#him in black! her in white! them standing next to each other!

[jayflrt]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 40. pledge week

content warnings: hazing (for those who don't know, hazing refers to initiation "rituals" that can be humiliating, degrading, and potentially dangerous. hazing can be physical, mental, or psychological; it can happen not only in fraternities and sororities but also sports teams and social or professional organizations). also they steal a goat (don't do this)

JAY WAS FAST ASLEEP FOR THE EIGHT HOURS ON THE PLANE BACK TO CONNECTICUT, WHICH WAS ALSO A GREAT EXCUSE TO KEEP HIMSELF FAR AWAY FROM YOU.

He had you on his thigh only hours prior to the flight, and he could barely meet anyone's eyes while he spent the entire time brooding at the terminal. No one seemed to notice his strange behavior, though; most people were yawning and rubbing their eyes from the hectic weekend.

Vivid flashes of your face kept popping up in his head whenever he let his mind wander. Jay desperately tried to steer his head to think about more important matters—the mission, for one—but all he could recall was how you moaned his name in a way that set his nerves on fire.

It was a mistake. He wasn't acting responsibly at all about this, and Jay was so disappointed in himself that he couldn't bring himself to tell his friends about what had happened.

If only he didn't let his emotions get in the way of his work.

That matter aside, Jay had been far too distracted this weekend. He was getting so carried away with the glitz and glam of the trip that he had completely forgotten that he was supposed to talk to Chaewon more. She was your roommate, for Christ's sake; it should've been easy for him to strike up a conversation.

But then there was some resistance starting to build up. He didn't want to do this anymore, and he knew that for sure after he had walked away from your hotel room. Even if Jay had to leave Yale forever and never see you again, he would rather do that over continuing with an investigation that would inevitably hurt you.

It wasn't like he had any choice, though—not when Unknown knew the ugliest truth about him that Jay hadn't even told his closest friends about.

He woke up to the overhead announcement about the plane landing. It must have been the early hours of the morning still, and Jay was dreading this part the most. Jennie told them that they would head straight to the Athenaeum first and foremost. She didn't elaborate, but Jay glanced over at Sunghoon, who raised his brows with a grim look on his face, as if to say, We're screwed.

"We're getting hazed to hell and back," muttered Heeseung, who had been standing next to him with two suitcases that he didn't bring along on the way to Monaco.

It took around two hours for everyone to regroup at the Order's house. They had to wait an extra thirty minutes for Giselle, who had been left behind again, to get an Uber from the airport. Jay could hardly wrap his head around the fact that he was in a completely different continent just the other day. Having to go back to school was jarring, even though he appeared to be skipping his afternoon classes today.

They were all gathered in the dark basement with only Jennie standing in front of them. She had them all line up against the wall in order of how everyone's names were listed on the official announcement.

You happened to be first, and Jay was only a few people away from you. He noticed that you sent him a few cautionary glances, but he kept his gaze down, his heart thundering just from the sight of you.

"Alright, you've all had your fun now," Jennie said in a sterner voice than usual, "so let's just get right into it."

The remaining fourteen members filed into the basement in black robes and white masks with faces molded to look like Greek statues. Jennie kicked a box that was set down in front of her; Jay initially thought it was empty, but upon closer inspection, he saw several pins with the emblem of a golden owl.

One-by-one, each Order member took a badge each. Their hoods were up, so Jay had a hard time telling who was who, but he quickly realized that Jeonghan was the one standing right in front of him.

Jennie went around handing each pledge a candle. She helped you light your candle, and then instructed everyone else to help each other light their candles. You shared your fire with Yeonjun, who shared his with Giselle, who shared hers with Jay, and so on.

"I'm going to recite our society's oath, and you guys are going to repeat after me," Jennie said once all of the candles were lit, and she started:

"In the presence of the unseen and the holders of ancient wisdom,

"I—say your name—commit to pursuing the answers from our universe with an undying thirst for knowledge,

"recognizing that the quest for truth is eternal;

"cherishing and valuing the sacred bond of brotherhood in our delegation of fifteen;

"and upholding the principles of what the Order of Kryptos stands for—integrity, unity, and discretion.

"With this oath, I pledge myself as a new member of the Order and devote myself to a lifetime pursuit of knowledge and success."

In broken harmony, the fifteen of them repeated after each of Jennie's pauses, mostly getting all the words she was saying and occasionally falling apart. Everyone was far too jet-lagged to even think straight, let alone recite an oath in a dark basement.

After they were finished, everyone wore sheepish grins and crooked smiles once the older members started clapping for them. Jay, on the other hand, was much too clueless about what was going on. Most of the people here knew of these situations through friends or family who had experienced similar rituals, but Jay didn't grow up in such an environment.

The older members stepped forward and fixed the badge with the owl emblem over their hearts. Jeonghan pinned Jay's shirt rather quickly while Wonwoo seemed to be taking forever to stab his badge through Giselle's coat. Jay peered over at you, and he couldn't help but frown a bit as he watched Sungjin place the badge on your shirt.

"Alright, you guys can go now," Jennie said. She was behind everyone, appearing to get something out of her bag while the rest of the members were filing back out. All of them had given the pledges cheers of support and good luck, but Jay had a bad feeling about all of this. "Let's sit down and go over Initiation Week together; last year we had someone pass out while they were standing."

Jay and Heeseung, with four people between them, craned their necks to check on each other's reactions—horrified, to put it simply. Heeseung bent down to sit with his legs crossed almost immediately after. Everyone else followed suit, sitting knee-to-knee where they had lined up.

"For the next week, you guys will be living here together," Jennie said plainly. Jay met several people's eyes and everyone seemed to be thinking the same thing, which was no way in hell. "You'll all sleep here and share that one bathroom in the corner. You can still attend classes, but you should keep your nights free for the next seven days. We'll be having our, uh, usual practices."

Xiaoting raised her hand. "Can we go back to our places to bring our stuff here?"

Jennie approved the idea before continuing, "As pledges, you also have to do whatever the actives want you to do; if an active says they want a coffee, then you need to be there to get them that coffee; if an active wants you up at four in the morning, then you should be awake and ready."

That's so fucking stupid, Jay thought, although he mumbled a "yes" in tune with everyone else.

"You guys need to wear those pins at all times," she continued. "If someone catches you without your pin, then there will be consequences." She then pulled out a thick binder full of papers, setting it down in front of her. "This binder is full of information on our society. All of the writing here is extremely confidential, and you're not allowed to take pictures of anything or repeat anything here to non-members."

"Are we supposed to memorize that?" Sunghoon asked.

Jennie smiled in response. "Oh, good, you're catching on. The theme for tonight is scholarship, so we want you guys to memorize our history, our oath, our motto, and our roster—names, majors, and birthdays—in order. We won't ask for any more than that since initiation is only a week, but you should be ready for any of the actives to ask questions during our... activities."

The fifteen of them, still exhausted from the trip, nodded blankly in response.

She went on, "And, most importantly, remember that you can't speak a word of anything that happens to someone outside of the Order or your pledge class. By becoming a new member, you must promise to maintain full confidentiality."

Then, she had everyone sign several forms pertained to joining the Order. The confidentiality form, which Jennie made everyone read aloud, sounded rather threatening in fine print. The punishments ranged from meetings with the society to being blacklisted from every organization on campus.

They were then allowed to head back to their apartments to freshen up and pack anything they needed for the next week. Jennie told them they needed to be back at 8 p.m. for their first event.

Although Jay hardly had a clue of what being hazed would be like, he made sure to prepare himself for this turn of events. After some conversations with Heeseung and a deep-dive into Reddit threads, Jay had a suspicion that something like this would happen. He couldn't say he was glad he was right, but he was relieved that he had separate phones and laptops for his detective work. He would lock those up in his apartment, and then he would only take the phone and laptop he used for school.

Jay made sure to inform his client of the situation he was in. He was very transparent about what was going on; after all, he needed to ensure his client that he was taking his work seriously, and this was something that was crucial for the mission.

He also had to tell his friend group about what was going on. Jay was sure Jake, Jungwon, and Riki would lose their minds if they didn't hear from their friend for an entire week. He figured he could simply go without telling his parents, too, but Jay ended up giving his mother a call before he packed for the week.

"What do you think they're gonna make us do tonight?" Heeseung asked. The two of them were walking to the Order's house together (after Jennie specifically instructed neither of them to bring their cars). It was already dark outside because Jay had to wait until Heeseung's class ended. "I bet this is all fun and games for Yeonjun. He's already been hazed by the baseball team."

"The baseball team hazes?"

"Yeah—beer-boxing, eating a goldfish, the polar plunge—all that fun stuff."

Jay had no idea what any of those entailed, but he hoped and prayed that Heeseung meant the snack that smiled back.

After they arrived at the house, the fifteen pledges were lounging in the basement, passing the time by doing homework or talking to each other while Jennie was thirty minutes late. Everyone was speculating what was going on because there seemed to be a lot of noise upstairs. Jay caught your eye across the room and could tell that you wanted to talk to him, but he begrudingly turned his attention back to whatever Yeonjun and Sunghoon were going on about.

When Jennie finally arrived, the door handle slammed against the wall and the room fell into silence almost immediately. A few nervous murmurs were shared as she descended the staircase and stood in front of them.

"The Order doesn't wanna see you guys yet," she said bluntly. "Maybe later tonight."

Everyone was startled, and you were the first to clear your throat and start, "Oh... so should we—"

"We're going out for dinner, but the house needs cleaning. There's cleaning supplies in one of the closets upstairs and trash bags under the sink. Make sure it's done before we're back." She gave the mortified juniors a pleasant smile before adding, "Oh, and you're only allowed to sleep tonight if you get a secret from everyone here by the time we're home."

Everyone was silent for the first few minutes of Jennie disappearing upstairs. Then came the complaints.

"We have to clean?" Xiaoting whined. "But they already have someone doing it for them!"

"How bad can it be?" Eunseok asked. "It didn't seem like it was messy when we got here. None of them seem like they'd be messy people."

"Jennie was thirty minutes late, remember?" Sunoo offered. "They must've been making it messy on purpose while we were waiting down here."

There was a collective sigh of disappointment. Jay, on the other hand, couldn't be happier. He was under the impression that he would be doing grueling tasks or physical punishments, but cleaning wasn't a big deal. As for the secret part, he was sure he could come up with a good enough lie.

"Should we clean first and then regroup after?" Ryujin suggested with a gleam in her eyes. "I think it'd be fun doing the secret sharing one together."

There were murmurs of approval throughout the circle, and then Chaewon said, "Then we should get started now."

To everyone's dismay, Sunoo was right. After they heard the distant chatter and giggles from the seniors' pregame fade out after the door slammed shut, Jay headed upstairs with Chenle to check on the state of the house. He felt deeply sorry to disappoint everyone with the news that the house was, indeed, a mess.

Not just a mess, though. It looked as if it was suffering from the aftermath of a party. There were solo cups littering the ground, tissue paper everywhere, and most things had been knocked off the shelves and cabinets.

They split into teams to tackle each area of the house. Jay and Giselle were assigned to the kitchen where they discovered they had to throw out most of the expired food. Giselle was insistent on keeping everything back where they seemed to belong, but Jay couldn't see the point of keeping inedible food lying around. He figured that Giselle had a better idea of this activity than he did, though, so Jay trusted her gut feeling.

Afterward, the fifteen of them gathered back in the basement. You and Changmin made a trip back upstairs to put the rest of the cleaning supplies away while Jay finally felt the exhaustion start to settle in.

"Do we know when they're coming back?" Changmin asked, nearly flinching when you opened the door to the basement. "Jesus, Y/N, I thought you were Jennie."

"Not Jennie," you affirmed, "but she could get here soon. There's no way any restaurants around here are still open this late."

"Well, then we need to come up with something now," Heeseung said. "I'd like to get some sleep tonight."

"Secrets..." Yeonjun hummed as he pondered. "I don't know. I don't feel like I have any good ones."

You snorted. "Yeah, dude, you're basically an open book."

"There was the syphilis incident," Giselle offered.

"Yuna took care of that one, didn't she?" Yeonjun grimaced before leaning back on his elbows. "I'm sure everyone here knows I tried selling coke to a professor, too."

"We did not know that," Yizhuo said.

"Oh," said Yeonjun, pleasantly surprised, "well, that's my secret, then."

Everyone started taking turns from there, thinking in silence for a few moments before springing up to share their secret. Jay didn't think people were going to get too deep, but the amount of oversharing made him nervous. How was he supposed to come up with something that could compare to any of their secrets? A prince from a foreign country paid for a VIP booth and bottle service for Chaewon; Xiaoting lost her virginity during one of Cara Delevingne's Fourth of July parties; Eunseok accidentally crashed four cars in high school; Karina's parents didn't know about her girlfriend; Ryujin slept with a lead singer from a rock band after meeting him backstage; and Giselle begrudgingly admitted that she once bought sneakers that cost nearly forty thousand to impress Jung Sungchan, who apparently didn't pay any attention to them.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, decided to keep his tame. So tame that Jay wasn't quite sure whether it was real or not. Even you and Sunoo looked slightly uncomfortable with the whole activity once the spotlight was on them. Jay didn't let your shifting eyes before Sunoo's turn go unnoticed.

The group started getting anxious about time after Heeseung spent ten minutes reiterating how he blacked out on the deck of a cruise ship. Thankfully, only Chenle and Jay were left to share.

"My turn now?" Jay asked after Chenle confessed to buying over thirty replacements for his AirPods from an Apple vending machine. "I feel like I don't have any interesting secrets."

"Wait!" Heeseung blurted out excitedly. "You should tell them about that one night we went to the bars and passed out in a bush. Remember? Last quarter—right before Dead Week—"

"Oh, no, we all know about that," Ryujin said quickly, waving down the idea. "Yeonjun made sure everyone and their mom saw that picture."

Xiaoting grinned. "Yeah, we need something good for you, Jay. You've gotta have stories from Seattle."

He wasn't sure how to tell them that his life was relatively boring. All the exciting bits that they would have loved to hear were the ones he couldn't tell them about.

But when Jay thought about his one and only secret that he swore to never tell anyone about, his mouth started to go dry. He couldn't think about anything but the way he felt like tar was spilling into his throat, all thick and suffocating. His head started to spin, and he wasn't quite sure how many minutes of silence he had lapsed into. All he knew was that a room full of people were gawking at him while he could hardly speak.

Say something, he told himself, anything!

"I..." Beads of sweat were running down his back; it was no help that there was hardly any proper air circulation in the basement. "I, uh..."

"Wait," you spoke up loudly, looking at Jay earnestly like you were hoping he would play along. "You never told me the whole story but remember that thing with Jake? The car?"

Clearly, you were grasping at straws for some way to get Jay out of the hole he had dug himself in, but your knowledge of Jay's hometown friends was convincing enough for the rest. They all leaned in closer at the mention of the car, which you spouted out off the top of your head, but it thankfully gave Jay enough time to come back to his senses and start lying smoothly.

"Oh, yeah... I didn't know if that was a good enough secret." He smiled sheepishly before turning to the rest of the group. "I, uh, might have stolen a car with my friend, Jake, when we were fourteen. It was his dad's car, but we made it, like, thirty miles before we got caught."

Amidst the chorus of laughter and outbursts from others about how Jay didn't seem like the time to steal a car (he wasn't), Kim Chaewon let out a giggle that sounded rather forced.

"I thought you were gonna say that you and Y/N fucked during our last night in Monaco," she said in a sugary sweet voice.

The basement went pin-drop silent.

Something was bubbling up in Jay's chest, and he wasn't sure if it was anger or plain exasperation. He looked at you first, wondering if there had been some sort of miscommunication between the two girls, but you looked just as outraged at the declaration. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Yeonjun whispering something in Karina's ear, and Sunghoon's hand was tightly curled into a fist.

Amusement twitched at the corners of Jay's lips and he fixed Chaewon with a confused look. "What? Where did you hear that from?"

"I just figured." She shrugged. "You two were the only ones who didn't go out for drinks with us."

"That doesn't mean we fucked!" you exclaimed.

Honestly, Jay wouldn't have been as pissed about the question if he hadn't been part of the group that helped break Chaewon out of jail the night before. This was how the favor was being returned? He should've just informed the embassy about her detainment if she was going to make absurd speculations about him.

"No, I was just wondering," Chaewon complained, reaching over and fussing with your hand when she saw how upset you looked. "You two got so defensive, though."

"Let's just not make baseless assumptions about each other," Sunghoon chimed in, and Jay could sense the venom in his tone as he spoke.

"Yeah, Jay told me he was tired," Sunoo lied coolly, though he gave Jay an odd look, as if he was curious himself. Jay was thankful that his friends were getting him out of such an uncomfortable situation, but he hated that this was being made known to their entire class now. "He wasn't even awake when we got back from dinner."

"Ah." Chaewon hummed, a simpering smile playing on her lips. "My bad, then."

"Friendship, guys," Yizhuo said lightheartedly, nodding along to her own words. "Men and women can be friends without sexual relations. Jay and Y/N are living proof."

Considering you were moaning his name the day before, Jay wasn't exactly sure the two of you were the right candidates for that one. He appreciated Yizhuo's support, though.

Yeonjun held up the Lysol cleaning spray he forgot to put away in solidarity. "To friendship!"

"To friendship," the rest of them parroted in broken unison.

After Eunseok changed the topic to Jay's heart supposedly only belonging to Heeseung (which stirred up an entire breakdown and analysis from the girls), almost everyone had acted like the misunderstand with Chaewon hadn't happened. Jay met your eyes across the circle and swallowed hard when you were the one to turn away first.

Then, they all fell silent upon hearing the front door open upstairs. Chenle clung onto Jay's bicep with trepidation hanging in his brows.

For a while, they overheard the Order talking amongst themselves in complete silence, hoping to catch them hinting at something about their seven-day process. However, they only seemed to be talking about something funny that Jeonghan did before all of them went quiet, too. Jay exchanged a wary look with Chenle.

Jennie opened the door and walked down the stairs to the basement after a couple of minutes. Everyone straightened up and turned their attention to her.

"They still don't want to see you," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "Did you guys have a good talk?"

"Yep," Giselle spoke up. "We learned maybe a little too much about each other."

She clasped her hands together. "Good! You guys can sleep now, but make sure to keep your ringers on. You never know if anyone's gonna need you."

Jay raised a brow. It couldn't be that easy. She wasn't even going to ask them about each other's secrets? There had to be a catch.

Before anyone had time to grouch, the door swung open again and Wonwoo came downstairs with several bluetooth speakers. He placed one in each corner of the basement as Jennie continued to address the group.

"Uh, so what about the cleaning?" Karina asked. "Was that all good?"

"I guess we'll find out," was the anxiety-inducing response they received instead. "Get some sleep. You guys must be exhausted from the trip still."

Although her words were genuine, Jennie didn't sound sincere in the slightest. Jay was already dreading what the night would bring. Would they call them out and make them run errands? Start making them drink until they puked everything out? Hit them with paddles?

When Jennie and Wonwoo walked back upstairs together, everyone let out a collective, weary sigh.

"I think we should have someone on stand-by in case anyone calls one of us," Giselle suggested. "We can take turns. There's fifteen of us, so we can rotate through, like, two-hour shifts."

"Then we should leave all of our phones on the table," you said. "Whoever's on shift should just pick up the first one that rings."

Everyone was in agreement of the plan. They decided to go in order of where they stood when lined up, so you were first to stay awake. After everyone had gotten ready for bed and laid out their sleeping bags on the floor, they turned off the lights and settled in for the night. The only light in the room was from the glow of your phone screen, but you did your best to make sure it wasn't bothering anyone.

About ten minutes in, when Jay was starting to feel the creeping hands of sleep seize him, a song started playing loudly—unbearable in his ears.

Doses and Mimosas by Cherub. Usually a great listening experience, but Jay felt like clawing his ear drums out right now.

"Y/N, please turn that shit off," Yeonjun called out over the noise. "I literally can't sleep like this."

"Dude, it's not me," you replied. "It's coming from the speakers."

Another collective sound from the fifteen of them; this time, it was a groan. Perhaps all that bonding they did tonight really did pay off.

"It could be worse," Heeseung tried. "At least it's a good song."

No one ended up getting any decent sleep.

Moreover, Heeseung's short-lived optimism pissed Giselle off so much that she ended up taking out her frustration on him by whacking him repeatedly with her pillow.

The worst part of it all was that they received zero calls from the older members, so they were clearly just being toyed with. Jay was sure he would bleed from his ears if he heard Doses and Mimosas one more time. At some point during the night, it got to the point where Sunghoon tried to take the speakers and leave them outside the basement door, only to find out that they had been locked inside. They wound up wrapping several blankets around the four speakers until the music was slightly more muffled.

Jay decided he would attend all of his Tuesday classes because he wanted to spend as little time at the Order's house as possible. He and Eunseok spent virtually the entire day together, only separating when they had to go to class. Someone from the Order must have seen them together because Jay received a text that he and Eunseok needed to get Joshua a bagel.

When they arrived at the house later that night, Giselle had her nose deep in her laptop while she typed away furiously, and everyone else was trying to get some rest in before tonight's activity began.

Jay spotted you curled up in your sleeping bag, your hair falling in your face. Since Sunoo was nearby, typing away on his laptop where his sleeping bag and luggage were stationed, Jay went over to talk to him, asking about his classes and schoolwork while his eyes swiftly drifted to your figure whenever he got an opportunity. During a period of silence between the two, Jay reached over to push your hair out of your face. As soon as his hand neared your forehead, however, the door swung open and he pulled back in an instant.

The fifteen of them scrambled to line up in order. Heeseung had to keep nudging Yizhuo to keep her from nodding off.

"So, there's a few conditions for tonight's activity," Jennie started. "The Order wasn't very impressed with your work yesterday, so tonight's activity is sort of a... scavenger hunt, I'd say? You're gonna be working in pairs of twos and threes—some Order members are gonna take your group to a room in the house, or you might have to go somewhere a little farther off. All you have to do is work together to find whatever it is that you're asking to look for."

Jay saw this coming. He knew that there would be some sort of scavenger hunt at some point. Kryptos was Greek for hidden, after all, so it was only fitting.

Jennie had members of the Order walk downstairs to select two pledges for the activity. After their phones were taken, they disappeared upstairs. Somewhere in the middle, Jeonghan entered the basement alongside Minghao, and Jay had a bad feeling that he was going to be selected.

But, oh, if only that was the extent of his misfortune.

He tried not to pull a face when Jeonghan called for him, of course, but Jay didn't expect for Minghao to call for you, of all people.

He gave Xiaoting his seat, so what was this? Honestly, it didn't matter who chose who, but Jay was sure this was the most disastrous pairing they could have gone for.

With little instructions, Jeonghan and Minghao led the two down the hallway. They made light conversation with each other, laughing at the occasional joke, but you and Jay were utterly silent. If the Order didn't kill him this week, then the tension between you two certainly would. It was strange that he hadn't talked to you much despite sleeping under the same roof, but keeping some distance was for the best. If he got any closer after what happened in Monaco, who knows what would happen.

When they reached a room at the end of the hallway, Jay was surprised to see that Minghao and Jeonghan's faces had turned stony and impassive.

Jeonghan, unsmiling, started, "Alright, recruits—"

"Recruits?" Minghao sneered. "Why would you call them recruits?"

"We recruited them, so they're recruits. It's PEMDAS, Hao."

"Recruits makes it sound like we're training them for the military or—"

"Some of us actually have to go to the military, you insensitive bitch."

"You're not even going to the military, dude. You're going to law school."

"That's basically the military with a six-figure debt."

"Okay, we're getting so off-topic right now." Minghao huffed. "Do you have the handcuffs?"

"Handcuffs?" asked Jay, who was having a much better time when they were bantering and not talking about their activity. "You're handcuffing us?"

"Yeah, but don't get up to any funny business in there," Jeonghan said, pulling out a pair of handcuffs that had your eyes practically bugging out of your skull. If he had a paperclip on him, Jay could probably undo the latch within a few minutes, but he knew that it would be troublesome to explain where he picked that up from. "This is a strictly professional activity; don't get kinky."

Minghao was pinching the bridge of his nose. "I doubt they were even thinking about that."

"You don't know that."

"Are you even supposed to be talking to us this much?" you asked.

Jeonghan and Minghao exchanged a look.

"Probably not," they replied in unison with Jeonghan sounding flippant and Minghao bordering on worry.

"Anyway, your task is to find a book for us in our library," Minghao started, "but we won't tell you what book it is."

Jay frowned. "Then how're we supposed to find it?"

Jeonghan took on a more serious tone when he said, "I'll give you one hint for the code: The discrepancy is intentional."

Jay had no clue what that was supposed to mean. He was better off not asking for help.

"What if we get it wrong?"

"Jennie will decide what happens to you after that."

"Also," Jeonghan continued, holding out a bottle of lychee-flavored soju, "you two have to finish this before we handcuff you."

Jay looked from the bottle, to Jeonghan, to Minghao, and then back to the bottle.

"Hell no," he retorted.

There was no possible way he would be able to think properly after downing half a bottle of soju. Jay was well aware that he needed as much brain power as possible if he wanted to figure out that hint Jeonghan gave him.

His senior laughed, taking the initiative to unscrew the cap before he held out the open bottle in Jay's direction again. "Unfortunately, you don't have a choice." When Jay still refused to take it from him, Jeonghan grimaced in a just-do-it sort of way. "Dude, the other pledges are drinking Hennessy. You should actually be thanking us for getting you lychee soju."

Jeonghan simply didn't know the magnitude of the situation. The last time you and Jay got drunk together, it ended with the two of you falling asleep with your limbs entangled. Jay wasn't particularly enthusiastic about repeating history.

"Why don't you go first?" Jay offered, gesturing for you to take the bottle. "I'll drink whatever you can't finish."

"What a gentleman," Jeonghan gushed, nodding appreciatively as he handed the soju bottle to you.

"Yeah, the complete opposite of you," Minghao spat. "You made me drink the entire bottle last year!"

"And you were fine."

"I blacked out and woke up in the middle of a lake."

This time, you tried handing the soju bottle back to Jeonghan, who refused to take it back from you. There was unmistakable fear in yours and Jay's eyes, and Jay was trying to visualize the distance from the Order's house to the nearest lake.

"What Minghao meant to say was that he woke up on one of those inflatable mattresses in the middle of a lake," Jeonghan clarified.

"That doesn't make it any better," Jay deadpanned.

"It was perfectly safe. They even gave him a life jacket."

"You guys aren't doing any of that, don't worry," Minghao added quickly with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I promise that you'll only have to stay in the library."

Jeonghan sounded impatient when he said, "Now drink."

You reluctantly held the bottle up to your lips and started chugging the liquor down without missing a beat. Jay could see bubbles rise to the top, and he was almost worried that you would finish the bottle in one go if no one stopped you. When you handed the bottle off to Jay, he could see that there was a little over half left. Before you could even wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, Jay started downing the rest of the contents. When the last few drops landed on his tongue, he almost felt like his body was in autopilot.

Before he knew it, the empty bottle was taken away from him and Minghao had handcuffed you and Jay together. His left wrist was linked to your right one, and albeit uncomfortable, he was more focused on making sure his fingers didn't brush against yours.

"Good luck in there. We'll check in every hour," Jeonghan said. He opened the door to the dark room where Jay could barely make out the silhouettes of the bookshelves. Before he closed it, he dropped something cool and solid in Jay's palm; it felt like metal when his fingers closed around it. "You're gonna need that, by the way."

"Uh, the lights aren't turning"—before you could finish, Jeonghan and Minghao slammed the door shut—"on."

"Well," Jay started with a heavy sigh, "fuck."

You felt along the wall for a moment before flicking the light switch on and off over and over again before accepting that the lights weren't going to turn on. They must have cut the power before starting, which must have been to replicate how most other pledges were toughing out their tasks outside.

Before Jay could even think about the task at hand, there was something that had been on his mind for the entire day, and he was pretty sure it was the reason why he still felt so awkward around you.

He started, "What did you tell Chae—"

"Nothing—absolutely nothing about that night," you cut in fiercely. It had clearly been bothering you, too. Jay remembered that you and Chaewon grew a little closer during Monaco; you must have felt just as betrayed about the ordeal. "You know I wouldn't do that."

He sighed. It was a clear misstep on his part. Obviously people would draw all sorts of conclusion when you both were the only ones sitting out of a fun event to stay in the hotel. If Jay had known better, he would've just gone along with the rest of the group to avoid suspicion.

"I believe you," he said sincerely, "but what she did was fucked up."

You frowned. "Yeah, I don't know why she did that. She apologized to me this morning, but it still feels weird. Karina thinks she's being fake."

Jay wasn't one to talk about fake people, so he kept his mouth shut.

"You've been ignoring me," you said, averting your eyes.

"I haven't."

"You have. You ignored me at the airport, you ignored me when we landed, and you ignored me yesterday. You think I wouldn't notice?" When Jay didn't respond, you pressed on, "I can handle you not wanting to get into a relationship or whatever—mind you, I've been led on in my own relationship before—but I thought we were at least friends. Are we not?"

"We are, it's just..." Jay trailed off, sighing out of frustration.

He knew it was his own immaturity pushing you away. He knew he was the one who set the rules, but it was too difficult for him to pretend like nothing had happened. Even now, as you were fuming at him, he could only think of how pretty you looked.

Jay didn't know how to go about this. Getting closer to you was hurting you; staying away from you was hurting you. What the hell was he even supposed to do?

"It's just what?"

He couldn't let you know how he truly felt, otherwise he would be letting you in deeper than he'd let anyone else in. Jay had to push it down—push all the feelings and insecurities beneath the sand—and pretend like he was content with friendship.

"It's nothing," he said, but you didn't seem quite satisfied with that answer. "I just didn't know how you'd feel after that night."

"That's for me to decide," you told him. "You don't get to guess how I feel and act on that."

