that it has been my entire life. Some of these recipes have been handed down through my family for generations only to end up in the hands of this amazing crew of cooks and I could not be more grateful or proud. It’s—” You laugh when the first tears escape, and shrug your shoulders, because it was inevitable.

“My grandma Jane, whose coconut cake is the crown jewel of our dessert menu, used to always tell me that I could do anything. ‘Beautiful girl’ she would tell me whenever I was discouraged or afraid, ‘you can do the hard thing’. And I have lived my life with her words as my voice of encouragement. So tonight is dedicated to Grandma Jane, with all my gratitude, because I would never have gone into culinary without her. To my staff, with all my thanks, because this is going to be an amazing place that we will make a must try experience for anyone in Louisville…” Your head turns, eyes finding Jack standing just a few feet away, and you smile. “And to my soulmate, with all my love, for all of his support as I became an increasingly crazier woman as we got closer to tonight. Thank you, Jack.”

Jack ducks his head and grins as Matt whistles and decides that now is the perfect time for him to come up beside you. He can see the way you cock your head and what you don’t know is that he has a microphone already clipped to his jacket so he can be heard throughout the space. He thanks Diana silently as she reaches over and takes the microphone from your hand to give it back to the band. “Sugar.” Jack takes your hand and kisses the back of it, “I’m mighty damn proud of you.” He declares as he grins up at you from where he’s bending over your hand. “You deserve every second of tonight. And I’m hopin’ to end the night on a high note for you.”

At first you don’t put the pieces together. Why does Jack have a microphone on? Why is he coming out and acting like he’s going to make a speech? Why is your mother still recording? And then it hits all at one as Jack bends over just one of your hands when he always takes both. “Oohhh my god…”

Jack shuffles to one knee and sends you a mockingly reproachful look. “Hold on now.” He chides with a grin. “Lemme get my speech out.” He huffs, reaching into his pocket with his other hand to pull out the velvet box your father had given him. “Now sugar, every person in this place knows we’ve had a rocky road to where we are now.” Jack won’t deny that, and he wants to be honest. “But we are here and I don’t know if I ever want to be lookin’ at a future that doesn’t involve you. You’re my soulmate.” That phrase alone is very symbolic to both of you and he squeezes your hand gently as you stare down at him in shock. “Never thought second soulmates existed, and now I thank God every day that they do, and you’re mine.” Jack has to pause, clear his throat as he gets a touch emotional before he continues. “You drug me down the rabbit-hole. Where I learned to love again, that I was capable of it, and to accept that I had a future far beyond my past. I love you with every fiber of my soul, sugar. Will you marry me?” He opens the box to show you the two rings. “Your Grandma Jane also had a hand in this too. I hope you don’t mind getting two rings.” He winks at you as he waits for your answer.

The way you squeak out “Yes” is barely audible to anyone but Jack, but your emphatic nodding through a curtain of tears says all it needs to. The room has narrowed down to just Jack and you, and you pull him back up to standing again with shaking hands. Never in a thousand years would you have expected this - especially so soon - but your tears have turned from proud to ecstatic in an instant. “I love you so much,” you murmur, forgetting the microphone will pick up anything you say, and you can’t help but laugh when you hear it loud and clear across the restaurant.

“I love you, sugar.” Jack promises you, taking the rings out of the box very carefully to slide both of them on your finger. “Perfect fit.”

“Yeah.” You hold into his hands tightly, admiring the rings for a moment before you look back up at him. “We are.”

Jack leans in and presses his lips to yours, making another round of applause go up as he holds you close and the band starts to play.

“I love you.” Someone, probably Diana, thankfully cut Jack’s microphone, and you can whisper safely in his arms as he starts to move you around the middle of the dance floor. “More than anything in the world.”

“I love you too sugar.” Jack promises. “I want the rest of my time on this earth with you.”

“And you’re going to get it.” The giddy giggles that well up inside you have you grinning all over again and your hands against his chest make the rings - plural - sparkle every time they catch the light. “So…was this what you and my dad were talking about the last night they were here?”

“Yeah.” Jack grins. “Along with the ‘what are your intentions’ questioning.”

“Well I know you got his approval, because he gave you my gran’s ring.” It’s such a giddy thing, and you lean in to kiss him as you turn together. “She would have loved you. And she would have loved the idea of two rings…I’m assuming that was your idea?”

Jack nods. “I couldn’t just give you your grandmother’s ring.” He explains quietly. “There’s another band to wear as a wedding ring. Fully surrounding her ring.”

“You’re the sweetest man in the whole world, you know that don’t you?” He always goes above and beyond. You know that about him, and you love what it says about him and the depths of his caring. “I honestly…I would have been okay with it if you never wanted to get married again. But I’m a tiny bit excited to be Mrs. Daniels.”

“I know you hadn’t let yourself imagine it.” Jack huffs sadly. “It’s why Sophia had standing orders to make you think about your own wedding.”

“I have a secret for you.” It’s sweet that they had enlisted Sophia’s help, but you bite back a shit-eating grin. “I’ve imagined a lot. I just kept my stash of bridal magazines and website bookmarks secret so you wouldn’t feel pressured.”

“Yeah?” Jack chuckles, grinning at you and shaking his head. “Next you’ll be tellin’ me that you’ve already decided what names the kids will have.”

“I might have ideas,” you admit sheepishly. “But I would never decide anything without you.”

Jack chuckles quietly and leans in to kiss you. “Sounds good, sugar.” He murmurs against your lips. “I want you to dream with me.”

“For the rest of our lives.” That sounds like a very good amount of time. “I promise.”

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide​ @elegantduckturtle  ​

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniel x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au #Agent Tequila #Agent Tequila x OC #Agent Tequila x female OC