He looked down. "I know, I'm sorry."

"It's fine, just... don't act like I'm invisible. I don't want things to be awkward between us."

"No, yeah, of course not. We're cool."

You decided to change the topic to the task at hand and ask, "Anyway, what are we even supposed to find? And what did Jeonghan give you?"

Jay turned the object around in his right hand before realizing what the grooves on the top were for. He flicked his thumb across it until he saw sparks, and then he did it more forcefully until a small fire was lit.

"Very generous of them," he said dryly. "I think this is supposed to make up for them cutting the lights."

You tried walking in the opposite direction of Jay, which ended up making you both wince from the pinch of the handcuffs. Jay grabbed your forearm with his free hand and pulled you back to his side, which was probably the only comfortable way they could be situated.

Maybe it was the alcohol starting to make your limbs feel like jelly, but Jay had to grab your shoulder to hold you upright when you nearly stumbled into him. He was starting to wish he and Eunseok got a bagel for themselves because he hadn't eaten enough to absorb the soju.

Jay lit the flame again and held up the flickering light to illuminate part of the bookshelf in front of them. Just as he thought, all of the books were ordered alphabetically by author name, so all they needed to do was figure out the title. But how were they supposed to do that without any clues? Well, technically they had Jeonghan's hint, but Jay had no idea what that meant. The buzz he felt swimming through his veins wasn't helping his case, either.

"What did Jeonghan say again?" he asked you, frowning.

"The discrepancy is intentional," you answered. "Whatever that means."

"No, before that. He said something, like... something like hint for the clue? Hint for the—"

"Code," you finished for him. "Hint for the code."

"Code? Why the fuck would he say code?"

While you were more focused on trying to riddle out the hint itself, Jay was still stuck on the senior's wording. Jeonghan could have very well left it at 'hint' but he specifically used the word code along with it. That had to be some sort of clue that he just wasn't seeing.

"Do you think it's related to Kryptos?" he asked. Suddenly, the fuzziness in his head started to clear up just enough for him to make reason out of his thought process. Jay couldn't see your face very clearly (which was probably a good thing because being this close to you wasn't good for his heart), but, even in the dark, he could see your eyebrows draw together. "The sculpture outside the CIA headquarters—the encryption. It has to be some sort of book that references Kryptos or has that line that Jeonghan gave us, which makes sense why they chose it. They wanted us to find something related to the Order."

Your voice came out in a breath when you said, "You're literally a genius."

"You don't have to stroke my ego."

"No, I'd actually be fucked if you weren't here." Then, your excitement seemed to deflate. "But do you know any books that reference Kryptos?"

"I don't."

"We'd have to read through this entire library to find it. There's no way we'll find it by morning." You let out a groan. "I wish we had our phones on us."

They sat in silence for a while. Jay thought long and hard about how he was going to go about this. You were right; there was virtually no way for either of you two to get through every book and find the exact one that Jeonghan and Minghao were referring to.

Frustrated, he willed the gears in his head to start spinning. There had to be something he could do. There had to be something he could work with.

Jay used the lighter again to illuminate the area in front of him, nudging you to follow him around the room. Nothing was very promising, however; bookshelf after bookshelf, desks with chairs, and two computers in the corner.

Next to the table with the computers was a utility closet, and the shelves were full of tools and miscellaneous items when he opened it. There was even a skull, which Jay hoped was a Halloween decoration. When he looked through some of the boxes, some of them were full of various hardware equipment that was probably left as a resource for whoever was an engineer.

There was nothing that could help him read through all of the books in the library, though.

But what if he didn't need to do that?

When Jay looked from the monitors to the closet, an idea started stirring in his head. After handing you the lighter, he grabbed one of the boxes of tools and dropped it on the ground with a thud. He did the same with the box of hardware, pulling you down along with him when he moved to sit on the floor.

"What're you doing?" you asked, but, despite your confusion, you sounded like you had confidence in whatever Jay was scheming.

"You're right; this would be way easier with our phones, right?" he started to explain, and his tone had an edge of excitement that only happened whenever he pieced something together. "But we have computers."

"That are... dead," you finished for him, uneasy.

"Right, but what if we created our own power bank? We only need to make it functional to last us ten or fifteen minutes. If we have the right materials, then we should be able to pull it off."

Jay, realizing that you were still holding the flame, turned to look at your expression, and his heart did a pathetic flip when he saw the grin on your face.

"Now you're making me feel useless," you teased.

"You're not useless," he insisted firmly. "Here"—he moved the two boxes so that they were in front of you two—"we can figure out what we need together. We're gonna need a, uh... any battery strong enough to power up a PC, a battery charger, a, uh... lithium ion batteries, and a circuit board for the battery management system."

"Jay," you said, "I have no idea what any of those are supposed to look like."

"No problem, I'll just show you." He picked up an electrical brick that was laying on top of the other equipment. He pressed a button to see that it still had some juice left. "Portable battery charger. Let's just hope it has enough power."

He rummaged through the boxes, eventually finding a slightly-damaged circuit board and a car battery that must have been someone's senior project at some point. Jay nearly celebrated, but they were still missing the lithium batteries.

"Are they that important?" you asked.

"Kind of. They power the CMOS chip on the circuit board here, and I don't know if it'll run properly without it."

"So... they're in the PC."

"Yeah, but we can't just take it out of the—" Jay stopped once he realized what you were getting at. "Oh."

Your eyes lit up. "We have two, so we could just open up the second one. It should be fine since the power's cut."

"Oh, you're perfect," Jay breathed out, trying not to pay much attention to how you bit your lip at his compliment. "Help me move the computers to the ground."

With your help, you two managed to haul them to the ground, and Jay organized the tools on the ground. With your assistance, he had you hold the lighter for him to see as he attempted to pop open the hardware with one hand. This wasn't exactly his area of expertise, but he wasn't useless in the realm of CPU architecture.

After removing the screws from the bottom panel and detaching the piece, Jay used the edge of his screwdriver to pry open the battery pack. He spotted the circular battery fixed to the circuit, and he grinned up at you as he pointed to it.

"We got it."

"Excellent work," you praised. "You should seriously reconsider your major."

Jay didn't reply to that. Although he was a fairly good liar, there was nothing he could say that would make him sound genuinely enthusiastic about economics.

Once they had everything they needed to build their makeshift power bank, Jay got right to work. He requested tool after tool from you, struggling at times to fit the hardware together. Thankfully, he started to get the hang of it once you two had a working system. You followed his instructions flawlessly and acted as Jay's left hand for him, so it became a much smoother process.

Jeonghan and Minghao knocked on the door at the top of every hour, which was supposed to be to check if you two had completed the task, but all it did was stress Jay out even more. Moreover, without a proper sense of time, the knocks came out of nowhere—so loud and jarring that Jay caught himself from letting his eyelids droop several times.

"I feel so useless," you complained.

"You're not useless," Jay replied, although he could hardly spare you a glance as he was completely focused on the task at hand. "Hold the lighter a little closer please—thanks."

"I'll just sit here and look pretty."

"You're always pretty."

This time, he made sure not to look at you because he knew that the expression on your face would make him lose whatever sanity he had left.

After a few hours of trial and error—or possibly longer, considering they had no idea what time it was—you and Jay finally seemed to have a functional power bank.

"Moment of truth," he muttered before turning on the power button.

The light glowed blue.

"Yes!" you cheered, letting the fire from the lighter die once the screen glowed white in both your faces. "You did it!"

"We did it," he corrected. A knot in his chest undid itself, and Jay could finally feel the tension letting up. "All we have to do is just find that stupid quote."

It turned out that it wasn't a quote. They typed it out verbatim, and after scrolling through several pages, you pointed out something promising.

"Seriously? It was The Da Vinci Code?" He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and sighed. "Okay, good, at least we got something."

"Look! It says here that the coordinates on the back cover is a reference to the coordinates in one of the encryptions on the Kryptos sculpture," you said excitedly. "The degree digit was off by one, and when they asked the author about it, he said the discrepancy is intentional. This is it!"

"God, Y/N, I could kiss you right now."

"You could," you murmured shyly.

"Wait, no, I'm not kissing—you know what, I'm kissing your cheek." He leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on your cheek, getting a sappy smile out of you. "There. Now let's find that stupid book."

Thankfully, Dan Brown wasn't hard to find. You pulled his novel from its spot on the bookshelf, stifling a muffled cry of joy with the palm of your hand, nearly jumping up and down from how relieved you were.

"How long has it been since the last time Jeonghan and Minghao checked in on us?" Jay asked.

"Uh, actually—" You flinched, interrupted by the rapping at the door. "Perfect timing."

"We're done!" he called back this time (which felt great to say after all of the "we need more time" requests), and the two seniors went silent for several minutes on end before he heard the door creak open slowly.

"Seriously?" Jeonghan asked, peeking through the crack in the door. "You found the book already? It's only, like, three."

"In the morning?" you asked, horrified.

"No, three in the afternoon," Jeonghan returned, voice laced with sarcasm. "I thought you guys were gonna need the whole night. How did you guys even find it? We thought we made it nearly impossible." He fully opened the door at this point, and his and Minghao's eyes landed on the mess of hardware laying on the floor. Jeonghan looked concerned for a moment before saying, "I know you guys are having a hard time, but you can just talk to us about how the hazing's affecting you instead of breaking our equipment."

"Uh..." Jay looked back over his shoulder. "I can fix that."

"He wasn't breaking anything," you defended him with a might that Jay didn't even have for himself. "It was, like, the most insanely genius thing I've ever seen. He made his own power bank out of whatever was in the closet."

Minghao raised his brows, impressed. "Actually?"

You nodded fervently. Jeonghan folded his arms across his chest and looked from you two, to the hardware on the floor, and then to Jay again.

Jay flushed under the weight over your praise. "It wasn't that big of a deal. I can clean it up now."

Instead, Minghao held out his hand, demanding, "Book."

You handed over the book. Minghao and Jeonghan looked at it with an unreadable expression on both of their faces. For a moment, Jay was afraid that they did all of this for nothing, but then Jeonghan cleared his throat.

"You two are good to head back downstairs," he said. "Don't worry about cleaning up; we need to replace those computers, anyway."

You and Jay held up your wrists that were still linked together, and he asked, "Can you free us?"

"Oh, right."

After you and Jay were finally separated, you both were permitted to go back downstairs to the basement and get some rest. Jay rubbed his sore wrist, but he was too tired to process the pain and irritation.

Jennie was sitting against the wall downstairs, knees pulled to her chest. She had a clipboard at her side and looked as if she had been fighting the urge to doze off.

"Oh, you guys made it!" She gave you both small, celebratory claps that were quiet enough to not wake the others who were sleeping. "You're the third group to finish. You can go wash up and sleep now."

Jay didn't have the energy to inquire about where everyone else was, and it didn't seem like you were either. Karina, Eunseok, Sunoo, Chenle, and Changmin were in their sleeping bags, sleeping soundly. Jay wondered what they had to do, but he was sure everyone would be talking about their tasks tomorrow.

Jay let you use the bathroom first, but he was exhausted beyond belief. His sleeping bag felt like a bed for royalty once he finally laid down. Normally, he needed a few minutes to unwind before he could fall asleep, but his eyes felt heavy as soon as he laid his head on his pillow.

Sometime later, Jay opened his eyes, still groggy and half-asleep, to see Heeseung and Giselle talking to Jennie. They must have just returned as they were both drenched and shivering. He looked around to see that everyone else was tucked in their sleeping bags and fast asleep, so they must have been the last group to return.

Heeseung allowed Giselle to use the bathroom first and trudged over to his sleeping bag, which was right next to Jay's, with a scowl on his face.

Jay smirked at him. "Lake?"

"Lake," Heeseung confirmed with an incomprehensible grumble, which Jay figured was just a string of curses.

"You swam? After drinking?"

"We drank a little, but we dumped most of it out while they weren't looking," he said. "They made us swim to find a fucking pool noodle in the dark, and Little Miss Swim Team told me to go far out while she looked around the shallow water!"

"To be fair, she was in the swim team in, like, middle school."

"Yeah? Well, I learned how to swim today."

"You couldn't swim? Did you even tell her that?"

"No, dude, I was so embarrassed. I just waited for my survival instincts to kick in."

"You could've died!" Jay whispered harshly.

"Yeah, or worse," Heeseung replied grimly, "failed."

Jay was about to tell Heeseung that his priorities seemed to be very out of order, but then Doses and Mimosas started blasting through the speakers that had been moved to the corner of the basement. Several people started waking up and groaning out of frustration.

Heeseung let his head hang, defeated. "I should've just drowned."

Jay wasn't quite sure if the next several days of pledging were easier, or if he had just gotten used to the hazing after the past two days. He also had a feeling that his sleep deprivation was keeping him from processing how stressful and grueling the entire process was.

Wednesday seemed to be more of a professional event. Jennie told them in the morning that they were supposed to complete and prepare a slideshow about their future aspirations and career paths to present to the Order at 8:00 p.m. sharp.

Throughout the school day, Jay and Sunoo were bossed around by several members; Sungjin had them bring him a coffee (which he didn't like the taste of, so he sent them back to fetch another), Seulgi asked them to attend the gardening club's meeting in her place (where Sunoo kept sneezing the entire time because of his allergies), and Taeyong kindly requested a calculator to use during his calculus exam (which felt less like hazing and more like Taeyong simply being forgetful).

Somehow, they managed to finish their slideshow in the time that they were running around for the members. During that night's event, Sungjin took the reigns and had Jennie sit off to the side while he picked on pledges at random to present.

Everyone was so tired that they were hardly paying attention to each other's presentations, but when the projector displayed Sunghoon's slides, which had a picture of Park Pharmaceuticals, the atmosphere grew incredibly tense. Most of the pledges were looking away or ducking their heads to pretend like they weren't witnessing the two brothers feuding.

After Sunghoon gave his presentation, elaborating greatly on how qualified he was for the role, he received polite applause and uncomfortable coughs from everyone. Sungjin plastered on a mocking smile and clapped rather loudly, waving him off to move on to the next person.

"I'm sure the future of Park Pharmaceuticals will be in great hands," Sungjin said at the end, giving Sunghoon a knowing smile, to which he raised a brow at.

When Jay gave his presentation, he detailed how he was unsure of where he could fit in, but he knew that he wanted to help people, so he indulged in a role as a healthcare consultant to develop strategies that improved patient care and reduced financial burdens. While this was a noble reason, it wasn't exactly what Jay actually wanted to do, but since he knew that the Order could potentially help him get placed in an internship with Mercy Health to work alongside your father, he needed to play his cards right.

Everyone clapped at the end of his presentation and Jay even received plenty of compliments from the seniors, but Jeonghan sat there with a frown on his face. Jay was afraid that he would say something risky, but Jeonghan just stayed silent as they moved on to the next person.

That night, Doses and Mimosas plagued them once more.

On top of that, it was freezing in the basement that night. Jay was sure he would get hypothermia by the morning, and it seemed like everyone else thought the same, too, because Yeonjun was complaining for what felt like an hour. Sunghoon had left the basement half an hour ago after being called on by Sungjin to run some trivial errand, and Jay was honestly feeling jealous that Sunghoon got to be somewhere that wasn't the sub-zero basement.

Several of the girls tried huddling together for warmth with chattering teeth. Heeseung, who had enough, unzipped his sleeping bag and sat up.

"Jay, let's cuddle."

"No," he replied gruffly.

Heeseung shoved Jay's shoulder with his foot. "C'mon, let me in your sleeping bag."

"No. You're cold as shit."

"You're cold, too!"

"You're gonna disrupt the warmth I've generated in here."

"That's disgusting. Just let me inside."

With a reluctant sigh, Jay unzipped his sleeping bag to let Heeseung inside. His friend zipped it up again to the best of his abilities and proceeded to wrap an arm around Jay.

"Gay as hell," Yeonjun remarked.

"We're wearing socks," Heeseung and Jay replied together.

The next morning, Jay found out that no one had been called by any of the seniors except Sunghoon, who had been targeted by his older brother all night. It was unfair, but everyone knew better than to call out the president himself.

Jay's Thursday had been going smoothly until he returned to the house after his classes. It was then when he realized that his badge was missing. Changmin helped Jay look for it all around the basement and offered to go back to campus to look for it. They only had an hour left until they were required to be back, but Jay and Changmin made a run for it.

"We need to retrace your steps," Changmin said. "Tell me all the places you went to today."

"I went to class," Jay started, looking up as he tried to recollect his morning, "and then I went to the food court... then the library... then the bowling alley... then I went to my other class."

"Fuck were you doing at the bowling alley?"

"Uh... bowling."

He liked to take advantage of the recreational activities that Yale offered to its students.

They searched each area thoroughly, but there was no sign of his badge and Jay's hope in finding it was wavering. With ten minutes left until they had to be back, they were forced to give up on the search. Changmin offered to back him up when Jay was going to receive his inevitable punishment, but Jay told him that he would take the full blame since it was on him, anyway.

Strangely enough, when he told Jennie about losing his pin, she simply jotted something down on her clipboard and nodded. That somehow worsened the dread Jay felt.

The rest of the night was oddly enjoyable. They had a game night with the seniors, which consisted of several bonding activities and icebreakers that lightened the tension they felt around the active members. Jay was so glad that he wasn't being ordered around for a night that he forgot about how anxious he was over his missing badge.

To top it off, they got to sleep early and didn't have to listen to Doses and Mimosas throughout the night, too. Giselle even cried tears of joy as she complained about her newfound hatred for the song.

Then, it was finally Friday, but the past four days felt like they were a month long to Jay. He hoped the next three days would fly by, but the day was already feeling long as he and Karina had been nagged by Taehyung and Baekhyun to clean the living room. Jay decided not to go to campus for the day so that he could sleep in a little longer, but he regretted his decision soon after.

He tried to come up with an excuse to head back to campus with Karina, but they wound up cleaning the entire first floor before they could even get the chance to complain. Eventually, the seniors started targeting Sunoo and Chaewon, so Jay slipped away to catch up on lost hours of sleep.

Later, when it was time for their activity that night, Jennie's instructions were so vague that all of the pledges were too befuddled to ask for clarification. Thankfully, Sunghoon took the initiative to question her.

"You want us to find something to impress the actives?" he asked, brows furrowing. "Find what?"

"Anything. You just have to be back in two hours." Jennie shrugged. "We'll split you guys into two groups. How about just the boys versus the girls? Whichever group gets the most votes from the actives gets to sleep upstairs in the living room."

Everyone knew what that meant: no ceaseless repetition of Doses and Mimosas throughout the night. There was a competitive fire blazing in most of their eyes now.

"So, there's no limitation on what we can bring?" Yeonjun asked.

Jennie shook her head. "Nope, and you can go anywhere you'd like, as long as you're back within the time limit. Jeonghan and Jaehyun have offered up their cars for each team—just don't crash them."

Jay, the self-proclaimed car-stealer, was deemed the driver for the boys' team. They were instructed to leave at 10:00 p.m. at the same time, but Sunoo and Jay were starting to feel nervous because the girls seemed so much more prepared than they were. Apparently, the girls knew exactly what they were going to retrieve while Jay had just been watching Eunseok and Heeseung play chopsticks for the past fifteen minutes.

"I wanna go ask them, but there's no way they're gonna tell us what they're gonna bring back," Sunoo mumbled to Jay. "Maybe we should just bring back ear plugs and pray we can sleep through another night of that damn song."

Jay's eyes went wide for a moment before he glowered. "How did we never think of ear plugs until now?"

'I doubt they'd do much. The speakers are so fucking loud."

"We should just buy hammers and smash them."

"We could do it in front of the seniors, too. That'll be sure to impress them."

When it was time for them to leave, Jay was starting to worry about how eight people would fit in Jeonghan's car. To his relief, Jeonghan owned a 7-seater SUV, so they just needed four people to squeeze in the middle row.

Heeseung claimed shotgun, so Changmin, Yeonjun, Sunoo, and Eunseok took the middle row while Chenle and Sunghoon took the two seats in the back. Still, even though they were situation, no one had even come up with a proper plan on what they were going to bring back for the seniors. They sat in the parking lot and watched the girls drive off in Jaehyun's car in complete silence before Yeonjun spoke up.

"Let's steal a goat," he said.

The rest of them turned to gawk at Yeonjun with incredulous looks on their faces.

"A goat," Sunoo echoed.

"I was gonna suggest a cow, but I don't think we have space for a cow."

"And you think we have space for a goat?"

"Well, we have more space for a goat than a cow."

"I don't think that should be the deciding factor here."

"It is a valid deciding factor. Also, University of Connecticut has goats. Wouldn't it be sick if we stole something from another campus?"

They all stared at each other for a moment before Jay reluctantly put in the directions for University of Connecticut.

Chenle laughed, astonished. "We're actually stealing a goat? From UConn?"

"We'll just borrow it," Yeonjun reasoned. "I mean, who's even gonna notice?"

Despite Yeonjun sounding borderline insane, everyone was on board because, to be perfectly honest, it would be funny if they stole a goat, and they were sure the seniors would appreciate the sentiment. Whatever the girls did wouldn't compare to the entire mission the boys were carrying out to kidnap a goat. But if they failed, it would just remain a good memory, at least.

Since University of Connecticut was relatively close, Jay only had to drive for ten minutes until they reached the campus. They just barely managed to get through three songs during the drive, all of which were being sung off-key by the men. As Jay drove along the edge of campus, he finally spotted the livestock that were fenced in.

Yeonjun, Heeseung, Eunseok, and Changmin agreed to be the ones to bring back the goat. The rest of them stayed in the car and kept an eye out. Jay was glad he stayed in the car because, aside from not wanting to be anything more than an accomplice to this crime, he finally got the chance to rant about how grueling their initiation had been so far.

Chenle was the first one to bring it up, and as soon as he did, Sunoo and Sunghoon started complaining, too. Jay joined in after, but he had been thinking the exact things they had.

Thirty minutes later, they saw the four boys walking back to the car with the animal in Yeonjun's arms. Jay honestly didn't want to know how they managed to get inside the pen, but he ended up finding out anyway after Eunseok gave them the whole storytime.

Then, Jay took a closer look at the animal.

"Dude," he said flatly, "that's a baby sheep, not a goat."

The four of them froze before leaning closer to the sheep to get a better look at it.

"Oh, fuck," Heeseung muttered.

Eunseok shrugged. "I mean, a sheep's still fine, right?"

"No, no, no," Sunghoon warned with a firm shake of his head. "Stealing a goat is funny, but a baby sheep's just fucked up."

"You gotta return it, dude," Chenle said. "Bring back an actual goat."

It took another thirty minutes for them to reunite the sheep with its flock and steal an actual goat, which Heeseung claimed they cross-verified several times before carrying to the car. The goat, which they named Rectangle (because of the pupils), bleated at random throughout the car ride, which they speculated was it trying to socialize.

Since they had a good forty minutes left until they were supposed to return, they tried teaching Rectangle tricks until it was time to head back to the Athenaeum. Unfortunately, the goat did not seem to possess the mental capacity to follow their commands.

When they pulled into the parking lot, the girls were already back. They were all gathered around Jaehyun's car, and the seniors were making conversation with them as they waited for Jay's group to come back. After they parked and got out of Jeonghan's car, the seniors requested for them to present what they brought.

"We wanted to find something that symbolized the Order," you started, turning to pull something heavy out of the trunk, "so, we pulled some strings and made this plaque with the owl of Athena. We designed it ourselves, too, since Yizhuo's dad owns a steel company, so you guys can keep it for the house."

The boys exchanged horrified looks. Their faith in Rectangle was slowly diminishing by the second.

The seniors looked incredibly impressed with the girls' present as they ran their fingers over the pattern and gushed over how perfectly it matched their society. Jennie looked incredibly proud from the sidelines, and Jay could only think about how the boys were gonna wipe that expression off her face once she saw the goat they stole.

"Alright, it's your guys' turn," Sungjin said with a light laugh. "This is gonna be a hard one to beat, though."

"Oh, uh... so," Sunoo started sheepishly, looking back at where Rectangle was chewing on a seat belt. It let out a pathetic bleat that had some of the seniors trying to peer into the car. "We got you guys a goat from UConn."

Changmin picked up Rectangle and placed him in front of everyone, letting it trot around and make low, muttering sounds. For a while, everyone just stared at the goat in disbelief until a few seniors burst into laughter at the sight of the animal. A few of them started petting it affectionately.

While no comments were made to praise them for bringing back a goat, Jay was satisifed that they weren't scolded, at least. The Order turned away to discuss who would be the winning team while the girls started cooing over Rectangle. Jay was certain that their goat was going to be the only real winner tonight.

"Alright, we've made our decision," Sungjin announced. "We appreciated that both teams took different approaches. However, there can only be one winner, and while the goat was funny, we feel that it's only fair that the girls are rewarded for the effort they put into this task."

While Jay was disappointed, he, too, thought it was only fair that the girls won. He would've felt a lot worse if the guys won for something that required much less effort.

Thus, they were sent back to the basement while the girls got to sleep in the living room. Before that, though, they were sent back to return Rectangle. This time, all eight of them got out of the car to say their goodbyes to the goat. Yeonjun was tearful when he realized that Rectangle's friends would never believe what just happened to it.

When they were back in the basement and washing up before bed, Sunghoon supplied, "They technically liked our goat, so maybe they won't torment us tonight?"

Heeseung grimaced. "Hopefully."

As if on cue, Doses and Mimosas started blasting through the speakers, like it was taunting them, and the eight of them groaned in broken harmony.

The girls were sent back downstairs early in the morning, and Jay pressed his face deeper into his pillow so that he wouldn't have to see them and feel jealous about how they got to sleep peacefully.

There were only two days left, and Jay was ready for everything to be over. When they all went out for lunch together, Jennie texted the group chat that they would get to have a free Saturday with no activities planned for the night. It was music to everyone's ears, of course, but they couldn't help but feel that tomorrow would be worse.

The seniors weren't around the house much, either. Jay dragged Sunoo to the library with him in case they came back and started hazing the pledges again, but he never received any texts telling him to head back to the house.

That night, however, Doses and Mimosas was turned up higher than ever before. Jay didn't even think it could get any louder, but the sound was amplified to the point where he felt the bass buzzing through his body, creeping up his legs and traveling to his skull. He felt like his ears were going to split, but it was their last night. He could make it through one more night. He just needed to close his eyes and tune out the noise.

Jay hardly got a wink of sleep, probably passing out for thirty minutes out of pure exhaustion, but he kept jolting awake whenever the bass got louder. He felt like a shell of a person at this point, so he just rolled over onto his stomach and put his pillow over his head.

Sunday was chock-full of the Order members calling and texting them to run useless errands. Jay had to take Sehun's laundry to a laundromat despite the house having its own room with five washers and five dryers. That wasn't even the most ridiculous of busy work; Eunseok, Karina, and Heeseung were tasked to scrub the second floor with toothbrushes, you and Giselle were sent out on a scavenger hunt (to look for items that Jay was pretty sure didn't even exist), Yeonjun had to transcribe a thirty minute long voice recording that was hardly comprehensible with multiple voices overlapping; and Yizhuo, Sunghoon, and Ryujin had to wash everyone's cars.

By nightfall, Jay was just glad that they were in the final stretch. He was ready to be done with the entire process, and he was banking on his body holding out for tonight before he collapsed from exhaustion.

"Tonight should be fast, depending on how well you guys do," Jennie told them with an inauspicious edge that had half of the pledges looking fed-up already. This time, all of the seniors were gathered behind Jennie, too, and all of them wore expressionless faces. "Have you guys heard of a Centurion?"

Before Jay was about to rattle on about its historical context in Rome, Chenle had already answered. Jay was glad that he didn't say anything because it happened to be a drinking game—not whatever Jay was prepared to explain.

"We're gonna be doing something a little different," Jennie continued. "Since there's fifteen of you, we're going to be doing a double Centurion, so you have to drink two hundred shots of beer within one hundred minutes." Before anyone could grouch, she added, "And you have to answer our questions as you drink. I hope you guys have been studying."

He figured Jennie had been referring to the information she gave them a week ago. The problem was, although Jay had memorized everything, he wasn't sure how well his memory would serve him after how tired he was.

Sungjin and Joshua carried over the table that they would be playing the game on. Jennie and Doyeon started pouring beer in the cups that Jisoo and Jaehyun were setting out on the table. Some of the cups looked a little more than a shot, but what worried Jay was if he would be in the right state of mind to answer questions toward the end of the game.

"We should just go in order," you suggested. "That's like—what?—thirteen shots between all of us? One shot per thirty seconds, so we're gonna have, like, an eight minute break between shots. If someone can't drink any more, one of us can drink for them."

It was a solid plan, and everyone was fairly optimistic about it until the game began. As you downed the first shot, Jennie had asked the first question, looking at you specifically for an answer. You stammered for a few seconds, looking at her blankly as you floundered for words. Since you were drinking, you were hardly paying attention to what she was saying, expecting someone else to answer her question while you downed the shot. Eventually, the answer seemed to come to you, but Jennie simply waved her hand to silence you, and she noted something down on her clipboard before moving on to Yeonjun.

Yeonjun managed to get the question about the Order's motto wrong as well, and then they moved on to Giselle without missing a beat, who also got her question wrong. Jay didn't even hear his question, and when he asked if they could repeat it, he was ignored and they moved on to Changmin.

This continued on and on, with everyone getting more and more tipsy with each round. It didn't help that all of them were running on way less sleep than they should have gotten this week, so nobody was in the right state to be answering questions at rapid speed while downing shots of beer.

Closer to the last round, they had gotten under half of the questions correct, but the Order started asking random questions in place of their society's history. They seemed to have run out of things to ask, so they were asking obscure questions that threw the pledges off before they had time to think of an answer.

"What car does Wonwoo drive?" Jisoo asked, rousing snickers from the rest of the members.

("Honestly," Jeonghan muttered from beside Joshua, "I don't even know what car Wonwoo drives.")

"A Mercedes," Ryujin, who had been tasked to clean the cars earlier in the day, answered breathlessly as she was twelve shots deep.

"Model?"

She pressed her lips together. "I don't know."

Incorrect.

By the end of the activity, everyone was spent and tired. All of the pledges were tipsy, holding onto each other to keep upright and leaning their heads on each other's shoulders. You and Giselle had your heads on each of Yeonjun's shoulders, who had his held tilted back and his eyes closed.

"Alright, you're done," Jennie announced loudly, giving them a glimmer of hope for a single moment before her next words had the pledges crumbling apart again. "Time for punishments."

"Punishments?" you asked scornfully.

Jennie started listing off various things that the pledges were getting punished for one-by-one; Heeseung and Eunseok got twenty push-ups for not leaving the floor spotless, all of the boys got fifty sit-ups for losing to the girls, everyone got five sit-ups for each question they got wrong during the Centurion activity, and several other petty reasons that Jay couldn't even find reason in.

"And," Jennie said in a clipped tone, "one hundred push-ups each for Yeonjun, Giselle, Eunseok, Ryujin, Chaewon, Y/N, Jay, Heeseung, and Sunghoon."

Heeseung gawked at her. "For what?"

"For your little run-in with the police in Monaco."

"You knew about that?" Yeonjun asked, his voice pitched an octave higher as he had completely sobered up at her words.

"Of course I did. Now get started, and please do it together so no one has to start over."

They collectively agreed to get the push-ups over with first, which went smoothly for the first thirty or so, but then a few of them were starting to get tired. Jay was glad that Sunghoon, Heeseung, and Yeonjun had been dragging him to the gym every day, but even he couldn't keep up once they hit fifty.

On top of his fifty push-ups over the goat debacle, Jay still had to do another hundred for the Monaco incident, so he had to keep going even after a few of the pledges were finished. His wrists felt like they were burning by the time they were counting off numbers so high that he couldn't think straight anymore. His elbows quivered as he lowered himself to the ground.

Clearly, he wasn't the only one struggling. Giselle was almost crying through her push-ups and he could hear Heeseung's winces of pain from his left.

"I can't do it anymore," Karina rasped once her limbs gave out. "I'm done. I can't do this."

Jennie looked extremely worried, but before she could say anything, Sungjin calmly said, "If you want a seat in our society, you have to keep going."

They pushed on with burning lungs and heavy pants. The only reason Jay knew which number he was on was because Sunghoon was counting them off, but his voice was starting to sound distorted and far-off. Jay just wanted to let his elbows buckle so that he could feel the cool ground against his cheek and let his sore limbs rest.

He then felt someone's shoe wedge itself between Jay's feet to keep them from slipping. Jay looked under his arm to see that it was Sunoo, who had finished his push-ups and was waiting against the wall for them to finish. Grateful, Jay lowered himself to the ground again with trembling arms.

When Jay was finally done, hardly managing to keep himself from toppling over, Jennie fixed him with a curious look and said, "Oh, right. Jay, you have an extra hundred for losing your badge."

Jay's heart dropped.

He already felt like he was going to die. How could they make him do more when he was already on the verge of passing out?

"Another hundred?" he squawked out. His shoulders sagged and his chest was heaving. "I can't—I feel so... there's no way."

"We tried to find his pin, but we couldn't," Changmin tried defending him, but it didn't seem like a reasonable enough excuse for the Order. "We retraced his steps and everything."

"He shouldn't have lost it in the first place," Sungjin replied calmly and unsympathetically.

Jay was getting into position again when you spoke up, "I'll split his push-ups with him. I'll do fifty."

He whipped his head around to look at you, shocked. You looked like you were on the verge of fainting yourself, so why would you put yourself through that? Still, your resolution was unwavering, and the Order didn't seem to have an opposition to the pledges helping each other out.

"I'll split the push-ups, too," Changmin offered. "I was the one who went with him and still couldn't find the badge."

"I'll do it, too," Sunoo said, dragging himself up to get in formation again. "I went to class with Jay and didn't even notice his badge was missing."

A tide had turned. Even though no one had anything to do with Jay losing his pin, every pledge started offering to split the push-ups. Everyone, despite being pushed to their limit, offered to help him with something that was completely his fault.

And Jay felt a warmth in his heart that spurred him to keep going. A dangerous sort of affection, really, because he was touched beyond belief. Never did he think that he would feel such closeness to people he was only supposed to consider as subjects of interest.

Now, they only had to do six each. Jennie hid a smile behind her clipboard as she watched them line up once more to power through their last interval of push-ups.

"Okay, you're done," Jennie called out afterward, and all of them crumpled to the ground at once. Jay felt like his chest was about to explode. "Time for sit-ups."

Jay got seven questions wrong during the Centurion round and several other demerits from the Order members for various offenses, so he had a good number of sit-ups to do, but it would be much easier than the push-ups. However, he was already so exhausted that he was sure his body would give out soon. Sunoo clapped him on the back to signal that they were doing their sit-ups against the wall, and Jay turned around with great effort to lay on his back and press the toes of his shoes against the wall.

Sunghoon counted them off again, his voice no louder than a breath, and Jay heard several grunts of pain as they raised themselves up. Jay's core ached even from the first one. His blood was rushing in his ears and his pulse was so intense that he could feel it pounding in every artery.

Jay thankfully didn't have as many sit-ups than he had push-ups, so he was finished relatively sooner than most. His sweat-matted hair was all over his forehead, and he pushed it back once he was sitting upright again, leaning back on his elbows. Several pledges were still going in slow, painful efforts. Jay got to his feet and went to stand off to the side, but he noticed you struggling and looked over at Jeonghan, who grimaced at him in an if-you-must sort of way.

He then sat behind you, ignoring your bewildered looks, and he placed a hand on the small of your back to help you raise your body with each sit-up. The other pledges who completed their sit-ups decided to help the others, too, after seeing what Jay was doing. At some point, Jay was practically pushing you upright, as if you were some lifeless doll, and you just went along with his motions.

"Finished?" Jennie called out once the last person, Yizhuo (who had the most sit-ups racked up), had finished. "Get up. You guys are gonna do wall sits until you can say our oath in perfect unison."

Jeonghan sent Jay a sympathetic look and a nod that seemed to tell the junior that this was it. They would be done after this.

Jay held onto that.

Everyone was sluggish and exhausted, both physically and mentally, but they all dragged themselves to their feet like zombies and got in position again.

"Man, this is so fucked up," Heeseung got out, moaning feebly from how his muscles ached.

"Support each other, if you need to," Jennie said, looking away quickly when she saw how several of them were doubling over to catch their breaths.

Jay noticed that Giselle put her leg under his to support his weight, so he did the same for Changmin, who was to his left. Down the line, everyone seemed to catch on and get in the same position. Each pledge had a leg under the person next to them to keep them upright, except you, who was unfortunately the first in line.

Each time someone said the wrong word or fumbled over their words, they were yelled at to start over again. Jay felt like they had been there for nearly an hour, and his legs were starting to give out. You and Karina fell to the ground at some point, and they were simply asked to stand up and keep going.

Eventually, by some stroke of luck, the fifteen of them managed to recite their oath in perfect unison with even their labored panting syncing up.

Jennie burst into tears by the end, so Sungjin had to speak up in her place, "You're officially our newest delegation. Welcome to the Order."

Jay heard several of the seniors clapping and cheering for them, but Giselle's leg gave out under him, and he collapsed to the ground along with her. Everyone else seemed to be on the floor, too, and plenty of them were crying with what Jay suspected was partly their joy over being done and partly because they were so spent from the physical exertion.

Jeonghan helped Jay up to his feet and asked, "You good?"

Jay nodded dumbly. "Just glad I never have to listen to Doses and Mimosas again."

Jeonghan laughed, and when he handed Jay a bottle of water, Jay chugged it so fast that the bottle was empty in seconds. His limbs still felt like they were buzzing and sore, but he could at least stand upright without falling over.

Jennie was still sobbing into her hands, being comforted by Jisoo and Irene, who were also secretly recording the sight with amusement drawn across their faces. She seemed more distressed over the whole ordeal than Jay was, but what he hated the most was that he genuinely felt a sense of fondness toward her and the others after the entire experience. As the juniors pulled him in for a group hug, he knew that their one week had pulled them all together so close that Jay was going to feel miserable when he would eventually have to betray their trust.

"I'm gonna sleep forever," Giselle said loudly, mostly to drown out how Heeseung was making fun of her for crying earlier. "I'm gonna go home and sleep forever."

Jay looked around to find you, and then he walked around the others to tap your shoulder. You immediately turned around, and he asked, "Are you okay? You were the only one who didn't get any support during wall sits."

"Yeah, I'm fine," you said with a shaky grin. "My legs feel like they're on fire, though. But, apparently, my dad had it worse when he joined, so I can't complain that much."

Jay didn't see much reason in that. To what extent were you expected to live up to your dad's standards? He knew it wasn't the time to press you for answers, though, so Jay simply mustered a smile for you and rubbed your back in soothing circles.

Now that he was in the Order, your father was his next target.

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ▸ okay Wow i got a little too ahead of myself here but if you made it to the end, thank you for reading this 15k word chapter !! i did Not expect it to get this long and although it might Feel a little filler-y, it was necessary trust !

TAG LIST ▸ @zdgx1 @smouches @heesdazed @teawithbucky @leep0ems @peachpie4you @niniissus @kgneptun @jaeyunluvr @zerasari @sophiko22 @iselltulips @hoondiors @baekhyunstruly @jays-property @woninluv @heerinnie @fakeuwus @yizhoutv @theothernads @y4wnjunz @dammit-jjk @en-happiness @mari-oclock @soonyoungblr @jakeslvt @taetaenic @jebetwo @fairysungx @hsgwrld @shmooooo @ineedsomezzz @mrowww @enha-stars @seongclb @lockburn-castle @alyssajavenss @enczen @calumsfringe @w3bqrl @luvyev @uhsakusa @luvnicho @wildflowermooon @navsnct @hooniesuniverse @enhalov @enhypens-baby @isawritesss

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen smau #jay smut #jay smau #jay imagines #jay x reader #enhypen social media au #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #jay scenarios #jongseong smut #jay park #enhypen fanfic #jay fanfic #enhypen hard hours #jay hard hours #enhypen drabbles #jay drabbles #enhypen reactions #jay reactions

[bbybluehoney]

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ mdni 18+ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

spoiled princess! reader & rafe cameron

⁺ princess was a kook and she knew that, but she swears her parents forget that they are one too

⁺ with her parents trying to teach her the value of a dollar she couldn’t wrap her head around it

⁺ swiping a credit card (that did not belong to her) every week around figure 8 and the country club

⁺ buying very necessary things!

⁺ like the new nighties that just dropped at victoria’s secret :(( she couldn’t choose between all the pretty colors

⁺ and the comfiest pair of cotton pjs everrrrrr that’s going to feel so amazing on her skin after her shower

⁺ after you were done shopping you needed to lounge by the water with a sweet treat. a strawberry milkshake

⁺ “DECLINED?! are you sure-i mean? cmon jake, you know me, this has never happened before!”

⁺ you weren’t used to not getting what you wanted

⁺ crossing her arms under her chest, on her tippy toes to get closer to the bartender , in a hushed voice “please just this once-“

⁺ “i got it” princesss eyes trailed to the black rectangular card being handled to the bartender

⁺ “rafeeee i had it all under control” you thumped your foot slightly

⁺ “cmon princess you know i can’t have my beautiful girl hanging.”

⁺ rafe looking up and down at the girls white and pink bikini admiring the way it hugged her tits pushing them together

⁺ rafes gives the bartender a look “if this ever happens again,which it won’t, put it on cameron”

✦

⁺ this wasn’t anything new to princess and rafe

⁺ you’ve had been together even since freshman year of high school. your family moving to outer banks after your father accepted a new business offer causing a move to the next town over

⁺ admiring each other every chance you’d get especially around the neighborhood because you guys were a couple houses apart

⁺ you loved keeping rafe company, vise versa

⁺ rafe spoiling you any chance he gets, he can’t stand seeing your pouty lips on your pretty face :(

⁺ if you parents said no to buying you a fancy designer purse the next day rafe was already tapping his card against the reader (x100)

⁺ you hanging off his right arm smiling brightly up at rafe giving him a kiss as you walked out the store.

⁺ the light pink kiss mark on his right cheek that he doesn’t bother wiping off until your in bed at tannyhill

✦

⁺ you come from his bathroom sporting a pale yellow pj set, jumping onto rafes big bed face first, spread like a starfish

⁺ smack “OW!”

⁺ “really princess!” rafe rolled his eyes at it as your fault

⁺ “you expect me to not do ANYTHING when ur ass is basically hanging out of those shorts!”

⁺ “rafey that really hurt” you couldn’t help to try and soothe the ache, rubbing your hand around the globes of your ass

⁺ “tsk, i’m sorry kid. c’me here” you couldn’t jump into rafes lap faster, even if you were slightly upset (you weren’t)

⁺ “thank you for today rafey, you make me feel special everyday. i love you” giving him pecks all over, starting from his bare chest, trailing to his neck finding your way to his lips

⁺ this led to you both making out. rafe rubbing his hands all over your breast, running his hands up and down your body , pushing ur hips foward to meet his.

⁺ pushing aside the fabric of your sleep shorts,breathy moans escaping your soft puffy lips,bumping noses with rafe and he continues to play with you

⁺ “god” rafe hissed jaw slacked looking into your eyes ,totally consumed of him “i love you too princess”

⁺ rafe loved the way you made him feel. he felt needed and cared for, he loved looking after you. he wouldn’t want to do anything else unless it’s with his baby, you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

hiiiiii first post on here and my first time writing for obx! yikes! tell me how you felt about it and if you wanna see more of spoiled princess!reader n rafe 🩵like reblog and all the good stuff.

- BABY ✄

#bbybluehoney🫐 #outer banks #obx #obx imagine #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x reader #spoiled princess!reader #rafe cameron prompt #rafe obx

[themidnightcrimson]

skirt ࿏ wm

summary: in which wanda gets a little too handsy during a small party.

words: 4.5k

warnings: top!wanda, fingering (r receiving), semi-public sex, severely gay ogling, reader being a fuckin simp

this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

Steve had unfortunately complained to Tony that the parties he always held in his huge, modern, techno mansion were not intimate enough. Tony, always ready to take complaints from Steve with a cheeky attitude, passed the message along to Pepper who decided to truly make something cozier for everyone.

Tony’s parties were pretty much bi-weekly at this point, every other Friday night. The team almost always showed up in entirety, and the regularity of it was becoming sentimental to some of you. Even Tony was starting to plan them: “You guys gotta try this whiskey. I’ll bring it next Friday” or “I swear, Cap, I’m gonna put you in a suit on Friday and shoot you up to Mars.” It was cute.

Tonight, instead of drinking and playing poker around Tony’s in-house bar room, Pepper had set up something beautiful outside. You’d arrived at the party with Nat, stepping through the back patio of Tony’ mansion and seeing something set up in his backyard. Tied between two trees was a large white screen, and several yards in front of it was a projector mounted onto the roof of the patio, pointed right towards the screen.

In front of the screen, on the lush, freshly-trimmed grass yard, was a whole bunch of pillowy chairs with blankets cast over them, set up like little cots. To the side of the arena was a little hot dog stand that also had a big red and golden popcorn machine currently popping popcorn attached to its hip, as well as a large futuristic-looking cooler full of ice and bottled drinks. There was even an attachment on the front of the hot dog stand with an array of candy bars.

Strung above the entire arena were strings of fairy lights going in every direction, tied between trees and the railing of the patio porch. The sun hadn’t quite set yet, but they were already turned on, providing cute little lights above the cozy scene. It was the homiest thing you’d ever seen at Tony’s home.

“My god,” Nat remarked as she looked around, looking as shocked as you. “It looks like Tony’s planning on proposing to all of us at the same time tonight.”

“I would say yes,” Banner said, coming up beside you and gawking up at the lights. He ran down the steps of the patio and towards one of the fluffy chairs made of pillow, throwing himself down on it and squishing it to the ground. You could hear his sigh of comfort from the patio.

“Do you guys like it?” Pepper asked, coming out of the house. “There’s more food and snacks inside if you guys want anything that’s not out there.”

“I feel like I’m experiencing my first American sleepover,” Nat said, turning to Pepper. “It’s great, really!”

It was cute seeing Nat get so excited like that. Steve showed up behind Pepper and had the same reaction as everyone else, even tearing up a little bit. When Tony reluctantly entered the patio, Steve gave him a slap on the shoulder. “This is really great, Tony. Really great.”

Tony tightly smiled and quickly went back into the house to avoid any more sentiment.

Since the few of you were the first to arrive, you all stayed on the porch and made conversation while waiting for everyone else to show up. It was a chilly spring night, the wind picking up and every once in a while catching the black skirt you were wearing. It was that annoying time of year, of course, where you would have been sweating during the day but now you were shivering at night. You wished you had worn pants instead of a skirt. You didn’t know you’d be thanking yourself later for the opposite.

You had been discreetly waiting for someone the entire time. As more people lingered through the back door into the backyard, you nervously glanced at each figure and hoped it’d be the one you wanted it to be, but it never was.

And then you knew. You didn’t see her, or hear her name, or any other evidence that she was there other than the fact that the pit in your stomach grew and there was a tingling sensation across your nerve endings. The witch always had that affect on you. You didn’t know if it was a spell or something, or maybe you were just acting like a crush-stricken schoolgirl, but you had a habit of always knowing when Wanda entered a room.

Surely enough, through the tinted windows lining the back porch, you could see a flash of red hair making its way towards the back door, that smile you had memorized greeting people as she stepped between them. A shiver crawled its way up your lower spine as the door opened and that face stepped through, the one you’ve been dreaming about, the one that haunts you, the one that twists your stomach into knots when you see it because it makes you think of all the times you’ve touched yourself with that face in mind.

Wanda stepped onto the porch, her hair in wavy locks down her shoulders. She was wearing a soft, light pink sweater that probably looked like off-white to everyone else in the dusk light, but you paid enough attention to know it was pink. It matched the gentle pink in her cheeks, and in her lips…

You and Wanda’s…”situation” was only just blossoming. After months and months of tense friendship and subtle flirting, you’d finally broken the ice when you’d shared a drunken makeout session at one of the parties. You found Wanda to be much bolder than you’d expected her to be, but it invigorated you so. She knew how to keep you on the edge but give you enough to keep you satisfied. She hadn’t fucked you yet, though she’s gotten close. You’ve felt her mouth, and her thigh, but she hadn’t touched you with her hands yet. Her hands.

It was embarrassing when Nat had to snap you out of it. You’d been staring at Wanda since she’d entered the backyard space and got caught up in a conversation with someone else on her way to greet you. You weren’t even sure if she’d seen you yet, but with how sly the witch was, you were sure she was fully aware of everything.

“Hey, you’ve got a little drool there,” Nat said, motioning to her own chin while looking at yours. You blushed and rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath and turning your back on Wanda. Even though she still hadn’t looked at you, you swore you could feel her eyes burning into your back.

“Shut up,” you whispered, crossing your arms and shivering slightly in the cold.

Like clockwork, you suddenly felt a warm arm wrap itself around your shoulders. God, you even recognized her touch now.

Looking up, you saw Wanda appear beside you, her arm slung over your shoulder and pulling you into her gently. You felt the softness of her sweater and her hair against your arm as you were overcome with her cologne. It was sweet but deep, and it made you melt every time you smelled it because it reminded you of all your moments with her.

Wanda smiled down at you, and you half-expected her to lean down for a kiss, but she didn’t. You weren’t public yet, though Nat knew the extent of it, and everyone else had just assumed. They all thought that if you weren’t fucking, it was at least obvious that Wanda wanted to, and no one would dare get in the way of that. This was all without your knowledge, of course, because you were innocent and naïve and thought that no one had any clue about it except for Nat. That was one thing that Wanda liked about you.

“Hey there,” Wanda smoothly said in almost a whisper. Every time you get close to her for the first time, you feel like you’re seeing her for the first time all over again. Her sparkling green eyes, soft lips turned in a self-assured smile, structured cheekbones, her cute little nose. It all made you swoon like a schoolgirl.

“Hi,” you squeaked, feeling your face get hot all over.

Wanda gave a breathy chuckle, obviously picking up on your little squeak. She gave a little space between you for a moment to let her eyes rake down over your figure. They landed at your hips, and her smile faded, turning almost crooked for a moment before she licked her lips and pursed them. “Hmmmm,” she hummed, pulling you into her again, a little tighter now. “You look so fucking good,” she hissed, leaning down towards your ear. You felt her breath fan against your ear, and then her lips grazed it, before she turned away, stiffening as if trying to hold something in. You watched her jaw flex, the muscles straining in her swan neck as she inhaled deeply.

You weren’t sure what exactly was going through the witch’s mind, but your body was burning all over. It almost pained you how you always had such a physical reaction to Wanda.

Wanda did not let go of you. Even as she lingered around the patio, even as people came up and made conversation, she kept you under her arm like her own pet bunny. You felt safe like that, tucked into Wanda, letting her lead the conversations while you just leaned against her soft sweater and inhaled her sweet perfume. The duality of Wanda’s gentle physique but domineering nature made your head dizzy.

Wanda was like a bee to honey to you for the entire time that you and everyone else waited for the party’s population to be dense enough to start a movie on the large projector screen. Finally, once the sun had set and only left an orange streak at the bottom of the sky, Tony came back out onto the patio and, fully equipped in his suit, stuck his hands out to the side and levitated up towards the projector. Halting mid-air, the face of the suit flipped away to reveal Tony’s face.

“Greetings and welcome to the lamest party Tony Stark has ever thrown,” Tony announced, earning several laughs throughout the small crowd of people before flipping the projector on and flying away.

Light illuminated onto the screen, and an old black-and-white Hollywood movie began playing on the screen. People made their way over to the little cots set out on the lawn, while some stayed on the patio pretending to be the adult part of the crowd.

“Want some snacks?” Wanda whispered in your ear, to which you gave a dumb nod, too focused on the way her hand slid down to your waist and gripped it.

Wanda led you over the little hot dog stand that shone like a beacon in the darkening lawn, apart from the light from the movie. You were about to tell Wanda that you wanted popcorn and Skittles, but she somehow beat you to it. “A bag of popcorn and some Skittles,” she told the guy behind the stand. Nodding, he began to load up a bag of buttery popcorn as you looked up at Wanda in confusion to how she knew what you wanted.

Mind-reading can be useful in many ways, kitten.

You thought Wanda had spoken, since you had heard her voice, but her lips didn’t even move and her voice sounded like it was behind you. Your eyes widened in realization that Wanda was using mind-reading on you for the first time—though it actually was about the hundredth time that she’d pried in on your cerebral. It was the telepathic communication that was happening for the first time, but she thought your confusion on the terms was cute.

“Thanks,” Wanda told the guy as he handed you the warm bag of popcorn. She took a bag of Skittles and two bottles of soda and placed her hand on your lower back, her warm palm ushering you towards a cot in front of the screen.

She decided to choose one a little off to the side, spaced out more from any others. It was a double, basically a large pillow in the shape of a chair that could hold two people.

“This is so fun!” you exclaimed, hopping down on the cot and sighing at how soft it was, understanding now why Banner was so relaxed when he had jumped onto one. There was even a little basket beside the chair that held a large, fluffy blanket folded up. Pepper had truly gone all out.

Wanda plopped down beside you, her warm body instantly melting into yours as her weight into the pillowy chair dipped you down closer to her. The redistribution of weight had moved you in a way that your skirt hiked up your legs.

Wanda’s eyes flickered to your skirt, her pupils swarming. You blushed and pulled your skirt down to cover yourself, discreetly watching Wanda blink and force herself to look away. She leaned back in the chair, snaking her arm behind you and curling it around your waist, which only deepened the blush on your cheeks.

Reaching towards your lap, Wanda took a piece of popcorn from the bag you held between your legs and popped it into her mouth. You took a piece and moved it towards your mouth, but suddenly her hand stopped you.

“Nuh uh,” she said quietly, taking the popcorn from between your fingers. “Let me do it.”

You froze, staring at her face that was so close. It was illuminated by the projection on the screen, her green eyes darker than usual.

“Open your mouth,” she whispered, her eyes flickering down to your lips. There was a hunger in her eyes as she watched you hesitate before slowly opening your lips, your heart beating twice faster in your chest. Wanda brought the popcorn to your mouth, letting your tongue take it. You were surprised when, as you felt the texture of the popcorn on your tongue and the butter flooded your taste buds, the tips of Wanda’s fingers lingered in your mouth. As you attempted to close your lips, they only closed around her fingers, tasting the extra salt left behind on them. Your face grew red and hot as you watched Wanda smirk, pushing her fingers in just a miniscule bit further, her own lips parting in infatuation as she watched your lips suction around her fingers.

“Good girl,” she whispered, slowly dragging her fingers out of your mouth.

As if nothing happened, as if you weren’t sitting there blushing and sweating and feeling the space between your legs get warm, she went back to simply eating the popcorn and staring up at the screen.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to stop staring at this blasted woman who just teased you so easily and tried to focus on the movie.

Wanda’s handsy-ness wasn’t too extreme during the first half of the movie. It was only her arm around your waist, her hand rubbing your back sensually, her fingers softly combing through your hair and pulling on it hard once or twice just to get a squeak out of you, to which she pressed a discreet kiss to your neck. It was like she was just playing with you. It was like she was just playing with her food.

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie, when there was no sight of any sunlight in the dark night sky, that Wanda strengthened her moves on you.

Under the pretty fairy lights, as everyone else started to calm down and really settle into the movie, a chilly night breeze sewed itself through the air. It flittered over your exposed legs, causing you to shiver. Wanda, who’d been trying not to ogle your thighs all night, couldn’t help but see the goosebumps on your tender skin.

“You cold?” she asked in a soft, sweet tone. When you nodded, she reached over to the basket and brought out the large, thick blanket, draping it over the both of your laps. The warm, soft blanket was such a relief to your cold legs, and with Wanda’s body also available to you as a heater, you felt so cozy and safe.

Then Wanda’s hand reached under the blanket and rested on your thigh, her palm curving around it. The action made you stiffen, your skin growing exponentially warmer where her hand touched. The intimacy of the action sent shimmers through you, and you tried to beat back the little smile on your face.

Wanda, on the other hand, was trying not to smirk. She was more purposeful than you gave her credit for, but again, your naivety was what fueled her to see just how much she could get away with.

You were trying your hardest to ignore her hand on your thigh until it suddenly shifted upwards, pushing your skirt up with it. You gasped quietly. Her hand was all the way up your thigh now, gripping your flesh firmly. Her fingers were wrapped into the inner most tender part of your thigh, pressing into the soft skin there.

The heat between your legs amplified with how close Wanda was to it. You couldn’t help but nervously glance around, afraid that somehow someone had seen her hand grab your thigh under the thick blankets. Luckily, no one was looking. The closest person to you was Nat, but she was watching the film with her head tilted and arms crossed, obviously trying to analyze it like she did with most films.

“Wanda,” you whispered, glancing up at her to see that she was already staring at you darkly.

“What, princess?” she asked innocently.

The name struck you like a bullet of white hot fire in the pit of your stomach. She watched you seriously, a smirk twitching the corners of her lips, as she tightened her grip on your thigh. It stung a little, her fingertips digging so hard into that sensitive inner flesh of your thigh, that you almost squeaked.

“If you want to make noises for me, then do it, babygirl,” she lilted, and you almost gasped when her hand slipped fully under your skirt. You squirmed a little, but she looked at you threateningly. “Don’t move.”

Your breathing grew heavy as you looked around again, feeling that for sure someone was looking this time. No one was.

No one will see, detka.

Wanda’s voice was in your head again. You sharply turned to look at her, but she was staring at the screen now.

Suddenly, you felt something under the covers spreading your thighs open. You hadn’t even realized you’d been squeezing them together, but as you looked down at the blanket, you saw a hint of red glaring through it as your legs spread themselves wide open. She was using magic to open you up for her. Out of impulse, you tried to slam them shut, but her magic held you there, the red glare dissipating so as to not draw attention to what was happening beneath the blanket.

Be still.

You bit your lip as you felt Wanda’s hand cup you under your skirt, her palm pressing into your fabric-covered core. Your breath quivered out of both nervousness and pleasure when she found your clit through your panties and slowly rubbed it.

I can feel how wet you are through your panties, princess. Her voice was even husky in your head.

You tried to keep still as Wanda rubbed your sensitive nub, looking around again to see that still no one was looking at you. But the fact that anyone could look over at the wrong moment, see part of Wanda’s arm stretched towards your lap under the blanket, seeing shapes inappropriately moving under the fabric, instilled a sense of fear into you that seemed to propel your desire.

Good girl, just keep being still for me. I know how bad you’ve been wanting this. You’ve dreamed so much of my fingers.

God, how did she know? Had she been spying on you?

Her fingers dipped down your fabric-covered slit, tickling there for a moment and feeling the wet spot forming on your panties. You were soaking by now, you could feel it, and it only got worse when Wanda started to push your panties to the side.

You started to open your mouth to tell her no, that she shouldn’t do that in front of everyone at a party, that anyone could look over and see and that it’d be so embarrassing, but her voice was quick to reprimand you.

So what if someone sees? I’ll let anyone know that you’re all mine.

With that, her fingers successfully slipped under the thin, stretchy fabric of your panties and met your soaking cunt. You heard Wanda let out a tense breath as she seeped her fingers through your sopping folds, her jaw flexing again.

You’re so fucking wet, babygirl. Her voice growled within your head, dizzying you.

You glanced around nervously, almost thinking someone was looking at you, but finding that no one was still. You felt so nervous about it, so paranoid, but your feverishness was mostly just from Wanda’s fingers rubbing your bare clit now, moving your wetness all around.

I’ve been wanting to feel your pretty cunt for so long. You just had to wear this slutty little skirt tonight, hmm?

Heat burned throughout you as Wanda’s fingers moved towards your entrance, circling it. You stiffened a little, not knowing exactly what to expect from her. You had to force yourself to not gyrate against her hand, to not turn to her and beg for her to just do it, to not moan out loud. It was especially hard not to do the last thing when Wanda’s fingers thrusted inside you.

“Oh—” you started, until Wanda’s magic snapped your mouth shut. Wanda went completely still, freezing completely. You took a blushing, nervous glance around and nearly died when your eyes made contact with Nat’s eyes.

You froze like a deer in headlights. Nat was staring at you while Wanda’s fingers were inside you for the first time. You were looking her in the eye while your walls clenched around Wanda. You wanted to set yourself on fire.

Fortunately, Nat only gave a casual little head nod and a smile and then turned back to the movie. You knew Nat well enough to know that she wasn’t just pretending that she didn’t see anything. Luckily for you, she really had not noticed anything unusual other than your usual awkwardness around Wanda.

Close call, princess. You almost got found out for being a slut for me.

Taking a shaky breath, your hand crawled around until it found Wanda’s knee under the blanket and gripped it for dear life as she started thrusting her fingers inside you. You tried not to whine at the stretch—it’d been a while for you.

You’re so fucking tight, baby. Wanda’s voice was breathy in your head.

You threw your head back a little as Wanda’s fingers pumped in and out of you, and you could even hear the faint wet sounds coming from under the blanket. It made you feel so dirty, getting fingered like that in front of everyone, and being so wet for it, too.

I knew you were such a slut for me. What if I rip the blanket off right now, hmm? Expose you for spreading your legs for me even in public like a whore?

Gritting your teeth together, you felt Wanda’s two fingers hitting a sweet spot inside you. It was so hard to not buck your hips, to not squirm or moan or do anything but etch claw marks into Wanda’s knee.

And then you felt a more noticeable stretch. Squeezing your eyes shut, you felt Wanda force a third finger into you. This time you couldn’t help it. You threw your head to the side and buried it in Wanda’s chest, letting out a mix between a quiet moan and a sigh that luckily was muffled by Wanda’s sweater. Keeping as still as possible, you inhaled Wanda’s perfume and scratched the fuck out of her knee as she pumped three fingers inside your cunt at an agonizingly slow speed. You knew she would’ve fucked you a lot harder if it weren’t for the sake of being discreet.

“Wanda,” you murmured into her chest, feeling the valley of her breasts from beneath her sweater cushioning your face. “Wanda, I’m close.”

Her fingers were hitting so deep inside you. They were so long, and she was curling them, and she was hitting your sweet spot deep inside, and you could feel your juices dripping down yourself.

Hold it. She commanded.

You didn’t even realize it, but you clamped your teeth around a chunk of her sweater, biting down hard on the thick cable-knit fabric as the woman’s fingers plundered you at a steady pace. You didn’t even know if anyone was looking at you now, and you didn’t even care because your body was starting to tremble as you struggled to not cum all over her fingers.

Finally, when you begged again, she acquiesced with Cum for me, princess.

It took all of your power to not moan out loud as you orgasmed with Wanda’s fingers lodged deep inside you, your walls spasming around them and your hips trembling. She nuzzled her nose against the top of your head and hissed when you bit down on her sweater again and accidentally bit into her breast. She held you still with her spare arm, her fingers deep in you, as you came down from the blinding high.

“That’s it,” she whispered into your hair. “Good girl, just breathe.” You were breathing very hard to make up for not being able to moan. “You were such a good, quiet girl for me, angel.” The praise landed over you like soft kisses until you realized she was also pressing soft kisses to the top of your head.

It didn’t help that, when you had finally calmed down and Wanda pulled her shiny fingers out of you, she popped them into her mouth and sucked off all of your cum. You blushed and dug your face into her chest again, this time purposefully biting her breast which made her hiss again and then giggle evilly.

Luckily, no one had seen you get fingered by Wanda, at least not to your knowledge. Nothing had ever come out of it, at least, except that Tony spread a rumor that you had peed yourself during the party because when you stood up from the chair at the end of the night, there was a wet spot right under where you had been sitting.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen #lizzie olsen #lesbian #marvel #lgbt #wanda maximoff x f!reader

[joelsgreys]

fall into temptation | one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l next chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before. 

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it? 

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name. 

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face. 

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them. 

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that. 

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened. 

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah. 

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing. 

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him. 

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath. 

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol. 

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit. 

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late. 

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head. 

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse. 

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?” 

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig. 

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly. 

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?” 

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?”

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door. 

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone. 

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself. 

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet. 

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening. 

Kent was going after you. 

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around. 

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent. 

That couldn’t fucking be good. 

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it. 

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh. 

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs. 

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two. 

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist. 

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear. 

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard. 

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face. 

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley. 

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more. 

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you. 

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet. 

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it. 

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest. 

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you. 

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face. 

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours. 

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards. 

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.” 

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you. 

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?” 

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.” 

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin. 

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side. 

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted. 

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship. 

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring. 

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls. 

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk. 

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered. 

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar. 

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else. 

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it. 

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world. 

A fucking slab of carved wood. 

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder. 

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt. 

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers. 

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church. 

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger. 

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly. 

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words. 

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him. 

He was right, after all. 

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?” 

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.” 

It had been a statement, not a question. 

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone. 

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse. 

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee. 

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest.  “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables? 

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone. 

Want, sure. 

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther. 

But Joel didn’t just want you. 

He fucking needed you. 

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain. 

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?” 

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you. 

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek. 

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body. 

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.” 

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours. 

You heard him chuckle softly. 

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle. 

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss. 

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking? 

And what about you? 

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it. 

None. 

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench. 

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss. 

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours. 

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you? 

He couldn’t. Simple as that. 

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself? 

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit. 

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further. 

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance. 

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat. 

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt. 

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline. 

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. “Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise. 

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt. 

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else. 

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t. 

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud. 

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.” 

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle. 

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest. 

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t. 

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson. 

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God. 

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?” 

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression. 

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller self insert #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #fic: fall into temptation

[urfavleo777]

joost klein x fem!oc smut

warnings: fingering, language.

The club near the beach seemed to be a favorite attraction for tourists.

After midnight, every corner was bustling with life, people were constantly smiling and exchanging long discussions at the tables. There was no room for lack of alcohol; every table was decorated with at least one bottle of wine or, in crazy cases, vodka. The music playing in the background pushed guests towards the dance floor, where they danced to the rhythm of fast songs.

“It's only our third day and we have already made this place our tradition.” My friend Lena exclaimed, accidentally spilling her glass of vodka. “Fuck! I knew everything was going too well!”

Amber and I burst into laughter as we watched our friend make sloppy movements to wash away the stinking liquid. Amber was really beautiful. She had large, almost black eyes. Quite strong makeup emphasized her delicate facial features and full lips.

We met her on the first day of our trip in the Netherlands. We bumped into each other while looking for a hotel in Noordwijk; or rather, we were saved by her. The taxi dropped me and Lena off at a remote location, both of our phones were dead, so we didn't know how to get to the hotel. The fact that it was only a few minutes after midnight didn't help at all. I remember thinking we would be stuck there forever.

Fortunately, we found Amber on a dark street where she was returning from work. She calmed us down and helped us find our way. We thanked her, she wrote her phone number on a piece of paper and the next day she took us here; to a lively beachside pub. We've been coming here every night since then.

“Come on, I'll help you wash it off. It's a waste of such a pretty dress.” She said calmly, standing up and leading Lena towards the door marked with a triangle symbol. Lena's crimson lips curved into a slight smile and she looked at me, her look instantly revealing her shock and nervousness. Oh, I knew exactly how Lena felt about Amber. She told me that the day after we met, they exchanged messages. I often caught her smiling at the phone, but out of respect for them, I chose to act as if I knew nothing.

“We'll be right back, Y/n. Maybe you'll find yourself a nice gentleman who will make your evening even more pleasant!” A smirk appeared on Lena's face. I rolled my eyes, hiding my amusement.

“Have fun and don’t get lost this time!” Amber called after me and giggled.

“Maybe you'd better not come back!” I stuck my tongue out at them in a mocking way.The girls gave me the middle finger before the door finally closed.

I sighed, taking a sip of vodka, washing it down with Pepsi. I felt the vibrations on my body, despite my fatigue I felt the call of the music. There was a smell of alcohol in the air and the smell of smoke released from time to time from under the DJ console. 

After one glass of alcohol in a row, I stopped feeling tired. A dance floor full of dancing people seemed damn tempting. The thumping bass and catchy beats effectively encouraged me to devote myself to the music. 

Seconds and minutes passed and the girls didn't come back. White light flashed from the ceiling from time to time, blinding for a second. I squinted a bit and checked the time on my phone. 01:01 AM.

Suddenly I felt someone's eyes on me. This may sound funny because, hey, I was just in a crowded club, it's normal for people to look at each other. But this was different, I felt frustrated when someone was staring at me and I didn't even know who.

I looked up from my phone and then I saw him.  A few tables in front of me, a man sat alone, sipping a drink. His blond hair was messy and disheveled, and he was wearing thick-rimmed glasses. Something moved strangely inside me when our eyes met. He gave me a brave smirk that it sent shivers down my spine.

When he realized that I had exposed him, he took off his glasses and put them on the table. However, he was too far away for me to get a good look at his facial features. I noticed that he was holding a cigarette in the fingers of his right hand. He took a drag of it, watching me in concentration. Is smoking even allowed in clubs?

Girl, you're in the Netherlands. I reminded myself.

“Y/n!” I heard someone shouting my name as I turned back and saw Amber and Lena running towards me. When they both took their seats, I had a perfect view of their rosy cheeks, uneven breathing and the abashed glances they were sending to each other. I suppressed a smile with a clear throat. “I'm sorry you had to wait so long. Lena got her dress so dirty that we had to take it all off to clean it.”

Why is everybody having sex except me?

“Oh, I can certainly imagine that. Actually, I’m tired of sitting in one place all the time. How about hitting the dance floor?”

“Finally! I thought you'd never ask!” Lena squealed, grabbing both of our hands.

About half a minute later we were in a different state of consciousness. The colorful spotlights seemed brighter and the music seemed louder. We were jumping to the rhythm of some electronic song, shouting its lyrics to each other. The song was in a foreign language and it was the first time I heard it, so Amber was probably the only one in our group who sang the lyrics correctly. My legs were burning with fire. It's been a long time since I spent such a long time on the dance floor dancing non-stop, but I enjoyed it. 

Now I was much closer to the table of the man who was staring at me with incredible passion.

I looked at him again, and when we made eye contact, he winked at me. The stranger, dressed in black jeans and a gray hoodie, stared at me with an unreadable expression, blonde hair falling across his forehead. I didn't even know his name, but everything about him was suddenly stirring something inside me. His blonde hair. High cheek bones. His mustache. The tattoos on his hands. His smile too. It was something I couldn't look away from. As if I'd seen him somewhere before, but couldn’t recall where.

When “Careless whisper” started playing and Amber and Lena started to get closer to each other, I decided to leave them alone.

I gave a thumbs up to give Lena courage. She smiled shyly and placed her hands on Amber's waist. I apologized to the people around me and left the dance floor, heading outside. I needed to get some fresh air, and more specifically, listen to the sound of the sea waves.

The night was cold and the wind bit at my bare arms, chills running through my body. I sat down on the sand and scolded myself for not bringing anything to cover my head and shoulders. 

I inhaled sharply and then listened to my heartbeat because I was alone. I didn't worry about getting my dress dirty. It was worth it for this view. 

I started to feel dizzy. I felt like I was about to fall asleep. I shouldn’t have drank too much.

"Enjoyed dancing to one of my songs, huh?" I suddenly heard a raspy voice from behind me. I turned around to experience the biggest shock of my life. It was the same man who had ogled me in the club. I looked at him with wide eyes. The moonlight fell on him, making his honey skin shine, while the wind blew, making his hair move gently. Even the moon wasn't as beautiful as him.

I scrunched my nose. I tried to recreate all the songs I danced to in my head. I didn't have to wait long until he finally sat down next to me.

“You're a musician?”

He let out a small chuckle and, oh my God, his laugh was so hot. 

“Yeah, something like that. But lately people have gotten used to calling me Europapa. I guess, I don't have a name anymore.” I laughed at his words. After his hint, I was finally able to figure out what song he was the author of.

“Ah, it's you. I knew you reminded me of someone. In my country, people already made you a global superstar.”  He raised an eyebrow at me and smirked.

“Oh, really? Where are you from?”

I nodded. “Poland, straight from the capital. How about you, Joost?”

I used his name for the first time since I could finally remember it. Judging by the expression on his face, I had to amuse him with my pronunciation because he started laughing. The smile disappeared from my face.

“No, no, no. Mh, I live in Leeuwarden, but currently I’m on tour. Came here in order to relieve my stress a bit. And you can call me whatever you want.”

I almost offered him another way to relieve his stress. It took all my might to hold back my laughter.

“Oh, I feel flattered.”

For a moment I looked at his shapely lips. Of course, he noticed that.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” I mumbled in a quiet voice, not knowing what to say.

“Can I get your name?” He asked finally.

“It's Y/n.” I said honestly, looking straight into his blue eyes. “Do you have anything to explain how you were devouring me with your eyes earlier?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, mentally scolding myself. I really should learn to keep my mouth shut.

I looked up, immediately seeing a wide smile on Joost's face.

“Sorry. You're just so fucking pretty, I couldn't help myself.”

I bit my lip, suppressing a loud moan. I hated myself for how much he affected me.

“Can I?” He asked before placing his hand on my bare thigh. I nodded excitedly, waiting for him to move, which made him laugh a little.

“Mh- yes. Please.” I added with a pleading look on my face.

He dragged his hand slowly to my inner thigh, tossing my leg over his thigh, and made a low humming noise that vibrated from his chest.

Before I knew it, Joost's lips were smushed against mine in a passionate kiss. I gasped into his mouth as I melted against his lips, my hands resting comfortably on his muscled arms as his laid against my warm neck. Joost grasped the underside of my thighs and pulled me off the ground, wrapping my legs around his hips. 

“Joost..” I moaned breathily as his puffy lips attacked my neck, “I need you.”

“Of course you do, who wouldn't?” He teased, leading me towards his car. It was so dark that even if someone had been on that beach with us, wouldn’t have noticed us.

“Such a narcissist.”

Joost chuckled, “You know, if you shut that slutty mouth for once, you'd be so pretty.”

He opened the car door and put me in the back seat. After a while, he closed the door and sat down next to me.

“Oh, Y/n. I will give your body exactly what it deserves.” He said, a wide grin on his face as he leaned down to kiss me once more.

I bit my bottom lip and answered with one simple word.

“Yes.”

Joost wasted no time. He placed me on his lap and rolled up my tight dress. He moved his hands all over my body, making me go crazy.

“Your body is art.” He murmured.

His eyes pierced through mine, his gaze so intense that I almost melted on top of him. My hand shyly reached for his, playing around with his fingers and I moved my eyes down to look at what we were doing. “Is that what you want?” His voice was soft as if to not scare me away. “You want my fingers?” I looked in his eyes again and nodded my head quickly, feeling a tingling sensation on my stomach from the excitement. His other hand came up to caress my cheek and a little smirk could be seen on his lips. 

I moved on his lap when I was ready and one of his hands grabbed my hip while the other one ran up and down my thigh.

“Please.” I moaned, grasping his forearm tightly as I scrunched my face up in pleasure.

His fingertips brushed through my folds, coating them in my juices and I whined when I felt him rub slowly at my clit. “You're a soaking mess, baby.” His voice was so calm, a contrast to how shaky my breath was.

I gasped and he started applying more pressure to my clit. He eased one of his fingers inside me and a soft moan left my lips, my hips moving to ride his finger, his eyes intensely staring at me. “More.” I whined quietly.

“More?” He smirked and inserted another finger, feeling how my walls clenched around his digits, his hand moving to match the movements of my hips, thrusting his finger in and out of my pussy and I could ear the wet sounds it did.

“I'm so c-close, Joost. Just like that.” I moaned louder, locking his fingers between my legs. 

“Cum on my fingers, baby.”

“Oh God,” I cried out as wave after wave of pleasure rocked through my body.

When I was done, he slowly removed his fingers from my pussy, moving them to his mouth, sucking my juices from them, grunting at the taste of me which made me sigh heavily at the sight in front of me.

“Take off your pants, Joost.”

“Of course, baby.” He chuckled, politely following my order.

#joost klein #joostice #joost fanart #joost smut #joost klein smut #eurovision #justice for joost #free joost #stand with joost #joost x fem #joost klein fluff #esc netherlands #eurovision 2024 #eurovison song contest #esc #ebu #europapa #joost klein x reader #joost klein x you #joost klein fanfic #joost klein angst #joost klein fanart

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — second chapter | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus is his own warning, elitism

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coriolanus Snow meets his tribute and lands on a cage and then a car ride with his girl <33

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 i never tasted orange chicken but since @nowitsmissing likes it, that means it's good and worthy for Coryo to eat

Series Masterlist | Navigation | previous chapter!

“I wouldn't sing a note for you if I were her!” - Coriolanus reminded himself of Tigris's words as he waited for the train to arrive. Besides a handful of peacekeepers, he was the only one standing in the train station, waiting for the tributes to come.

He wasn't going to lie to himself, he was terrified. He wasn't sure if he was breaking any rules as he stood and waited. The academy hadn't sanctioned this, but they didn't tell the mentors what to do or not to do either.

It's not his fault he's getting a headstart.

Though he was surprised that you weren't here, waiting. He glees internally. He had already one-upped you and was going to continue to do so.

Snow lands on top.

He was going to be five steps ahead of everyone. No one can take the Plinth Prize away from him and he's going to make this ‘Lucy Gray’ won't either.

If not a winner, she'll create a fine spectacle for the Capitol, with her snakes and voice. Even if some part of him was terrified of her, leave it to Dean Highbottom that he got an insane tribute.

And of course, leave it to Dean Highbottom that he gave you someone who has actual chances of winning. And of the same district too, as if trying to push them both into a battle with each other.

It was highly annoying. It felt like Dean Highbottom was mocking him with this. Dangling a carrot in front of him and expecting him to take the bait and snap. But he won't. You weren't going to win this, and Dean Highbottom won't be getting the satisfaction of the Snows' falling.

Finally, the train had arrived, and with it came his Lucy Gray Baird. She was a girl with a rainbow frilly dress and a mess of brown curls. She was pretty (not as much as you) and had a certain accent when she came to him, asking who he was.

“I am Coriolanus Snow,” he begins to introduce himself with a warm tone, “and I am your mentor.”

He holds a white rose in his hand, pushing his arm forward to offer it to her. A part of him watches in horror as she spews nonsense and tears a petal from the beautiful rose and eats it.

She eats it and smiles at him, “Tastes like bedtime.”

A part of him was horrified, his mind solidifying the fact that Lucy Gray was truly insane. But a part of his mind went back to yesterday when you had taken off a petal of the red rose.

When you had crushed it between your fingers, the red juices of the petal pigmented your fingertips. He wonders if he could take the digits in his mouth and clear your skin of the taint if it would taste delicious with the flavor of your skin. If it-

His thoughts were interrupted by Lucy Gray (damn her!). “What does a mentor do besides bringing me flowers?” Her voice calls him out.

He tried hard not to frown or snap at her. He controls his voice, depriving it of the annoyance he feels as he replies, “I try my best to help you win.”

She hums in response. And before he could continue the conversation, the peacekeepers came in to sweep the tributes into a truck. He tried to keep pace and asked for permission if it was alright to enter but was ignored. So when a distraction was caused by a tribute trying to run (foolish, foolish boy), he entered the truck.

He was being stared at by them all as if he was the animal, and not them. All of the tributes looked more or less filthy, sick, and District. It seemed like only Lucy Gray bothered to somewhat take care of her appearance, with her bizarre make-up and rainbow dress.

Soon enough, he was pinned by a black boy, named Reaper. Everyone around him yelling to kill him, cheering him on, goading him on. Lucy Gray decided to prove herself to be useful to Coriolanus. She was the one speaking up about how if he died, their families would be hurt and that she might need him.

Despite many protests and not being convinced to leave him alone, they couldn't do anything about especially when suddenly the truck gates swung open, and then bam!

Light sweeps in and everyone loses their balance. Falling onto bare, rough ground, landing onto a cage. Coriolanus barely managed to stand up before he realized where he was. A zoo, a fitting place for district animals but not for him. Not only that, he was surrounded by people and cameras.

With his luck, this was probably broadcast live. He felt panic rush in his veins, his mouth drying up and his hands getting sweaty. He was going to make a fool out of himself in front of all of Panem, Sejanus, and You.

No, wait, you were there. His wide, panicking eyes find yours. Just like him, you were in your academy uniform. But you were outside the cage and he was in it.

Never on the same side. You and he.

He could feel his body shaking, an anxiety attack beginning with his breaths becoming shorter and shorter. Just then he could see you form the words, ‘Own it. Own it, Coryo.’ He nods in reply, his mind quietening as he becomes focused on a task.

The Capitol wanted a show, he was going to give them one.

He snaps off the stem of the rose and places it on Lucy Gray's ear. He will never know how your eyes glared at him for that action. He takes her hand his, swallowing the disgust about the fact he was touching District.

“Lucy Gray, let me introduce you to my neighbors,” he said as he dragged her in front of the cameras. The girl had been smart so far, if she knew what was good for her, she would continue acting like that.

He goes near Flickerman, the guy with the microphone and you were standing there beside him. Your arms crossed in front of your chest, your eyebrows raised in an unimpressed way. He only shrugged in response before giving his attention to the cameras.

He lets Lucy Gray sweet talk to the camera. She was polite and playful, playing into the hearts of the Capitol citizens with ease. Then the cameras turn to him, and before Flickerman asks him why he is in the cage. He isn't sure what to answer.

As if you could sense his panic, you immediately take the attention of him with your reply. “That's Coryo for you. Always making an impression. You should look forward to him. And his tribute,” your eyes turn to look at Lucy Gray, a hint of poisonous hate in your look that was hidden by the fake warmth of your smile.

“And you should be looking forward to my tribute too, Jessup Diggs.” You added as you stole the show with your sweet words. The broadcast ended with Flickerman praising you for your encouraging words despite the fact you and Snow were rivals.

He grits his teeth as he is dragged into a car by the peacekeepers. He supposed he was going to be taken to the Academy. He sat in the back seat, waiting for the car to start. He wished he would go there before lunch began, he hadn't breakfast. He couldn't have those damn cabbages again, he would rather tie the shower curtain around his neck.

The car door opens and you slip inside, sitting beside him. His breath hitches as he takes in the scent of your perfume. The heat of your body sweeps into his as your arm brushes against him. “You're crazy,” you said, not looking at him but the ruins of the Capitol outside the window. The car had started to drive back to the Academy.

“For getting a headstart,” he replied, “it's not crazy if it's smart.”

“Smart,” you mock, you turn to him, your face twisted in anger. You spit out, “It's not smart if you die, Snow! Those animals could have done anything to you! During the ride! During the cage! Do you think the cameras or the people would have stopped them? Fuck no and for what? A headstart!? It was stupid.”

Coriolanus blinks as he sees your childish tantrum. He was sure it was because he was going to be the talk of Panem, and not because you had genuine concern for him. He doesn't reply anything to you, despite feeling offended that you called him stupid.

He had been caught off guard, but he wasn't stupid. He furrows his eyebrows but keeps quiet. The silence was heated, and awkward. But it continues to persist, that's until his stomach growls, reminding him of his uneaten cabbage soup.

He felt his body flush in embarrassment. He begins to think of excuses to explain the loud growl but before he can even think of anything, a box is handed to him. You had taken something out of your bag and just set it on his lap along with a plastic spoon.

“It's not poisoned,” was the only thing you said, your eyes now back at the window.

“I sure hope so,” he replied, his voice controlled and his mind glad that you didn't glance at him to see his red face.

He opens up the box to see rice and orange chicken. He devours it as manner fully as he can. It took him a lot of self-control not to moan with each bite. It was that good. Perhaps his mind was subconsciously biased because it was by you. He didn't linger much on that thought.

But his touch did linger when he handed you back the box. He didn't thank you and you didn't ask for one. Neither of you said a word as your fingers laced together with his.

Neither of you said a word when your hand squeezed his, tightly. A warning not to act stupid again.

Neither of you needed to.

Both of you reached the Academy and Coriolanus stepped out of the car.

Time to face the consequences of his actions.

Next Chapter

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#character x reader #x you #x reader #x female reader #oneshot #fem reader #scenario #tbosas smut #thg tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes movie #president coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coryo snow #coriolanus snow x reader smut #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus snow x you #dystopian fiction #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games #Sejanus Plinth #lucy gray baird

[brittle-doughie]

Introducing the Y/N plush! And the cookies and what they do with said plush!

The cookie in the second image are, shining glitter, pomegranate, chess choco twins, golden cheese, caramelon, custard the lll, black pearl, licorice, lychee, komiho, Affogato, lilac, onion, stardust, space doughnut, timekeeper, shadow milk, white lily, snap dragon, pitya, abyss monarch and fire spirit. And if your wondering, the two drawings took 6 hours total-)

The Earthbread Big Seller!

I can tell which of the two took you the longest. I would like to know what it says next to Snapdragon if you can!

“Amazing Y/N Plush! Collect your very own doll to keep. Be the first one on your block to own the amazing new Y/N Plush! Please do not fight over them!”

[A large line had formed at Butterbear’s shop! Cookies of the sea and sky have emerged too to get their very own plush!]

Many fans had considered Shining Glitter’s latest show to be one of her best! She couldn’t take all of the credit though, she had help!

She cuddled close the Y/N plush she had next to her mic stand. She can count on it to allow her to give it her all, as if Y/N themself was watching her!

Having her own plush hold up a mirror for her to help fix her hair up already made itself more useful to Pomegranate than a certain cookie in the CoD.

She took a quick look around before she took it with her to bed, dozing off with the plushie clutched tightly in her arms.

The Chess Choco duo loved that they now have an observer to their chess games in the form of their own Y/N plush! They didn’t expect one or the other to pull anything tricky, but it was nice to have some sort of reassurance that no sneaky tactics came into play!

They split the time in half with how much each of the two got to have the plush. It doesn’t stop disputes from breaking out that had Earl Grey stepping in from time to time!

One of Golden Cheese Cookie’s favorite things to do with her Y/N plush would be to dress it up in whatever amount of riches she can put on it the little doll.

One of her favorite outfits for it is one that makes the plush look like a resident of her own kingdom, complete with wings to match hers. Something she has planned for the real deal when she gets the opportunity!

Carameleon Cookie was so stoked to have a buddy to call his own within the forested areas close to the Silver Kingdom. It sure beats being alone all the time!

He can tell you that he isn’t too attached to the thing as he waits for the actual Y/N Cookie to come by. He just..doesn’t want to lose it, okay?!

It was good to have one of his loyal subjects always around to listen what he had to say! Even if it was just a plush version of them, Custard Cookie III could spend minutes just talking to the plush as if it were a real cookie!

It’s why he considers it as one of his best subjects in the kingdom! Right behind the real Y/N Cookie, of course!

Black Pearl’s Y/N plush is nothing short of the best thing to ever grace her waters. It was down to the very last detail the cookie of her dreams had.

She’d never tire of it, acting protective over the plush, something she’d be more aggressively so if the real Y/N Cookie was with her! The plush will look amazing within her dwelling!

Licorice Cookie didn’t care about Pomegranate’s venom spewing mouth these days, not when he has his bestest friend, the Y/N plush, with him!

He can truly confide his secrets and feelings towards the little plush, like his feelings towards Y/N Cookie, but it better not blab to you! He even uses the plush as a guardian for his diary!

Ha! Why wait in line for a plush when Lychee Dragon could just swipe it from that fumbler, Kumiho Cookie! She didn’t appreciate Y/N Cookie enough, so why not give it to a dragon that certainly will!

Kumiho was not having it though, angrily coming after the dragon for stealing her darling in plush form! She did not let Lychee’s lies get to her, she’s taking back that plush!

Affogato Cookie could just monologue all day to his plush on how he plans to take over the throne one day and Y/N Cookie will join him as part of that dream!

He’d promise nothing but the best life for you with a luxurious life with no worries or limits as he went to caress the plush’s cheek. The best victory would be to have you for himself while that Caramel Arrow Cookie watched! He can’t stop giggling to himself about it!

With how popular these plushies were getting, Lilac was particularly watchful of his. He already called it his own with the lilac scent and he’ll bring down anyone swiping his plush from him.

He always keeps it on his person, both as a precaution and that he has easy access to it to hold and cuddle close when he’s needy. It’s what he would’ve done to the actual Y/N Cookie.

Blackberry Cookie can always count on Y/N Cookie to help settle down Onion during one of her crying bouts, she enjoyed the company from them too. So it was a total win when she received a plush for herself and for Onion.

Onion always liked to go to bed holding both her doll and plushie to ensure a good night’s rest without the fear of a nightmare waking her up, for she trusts the Y/N plush to help her even in her dreams.

Stardust doesn’t mind sharing his Y/N plushie with his friend, Space Doughnut. After all, they share the same trait of seeing Y/N Cookie as a dear friend. Space Doughnut was just as trusting with theirs to Stardust as well!

Space Doughnut does get overly excited when they could play around with BOTH plushies, making Stardust laugh with a smile as Doughnut happily played the two plushies.

Was it really any surprise that Timekeeper Cookie wanted to be greedy and have a number of Y/N plushies? They’re her favorite, why wouldn’t she take them? It wasn’t like the original owners could prove anything against her.

Timekeeper Cookie cuddled herself amidst her plushies without a care in the world, relishing in seeing the face of the cookie she liked all around her. Though it wouldn’t hurt to try and grab a couple more to her collection…and then Y/N Cookie themself!

Shadow Milk’s puppet show was going to be wonderful with the guest of honor being Y/N Cookie themself! Almost! He was able to obtain a plushie from one of his clown faeries and he was absolutely adoring it!

The plushie is always going to be a part of his puppet shows, interacting with a doll of himself that he made. How romantic it would be if the two stuffed dolls danced and smushed together to replicate a kiss! It even made Shadow Milk himself blush at the thought of you and him possibly doing that too~

One of the faeries had gently opened White Lily’s glass case, placing down a Y/N plush they had gotten for her. She immediately grabbed it and clutched it tight close to her, a smile on her face being the indicator that she liked the plush already.

One of the faeries had gotten curious about what made this plushie so dear to her as she reached for it and tried to pull it out of her arms. She had to quickly reel her hand back when White Lily swiped at it, nuzzling the plushie closer to her body, shielding it from any further attempts.

Pitaya Dragon Cookie didn’t expect Snapdragon to enjoy their Y/N plush that much to the point that they whined for Pitaya to hand it over to them. While this was meant to be for Pitaya only, they didn’t mind it as they give it to the young dragon.

Snapdragon immediately swiped it up and flies around with the doll in their arms, babbling happily as they played around with the stuff toy. Pitaya couldn’t help but smile at the sight, it was just like when Y/N Cookie would play with Snapdragon themself…

Abyss Monarch Cookie didn’t find themself going out much, especially for something as small as a stuffed plush. Yet there they were, having went out and gotten a Y/N to call their own.

This sense of adoration they start to feel for this plush was almost on the same level as they had for Y/N Cookie themself. They gently picked it up and spun slowly around with it, was this feeling a sign and not a temporary emotion? This feeling of…longing…

Fire Spirit was so stoked to have receive his own plush that he couldn’t wait to have simmer down first before messing around with it, too enveloped in his own that his hands start to emit smoke touching the plush.

He started to freak out when he open his eyes to see that he had turned the plush into a pile of ash, crying in anguish as he tried to salvage what he can. He went back to Butterbear Cookie with the news and he was generous enough to give him a replacement, warning him to be more careful next time!

#brittle answers #cookie run x you #cookie run x reader #cr x reader #cookie run #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run kingdom #cr kingdom #cookie run ovenbreak #cookie run ovenbreak x reader #crob x you #crob x reader

[theoldsports]

Married | Part II

LINK TO PART ONE

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 5.1K words

FILTHY SMUT 18+ ONLY. oral (m and f receiving), dubcon, alcohol makes consent messy, brutal sex, blackout drunk, bad media coverage, lingerie, exhibitionism (a little), they’re both terrible for each other in the best way possible, possessiveness <3 this one gets a bit dark.

Married, back by popular demand. hope it’s okay. i worked hard, i’m a bit nervous. let me know what you thought. requests always open.

“Not a villain,” Coriolanus scoffed. “A star.”

He inhaled and set his sights towards his next objective. Already leaning in, Coriolanus pulled [Y/N]’s earlobe between his lips tantalizingly. “Now, I seem to recall being promised a blowjob, my Darling.”

[Y/N] sighed. “I had hoped you’d forgotten.”

Coriolanus smirked, inches from her face. “I never forget a promise.” He muttered.

The driver pulled up in front of them with his car and Coriolanus pulled [Y/N] inside. [Y/N] put her head on Coriolanus’ shoulder instead of putting on her seatbelt for the short drive home. She was drunk enough not to care if she was touching him, or if he was touching her. Coriolanus was touching her. He was touching her too much already at her thighs and hips. The pair of them had already broken the touch barrier that evening, but her brain was too loopy to try to push any kind of new/old boundary.

[Y/N] blinked heavily. She was able to tell that Coriolanus was already becoming frustrated with the bulk of tulle that was her black gown. It was funny for an engagement party when she thought about it, since it stood in stark contrast to her crisp white wedding gown. Coriolanus couldn’t seem to figure out how to touch her right under all the fabric as he had then they were standing earlier.

“Is your wedding dress going to be easier to handle?” Coriolanus said into the back of her ear. “This one is starting to get on my nerves.”

“I can’t tell you that. You’re not ‘pposed to see it til you see it at the alter.” She giggled sadly.

Coriolanus frowned. “Ancient superstition,” he said. “I’m not seeing it anyway. You’d be telling me about it. It’s different.”

“Nice try.”

Coriolanus’ frown deepened as he rolled his icy blue ice. “May I ask you something else, then?”

“It depends.” [Y/N] said clearly. Too clearly, really. That was the problem with drunk people, they knew they were drunk, but they tried to prove to everyone around them that they weren’t.

Coriolanus laughed at her expense. She was behaving like a child. He found it equal parts charming and frustrating. “Have you ever given a blowjob before?” He asked too loudly for [Y/N]’s liking.

“Coriolanus!” She gasped, smacking his arm.

“I’m just asking! You don’t have to strike me. Haven’t we had enough of that for one night?”

[Y/N] hated Coriolanus. He made her blood boil. “What does it matter?” She growled.

“I was curious if you had offered because it was a matter of superior ability, or because that was the only thing you had to offer.”

“You’re calling me desperate!”

“I wasn’t specifically, but since we both agree that it’s true…”

“All this was shaping up to be halfway tolerable, and you open your big mouth again. Fuck you!”

“Yeah, I know. You fucking me is what I was aiming for. Yes or no on the blowjob thing? I was assuming you had, if it makes any difference.”

[Y/N] paused. She had given a blowjob. Quite a few, actually. They were very convenient for getting out of a bad situation fast. She didn’t answer. [Y/N] still didn’t have the courage to say that in front of the driver.

“You can say yes. I know you’re not a virgin.” Coriolanus said bluntly.

Coriolanus would know that. Prior to their engagement, it was true that [Y/N] had pulled Coriolanus in for a quick fuck at a University party. She was shocked that he implied he even remembered that for as drunk as she recalled him being. [Y/N] wondered if the two of them would only ever be able to love each other under the influence.

“Can this conversation wait a few moments, we’re almost home.” [Y/N] replied.

“You didn’t have much of a problem back at the party in front of damn near everyone that’s ever known you. Is one driver going to make a difference?”

“FINE!” [Y/N] snapped. “Fine. I have, I give a decent blowie. Happy?”

Coriolanus smiled an uncharacteristically wide grin. The driver coughed slightly and loosened his tie. [Y/N] would have been incredibly embarrassed if she had any dignity left. Coriolanus grinned even wider at his driver’s behavior. His new favorite pass time was seeing how far he was capable of pushing [Y/N] to do whatever he wanted. So far, so good. Her initial resistance before her moment of breaking and behaving even worse than himself is what made this all the more fun.

The driver pulled up in front of the steps to their city apartment. Coriolanus gathered [Y/N]’s long forgotten shoes from the car’s floor. The driver got out to open the door for [Y/N]. Ever the gentleman publicly, Coriolanus ran around the side of the car to get it faster. He helped his fiancée out of the car. A Herculean task when you consider the alcohol in her system and the weight of all the fabric in her ballgown. “Come on, Darling,” he said, yanking her somehow elegantly towards the stairs, “we have business to attend to.”

Coriolanus helped her up the stairs and into their apartment. It was easier than it had been on the way out in those deathtrap heels he had purchased her.

Faintly, [Y/N] heard the door snap shut behind her and the deadbolt click resolutely. She leaned up against the wall. Coriolanus left her field of vision for a moment. When he re-entered her sights, [Y/N] blinked up at him. “Hi.” She said.

Coriolanus smirked at her curiously. “Hello.” He replied.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” [Y/N] started. She took a clumsy step towards Coriolanus and grabbed the lapels of his coat for support once she could reach him. “You’re quite pretty,” she said. Coriolanus began a laugh. “No! Don’t. Don’t do that. I mean, you’re a very attractive man. You are. Too bad that you’re—“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Coriolanus cut in with a scoff. “Here, let me help you,” he pulled her in closer. His hands moved nimbly down her back to pop open one button after the other on her dress while still allowing her to support herself against his front. For the first time, Coriolanus didn’t care that much if she wrinkled his clothes. When the majority of the buttons were undone, her dress slid down her body and landed in a large heap at her feet. What was left under the dress was [Y/N] in no bra (which Coriolanus had not expected, even under the strapless gown) and alarmingly red lace panties, stockings and garters (also unexpected). “I… Wow,” He said cooly. His eyes raked hungrily down her body. Coriolanus had never seen so much of it at once before. “Is there a bra that goes with this?”

“Mhmm,” [Y/N] nodded shyly.

“Hm, I think I would like to see it sometime. This isn’t half bad, though,” He said. He could Coriolanus’ large hands his hands slid down her chest. His hands held her breasts firmly. His eyes widen watching her nipples pebble under the touch of his thumbs. “Why’d you wear this?”

The lingerie wasn’t the most stunning set he had ever seen—it seemed more practical than anything else— though, he could fix that. Coriolanus felt the crotch of his pants tighten at the prospect, knowing that she was already into wearing such things. He was going to call for a lingerie catalog in the morning and buy all of it.

“It’s most of what I wear. I—I like it.”

“I’ll remember,” Coriolanus nodded. She was confident he would remember. She probably wouldn’t remember saying it, though.

Coriolanus stared down at their hardwood floors. He hated hardwood. It creaked too much and only looked good with an abundance of maintenance. Coriolanus wanted [Y/N] to suck him off as soon as possible and figured that she would probably be appreciative of getting it over with faster, but his mind was racing thinking about the unsightly bruises the hardwood entryway would leave on her knees.

Then the bedroom had the issue of the rug and the rugburn that would give. Further, which bedroom would they go to? Coriolanus hated that [Y/N] insisted on staying in her own room. He would have to fix that. She was clearly just as exciting as he had recalled from childhood, it had merely taken them both a moment to get to that level of vulnerability with each other. Coriolanus decided to lead [Y/N] to his bedroom. He also decided he would insist she kneel on a pillow. He hated the look of bruised knees. It reminded him of the war.

While he pulled her along, he glanced down at her. “The tears at the party, were those real?”

[Y/N] laughed in surprise at the question. “No! Well, maybe twenty percent, if that? Because once I get started, it’s hard to stop.”

“Really?” He replied, leaning her against his open doorway. “You’re sick. I’m rather impressed. That takes a lot of… What’s the word?”

“You said ruthless earlier.”

“Yes, that too, but… It’s brilliant that you can do that at the drop of a hat. Very valuable to you. Scary for me, I’m sure.”

“… Thanks. I’ve been doing it since I was little.” [Y/N] replied dryly. She had never seen Coriolanus’ bedroom before. He had seen hers. Coriolanus thought he could barge in whenever he desired. His own room was previously off limits. [Y/N] figured it wouldn’t have been off limits had she wanted to have sex with him before now.

The room was clean, neat and lacking personal items almost entirely. There was a red rug, a vase of white roses on the nightstand and a small desk for when he took his work to bed with him. The bed, specifically, was enormous. It was piled high with pillow after pillow and the softest white sheets she could imagine. It made the bed she had spent all these weeks in look like a joke.

“Yes, as I recall, you were the fucking… crybaby in school until we were fourteen. And you mean to tell me it was fake?” Coriolanus threw his least favorite pillow on the floor for [Y/N]’s knees with a hushed thump.

“I mean, yes.”

“Why?”

“I like the attention.” [Y/N] said plainly. They both knew she wouldn’t have been so open about it without the alcohol, but boy, did Coriolanus desire this version of her. He saw her in that moment, standing mostly nude in his bedroom. He saw her for the first time for what she was. She was real. [Y/N] was a real person made up of a mess of contradictions. She was a very calculating person. Coriolanus saw that ruthlessness and that icy deadness to her. That was exactly the thing he thought he could love the most about her.

“Freak. What else can you do?”

“I dunno. I just… Do what gets me ahead. Don’t we all, Coriolanus? And, uh, when I see someone I don’t like, instead of saying ‘good to see you’ when they say ‘good to see you,’ I say, ‘yes! To see you!’ And I kind of mumble so it’s not obvious that I’m incapable of saying ‘oh yeah, nice to see you.’ You know I hate pleasantries.”

“Freak,” Coriolanus repeated with a smile. “No pleasantries then, get on your knees.”

[Y/N] walked the few steps towards towards the pillow he had thrown down and sank to her knees on it. She was clumsy when she was drinking, Coriolanus thought. More often than not, she was violently ungraceful more often than not. Coriolanus had rarely seen her be graceful at all. He liked that. He thought he’d moments of clumsiness and carelessness were alluring. [Y/N] looked helpless to him sometimes and he admired that. He wanted to be the thing that held together her broken and unsure nature. He thought of all the things he might have to help her accomplish in their future shared life together.

Coriolanus could see himself reaching easily for things she could not reach in the kitchen. He could see her being unable to lace up her winter boots due to the tightness of her dress, so he would get on his knees and do it for her. If she tripped on the sidewalk, he would pull her to her feet. If [Y/N] was too drunk to get up the stairs, he would carry her. When some strange man dared to look at her the wrong way, Coriolanus would kill him. She seemed so fragile and needy to him. Coriolanus loved that.

He needed her to need him. He wanted to be the only thing she ever need.

She was to be his.

“Stop looking at me,” She said. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wow, that kind of talk really gets me hard.” Coriolanus walked towards her, undoing his black leather belt and tossing his coat on the floor. She thought about the amount of excess he would afford her if he cared so little for his own possessions to leave them on the floor. [Y/N] thought about her own position on his floor briefly.

“We agreed no pleasantries.”

“Come on, you’re going to be mine for the rest of our lives. At least let me look at you.”

[Y/N] tipped her head down with a frustrated sigh. He stared wolfishly at her as she knelt half-bare on his floor. She couldn’t help but blush at how exposed she felt. [Y/N] felt more on display and exposed in front of one man, the man she was to marry, than she did in front of every guest at the party earlier in the night.

“Don’t look away from me,” Coriolanus said firmly. “Those eyes are too beautiful to look at the ground like that.”

She looked back up at him begrudgingly, her eyes wide with fear, or lust. She had no choice but to watch Coriolanus popped open the button of his trousers open. [Y/N] could see the imprint of his dick against his thigh. He rubbed himself through his pants for a moment. [Y/N] swallowed nervously. Coriolanus was a broad, imposing man. The size of his cock shouldn’t have been surprising, but her eyes bulged all the same.

Coriolanus pulled his cock free of his pants. Logistically, [Y/N] was officially concerned about offering the blowjob. His long cock was what her the rest of her life looked like. She would surely have to get used to it eventually.

Without hesitation, [Y/N]’s mouth fell open as he approached. Her hands instinctually gripped the back of his thighs. Coriolanus, after loosening his tie, buried his hands in her once elegantly styled hair and forced himself down her throat.

Coriolanus moaned through gritted teeth in sync with [Y/N]’s gag when she took him in. There was little chance of taking all of him down her throat at once. Unsurprisingly, Coriolanus fucked hard and fast. Brutally so. [Y/N] hardly had a chance to breathe through her nose. Fortunately, at least, Coriolanus did all the work by maneuvering her face up and down on his length. He regulated the tempo and the pressure. All [Y/N] could do was try to swallow and hollow her cheeks out as best she could. Don’t think, just follow. I’ve got you, echoed in her mind.

Tears ran down her cheeks. Real ones.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Coriolanus grunted after several moments. [Y/N] raised her tongue slightly against him. Through wet eyes, she saw Coriolanus’ eyebrows lift and his forehead crease when she did. That was effective. “[Y/N]!”

The only sounds in the room after that were gagging and heavy breathing. Coriolanus’ breathing, not [Y/N]’s. She couldn’t remember the last time she was able to breathe, it felt like. She was really blowing for her life here, she could barely catch an inhale through her nose. [Y/N] felt herself get more and more lightheaded and she did all she could to keep her eyes open.

Quickly, she tapped the back of Coriolanus’ left thigh. It was universal symbol for this isn’t great for me. Coriolanus understood this signal loud and clear. He thought he would keep going, but almost immediately decided he would rather have a wife in one piece instead of a perfect blowjob and slowed his pace significantly. Like a good husband.

He got gratification from slowing down too, because he could see the relieved and grateful gleam in [Y/N]’s expression. Coriolanus had gifted her that relief. He was getting close.

“Swallow.” He choked out. [Y/N] turned her eyes up at him again to confirm his request. Coriolanus’ eyes were tightly shut. [Y/N] had no idea if this had been minutes or near an hour. Her jaw ached. She felt his cock twitch against her tongue as she sucked.

That was the last clear memory [Y/N] had that night. The build up of the alcohol that had been genetically modified to be strong enough to get one drunk faster, the stress, the sweat, the tears, the blowjob, the lightheadedness, the dancing, the fear and the anger all happening on one night culminated into a good old fashion liquor blackout.

She had brief flickers of memory instead of a picture of the night. She was unsure if Coriolanus had finished or not. [Y/N] vaguely remembered Coriolanus unhooking her garters and taking off her stockings. She could feel the clean sheet and duvet over her exhausted body. She swore she could recall Coriolanus’ arm over her her waist and his lips against her ear whispering something. If only she could remember what he said.

—

The next morning, [Y/N] woke up to the birds and the traffic noise. All of it sounded world-shatteringly loud. She felt sick to her stomach. What was that dreadful taste in her mouth? Her head pounded. Too much posca at her engagement party. Desperately, she wanted a cup of coffee. [Y/N] groped at the covers to drag them over her face to block out the morning light that filtered through the window.

Hold on.

As she pulled the covers over her head, [Y/N] realized these covers did not smell like her. They smelled of roses. That, and something else more metallic that lingered under the palatable rose smell. Coriolanus smelled like that. Coriolanus’ bed.

Buried in the comfortable duvet, she couldn’t bear to crawl out from under it. She was filled with panic. How had she ended up here? She could feel that Coriolanus wasn’t beside her, so where had he ended up? Had they slept together?

Had they slept together?

The phrase and all of its meanings bounced around in her head. Her hand slid down her body. She had no top on. That was a bad sign. Her hand continued further down her body and landed on lace underwear. She exhaled and let her hand flop back down on the bed. From another room, probably the living room, [Y/N] heard the phone ring. She wished it would stop. [Y/N] rose from bed with some difficulty.

It was clear upon standing up that the only thing that would make her feel better was vomiting. She dashed madly for Coriolanus’ en suite bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet, empty the contents of her stomach for a good couple of minutes. The pressure of her headache decreased afterwards, but the terrible taste in her mouth grew. [Y/N] flushed the toilet and stood in front of the mirror. She had never looked this bad in her life.

Dark ringed eyes, leaking leftover makeup and smeared lipstick, a bold hickey on her neck like a seventeen year old. What had she done?

[Y/N] grabbed Coriolanus’ burgundy robe off the back of his bathroom door and cinched it around her waist. She walked back through his bedroom. Her knees burned a bit with each step. Maybe from the heels she had worn the night before. Her eyes landed on the flat pillow on the floor right next to Coriolanus’ belt. This seemed like a bad omen.

Suspiciously, [Y/N] walked into the too bright hallway light. [Y/N] stumbled to her own bathroom and frantically brushed her teeth before facing Coriolanus. It hurt to hold her jaw open to brush her molars, but anything to rid herself of the salty, stale taste that had taken up residence. Finally then, she moved into the living room.

There was Coriolanus smiling on the couch like he was most mornings after some sort of party. His hair lacked product and lay rich and curly against his forehead. Boxer shorts and an open dress shirt with the sleeves pushed up left little up to the imagination about his body. He was so pale that he practically reflected the sunlight from the open window back at her like a mirror. Coriolanus was perfect, even first thing. How annoying.

“What time is it?” [Y/N] croaked hoarsely. Coriolanus nearly knocked his mug of bitter coffee off the end table in surprise as he reached for the remote. He abruptly clicked off the television.

“Eleven. There about,” Coriolanus replied, vocally calmer than his body would betray. He rose from the mauve couch and moved to [Y/N]. He ran his hand down the sleeve of his robe that she wore. “Is this mine?” He asked softly.

“Yes, sorry. It was all I could find. I’ll go swap it for—“

“Please. What is mine, is yours,” Coriolanus interrupted. “It suits you,” he said with a hand running across his own gold CSB monogram on the breast pocket of the robe she wore. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine, I suppose,” but what she really wanted to say was ‘what did we do last night?’ “And you?”

Coriolanus chanced an animalistic smile. “Last night, you said no more pleasantries.”

[Y/N] scanned her brain for a memory of saying that. She did not remember that phrase specifically, but she did catch a lot more glimpses of her night in her mind’s eye. [Y/N]’s strongest images were her mother’s shocked eyes, the empty glasses of posca, Coriolanus with a red handprint on his cheek, and his hard cock at her eye level.

“Coriolanus, what did I do?” [Y/N] asked, realizing exactly what she had done.

“Which part?” Coriolanus asked cautiously, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her close. Coriolanus wanted her to feel held and ravished for a moment since he knew she would go ballistic at what was on the TV, in the newspaper, and on the lips of everyone in town. She felt like a still from an old moving picture; being held like that.

“How bad?”

“Hm? Oh, your mouth was lovely—“ he tried to expertly redirect with an innuendo.

That assumption of what they had done had been correct. Damn. “No, shut up, stop. The… The TV, the news, the—“

“Do you want to know?”

[Y/N] felt like deflating. It must have been bad. She thought back to how he had turned off the television so fast when she walked in. “I… Will I like what I see?”

“How about we sit down, Darling?”

Coriolanus sat [Y/N] down gently on the middle cushion of the couch and folded his lanky legs into the seat to her right. She looked worried. Coriolanus hated watching other people worry, it was distracting for him and often created too many new problems. He swallowed down the urge to snap at her for pouting like that. He hated pouting too considering how unproductive it was. The blonde man reached his right hand out and used a pointer finger and thumb to tip [Y/N]’s chin up so she was forced to look him in the eye. “Hey,” he said calmly. “Any press is good press.” Coriolanus repeated their mantra from the night prior.

[Y/N] inhaled through her nose. “Any press is good press.” She agreed. Coriolanus nodded and pressed a dutiful kiss to her temple to praise her for that answer. [Y/N] stared at the dark and glassy TV screen. Coriolanus clicked it on.

A fuchsia haired newswoman sat behind a desk with the regular Capitol News studio set up for an morning gossip show. The headline was plastered on a chiron in the lower third of the screen: ‘SNOW HEIR’S GIRL OUT OF CONTROL.’ In the top right hand corner of the frame was a photo of [Y/N] sobbing on her knees in front of Coriolanus’ who wiped her tears. [Y/N] wasn’t able to listen to the grating anchorwoman who was speculating about whether or not Coriolanus should send [Y/N] to rehab.

Coriolanus watched [Y/N] watch herself on TV. He grew uncomfortable when he couldn’t automatically read her expression. He had prepared himself for some tears and a temper tantrum, but neither came.

“What are you thinking about?” Coriolanus asked her. [Y/N] was too still. She didn’t respond quickly. “[Y/N]?” Coriolanus nudged her with his elbow. “What are you thinking about?”

“The headline.” She finally replied.

Coriolanus bit his bottom lip. He kept his voice as level as she had. “Okay. What about the headline?” He asked.

“Well, it isn’t very good, is it?”

“What?”

“It’s too plain.”

Coriolanus narrowed his eyes. “It’s too plain?”

[Y/N] nodded slowly. She finally ripped her eyes away from the television set and looked up at him. “It’s informative, but it’s not eye catching beyond being alarmist,” She replied. [Y/N] pointed at the TV, smiling. “That’s my picture. That’s us up there, Coryo, and that’s the best headline they could come up with? It’s weak.”

Coriolanus couldn’t recall her calling him Coryo before, even when [Y/N] had heard it from friends, family and classmates. She was saying something. He should have been paying better attention, but [Y/N] looked lovely wearing his robe. “Coryo, are you listening to me?”

He wasn’t. Too bad. Coryo. “I got distracted, I’m sorry, Darling. You were saying?”

“I said, please get me a piece of paper and a pencil. I want to work on something better and call in a suggestion for a correction since obviously—Mmph!“

[Y/N] sentence was never finished. Coriolanus leaned in towards her face and slammed his lips against hers hungrily. Habitually, [Y/N] grabbed his biceps as they toppled flat back onto the couch. Coriolanus wasted little time pressing the tip of his tongue against her lips aggressively. He knew he gave into an open-mouthed makeout too easily, but it was so much fun.

Both pulled back after some time for a breath. “Coriolanus…” [Y/N] panted.

“Coryo, please. Nobody calls me that anymore.” He said, staring down at her.

“Coryo, I want a pencil and a piece of paper.”

“You’re crazy. You want to call in a correction on a story about yourself because you want to make it worse. You’re beautiful. I don’t tell you that enough.”

“Then tell me some more after you get me—“

“Not yet,” Coriolanus said. His hands untied her robe like she was a gift box. The best present to come out of this engagement party, certainly. “[Y/N], do you know what you did last night?”

“A few things, at least.”

“Very funny. I mean…” Coriolanus sighed. His hormones raced. He could barely make eye contact with her since his eyes were drawn elsewhere. “I mean, you bulldozed your whole life. You Thirteen’d your life off the map.” he said. She nodded. She shivered at the reality of his statement. [Y/N] had nothing left but ashes. She had burned almost every bridge she had.

Except him.

“Not the part with you,” [Y/N] said. She smiled. She said it to please Coriolanus and it seemed to work. He was much easier to play than she thought he was. “You’re all I’ve got left, Coryo.” That was absolutely true. For better or worse, Coriolanus was inevitable.

“Let me take care of you,” Coriolanus said. “You’re about to be my wife. There’s no one else you need. You’re mine. I’m not going to let you fall through the cracks.” He said.

“Promise you won’t?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Coriolanus said honestly, but he didn’t feel strongly enough to really promise. “Do you like these panties?”

“Yes.”

“Shame. I’ll buy you a new set.” There was a horrible tearing sound and after that, Coriolanus’ mouth was on [Y/N]’s pussy. He licked and sucked for all he was worth.

[Y/N] did not expect Coriolanus to be good at this. All this time, she had disallowed him from touching her because she thought he would be a selfish lover. There was still potential that he was, but fuck, Coriolanus sure was good for this. His long thin nose bumped her clit as he pressed his tongue deeper into her folds and she moaned. Her hands sank into his curls.

“Don’t touch my hair.” Coriolanus said into her cunt.

“No,” She said, pulling on his hair. Coriolanus was irked, but let her do it anyway. He had never felt pleasure from someone tugging his hair like that before. [Y/N] wrapped her legs around his shoulders. Coriolanus used his strong, callused hands to hold her thighs open. He was going to make her cum with only his greedy mouth, like she had for him last night.

Quid pro quo. That was the nature of their whole operation, Coriolanus realized. It was fine by him.

It was still early and Coriolanus had the day off. He was ready to make up for lost time. He was going to make her cum in every room of their home. Coriolanus was addicted to her taste. He was addicted to her mind. All of this felt cloaked in danger; it was too personal for Coriolanus. Oh well.

By day’s end, [Y/N] wouldn’t be able to climb out of bed for a couple of days on her own. Coriolanus’ constant tongue-fucking pulling orgasms from her had turned her brain to mush, but not before she was able to force Coriolanus off and jot down a few headlines of her own while he marked up her neck.

‘GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE: FREAK OR FOOL?’

‘CAPITOL’S GOLDEN BOY FALLS FOR BAD GIRL.’

‘ALLEGED CHEATING SCANDAL SHAKES CAPITOL YOUTH.’

‘GAMEMAKER WALKS OUT THE VICTOR AFTER PARTY DISASTER.’

‘’WEDDING IS OFF’ SPECULATES PLINTH FAMILY.’

‘GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE LIES, CHEATS AND STEALS THE NIGHT.’

‘SNOW’S FALLING (STANDARDS).’

Half of her ideas dripped as moans while Coriolanus worked on her pussy. She was weak enough to do little more than pull his hair and try to clench around whatever he pushed into her. [Y/N]’s orgasm-addled mind finally comprehended that Coriolanus made her better. He made her more creative, bolder, and free from every burden except him. Finally, willingly, [Y/N] gave Coriolanus the last thing she had to give: Herself.

It felt fucking incredible

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst @spencereidbasis @a-mellifluous-life @daenerysqueenofhearts @heavqn @dangelnleif @lapisthelovely

apologies again for the tags that did NOT work.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games #the hunger games #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #ballad of songbirds and snakes #truculent series

[luneaticlab]

AMORE (Chapter 1)

Pairing - CEO!Jungkook x Secretary!reader (female)

synopsis- Never in a million years you thought you'd end up with your boss, in bed.

Word count- 1.4k

IMPORTANT NOTE - Hey guys, this my first fic. I promise I'll improve. love and feedback are always welcomed.

•I do not own any of the pictures•

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

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"come again?"

hesitantly, you repeated the words you said to your bestfriend a few seconds ago "The last time i got laid was 13 months ago..?"

"Girl, are you fucking serious?" Lena, your bestfriend not-so-aggresively threw her hands in the air.

"What's wrong with it? You know i'm not the type to have one night stands and shit" you justified defensively, delicately caressing your 5 month old persian cat, fluff.

"Dude you are in your twenties, you are hot, rich and single, what's wrong with having some fun before you settle down?" all you did was roll your eyes, ready to nag her about hygiene during sex.

"Don't tell me you still have a crush on your jackass boss" alice appeared from your kitchen, a cup of hot choco keeping her hands warm.

you were taken aback, yes, you did have a crush on your not-so-jackass boss, maybe you still do, no one knows, you are too busy with work to think about that. But something about him just makes your thighs clench.

His thick thighs which you would die to sit on, his tiddies who always threaten to come out(thanks to the buttons which do not let them), and his freaking jawline which you want to hold so bad when he kisses you.

Just to be clear the chances of this happening is 0.01% .

He's the typical rich, young, hot bachelor desired by multiple women and owned by none. Somehow you always managed to keep a very professional relationship with him so far. But what's life without some thrill?

"Jeon jeongguk? go ahead , have sex with him then. A rich man is a rich man" Lena suggests as if she's telling you to pick out some roses from the neighbour's garden.

"sure, find me a now job by tomorrow then" Lena chuckles at your reponse.

"Girl, its not that hard, he's a man and he might have needs too, if you really want him on the top then maybe wear some sexy clothes at work, you guys see each other everyday"

"Yeah yeah i'll think about it" you shrugged off the topic, not wanting to discuss it further.

:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。

"fuck!" You finally found your release , turned the vibrator off, took a shower, slouched on your bed releasing a lazy sigh

Yes ,the vibrator did wonders when you got it for the first time, but you've become too used to it, you knew you needed more and by more you meant jungkook's dic-

you pushed your sinful thoughts out of the way and forced yourself to sleep.

:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:.。..。.。o○:

next day , 7.39 a.m

You got out of the shower, fresh and clean. Done with the skincare and your usual makeup (nude lips are mandatory!) .you were about to pick your grey sweatshirt, Lena's words resonating in your ears.

Fuck it, it's now or never.

you put the sweatshirt right where it belonged. Took out a white tube top which covered half of your tits, wore a black trouser matching with the blazer of the same colour of the trouser. A black nano belt bag from celine completing your look. Quickly wearing your jimmy choo high heels, you stepped out of your apartment, you felt confident.

You were aware of the stares you were getting at the office, you weren't surprised, not your fault you look good with a minimum effort.

You spot your coworker Diana at the cafeteria, she waves at you , her look telling you that she's got something for you

"Hey y/n, I've completed the list of the guests we are going to invite at the company's gala, Do you mind passing it to Mr.Jeon? I got some last minute work to do." She asked holding your hand

Bingo

"Sure, why not , I was about to give him his espresso anyway." you smile at her politely before taking the file.

Quickly making your way upstairs, you fic your hair before you knock his door.

'"Come in"

"Good morning Mister Jeon, the list for the guests for our company's gala dinner has been finalized." You said as you placed his espresso and the file on his table.

He looked up to see you, "Alright, thank you y/n, I hope you didn't forget we have to go to daegu today."

You caught him stealing a glance at your chest.

"Ofcourse sir" you smiled curtly before leaving his office, swaying your hips on purpose while doing so.

Jeongguk and you had to go to Daegu today for the monthly inspection of the company's factory there.

Being Jeongguk's secretary was undeniably challenging, but the salary was enough motivation to continue doing your job.

・。゜・。・o゜・。゜・。・o゜・。゜・。・o゜

3.39 p.m

"Mister Jeon, we are ready to leave." You said as you peeked out your head from the door into his office.

He nodded while fixing his blue Ralph Lauren coat as he walked past you , you followed him behind, making sure everything is on the right place.

You looked at him from behind, good Lord he was so damn hot then you looked at yourself. You guys would make such a power couple in your opinion.

"Did you have lunch sir?" You asked knowing he might not have eaten given the fact that he absorbs himself too much in his work once he starts.

"I didn't have time to"

"I figured, I ordered chipotle for you, will you be okay with a burrito bowl ?" Jungkook liked having light meals on work days and he gets carsick easily so chipotle was the best option.

"Yes, thank you y/n i appreciate it." He said gratefully, flashing you a small smile which you could write a whole thesis on.

----------------------------------------------------------

You were driving the car and the ride was smooth, you guys talked about work related stuff. Until,

"How have you been lately, y/n?" Jeongguk asked out of nowhere.you glanced at him for a second before replying "I've been good, pretty much the same since 2 years. working on weekdays, staying at home on the weekends. Oh, and I've got a new roommate – a furry one. Adopted a cat a few months back. It's nice having someone waiting for me at home, you know?"

You have no idea why you are giving a detailed explanation instead of the typical 'I'm doing good' but it is what it is.

"Any special someone in the picture?" He asked, a hint of uncertainty laced in his voice.

You glance at him again in surprise before refocusing on the road, this guy is really picking his moments. "No special someone right now sir, how about you?" He started this.

He chuckled a little,"Not at the moment, not into relationships anyway."

well damn, at least it was worth the try.

You catch jungkook looking at you a lot of times during the ride.

"We have reached, sir." You both get out of the car and head towards the factory.

----------------------------------------------------------

7:51 p.m, Daegu.

It was pouring cats and dogs.

"I think we should book a hotel and stay there for the night". Jungkook suggested while looking up. All of the workers were leaving and driving in this crazy rain is dangerous.

"But i don't have any spare clothes."

"Should we buy them on the way?" Jungkook asked finally looking at you.

"I think we should."

----------------------------------------------------------

You guys found the nearest hotel, and went to your respective rooms.Jungkook chose a package of 1 night+ dinner because you guys didn't eat anything after lunch.

"Let us change then meet at the dinner hall yeah?" Jungkook said looking at you, your clothes were a little drenched, the droplets on your half-exposed boobs were visible and he can see your bra underneath the white tube top.

"Sure , sir"

You guys literally shoved your faces in the food because the meal was ten out of ten and ya'll were hungry as hell.

When you entered the elevator, jungkook looked at you for a second before speaking " Good day today"

You smiled at him. Damn that smile, he couldn't control himself , he brought his face closer to yours, literally a gap of 2 centimeters between. "Can I kiss you?" He asked , it came like a whisper.

"Please" You practically whimpered.

Just like that, his lips were on yours.

To be continued

#jungkook bts #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts jungkook

[foxigemini]

Home Is Where The Heart Is (Orm Marius x Fem!Reader)

Summary: A one-night stand leads to something more.

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex.

Author's notes: This is a request from an anon. I changed the setting, I hope you don't mind. Maybe it's a bit of cliché, but I just found this easier to write. Takes place before the first movie and after the second.

"C'mon, y/n. Cheer up a little, we're gonna have fun!"

That what's your best friend Maria had said earlier that evening and she always managed to convince you somehow. And she was having fun alright. You sat at the bar and glared over at her dancing with the guy she had been flirting with for the past hour, totally forgetting about you.

You sighed and returned to staring into the empty glass in your hand. It was never you finding someone to flirt with. Maria was the beautiful and confident one. All the guys were always looking at her.

*

Orm lifted his chin and wrinkled his nose as he entered the establishment the surface dwellers called a club. Ugh, this place reeked with sweat and alcohol. It was worse than the Sunken Citadel. He watched the drunk surface dwellers on the floor, grinding their bodies against each other. Was this what they called dancing on the surface? Orm scoffed. So unsophisticated. Orm sighed over the fact that he needed to be here. But, it was important to study all of the surface dwellers behavior, to form the best strategy against them. Sure, he could have sent someone else to reconnaissance, but he only trust his own judgment. And from what he'd seen so far, it would be easy to defeat them. They were so arrogant about their own supremacy in the universe.

Orm scanned the area and located what must be the place where he could buy something to drink. He definitely needed it after spending time on this ugly surface. Thanks to his human associate David Kane, he had obtained currency so he could spend a few days on the surface.

"A glass of your finest red wine," Orm ordered the man behind the desk. The man obliged and placed the glass in front of him. Orm paid what he owed and took a sip.

"Yuk," Orm grimaced at the sour taste. This was the best they had to offer? A giggle next to him made him look to the side. There, he met a pair of sparkling, beautiful e/c eyes looking back at him.

"I know the feeling. I ordered the same," you said with a smile and raised your empty glass.

The blond man quirked an eyebrow and eyed you up and down long enough for you to feel self-conscious. You wouldn't normally call a man pretty, but this man was just that with his stunning eyes blue as the ocean. His physique was slim yet muscular in the black trousers and white shirt he was wearing. You smiled awkwardly and fluttered down your gaze. Okay, didn't this guy know when it was time to stop staring?

Orm had seen many surface woman during the past days he'd spent here, but none of them measured up to your beauty.

"Uhm...so, I haven't seen you here before. Are you knew in town?" you asked to break the awkward silence, cringed at your lame pick-up line.

"Yes. I'm just visiting for a few days. Business," the man replied and finally looked away from you. Not that you really mind him looking at you.

"I see. Welcome to town, I guess. I'm y/n," you smiled and reached out your hand.

The man looked down at your hand like he wondered what he was going to do with it, then he took it in his and you shook his hand.

"Orm. My name is Orm."

"Nice to meet you, Orm."

The man finally smiled and you were lost. "Nice to meet you too, y/n."

*

You didn't know how you ended up at his hotel room. Maybe it was the bad wine clouding your judgment about whether a one-night stand was a good idea or not? Or maybe it was the fact that Orm was so damn charming? A bit arrogant yes, but definitely charming.

Clothes were quickly discarded, both of you eager to feel the warmness of each other's bodies. Orm smirked up at you as he pushed your legs apart, his curls tickling your inner thighs as he opened you up, licking along your inner lips. That first touch of his tongue sent sparks throughout your body and you moaned, your body jerking at the contact. You were already swollen, warm, and open for him. Orm explored your pussy, running his tongue up and down, slowly and deliberately, leaving out the most sensitive parts.

Arousal kept building up in your core, your pussy clenching with need to be filled and satisfied.

Orm sucked your inner folds between his lips, tugging at them, then repeated this on the other side, working his way towards your clit. You grabbed his head, burying your fingers in his curls as your eyes flew open, your body ready for the oncoming pleasure. But just when he was almost at your clit, he worked his way back again and you let out a desperate whine

"Orm, please...," you mewled, bucking your hips against him as his tongue swirled around the entrance of your pussy.

"You want to come?" he asked in a teasing tone.

Glaring down, you met his amused gaze and bit your lip as you nodded, your pussy clenching as he smiled up at you. Orm smirked and lowered his head, sucking your clit into his mouth and massaging it with his lips, rolling it gently, teasingly.

"Oh, yes!" you gasped and bucked your hips against him. Orm grabbed your hips and held you tighter as your squirming became more urgent.

He circled the entrance in small, swirling motions, licking the juices leaking from it. Then, without warning, he pushed his tongue in as deeply as possible. You moaned, a combination of relief and anticipation of the coming pleasure. The low moans escaping from your throat spurred him on. He stopped tongue fucking you and licked his way up to your clit, closing his lips over it. You could feel his tongue swirl around in slow circles, with an occasional flick against it as it protruded from behind its hood.

"Fuck, I'm so close...," you bit your lip and cupped your breasts, squeezing your nipples hard. Orm's only response was to begin sucking on your clit to push you over the edge. Your body tensed and your moans became louder, pleasure washing over you as you came against his mouth. Your orgasm was slowly subsiding when you felt Orm spreading you open and pushing two fingers inside you. You were so wet with arousal and saliva that he easily slipped inside.

Orm looked up at you and met your lustful gaze as he turned his fingers upward, the thick pads toward your belly. Soon he found your g-spot and started to put pressure against it in circular motions, a smirk spreading on his lips as that spongy flesh began to swell.

"Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!!!" you cried out as you came again, your body convulsing as his fingers buried deep inside your pussy gave you the most intense orgasm of your life. Your convulsions began to subside, and at that moment, Orm pushed inside you, all of his thick, hard cock filling you up completely.

"Oh, fuck!" you gasped and grabbed his arms as his cock made your body quiver.

Orm groaned and pushed your legs up to your chest, his eyes feral as he started pounding into you at a ruthless pace that took you to your third orgasm within seconds. Orm continued to fuck you through your climax, his grunts filling the air, growing more erratic with each thrust.

"Fuck, I love how tight you feel around me," Orm mumbled and clenched his jaw as he came, his gaze never leaving yours as he filled your womb with his seed. Leaning down, he caught your lips with his, kissing you softly as his cock continued to twitch inside you. You sighed contently against his lips and slid your hands up his broad frame, neither of you contemplating the risks of what you just did.

~ Some years later ~

The next day, Orm was gone and you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed about it.

"What are we doing here?" Orm asked after Arthur knocked on the door to the house they were standing at.

Arthur looked at his brother with a big smile. "We're at an old friend of mine. She always said that if I ever needed it, she would have a spare bed for me. So I thought, what better place for you to lay low than here?"

Orm raised an eyebrow. "She?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "It was never like that. She's just a friend."

Orm gave his brother a meaningful glance just as the door opened. He turned his head around, his eyes widening when he saw the woman standing there.

You were surprised to see Arthur outside your door.

"Arthur?" you said and smiled at your old friend. "What are you-" You stopped mid-sentence when your gaze landed on the man standing beside him. Your eyes widened when you looked into the familiar, blue eyes and a pang of heat rushed through your belly.

"Orm?"

Arthur looked between the two of you in confusion. "Wait a second, you two know each other?"

Both you and Orm looked away flustered and Arthur immediately understood the situation. He chuckled delightfully. "Really? You two? When?"

"A couple of years back," Orm answered and rubbed his neck, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I was on the surface, doing reconnaissance."

"On the surface?" You frowned as you looked at Orm, your eyes widening when you realized what he was saying. "Wait a minute...are you like Arthur?"

"I'm his brothe-"

"Mommy, mommy!"

Orm stared at the little boy running up to you and taking your hand, a pair of bright, blue eyes staring back at him with wonder. It felt as if all air had left his lungs as he slowly processed what was happening.

Arthur stared at the blue-eyed boy with golden curls then at his brother, then back at the boy again, not being able to find his words for the first time in his life.

"I-I...I didn't want you to find out like this. I searched for you for a long time, but it was like you never existed. Now I understand why," you said with a bitter smile and looked down at your son. "And now I understand where Ozia's strength comes from."

"I...I have a son?" Orm asked in stunned shock as he looked up at you then back at the little boy.

"Yes, Orm." You smiled and picked up your son in your arms. "Orm, this is Ozia. Ozia, this man here is your father, and this is your uncle."

Ozia stared at Orm with big eyes and Orm gave him a nervous smile.

"Nice to meet you, Ozia."

The boy didn't reply, only hid his face against your chest.

"He's a little shy with strangers," you said and smiled. "But hopefully you won't be a stranger for long. If that's what you want? To be in his life?"

Orm looked at you and the boy in your arms, and a sensation he'd never felt before spread in his chest. Was it...true love?

"There's nothing I want more," Orm replied and smiled. For the first time in a long time, he felt warm and safe, like he found the place where he belonged.

Thank you for taking your time to read ♡

Tagging: @alishaslibrary

#orm marius x reader #orm marius x you #orm x reader #orm x you #marius x reader #orm marius smut #orm marius fanfiction #king orm x reader #orm marius #orm marius imagine #aquaman fanfiction #aquaman the lost kingdom #patrick wilson

[dear-bunnyboo]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 18+

important note: my face claim will be madison beer but you can imagine whoever you desire. also the songs mentioned are not all technically all madison’s i will be incorporating other songs from other artists.

all the pictures seen below are not mine, however they were edited by yours truly. credits to the owners.

this is my gift to you lovelies for patiently waiting for this chapter! A lot of important events in this chapter… including our very first smut of the series (I was blushing while writing this btw 🥵)

Y’all need Jesus after this fr.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Joe Burrow x Singer!Reader / Brief Ex!Jack Hughes x Singer!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s a busy week for you and Joe— from the VMAs to the Super Bow, you two can’t help but be shameless.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content, smut, cursing, fluff, mentions of injury, tackling, mentions of cheating ex, fluff, alcohol consumption, flirting, media, paparazzi, sexual tension, more smut, victory sex, hair pulling, soft dom!Joe, spitting, oral, choking, Joe motherfucking Burrow

If you are below the age of 18 and or you are not comfortable with the warnings above, please don’t read this!

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐍𝐇𝐋 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Newark, New Jersey - Prudential Center

Flash, Flash, Flash

Flashing lights was all you could see. Each flash earned you a scream and or a holler from all directions— something you have grown accustomed to.

It was a beautiful Monday, a perfect day for the VMAs.

"Y/N!"

"Y/N, over here, darling!"

"Y/N, give us a smile please!"

"Look over here, Y/N"

"Y/N! Over here!"

As the bright lights of the red carpet dazzle your vision, you take a deep breath, feeling the weight of this very moment. Black and white dots now dancing in your eyes as you stayed smiling and posing for the cameras. The crimson carpet stretches before you like a river of greater opportunity, and you're about to dive right in. Your heart flutters in your chest, excitement and nervousness intertwined— you have attended in such events for years now, yet you still can't seem to get used to all the commotion whenever you were in attendance.

The red carpet is a stage in itself, where every step, every glance, every word must be perfectly measured. You reminded yourself to breathe, to savor the moment, to be present. Your a person of talent, passion, and strength, and tonight, You will shine in the spotlight, alongside the people who support you the most.

The camera flashes are like a relentless storm, and you try to maintain that poised smile, the one that you've mastered after the countless times you've stood in front of cameras. You know that every snapshot is a memory etched in time— which is why Y/BF/N dressed you up in the most beautiful dress. You were wearing a pink skin tight dress, a shimmering masterpiece of silk that feels like a second skin with a slit that goes up to your thigh.

Before you could move off of the red carpet, from your peripheral vision you see your best friend directing Joe to stand right next to you and surprisingly he did earning more flashes from the cameras in front of you and more screams from all around.

Joe's muscular arm instantly wrapped around your form, pulling you closer to him— you were practically glued next to him as he stared at the cameras up ahead.

"Joe!"

"Joe! Y/N!"

"Y/N! Joe! Over here!"

"Give a kiss for us!"

"One kiss!"

"Kiss her, Joe!"

Turning your head to look at the man who shouted the last request, you gave him a teasing wink earning a laugh from them. However, Joe had other plans— your boyfriend squeezed your waist causing you to turn and look at the tall man as he was already looking down at you with mischief written in his beautiful baby blue eyes.

"They are begging, lovebug." Joe whispers to you.

Without giving you much time to think about it— Joe gently grabbed your chin in his large hands of his and directed your face towards his, capturing your lips in his, kissing you shamelessly in from of the cameras that were now flashing twice as much as they cheered you two on.

Pulling back, your face was now red and you were pretty sure you could see Y/BF/N giggling at the sideline as she watches with a childlike look in her face.

You gave Joe a playful glare as he chuckled at the look on your face—the same look you gave him when he insisted on going as your date tonight. You were a bit hesitant to take him, not because of the media or the fans— you couldn't give a rats ass about them. It is because the biggest game of his life will be held this Sunday and you didn't want him to miss out on his training days which he ultimately did considering he is right next to you this very moment.

Standing right next to you was your rock, your boyfriend, the famous quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals who is missing the first day of training for the Super Bowl for you. His strong presence is reassuring, his hand warm as he caresses your back. He's here to support you whether you liked it or not, to share in this moment of triumph, and you are so grateful for that. You feel Joe's silent encouragement, his belief in you, and it fuels your confidence even more.

Walking into the grand entrance of the award show ceremony, You can feel the energy in the room, a palpable buzz of excitement and anticipation. The flashbulbs, once a storm on the red carpet, have now turned into a sea of stars among us. Upon entering, you and Joe were greeted by enthusiastic cheers and applause from the fans that are in attendance, and it's like a wave of affirmation washing over you.

Joe's charisma is in a whole other level— to the people who are just now seeing or meeting Joe, his aura is felt throughout. Joe's presence exuding confidence and charm. He's accustomed to the spotlight, but tonight, it's not just about you or Joe, it's about the both of you— this week is both your weeks.

As the two of you made your way further into the venue, you catch the admiring glances and smiles from fellow artists and industry insiders. It's a warm welcome, a validation of the hard work and passion that have led you to this moment. The whispers of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the symphony of anticipation in the air heighten the sense of importance.

Once you reached your seats, you were greeted by more familiar faces in the industry as you politely exchanged pleasantries, Your boyfriend watches you silently as you interacted with people and the way Joe looks at you is a mixture of pride and love, which is a source of strength, reminding you that you're not here alone. They would later turn to him and have the same reaction dawn on their face, it was a mixture of admiration, awe, and intimidation— it was an immediate reaction at this point.

Joe is just that... otherworldly.

The red carpet was a prelude, a dazzling introduction to the evening, but now you were inside, ready to take your seats. Your heart races with excitement, and you can't help but be grateful for the support, for the enthusiasm of those around you. It's a night to celebrate, a night to be recognized for the art you create, and you're eager to embrace every moment of it.

With Joe on your right and Y/BF/N on your left, you feel more at ease with both of them next to you. Your hand is intertwined with Joe's as he quietly looks around the room— a music award show was something he has never attended before and you are excited to take him to more as you watched the stage lights reflect in his crystal eyes.

The night went on, performance after performance were presented. You and Joe were enjoying yourself, watching as the first batch of award were given out— you were nominated to three categories tonight which just so happens to be the three biggest categories of the night

As the evening unfolds, you find yourself in a whirlwind of emotions.

"Here are the nominees for MTV VMAs, Song of the Year."

On cue the large screen in front played the video of the nominee for the category— once the video ended the presenter slowly opened the envelope on their hands, you sat in silence as you kept your composure while your hand grasps Joe's who placed a kiss on your ear before whispering your name as if he was announcing the winner himself.

"Reckless, Y/N Y/L/N!"

The applause, the cheers, and the joy of being recognized for your work are beyond your wildest dreams. You gave Y/BF/N a big hug before doing the same to your boyfriend who later places another kiss on your lips as the camera follows you towards the main stage.

You clutch the trophy in your hands, feeling its weight, both literal and symbolic— the hard work you have put yourself through after the incident with your ex boyfriend.

It was a blessing in disguise.

Not long after returning to your seat, you were yet called up on stage. The feeling of accomplishment overwhelming as you received yet another Moonman.

"The Album of the Year is— Teardrops! Y/N Y/L/N!"

The realization that you've won award after award is sinking in, and you can't help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude—one more to go.

After receiving your second award of the night you were rushed immediately backstage for your performance, Y/BF/N already waiting for you with your performance outfit on hand. There were no words exchanged for you were running on borrowed time, your team running along with you as they followed you around as they touched up your make up and fixed your hair.

You headed towards the main stage to your position on the middle of the stage now wearing a little black number that ended mid thigh, hugging your body in the right places. Your dancers surrounding you as they take their places by you as well.

The beginning instrumental of I Did Something Bad started playing in your in-ear— the stage is set, bathed in an ethereal glow, and the audience hushes in anticipation. As the spotlight focuses on the center, there you stand, the pop star sensation, a vision in sequins and stardust. Your powerful voice, like a siren's call, weaves through the air, captivating every soul in the room.

The music surges, the melody infectious, and you danced with an effortless grace that mesmerizes the crowd. Your energy is infectious, igniting the atmosphere with every note. The lyrics are more than just words; they're a story, a journey, a reflection of your heart and soul— the anger and frustration you felt while you wrote the song resonating across the room.

In the front row, Joe watches with a mixture of admiration and love. His eyes are fixed on you, unwavering. Joe has witnessed your journey, the anxiety attacks, the crying, the writing and recording process, the late-night rehearsals, the raw determination, and it all culminates on this stage. He's not just a spectator; he's a witness to the magic you create.

The applause, the cheers, and the standing ovation that follows the performance are a testament to your artistry. You, with your boyfriend's unwavering support, has left an indelible mark on the hearts of those in the audience, reminding them of the power of music and the strength of love. It's a moment to be cherished, a performance that transcends the boundaries of the stage and touches the hearts of everyone in that room.

Once you've returned back to your seat still in your black ensemble, you shamelessly wrapped your arms around Joe's neck as he stood up for you— a warm smile on his face as he nonchalantly caress your body in front of everybody.

"My baby is amazing— so amazing." Joe praises as he helped you on your seat, his warm hand caressing your back while his piercing blue eyes remained on you, eyeing you up and down.

"Thank you, I had fun." you replied slightly out of breath as you gave him a peck on his awaiting lips.

The last award of the night was being presented as you leaned your head on Joe's shoulder, tired after your performance. The blonde places a kiss on your head as he continued to caress your exposed thigh as you waited for the winner to be announced.

"And the Artists of the Year goes to— Y/N Y/LN!"

The moment comes again as you're called up to receive another award. You step forward, and before you can even move another step up the stairs that led to the stairs, Joe leans in and plants a sweet kiss on your lips. It's a gesture of love, a quiet proclamation to the world that he's proud of you.

"Three for three, baby" he whispers against your lips earning a wink from you.

The audience erupts in applause and cheers, sharing in your joy— obviously enjoying the interaction between the two of you.

"Oh my goodness." you started as you reached the mic that was placed on the center stage. You looked at the trophy in your hands, you continued, "I am deeply honored and humbled to stand before you tonight as the recipient of the Artist of the Year award. This moment is not just about me; it's a celebration of the incredible journey we’ve all been on. I would not be here without the unwavering support of so many amazing people, and for that, I am profoundly grateful." you smiled.

"Thank you. To my fellow artists, your creativity and dedication continue to inspire me. This award is not just a recognition of my efforts, but a testament to the power of music in all its forms, and the profound impact it has on our lives. The path to this stage has been filled with highs and lows, challenges and triumphs. It's a journey that has taught me the power of perseverance, the importance of staying true to oneself, and the beauty of creating music that resonates with the heart and soul."

"I want to take a moment to express my gratitude to all those who have been a part of this journey. To my family, who believed in me from the very beginning and provided the love and encouragement that fueled my passion. To my incredible team, who worked tirelessly behind the scenes, helping me bring my vision to life. To the fans, who have been my source of inspiration and motivation every single day— to my best friend, Y/BF/N who is with me right now, thank you for literally everything."

"I also want to thank, number 9 over there." you started before stopping because of the cheers and screams after mentioning Joe who was watching you with a grin on his beautiful face, his eyes never ones leaving yours. "Thank you for taking care of me mentally and physically when I needed the most, I adore you so much it hurts." you moved an inch away from the mic heading back to your seat before deciding to return "Oh, and to the person who inspired my recent album— you know who you are. I literally wouldn't be here without you, so thank you." you smirked and winked at the camera

Once you returned to your seat, Joe placed another kiss on your head "You're trouble." he chuckled implying at the stunt you just pulled. "You love me." you said without thinking.

"That I do."

Your heart flutters with a newfound sense of accomplishment. It's not just about the trophies; it's about the love and support you have in your life. And each time Joe kisses you that night— it's a reminder that you two are in this journey together, celebrating each other's victories.

Los Angeles, California - SoFi Stadium

It is finally Sunday. Its officially the day of the Super Bowl and you simply cannot handle all the emotions that are flowing inside of you this very moment.

Everyone who is everyone is here in the stadium and the weight of today’s events is now dawning on you. The Bengals are yet again going against the Rams for the second time in the Super Bowl— a team they had lost to during their first Super Bowl game. It was the rematch Bengals fans have been waiting for.

You found yourself yet again in the suite where you were surrounded by a lot of Joe’s families and closest friends. Along with Y/BF/N who sat by your side, Your parents were given tickets by your boyfriend— seated next to your other side was your mom and dad who were busy laughing with Robin and Jim.

As you stand in the suite with your arms crossed to your chest, watching the lead-up to kick-off, your heart is a tempest of emotions. The air is charged with excitement, and the entire stadium is alive with anticipation.

Your boyfriend, the star quarterback— Joe Burrow, is at the center of it all. You can see him on the field, surrounded by his teammates, the embodiment of strength and determination. The weeks and months of preparation have all led to this one defining moment.

In just a few minutes, the American flag was brought out, signifying the beginning of the singing of the National Anthem. The National Anthem immediately resonates through the stadium, surrounding the stadium with careful melodies and vocals, and as the final notes echo, You can't help but feel a sense of pride and unity as the hairs on your arms stood up in both excitement and nervousness.

The crowd roars with fervor, and your heart instantly swells with hope.

Kick-off is a heart-pounding moment, and as the game unfolds, every play feels like a microcosm of destiny. With each snap, you can see the intensity in Joe’ eyes from where you were standing, the focus that's been a constant companion in the days leading up to this Super Bowl.

You were up on your feet the entire time, not taking a chance to sit as if you’d miss everything if you did. The sound of cheers and groans echoes in the stadium as the Halftime show started— you couldn’t even enjoy the performance, all you could think about was Joe.

You wanted him to win— he deserves to win.

The competition is fierce, and as the clock ticks away, your anxiety rises. Every throw, every rush, every tackle feels like a rollercoaster of emotions— Y/BF/N grabbing your hand in hers to stop you from potentially ripping your hair out from all the anxiety this stupid game was giving you.

You had a love and hate relationship with football— even more so now that your watching your boyfriend get tackled to the ground.

Then, it happens.

In the final moments of the game, with the score tied; 34-34— which got you gnawing on your lower lip. Joe takes the snap. He surveys the field, and as he releases the ball, time seems to slow down— everyone collectively held their breaths as you watched the ball as it spirals through the air, a graceful arc, and then— with a breathtaking touchdown, the stadium erupts in deafening cheers.

You watched as the rest of the team ran towards Joe as they celebrated on the center one the field— your vision starting to get blurry. It took you long to realize that you were indeed crying, a warm hand caressed your back— turning around you were met with Joe’s mom who was crying herself, she pulled you in for a hug as your family and Joe’s celebrated.

Joe has done it. The last touchdown. Your boyfriend has become the Super Bowl champion. You can hardly contain your joy, and tears of elation filled your eyes once more. The victory is not just his; it's a triumph of dedication, teamwork, and unwavering commitment. You know that this moment will be etched in his memory forever, and you couldn't be prouder. It's a celebration of dreams realized, of hard work paying off, and it's a testament to the power of never giving up. This is a moment we'll cherish for a lifetime, a moment that makes all the sacrifices and struggles worthwhile.

Later that evening you’ve found yourself snuggled in Joe’s side as he listened to Kid Cudi perform at the after party. You and Joe stood by the stage, his arms wrapped around you while you two bobbed your head to the beat— Y/BF/N was on the dance floor dancing her little heart out while both your parents and Joe’s parents already left an hour ago.

As the party roars around you, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming mix of excitement, joy, and anticipation coursing through in your veins. The Super Bowl win was not only a victory for Joe but the entire Bengals organization as well, who are all found in the room enjoying the party that’s being taken place.

It had been a rollercoaster ride of emotions throughout the game, but now, amidst the celebration, your attention was solely focused on Joe and his on you— you two couldn’t get your hands off of each other. The mixture of the adrenaline from the win and the slight buzz from the alcohol making the two of you bold— completely uncaring of the cameras that surrounded the the two of you.

“So, lovebug, I suppose my touchdown wasn't the only thing that left you breathless tonight.” Joe began, his smirk etching itself on his face as he looked down on you.

“Oh, please, Joe. Don't let that Super Bowl win get to your head. But I can't deny, you definitely scored some major points out there.” You rolled your eyes playfully at the blonde who simply chuckled.

Joe leaned towards you even closer, his lips now touching your ear, “Well, they say a victory is always sweeter when you have someone special to celebrate with. And speaking of sweet, you're looking absolutely irresistible tonight.”

Your eyes lightens at every word that came out of Joe’s mouth. “You know, I couldn't take my eyes off you the entire game. Every time I saw you in the suite cheering for me, it gave me the extra boost I needed. You're my lucky charm, babe.” he mutters kissing your cheek.

A playful twinkle in your eye shone against the colorful lights of the club as you looked up at your boyfriend, “Lucky charm? Well, don't go thinking I'll be letting you forget that easily, Mr. Superstar. But if I am your good luck charm, then I guess you owe me a victory dance, right?”

“Oh, absolutely. But let's save that victory dance for somewhere more private.” Joe smirks as he watched your brain short circuit— he wasn’t talking about dancing anymore that’s for sure.

With each passing moment, your playful banter and flirtatious glances intensified. The electricity between the two of you seemed to crackle in the air, heightening the already electric atmosphere of the party. As you moved through the crowd to get another drink, you couldn't resist stealing stolen moments with Joe—brief touches, whispers of affection, and mischievous grins exchanged from across the room.

Throughout the night, you found yourself falling even deeper in love, cherishing every stolen moment that reaffirmed their connection. It was a celebration of the Bengals’ success— Joe’s success. In that moment, as the two of you continued to flirt and revel in the team’s victory, you knew that love and football had collided to create a truly magical and unforgettable night.

Every interaction with Joe sent a thrill through your heart. You found herself becoming more aware of his presence, his touch, his infectious smile. The way he looked euphoric, lightly drenched in sweat and adrenaline, only added to the magnetism between you. You found yourself across the room from him— talking to your best friend, however, your eyes locked, speaking volumes without a single word being uttered. Each glance whispered promises of a future filled with shared victories, celebrations, and unwavering support.

The tension was palpable— it was suffocating you.

And it continued suffocating you until you and Joe got back to your hotel suite.

Upon entering the room, you and Joe kept quiet— uncharacteristic for the both of you considering how much you two talk when you are together— yet it was quiet, it was painful.

You carefully removed your heels off your feet, leaving them bare as you crossed to the room towards the edge of the bed. You started removing the jewelry you were wearing, carefully and placing them on the bedside table.

It was still quiet.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You knew he was watching you— Joe was stood behind you, leaning against the wall as he eyed you from behind, watching your every move like a predator does to his prey. The heat from his gaze is something you could physically feel on you— but you remained unfazed while you continued removing your jewelry.

The sound of Joe walking towards you made you slightly jump in place, trying to keep your composure— you kept your back towards him.

Joe now stood right behind you, his tall stature towering you from behind as you removed your earrings, placing them on the bedside table along with the rest of your jewelry. You can feel the heat of his body from behind you as it radiated off of him like fire. Slowly, Joe’s fingers caressed your neck as he placed kisses on your neck. “We have a lot to celebrate, lovebug.” he whispered against your neck.

“What else is there to celebrate that is more important then you winning the Super Bowl?” you mangaged to breathe out as you leaned back closer to him as he played his fingers through your hair.

He moved closer and you felt yourself melt into him even more as he wrapped his arms around your waist before slowly dragging his large warm hands against your thighs. “First, our relationship being official— finally. Second, is for all the awards you won last Monday. And then we can celebrate for the Super Bowl.” Joe summarizes as he started nipping at the flesh of your neck.

You trembled from the feelings of desire coursing though your body as you continued listening to Joe who’s hands were now inside your dress, however, he simply continued caressing your thighs, teasing you. “How are we gonna celebrate then, Joey?” you released a shaky breath earning a chuckle from your boyfriend, his laugh feeling like vibrations from your back.

“Three celebrations— which means we can start with my fingers, then my mouth, then I’ll finish you off on my cock, how about that, huh?” You physically shook in response, struggling to get a word out.

Your hands pressed against the base of his forearms as Joe moved you with him to sit on the edge of the bed with you now placed on his lap, your back still pressed against his front.

“I asked you a question, lovebug.” Joe’s stern voice entered your ear as he playfully nipped at it causing you to clench your thighs together.

“I- I think I’d like that very much, Joey.” You managed to muster out as you closed your eyes, leaning your head back towards Joe’s shoulder while he continued to caress your body.

“Good girl.”

Good God, you were gonna pass out— you just unlocked Pandora’s box.

A surge of need and confidence surge in you, you turned around to face Joe slowly, now holding his gaze. Your eyes were dark with passion as you kissed him deeply, your tongues dancing together. Joe’s hands slid down your arms, over your breasts and back down to your waist.

His hands gripped your hips as he pulled you even closer to him. His tongue pushed deeper into your mouth as his lips crushed against yours. “Fuck, I wanted you the second your eyes caught mine when you were singing the National Anthem.” he confessed which shocked you considering that was the very first time you laid your eyes on each other— Joe wanted you from the get-go.

Joe broke away from the kiss only to stare into your eyes again. He looked deep into your eyes as if searching for something. He smiled as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, "I've been wanting you since the moment I saw you." Joe repeated once more as he saw your reaction to his statement— you felt your pussy throb in anticipation.

You bit your lip as you tried to compose yourself. "Well, we're not going to waste any time, are we?" you asked seductively as you looked up at Joe with doe eyes.

Joe chuckles darkly at your change in attitude, “No, we’re definitely not.”

Joe pushes your body down onto the bed as kneeled down between your parted legs. His baby blue eyes now darken with lust as he watches you— teasingly he kisses your thighs all the way back up to your lips as he rips your tight dress off your body, leaving you in your underwear that Joe immediately rips off of you as well.

“Joe! I liked that dress!” you gasped and lightly glared at the blonde.

“I’ll buy you a whole damn clothing store— don’t worry.” Joe grunts as he eyed your now naked body before undressing himself.

His hands caress your body as he moves them over your stomach and up to your breasts. Joe leans in and sucks on one of your nipples causing you to moan loudly. His hand moves to the other breast as he begins to squeeze it, pinching the hard nipple between his thumb and index finger. You squirm under him as you feel yourself dripping in anticipation.

Joe takes his hand away from your breast grabs your leg and lifts it up so that he can push your knees apart. You feel his hot breath on your pussy as he licks your clit. You moan loudly as you feel his tongue probe your pussy. His tongue flicks against your pussy lips causing you to shudder.

Joe uses two fingers to spread your pussy open as he begins to tongue fuck your pussy. The sensation is incredible as his tongue works its magic on your clit. You close your eyes as you begin to lose control. Your body shakes as you orgasm from his talented tongue. Joe moves his tongue out of your pussy as he looks up at you— watching you with narrowed eyes.

He smiles as he sees the look of pure ecstasy on your face. "You taste so good." he says as he moves his head back down to your pussy. Joe licks and sucks your pussy as his fingers slide inside of you.

He starts to finger fuck you as he licks your clit before spitting on it. He pulls his fingers out of your pussy and brings them to your mouth. "Taste how wet you are." he demands as he slides his fingers inside of your mouth. You suck on his fingers as you taste your own juices. You moan softly as you feel another orgasm building. Joe continues to lick your pussy as he slides a third finger into you.

He fucks you with his fingers slowly as he licks your pussy. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and slides them back inside of you. "You like that?" he asks as he fucks you faster. "Yes, please don't stop." you begged.

Joe smirked as he picks up the pace. You feel your orgasm coming closer as he fucks you harder. You grab hold of the sheets as your whole body begins to shake. Joe slows down as he feels you cumming.

You bite your lip as you feel your orgasm subsiding. Joe looks up at you as he continues to slowly finger fuck you. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks. "No, no, keep fucking me. I want more.” you reply.

You were addicted.

Joe climbs on top of you and kisses you deeply. You kiss him back as you feel his cock rubbing against your pussy. You wrap your legs around his waist as he pushes his cock deep inside of you. You moan as he enters you fully. Joe thrusts his cock in and out of your pussy. You wrap your arms around his neck as he fucks you. You moan loudly as you feel another orgasm building. Joe reaches down and rubs your clit as he fucks you.

"Oh god yes!" you scream as you explode in another orgasm. Joe continues to fuck you as you cum. You feel another orgasm approaching as Joe thrusts into you faster.

Joe didn’t give you enough time to think, he pulls his cock out of your pussy before he grabbed your legs and lifts them over his shoulders. You wrap your arms around his neck as he drives back into you. "Fuck me harder!" you demand. He rolls you over onto your stomach— He spreads your legs apart as he climbs between them. He pushes his cock back inside of you. You moan as he fucks you harder. “I love fucking you." he says as he thrust in you.

"Me too." You moaned as Joe continued to pound into you, drilling you down the bed. “Oh god! I'm gonna cum!" you scream as you explode in another orgasm as Joe finished in you as well.

Joe pulls his cock out of you before getting off of you to lay next to you. You look into his eyes as he smiles. "That was– crazy. You’re crazy" you giggled earning a laugh from your boyfriend who smiles as he wraps his arm around you.

“The whole hotel knows that now.” Joe stated almost smug.

“Joseph Lee Burrow!” You smacked his bare chest as he gave you another heartily laugh, gently tickling your sides. “I’m kidding— we have a private floor, baby.” Joe reassured you.

“You’re fucking shameless.”

“You and me both, pretty girl.”

dividers: @cafekitsune

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[just-jordie-things]

blue orchids and white lies - nanami kento

word count: 5.2k warnings: none ? summary: nanami's never cared much for flowers until he steps foot in her shop and suddenly he's an avid gift giver of luxurious bouquets. a/n: this is for the anon that sent me a brainrot so good i blacked out, wrote this, and will prolly receive hate in the future as it's the only nanami piece i will (probably) ever write </3 ___

The first time Nanami Kento steps foot into that tiny flower shop, he treats it more as an errand than anything else.

Shoko was throwing a little get-together later that evening- something about a creepy discovery she’d made during an autopsy that excited her, truthfully Nanami tried not to pay too much attention to the gruesome details she’d shared- and he didn’t want to show up empty handed.  Utahime had already declared she was bringing the champagne, Gojo covered the catering from some fine dining restaurant Nanami had never even heard of, and it seemed as though flowers were the best he could come up with.

Still, being the thoughtful gentleman he was, he figured he might as well splurge on a well crafted bouquet, rather than the cheap banded wilting things at the grocery store.

Despite being right next door to his favorite bakery in Tokyo, he’d never had an interest to poke around the little shop.  There had never really been an occasion for him to buy flowers, and he wasn’t exactly the kind of guy to pick some up just to freshen up his office or dining room table.  If anything, once the little bell above the door jingles to signal his entry, he feels incredibly out of place.  The shop is tiny, and covered nearly ceiling to floor in bright blooms of plants he’s never even seen before.

A soft but cheery “Welcome in!” comes from the wall where there are two clerks working away with nothing short of joy on their faces.  The first is cashing someone out at the register, handing over a plastic wrapped bundle of what he assumes are tulips but he’s not quite sure.  The other being the one who greeted him, and-

Nanami freezes, which is out of character enough to make his face feel warm and his heart stutter in his chest.  The other clerk, a woman who seemed to be playing rather than working on the bouquet before her.  As quick as she was to welcome the new customer, she was just as quick to return to rearranging the bundle of purple and white flowers before her.  She doesn’t even seem to notice the way Nanami stands in the doorway struck by awe as he watches her over-analyze the way each petal pushes against one another.

After a second too long of staring he realizes how creepy he’s being, and he makes a beeline for the opposite side of the shop, hoping no one around caught the way he’d shamelessly stared at a complete stranger, much less a woman simply trying to do her job.  She didn’t need some random customer ogling her- he wasn’t Gojo.

He pretends to glance over the array of pre-arranged bouquets on the far wall.  Pretend, as in technically he’s looking at them but he’s not really paying any attention.  His mind is still buzzing with that lingering haze of love at first sight wondrous surprise.  Eventually he settles for an arrangement of red roses.  Roses were always a safe bet to go with, right? It’s not like Shoko screamed ‘flower lover’ in her offputting demeanor.  As he’s carrying the bouquet to the front, he’s starting to second guess the whole thing.

Shoko would definitely smirk in his face for bringing such a silly gift to her party.  She’d probably start laughing if he told her that he was purposefully waiting for the pretty clerk who’d greeted him to cash him out- wait, what-?

“All set?” 

He tries to cover the way his eyes widen when she slides the project in her vase aside and beckons him to step up to his counter.  The other counter was completely open, and he could feel the way the second clerk stared at him in bewilderment as he’d ignored the universal sign for ‘my register is open’.  But Nanami is not as smooth as he’d like to be, and he can tell by the uptick in the corner of her mouth that she’s amused by his frozen stature.

“Yes- yeah, just this,” He feels like a teenager for stammering over his words, but she pays it no mind.  Her movements are overly gentle as she takes the bundle of roses from his hands, treating the bouquet with the utmost care, as though it were a newborn child.

His eyes glance down the nametag on her apron quickly, hoping she wouldn’t notice his sudden urge to put a name to the pretty face.  (y/n).  Certainly fitting.  Even her apron is embroidered with little colorful threads of cartoonish flowers.  Peeking at the apron of the other employee and finding nothing but a little bee pin secured next to their name tag, he wonders if she embroidered those flowers herself.

“These are beautiful, they’re going to love them,” She’s speaking again and Nanami finds himself standing up a little straighter.  “Would you like them wrapped up in a special way? I have tissue and ribbon” She offers with a smile that has all of the blood rushing towards his face.  He prays it’s not  noticeable.

“Uh- that’s probably not… no, I don’t think so” He replies awkwardly, and she can’t help but laugh a bit at his uncertainty.

“First time buying flowers for someone?” She asks, and he watches as she pulls open a drawer beside her and plucks out a sheet of white tissue paper with just the faintest bits of glitter sparkling on it.

“That obvious?” He mumbles, and he hopes it comes across more playful than embarrassed, but deep down, Nanami knows it’s the latter.

(y/n) chuckles again, expertly crafting the tissue to fit around the bouquet in a flattering way.  She makes it look easy, the way the paper folds to her will neatly.  It’s a simple task, but Nanami knows if he’d tried it himself, the tissue would wrinkle and it wouldn’t look nearly as flattering as she presents it.

“You’re not the first man to pick out the first bouquet of roses he sees,” SHe teases gently.  “No offense though, these are gorgeous.  I have to say I really outdid myself” 

“You grow them all yourself?” Nanami asks, and instantly regrets it.  Is that a stupid question? Do all florists grow their own supply? He hadn’t a clue on the inner workings of the flower market.

“I sure do!” Her reply is cheerful, and the question seems a little less stupid.  “There’s a greenhouse out back, but between you and me,” She lowers her voice like she’s about to tell him a grave secret.  Her eyes lock on his with an intensity Nanami thinks could rival Gojo’s.  “My best work comes from my own garden at home” She confesses.

Nanami can’t help the way it cracks a smile out of him, especially when she grins widely and finishes up his bouquet with a pretty string of red ribbon.  Even the way she curls it with the sharp edge of a pair of shears is done to perfection.  He really had to hand it to her for her craftsmanship.

He pays, making sure to tip a generous amount on the card reader, even if it is purely because she’d seemed to sweep him off his feet in less than two minutes of conversation.

“She’ll be very excited to receive these, they’re absolutely perfect” (y/n) says, handing the bouquet back to him with just as much grace as before.  Nanami finds himself moving slowly, careful not to crinkle a single edge of the tissue.

“I don’t know about that, I don’t think she even likes flowers,” Nanami says as he glances over the red petals smiling up at him.  The implication of the statement doesn’t hit him until a moment too late, and he looks back up at (y/n) almost too quickly, his eyes widened slightly as he tries to backtrack.  “She’s a friend- a, uh, colleague sort of friend.  She’s celebrating something and I… really didn’t know what to bring” It’s a lame explanation, and he finds himself fubbing the back of his neck and hoping he doesn’t come across like some slimy liar trying to cover his tracks.

“Oh! I see.  I just assumed, because, you know…” (y/n) laughs softly as she gestures to the roses.  Nanami follows the gesture before glancing back at her, his confusion evident.  “Cause roses are usually a symbol of romance.  Well, the symbol of romance, really” She explains.

His eyes widen further and she can’t help but laugh a little more.  Everything about her new customer amused her, and she didn’t usually spend so much time chatting with people that weren’t trying to chat with her, but she couldn’t help but want to drag the conversation on just a little bit longer.

“Oh god,” Nanami mutters, staring down at the roses with a newfound dislike for them.  “They’re going to laugh at me” 

“No, no, they won’t,” (y/n) quickly shakes her head.  “I’m sure your friend will think it’s sweet.  She’ll understand.  It’s a very kind gesture” 

He can tell just by looking at her that her words are genuine, she’s not just saying them to make him feel better.  Her eyes gleam as she nods at him encouragingly.

“Alright,” He sighs, giving the roses one last once over to make sure he’s not making a grave mistake.  “But if they laugh I’m not getting the fancy paper next time” 

Her cheeks bloom with color, next time, she repeats in her mind, and there’s an undeniable flutter in her chest at the sentiment.  She nods back at him with certainty.

“If they laugh, then I’ll help you pick out an appropriate bouquet, next time” She promises, and again he can’t explain it, but Nanami knows she absolutely means it.

His smile is soft, so unbelievably velvety soft as he nods and bids her a good day before making his way back out of the shop.

That night as expected, Shoko does make a weird face when he offers up the bouquet of flowers.  She gives him a tease he sees coming from a mile away- ‘Kento, flowers? I didn’t think you would know where to find these’- which makes the rest of the group laugh as well.  He decides he’ll gloss over that fact on his next visit to the flower shop. ___

His second visit to the flower shop, he realizes too late that he doesn’t have a decent reason for picking up a pricey bouquet of flowers.  As he wanders around aimlessly while (y/n’s) busy wrapping another pretty bundle for a customer, he thinks maybe she wouldn’t even ask what the occasion is.

“Hey,” 

And then she’s standing right next to him as he’s eyeing a clump of purple bundles that smells divine.  The smile on her face is one of clear recognition, and it makes his chest warm that she’d remember him, much less approach him first.

“So, what’s the special occasion this time?” 

And of course her first question is that one.  He would smack a hand to his face if it wasn’t so embarrassing.  She’s probably asking because he failed so miserably at picking out a proper bouquet last time, and he has to give her credit for offering him help, even though he’s struggling to come up with a half decent response.

But before he can stop himself, he’s saying,

“It’s my mom’s birthday” 

Which is an odd choice of lie.  He hadn’t seen his mother in years, and her birthday had passed months ago.  But that’s what he comes up with, and it’s not exactly the worst lie, but the cringe he makes as soon as it leaves his mouth isn’t all that hidden.

“That’s nice,” (y/n) beams at the thought.  “Do you know what she likes?” 

The way his face pales answers her question plenty, and she chuckles a bit as her eyes begin to wander the shop.  “No problem, I have just the thing,” She beckons him to follow her as she wanders off a bit.  “She’s an aquarius, so the safe bet is orchids,” 

He’s not even sure what she’s saying, but he nods along like he understands perfectly.

“I have these, if you like white,” She suggests, and he eyes the pretty thin stems with white flowers budding off of them.  Oh, so those were orchids.  Then her eyes light up, and without thinking, she reaches out and places a hand on his arm with her excitement.  “But I just brought in some blue ones from home, it was too cold to keep them there, would you like to see those?” 

He actually doesn’t need any flowers at all, so worrying about the color was far from his mind.

“Blue sounds lovely” He gives her a nod and as he thought she might, she grins before rushing off to the back of the shop.  He blames the way his skin tingles from where her tough had just left him even from under two layers of clothes.

As he slowly makes his way to the front to await her blue orchids, he glances around the shop a bit more.  Every single plant his eyes land on looks like they’ve been loved to the fullest extent.  Bright blooms of color cover every inch of space, every counter, shelf, and hook on the ceiling has a well loved clump of flowers occupying it.  Nanami can name roses and daisies, and he thinks the purple flowers he’d been eyeing earlier was lavender, but most of what fills this shop looks like a completely new plant he’d never discovered before. 

He wonders how much of her life (y/n’s) spent mastering her craft, because clearly, not a single sprout of life looks untouched or forgotten.

“Here you are,” She comes back out with a beam even wider than before as she holds up her precious blue orchids proudly.  “Beautiful, aren’t they?” 

He hums in agreement, his face warm as he barely even casts a glance at the bundle in her hands.  It might be obvious and cheesy, but he can’t exactly help it.

“Or were you looking at something else?” (y/n) asks, nodding to the hanging pot his eyes had been focused on before she’d come back out.  “The star jasmine is also lovely, but they can be tough to take care of at first” 

Again, he barely casts his gaze towards the pot before he’s turning back to her again, an amused little smile on his face.

“Could you really name every plant in here?” He asks, and he knows it’s a dumb question by the way she laughs, loudly, as if he’d made the funniest joke she’s heard in ages.

“Of course I could, it’s my job” She reminds him, and he nods, humming to himself thoughtfully as his gaze flickers across the shop.

“How about those then?” He points to a small pot of pinkish-purple flowers challengingly.  (y/n) glances at them before turning her attention back to him, raising a brow.

“Those would be cosmos” She says slowly, but matter of factly.  Nanami doesn’t necessarily have a way to fact check her, so he quickly points to another pot.

“And those?” 

“Gazanias” She barely had to look at them to give him her answer.

Nanami sighs as he turns back to her in defeat, and her smile crinkles the corners of her eyes.

“Not much fun of a game, is it?” She teases with a quiet laugh.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have underestimated you” He replies, and she shrugs a shoulder at him, her eyes falling to her prized blue orchids in her hands.  Absent-mindedly, she pokes and prods at a few stems, ensuring they were healthy before she passed them off to the handsome customer.

“It’s been a slow afternoon, you could have underestimated me a little longer if you’d like,” She says, only half joking.  Nanami breathes out a laugh of amusement.  He’s not sure if she’s flirting with him or just being playful, but from the way his heart skips a beat he certainly hopes she is flirting.  “Anyways,” (y/n) clears her throat, reminding herself to go back to the task at hand.  “I think your mother would adore these.  I certainly do” 

“Those it is, then” He affirms, and she eagerly circles around the counter, already gathering a few pieces of tissue paper she deemed pretty enough to pair with the rich blues of the flower.

“So now you’re a flower-gifting kind of guy, hm?” She asks him as she carefully wraps the thin sheets around the stems of the orchids.  “The roses must’ve gone over well, then?” 

Nanami chuckles, tucking his hands into his pockets.  More or less, he thinks.

“It might be a bit of a copout, if I’m being honest,” He admits.  “I don’t really know what else to give her.  But I’m an only child, so, I kind of have the responsibility to step it up” 

“That’s alright,” (y/n) hums, her focus completely on making sure the flowers are as presentable as can be.  “Flowers are always a thoughtful gift.  Especially mine, got it?” It’s the only time she looks up at him while wrapping up the orchids, a threatening expression on her face.  “Don’t go to the other shops in town, they’re sellouts, got it?” 

He laughs at her seriousness, before crossing his hand over his chest in an x motion.

“I didn’t know there was a flower shop turf war here in the shopping district” He muses.  (y/n) huffs as she carefully moves about a few stems so each one would fall just so.

“Well, there is,” She mumbles like an afterthought.  

There’s the tiniest of creases between her brows, and Nanami wants to tell her not to worry so much over this bouquet, seeing as he doesn’t know what he’s going to do with it once he’s home, but he has a feeling the sentiment would fall on deaf ears.  She seems quite lost in her arranging.

“And besides, I gotta make sure I have loyal customers, don’t I?” She adds once she’s finished, and her serious expression crumbles into one of softness as she gazes up at him again.

“Whatever it takes” Nanami hums in agreement.  He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too foolishly, but he’s not sure it helps his case. 

“What’s your name, anyways?” 

He’s not sure why, but the simple question takes him aback, as though it were as forward as asking for his phone number.  He hesitates too long, he knows by the way she lightly raises a brow at the way he pauses before he answers.

“Nanami, Kento” Even his answer is slow, but she hums and nods at him nonetheless, as though engraving it to memory on the spot.

“Nanami Kento,” 

She extends her hand as she repeats the name, and it takes every ounce of will he has left to keep a shiver from crawling down his spine.  He didn’t think his name could sound so sweet on another person’s voice before.  He raises his hand to shake hers politely, trying not to focus too hard on how soft her small hand feels when fitted against his.  His noticeably larger hand encases hers almost completely.

“I’m (y/l/n) (y/n),” She introduces, as if her name hadn’t been circling around his mind in the couple of weeks since he’d last been here.  “But everyone just calls me (y/n)” 

“Alright, (y/n),” He muses, and he wonders if she’d felt just as warm repeating his name as he did finally saying hers aloud.  “You can just call me Kento, then” 

She smiles, and the color in her cheeks is undeniable.  He almost forgets to release her hand.

Once the orchids are perfectly bundled up, she passes them across the counter, the tips of her fingers just barely brushing over his knuckles as they both handle the bouquet with great care.

“How much do I owe you for these?” 

“Oh, they’re on the house,” She waves a dismissive hand, and she can tell by the way he frowns that he’s going to argue, so she’s quick to keep speaking.  “They’re not even in inventory, they won’t be missed.  They’ll be of much better use as a gift to your mother, anyways” 

“I don’t consider that fair-” 

“I won’t accept a single cent,” She tells him boldly, her hands on her hips, and he wonders if this is her idea of scolding.  That cute furrow in her brow and the slight pout on her lips as she glares at him.  It’s downright adorable and yet again, she’s seized his heart.  “Now go, you can’t arrive late on your own mother’s birthday” She waves her hand in a shooing motion towards the door.

God, he’s going to hell for this lie.

“Alright, alright,” He chuckles as he backs away, slowly heading for the door.  “I’ll let you know how much she loves them” 

(y/n) leans across the counter as she watches him go, her face burning with her lingering blush as she shamelessly admires him while he’s not looking.

“Come back soon, Kento!” She calls just as he’s stepped out.

He turns just as the door shuts behind him, catching her eye through the front window.  She’s smiling with utter glee as she waves at him, and this time he can’t hold back his smile as he waves back. ___

The third time he enters the flower shop, he has a better lie in mind.  The ruse of gift giving had worked perfectly so far, he might as well stick with it.

“Nanami Kento!” 

(y/n) welcomes him by name as soon as he walks in, and a rush of warmth spreads over him so quickly he thinks the other clerk working beside her is chuckling to themselves because of him.

(y/n) says something to her coworker before coming around the corner to approach him properly.  Her hair is tied in a messy bun on top of her head today, and it appeared she’d had some fun with a few little flowers sticking out of it.  He smiles as he admires the adorable look before he greets her.

“Afternoon, (y/n),” He replies warmly.  “Do you actually do any real work here?” He asks, nodding to the endearingly chaotic hairstyle.

“It pays to have a job you enjoy, right?” She asks.  “What do you do? Are you a time traveler?” She giggles through the question, the sound tinkly and so, so cute he thinks his knees could give out.

When she gestures back at him, it dawns on him that he’s left his sunglasses on his face.  He’s quick to pluck them off and tuck them into the pocket on the inside of his jacket.

“They’re odd, I know” He says, and hopes she won’t press further questions.  He’s had to lie about enough, what he does for work is an enigma even to him some days.

“I like em,” She shrugs.  “They make your whole business man thing look a bit more… steampunk” She waves her hands around the rest of his attire, and he can’t help but chuckle as he glances down at himself.

When he’d gone into the workforce he found he had preferred a business casual look more than the stuffy scratchy collars of the typical sorcerer’s uniform.  He’d matured a lot in that time, too, and after outgrowing his… emo… phase, found that a little pop of collar looked better on him than being swamped in black.

What’s funny was that what she called business man, Gojo liked to call flashy.

“Steampunk?” He repeats curiously.  “In a good way or a bad way?” 

“Depends,” She shrugs again, eyeing him skeptically.  “Are you planning on buying a bouquet today?” 

“I was, yes” He nods.

“Then in a good way,” She grins, and when he rolls his eyes at her in good nature, she only laughs more.  “Well tell me, who’s the lucky recipient this time?”

If he could get away with it, he’d happily stare at the way she smiles at him for hours.  Her hands clasped behind her back, the way her pretty eyes peer up at him from under her lashes, small splashes of color swirling within (y/e/c) irises.  Nanami can’t recall the last time he’d taken such a strong favor over another person, and in this moment if you’d asked, he’d tell you he’d never felt anything of the sort.  But her lips are plump and glossy today, and seeing them curled upwards so warmly, and for him, it has him in a chokehold.

He was growing so fond of her he almost couldn’t stand it anymore.  He could almost see that line he was trying not to trip across, because if he did step over it and into the unknown freefall that was complete and utter adoration… the thought terrifies him.

The invisible rose colored glasses that remained perched on his nose drove him to murmuring out today’s white lie before thinking about the credibility of it.

“My sister,” He finally answers.  “She’s got a promotion at work, and now I know the perfect secret in gift giving for women-” 

“I thought you were an only child?” 

Her brow furrows just slightly as she interrupts him with her question, a curiosity flickering over her features that has Nanami paling in an instant.  A part of him wants to be flattered that she’d remembered such a minor detail about his life that he’d given her a couple of weeks ago, but the anxiety that encompasses him as she’s caught him in his lie is a far more looming feeling.  He can feel sweat prick on the back of his neck right away.

The longer he hesitates to answer, the more expectant the look on her face is.  Slowly her eyebrows begin to raise, and her head tilts to the side ever so slightly.

“I… I am,” He starts slowly, hoping to stall until he finds the right explanation.  “I don’t know why I said that, um, what I… what I meant to say…” Unfortunately, he was as bad at stalling as he is at lying.

Through his terrible stammering, (y/n’s) perplexed expression starts to morph into something else.  The corner of her lips quirk up before she bites back her smile, pressing her lips together in a thin line.  She tries to hide it, but her smile is evident in the way her cheekbones raise, and the corners of her eyes crinkle ever so slightly.  She’s amused.  And Nanami’s not sure what startles him more, being caught in the lie, or the way she’s entertained by his scrambling.

“Nanami Kento, if you want to pop in just to see me, you can,” She tells him, and when she speaks there’s no chance of concealing the way her smile brightens her entire face.  “You don’t have to make up a sister just to come in” 

There’s some relief in knowing she isn’t upset, but it’s quickly eaten up by his nerves from her blatant tease.  His collar feels hot on his neck, and he’s certain that as soon as he leaves, he’ll have to loosen his tie.

It doesn’t help that the other clerk in the store had been obviously watching the entire interaction behind a large display vase of carnations.  Here and there they’d been snickering into their hand, surely also entertained by how terrible at this Nanami is.

“You’re right, I… I don’t know why I did that,” He chuckles bashfully.  (y/n) only glows brighter upon him fessing up to it.  “I did just… want to come and see you” 

She rocks on her feet a few times, her cheeks beginning to bloom with color.

“Well I’m glad you did,” She admits softly.  “You’re my favorite customer, you know” 

Nanami cracks a smile at that, some of the nerves starting to melt away the more he entertains the idea of crossing the blurring line between them.

“That simply can’t be true, I’ve only ever bought one bouquet” He reminds her, and she laughs a bit at the reminder.

“Alright, so you’re a flaky customer, but my favorite nonetheless,” She compromises.  “Besides, you said you were picking one up today, no takesies backsies” 

“Are you five?” He chuckles, but she waves her hand dismissively, ignoring the comment completely.

“What are you looking for today, Kento?” She changes the subject.

He thinks to himself for a moment, eyes flickering around the shop to see what stuck out to him.

Nanami Kento wasn’t necessarily a shy man, but he wasn’t the man that made the bold move.  That would be Gojo.  He also wasn’t the one to play coy until the other party eventually gave in either.  That was Shoko’s move.  Even after having a few short relationships or flings throughout the years, he never really made the first move.  Things sort of just… happened.

Now, he thinks it might be just the right time to make the bold move.

He still has to take a deep breath before he does, though.

“Depends,” He muses, glancing back at her.  “Which do you like best? I want to give you the right arrangement before dinner”  ___

bonus: 

They’re standing at the entrance to her building when she finally brings up the elephant in the room that had followed them for the entire evening.

“You know, it’s pretty corny to give me flowers that I grew from my store” 

“It was a good line, sweetheart, I’m going to stand by that,” He chuckles back at her.  “And you picked them” He adds, gesturing to the pretty bouquet of lilies of the valley tucked carefully in her arm.

“Forgive me for not being able to turn down pretty flowers from a handsome man” She replies playfully, and for once he manages to maintain control of himself as he gives her a gentle smile.

“Do you flirt with all of your customers to keep them coming back?” He replies coolly, and the giggle that escapes her is anything but coy.  Just pure, genuine joy.

She settles the bouquet safely in her arms before tilting forward on the tips of her toes.  It does little to nothing to shorten their height difference, but she’s close enough now that Nanami can practically taste the strawberry on her breath left from their dessert.  Common sense escapes him briefly as he follows suit, bending closer almost all the way.  The sudden movement startles her, her eyes widening and falling to watch his lips, curious if he’d actually kiss her so suddenly.  She smiles when he pauses just before his lips could touch hers, and her gaze flickers back up to his eyes.

“No,” She answers his question in a breath of a whisper.  “Just my favorite ones” 

He chuckles a bit at the cheeky answer, but he’s over the playful banter.  His hand, calloused, but warm and welcoming, reaches out to her chin, fingers gently tipping her head upwards just a little more, before he slides his palm across her cheek.

The question is on the tip of his tongue, but her eyes are already fluttering shut and she’s already closing the remaining space between them.  He supposes when her lips blindly land on his, he doesn’t need to ask for permission to kiss her goodnight. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento imagine #nanami kento x reader fluff #nanami kento fanfiction #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami #kento

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Fortnight✨

Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist Part 2

A/N: This one shot was inspired by Taylor Swift’s song “Fortnight” and is written for @morallyinept Jett’s Flora & Fauna Challenge. I had so much fun with this one and was feeling all the angst! Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me make the mood board and for beta reading and for letting me talk your ear off about this one 🥰 Joel’s POV actually made me cry writing this 🥹

Summary: Moving on is hard, especially when the man you fell in love with moved in across the street from you with his new lover.

Word Count: 4.6k

Rating: 18+ Only

Tags: Lots of angst, feelings, pining, heartbreak, alcohol use, allusions to smut, tears, pov in both reader and Joel’s view, no use y/n

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The orange and yellow sunrise paints the sky bright colors as you stand in your little kitchen sipping a warm cup of black coffee. The bland taste mixes with your salty mood as your eyes lock on your neighbor across the street, Tess. 

   Every morning she’s out there bright and early, watering her white lilies with a metal watering can as she hums along with the chirping robins that sit along her fence line. It makes your fingers flex into tight fists, makes your brows furrow up, makes your mouth clench into a deep frown as you watch with heartache written all over your pathetic face. Sometimes you wish she was dead, just like your aching heart is. Cold, lost, broken. But you shouldn’t be mad, shouldn’t wish her dead. She’s nice, always smiling, something you wish you would do more often. 

   You don’t hate her, not exactly. You hate that she’s Joel’s. You hate the way he comes up behind her and hugs his broad arms around her waist as he kisses her neck, her cheek, her lips. You hate the way he dances with her in the dimly lit kitchen at night as you watch them through their open window while you stand frozen in place in your own empty kitchen. You hate the way he kisses her every single morning before she drives off to work in her flashy sports car. And you hate the way they’re engaged to be married in the fall, something that should’ve belonged to you. 

   You should be with Joel, you should be dancing in the moonlight of his kitchen, you should be the one watering flowers with him hanging around your waist and littering your skin with kisses, you should be the one walking down that aisle. But you’re not, and you never will. Joel was in the past. An old lover from years ago. You had broken up so long ago, so why did you still love him? You weren’t his anymore. Joel belongs to Tess now. The girl you would never be. 

   One month. It’s been exactly a month since they moved across the street, across from you. You remember it so clearly how it felt seeing him after all those years, like you were trapped in a glass bottle with nowhere to run. He was more built now, his biceps clinging to his flannels as his tan skin glistened in the sunlight. His hair was longer now with grey threading through his curly strands, and his beard was salt-and-pepper filled. He looked so… handsome. But then you saw her slipping out of the moving van as he laughed and helped her pull a large picture frame out of the back. You were frozen in place, the glass of milk spilling out of your hand and shattering on the floor as you stared in horror at your new neighbors. You spent the next few hours soaking in the tub with a glass of whiskey, the same brand that was Joel’s favorite. You love him, you still love him, and it’s ruining your life. 

   Now you just stand in the empty kitchen every morning with glossy eyes and watch them. The way they kiss, talk tenderly, and graze each other’s hands as they say their long goodbyes. It makes you so sick, especially after just finding out your long term boyfriend cheated on you with his secretary. So now you’re going through a messy breakup, one where he keeps showing up at the house randomly trying to get you to take him back. Just another lost love that wasn’t meant to be. Maybe you weren’t meant to be with anyone, destined to be lonely. At least that’s what it feels like while you stare in horror at the happy couple who yearns for one another.

   When you finish your black coffee and rinse out the tinted mug, you watch Joel grab the back of Tess’s head and pull her in for a long, gentle kiss. You watch the way he leans into it, smiling against her lips as she laughs and tells him she’s going to be late to work. He just brushes it off and waves her off, blowing her a kiss as he watches her drive off into the early sunrise. It makes you sick to death. 

   You turn and rush up the stairs, feeling a warm teardrop slip down your cheek as you get ready for the day. You really shouldn’t dwell on their relationship, but you can’t help it, and that makes you want to die.

   Before you head out, you walk down the paved driveway to go grab the mail from your brick mailbox, already dreading the day as rain clouds fill the sticky air. When you go to pull open the mailbox door, it doesn’t budge. You pull and pull, tugging with all your might until the door finally opens. You lose your balance and all your mail goes sprawling across the street as you fall hard on your hands and knees.

   “Shit,” you mutter under your breath as you feel hot tears prick the back of your eyes. Just when you’re  pushing yourself off the ground, you see someone out of the corner of your eye swoop down and pick up the mail that litters the ground. 

   “Oh, no. You don’t have to help me, I’m…” Your breath hitches when you stand up and see Joel holding out your mail to you, his eyes lathered with concern as you see brown doe eyes stare down at you calmly. 

   “You alright?” he asks carefully as his eyebrows knit together in a tight line. 

   “I’m… I’m fine,” you stutter out as you reach to grab the packaged letters. You jump back as his calloused fingers brush against yours, feeling the electricity fire through your veins as you see him react the same way. 

   “You sure?” One thick eyebrow cocks up as he stands tall before you, his body hovering too close as you smell the scent of fresh wood and pine needles. A scent you used to smell every single night while you were in his bed, cuddled up to him in the dead of night. Now, all you smell is regret and sadness mixed together in an empty bed with no one to hold you. 

   You clench your jaw and try to be brave as you feel a wet teardrop escape over your lash line and slide down your face. “Mhm, I’m fine,” you barely get out as you look blankly at the cracked concrete and scuff your heel into the hard ground. 

   “You don’t look fine. Is everythin’… do you wanna talk?” he asks as he slowly reaches a hand out, dropping it before he touches your skin as he realizes he shouldn’t do that. That’s too much, too risky, too sacred. 

   You look up at him behind your thick eyelashes as another shimmery tear rolls down your wide eyes. “Everything is not fine, but no. I don’t want to talk. I shouldn’t even be here. I’m sorry for bothering you, you didn’t need to help me,” you sniffle out. You start to turn away from him, but then you feel a large hand clamp down on your wrist, preventing you from moving away. 

   “Hey, look at me,” he murmurs as you slowly turn and blink up at him, your eyes glazing over as you see the hurt coat his beautiful face. “Why are you cryin’, is it… that guy that keeps droppin’ by your doorstep?” he asks cautiously as you flinch at the topic. You swear you hear a hint of jealousy when he says that guy. 

   You shake your head and pull out of his grip as his fingertips imprint your skin in hot, searing heat. “No, not necessarily…” you mumble as you cross your arms over your chest, trying to get out of this uncomfortable small talk. Why couldn’t he just ask you about the weather like a normal guy would? But Joel Miller was no normal guy. No. He was… special.

   “He hurt you?” His eyes are cold, narrowed like he actually cares what happens to you. You don’t know why. He shouldn’t even pay attention to you. You’re not Tess, you're not his to care about anymore. 

   “He… cheated on me. He won’t stop calling or coming over, even though I tell him to stop. He’s adamant I listen to him. Says it was an accident and that she put the first moves on him, and just a bunch of bullshit answers.”

   He’s quiet for a moment as he assesses you, careful with his words as he starts again. “Have you tried hearin’ him out? Maybe he…”

   “I don’t want HIM!” you scream as you feel your face burn hot as your eyes start to water. Your red stained lips quiver under the grey clouds that weigh you down to the ground, and you feel like you just said something you shouldn’t have to him.

   Joel takes a hesitant step back as his brown eyes grow wide, his fingers flexing against his dark jeans as you see pain reflecting in his eyes, a mere image of yourself that’s broken, bleeding, hollow, lonely. You’re so terribly alone, and you wish he could comfort you. You really do, but he can’t. He’s not yours. Even though you so badly wish he still was. 

   Your wide-eyed gaze threatens to take you under as you feel regret slipping from your tongue. Why did you make such a big commotion? Why did you say you didn’t want him in that way? Fuck. You start to back up and laugh to yourself. “Sorry, I need to go.”

   Just before you can make it your lawn, Joel calls your name quietly. His tone makes you turn on the spot and stare at him with the way his deep bravado voice carries through the nearly spring wind. His eyes are pensive, sad, wrecked. His jaw clenches as he shoves his hands deep in his pockets. He looks like he wants to say something, looks like he wants to spill years of held in thoughts as his jaw ticks back and forth. 

   “Look, I know I never got a chance to apologize about what happened.” He walks toward you, and you take a step back as you shake your head, knowing what he’s about to say. 

   “Joel, no. Stop, you…”

   “Jus’ hear me out a second. Please.” He looks at you with big, begging brown eyes, and he looks like a wounded puppy with the way he’s staring down at you all broken and hurting, mirroring exactly how you feel. You think he might be just as hurt about it as you still are. 

   “Okay,” you mumble out as you stand your ground. 

   “‘M sorry about how everythin’ went down. ‘M sorry for bein’ such an ass to you, about all the stupid fights we had, about everythin’ we ever went through. And I’m so fuckin’ sorry for runnin’ out on you that cold February night. I didn’t… I wasn’t thinkin’ and…”

   You hold out a hand and stop him right there as you shake your head. “Joel, we were young and dumb. I was the one that told you to leave. You didn’t really have to, but I never went after you, and you never came back. I thought it was over, that we were over. And clearly we were because neither of us fought to keep the other…”

   You feel tears lick the backs of your eyes as you bite your bottom lip and wipe your waterline of any tears that might be escaping. 

   “I… I would’ve. Trust me, there’s not a day… there wasn’t a day that I didn’t think about doin’ what I did differently. And maybe… maybe things would’ve been different. Ya know? Maybe we’d still be…” He rakes a hand slowly down his greying scruff and sighs as he shakes his head. “Fuck. This is… harder than I thought it was gonna be…”

   “Joel…” You place a hand slowly over his wrist and watch his brown eyes go from clear to a cloud of haze. “I know you’re marrying Tess. She told me the other day when I saw her watering her lilies. She sounded so excited, so in love,” you cringe as you drop his wrist and take a hesitant step back. 

   “Oh, she told you?” he asks sheepishly, a bit taken back in a sense. 

   “Yeah, she did.”

   “I see.”

   You both stand there staring at one another, eyes alight with sparks of sadness and regret, turmoil that bleeds all over the heated concrete as you face each other. Both standing on a battleground where no one even lifts a finger. It’s just pleading cries and vacant apologies left in the back of the mind. A hollow graveyard that once was a flowering rose garden. 

   You feel like you should go, should get in your little Toyota and drive away, but you’re so lost and you feel like the world has left you behind. There’s just one more thing that needs to be said, one more bottled up sentiment that you need to get off your chest. So you look him straight in the eyes and say it, taking your very last breath as you bleed out all over his front yard. 

   “Look, Joel. I’m so happy you’ve found someone that makes you smile, someone that you’re clearly so in love with. I see the way you look at her. You’re so happy. And I’m so… I’m so…” You choke on your last words as tears fill the brims of your eyes, and you wipe a falling tear away with the sleeve of your shirt.

   “I’m so… happy that you get to marry the love of your life. You deserve it, you deserve all the happiness in the world. And I…” 

   Joel grabs ahold of your forearms and squeezes, looking at you with deep chocolate eyes that swallow you whole as soon as you look up into those brown pits of warmth. You feel it then, the absolute wretched wave that crashes over your body as you feel his warm fingertips tattoo themselves onto your skin. You feel it, the memories washing over you as they swim freely in your head. You remember taking a trip to Florida in his new truck, remember laying in the sand while he grazed his calloused fingers down your sandy skin and told you he loved you for the first time, remember how it felt to be under his body as you writhed and moaned with every touch he stole from you, remember how deeply in love the two of you were, if only for a fortnight. It was the happiest you’ve ever been with someone, the happiest you’ve ever been. Even if it only lasted for a second. He was your favorite season, favorite breath, favorite fortnight. Your forever that you wish would’ve lasted longer. But it was over. This was over. 

   You start to break down then, pulling out of his heated grasp as his fingertips fall from your skin. It’s too much, this is too much. You shouldn’t be here. Not with him, alone. It hurts too much, like a bloody wound that’ll never mend itself back together. The tears start pouring, ruining your mascara as you feel the rain come down slowly over your crimson cheeks. 

   “I… need to go.” When you turn back toward your driveway, Joel calls your name softly, like he’s afraid to speak your name, like he’s being fragile with a dying flower. You stand there a minute before turning back around, your nails embedding marks into your scraped up palms as you clench your jaw and turn, feeling another warm splash drop against your skin. 

   He looks so sad, so conflicted as he stares at you with knit together eyebrows, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his denim jeans as you see him slide his tongue slowly over his bottom teeth. He looks likes he’s struggling as much as you, maybe holding things back just like you are. Like the way you still love him. But it’s too late. You’re too late. 

   “He didn’t deserve you, you know. You deserve someone… someone that’ll make you happy. You deserve the world. And I hope you find it. You’re, well… you’re special. And I hate to see ya cry. ‘M sorry if I was the one who did that to you. And if you ever… if you ever need… ahh fuck. Jus’… take care of yourself, will ya?”

   You watch his fingers flex in his pocket, like he wants to reach out, maybe pull you in his arms, tell you everything will be alright in the end, but it won’t, it never will. He’s getting married to Tess, not you. You need to move on, for your own good. 

   You bite your bottom lip and nod as another sniffle leaves your constricted throat. You feel another warm splash on your arm as you give him a tight smile and turn back to your empty house, a house full of bottled up pain and regret. “Thanks, Joel. B… bye,” you choke out as you walk shamefully back to your front porch, letting the door close with a bang as you slide down the back of the door and end in a muddled ball on the floor. 

   You let the tears flow, let them burn the backs of your eyes as you feel hot air blow through your mouth. You weren’t supposed to talk to him, weren’t even supposed to let him touch your skin, even if it was just your wrist, your arm, your heart. It’s not supposed to hurt this bad, losing him all over again, but here you are. A ruined mess curled up on the wooden floor. He was your fortnight, your favorite part of every day until he was gone. Just like now. A wilted rose petal that died years ago. 

   He watches you turn back toward your half wilted rose covered yard, feeling the sting of tears he holds onto as he clenches his jaw and rakes a hand slowly down his greying scruff. He hates seeing you cry, hates being the reason for it, and hates the way he wants to run across your yard and pull you into his waiting arms. He wants so badly to take away the pain, but he can’t, he shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. But nothing is quite right in his mind anymore. No. Not in the slightest.

   He still thinks about you, the way he used to tangle his fingers in your hair as you fell asleep in his lap so many times before. He thinks about the way your soft skin felt every time he grazed his calloused fingers down your arms, your thighs, your dripping center as he’d make endless love to you night after night. He remembers it all, the good and the bad. But mostly he remembers the way he told you how deeply he was in love with you that night in Florida, promising you forever as he pulled you in for a bittersweet kiss that would be the start of the end. 

   He remembers it all. The stupid fights that meant nothing, the way he was so careless with your feelings that night of the fight, the way he walked out in the pouring rain and never looked back, the way he left you brokenhearted, just like you are now as he watches you fade back into the house as you rub your tear soaked eyes. And it kills him, it kills him that a small part of him still loves you. He still loves you…

   How can a person love two people at the same time? He doesn’t know why or how, but he does. He still loves you.. and he hates it, he fucking hates it. 

   He still thinks about you, even when he’s holding Tess against his chest late at night in their bed, even when he brushes his lips against her creased forehead, even when she says quick I love you’s to him every morning before she heads off to work. He wonders what it’d be like to hear it from your lips, on your tongue. He thinks about it so fucking much that he dreams about you, night after night. And if that makes him a bad man then fuck it, he’s already a very bad man.

   He may seem happy on the outside, absolutely head over heels for Tess, which he is. But also, he isn’t because that other half of himself is devoted to you. But he’s marrying Tess, not you. So he drinks, downs the whiskey night after night as he suffers from his own stupid past mistakes. A functioning alcoholic that’s drunk off heartbreak and pining that can never be. He’s royally and thoroughly fucked beyond his wreckless decisions. 

   He watches you every day leaving your house, climbing into your small Toyota, alone, frowning, lonely. He sees how sad you look when you catch his eyes, sees the tears well in your glistening gaze. He knows you probably must be so miserable living across from him, he sees it in the way you carry your shoulders, all hunched and wilting as your beautiful eyes gloss over every single fucking time he looks at you. He knows because that’s how he feels every time he sees you through your kitchen window, staring in a blank daze as he caresses Tess’s cheek and leaves trails of kisses up her soft skin. He knows how you feel. Because believe it or not, he’s just as miserable as you are. 

   When he finally sees you stumble through the front door and shut firmly it behind you, he lets a single tear fall like rain against his cheek, releasing his pent up frustration and held back feelings like the drops of whiskey he suffocates on night after night. And like the slow rush of February, he lets his feelings flow in the wind, dwindling down the quiet street as your silent cries fade into black. You were only a fraction of a moment, a sweet speck of sunshine that lit up his life, and now it was just a memory blown away by the endless February breeze. 

   He tries everything in his power not to run across the dew covered grass and stumble up to your porch, bang his rough knuckles against your glass door till you open up and let him over the threshold. He wants so fucking badly to wrap you in his arms, tell you everything’s going to be okay, scrape his lips across your tear soaked eyes as he kisses away the tears that he caused. But he can’t. He just fucking can’t. 

   He knows you’re on the floor, knows you’re crying your eyes out because of him. He shouldn’t have even helped you with your fallen mail, shouldn’t have placed his calloused and tainted fingers on your delicate and innocent skin, because that just brought back vivid images of you and him together. Imagines that are burned inside his memory as he locks them tightly away. A part of his mind that’s completely blocked off from Tess because she doesn’t know he still loves you. But it’s too late. He can’t have both; he can only have one. 

   So when he walks down that aisle, he’ll fully devote himself to Tess. No more silhouettes of you in his imagination, at least not when she’s in the room. He still imagines the thought of you walking down that aisle, can already see how stunning you’d look in your long satin dress, envisions you throwing your arms around his neck as he says “I do” and kisses you endlessly for the rest of his godforsaken life.

   It was always you he thinks, but time was not on his side, and he couldn’t go back to the past. He’d have to choose between the two of you, and he couldn’t imagine the thought of breaking Tess’s heart. Can’t bear the thought of losing her, but then there’s you. The girl that was once the love of his life, that’s still the love of his life. But he can’t have two loves, that’s not how it works in this life. 

So he drowns in his tears, goes back inside as he pours a half glass of amber whiskey, drinks it down like it’ll be his saving grace. You were only a fortnight in his tragic life, but you were the best one. His favorite fortnight. So he’ll pine, burn through the ashes of all his mistakes. He loves you, and it’ll surely ruin his life in the end.

He chases the whiskey down as he feels it burn like hot lava down his throat, letting the alcohol drive his sins away as he stares at your empty kitchen window. You still haven’t left for the morning, haven’t driven off into the glowing sunrise even though it’s half past 8:00.

He hates that he knows your routine, knows it’s fucked that he watches you every single morning. It’s like clockwork the way he reaches for the whiskey bottle as soon as Tess leaves, while he stands in his empty kitchen watching you. He’s such a bad man, but he’s known this ever since he found out it was you that lived across the street from him. That’s when all the feelings came flooding back like a torrential downpour, and that’s why he picked up his awful drinking habit again. Now he takes a shot every single time he sees you, like that’ll help a damn thing, but it never does, it only makes the feelings worse.

After thirty minutes of silence from your window, he takes one last gulp of the toxic amber drink and slides the bottle away, feeling the taste of regret and remorse on the tip of his tongue. He knows you’re on that floor unable to get up, probably staining the hardwood from your tears. He clenches his jaw, embeds his calloused fingertips into the rustic counter and curses to himself under his breath. He needs to fix what he did, needs to put his racing thoughts to bed, so he moves like lightning towards the front door, dragging his sorrows and regrets with him as his boots scuff against the tiles of the front entryway.

He doesn’t have time to process it, doesn’t have a chance to think it through, he just moves quickly. He sprints across your yard, passing half dead rose bushes that he should’ve kept alive. Now they just look like he feels, dead and wilting, both things willing to crumble under his touch.

Now he’s standing on your front porch, the burn of alcohol edging him on as he raises his balled up fist over the silhouette of your door. He doesn’t have time to think, to act, he just has to do something, anything to get you out of his drowning mind. So he stands there burning in the flames of past mistakes and fortnights.

Before his hand can move an inch, he smells it. The morning breeze carrying a whiff of fragrant, lush lilies across his burning nostrils that cloud his foggy mind. The scent of Tess. But he also smells the fragrance of wilting red roses and dewy, clipped grass. The smell of you. Both scents swirl together as he grits his teeth and lets the pain of mixed scents numb his racing mind. He’s fucked, ruined now, but he can’t have both. He has to make a choice. It's either soft lilies or scented rose petals. And goddamn it, he wants both flowers. But he can’t pick both, he just can’t. He has to make a decision. One that’ll surely be the end of him. He loses either way he chooses.

Tagging some mutuals 🩵 @msjarvis @littlevenicebitch69 @sawymredfox @bbyanarchist @keylimebeag

@casa-boiardi @vivian-pascal @amyispxnk @laurrrra @rav3n-pascal22 @magpiepills

@604to647

#jettsflora&faunachallenge #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel x female reader #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #no outbreak au #no use of y/n #joel angst

[cheralith]

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part iii) 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, unedited/not beta read as of 2/24

word count ; 8.5k

notes ; we're so back. am i severely late to posting this? very. did i at least get it done after too many months? also yes. i also apologize in advance to those i tagged that are no longer interested in the series, as i merely tagged people that had commented regardless of time. lmk if you no longer want to be tagged in the last part, i promise i won't take offense at all!

parts ; one two three four (tba)

THREE YEARS AGO

“My name is (Y/N) (L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. O’Hara. Please let me assist you at any need possible.”

Miguel peered at you through his reading glasses, averting his attention from his laptop to fully examine the stranger that stood in his office. Dark hazelnut eyes scan the appearance of a young woman dressed in black slacks and an ironed white blouse standing stiffly next to his superiors that eyed him with more eagerness than he liked. He could already tell that you were a shy one, a person that wasn’t too accustomed to the outside world and its people; you stood with stiff posture; it was one that exemplified nerve rather than confidence from the way that you almost seem paralyzed in your place. 

Caldworth, one of the superiors that stood by your side, placed a wrinkly and veiny hand on your shoulder and showed you off to him as if you were a painting up for bidding. “We choose a sharp one for you. (Y/N) here is rather attentive, so don’t be shy about letting her get to know you better, Miguel.”

Miguel stayed quiet, still skeptical about this sudden new arrangement for him that was brought up at the last minute. He lacked a certain sort of anticipation that would usually behold anyone else in his position—a new person entering their work life would usually be an exciting, rousing meeting seeing as how it would be a new addition to what the higher-ups would refer to as “family.” A loose term, Miguel often thought… very loose, even. To even have the courage to compare coworkers to something as intimate as family was something that didn’t sit well with Miguel. Blame it on the certain circumstances on his own familial life, but even anyone else that had their brain in the somewhat of the right spot would understand that mere coworkers were nothing compared to family.

At least in his case.

“I’ve greatly admired your work in the past,” you said almost robotically, “so I hope I can be of any help in your future accomplishments—no matter how big or small.”

Miguel cocked his head. He fought the urge to raise an eyebrow at what he began to concur was something scripted via his superiors. Something about your tone of voice seemed… flat; devoid of any actual enthusiasm. 

Caldworth and his partner began to see themselves out, leaving him to babysit you. “Well, you two have at it! Maybe go out for a cup of coffee to familiarize yourselves, get to know each other better since you both are essentially going to be around each other all the time,” Caldworth stated, making Miguel twitch from the last part. 

Just before they left, Caldworth offered the glint of his eye over his shoulder, the peek of a tight-lipped grin ever so slightly visible.

“And don’t forget, we’re all family here!” he cheered before the slam of a door shut you and Miguel in.

Immediately, Miugel noticed that your shoulders caved inward, indicating that you were finally able to breathe properly without the surveillance of people that were essentially in charge of your life. He eyed you again from the top of his glasses before he took them off and rested them in between his fingers, letting them dangle lazily. 

“Did they tell you to say that?”

You jolted in your spot. Nerves seemingly reshocked with the same anxiety from before, you turned yourself to face your new boss again with a much more paled, yet evident expression—wide-eyed, pursed-lipped, gritted jaw—and swallowed thickly. Almost in a shameful manner, you silently nodded your head. 

“W-was…” you started, “was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” Miguel murmured simply and closed his laptop. “Don’t listen to what they say, just make yourself as comfortable as possible. I’m sure neither of us want to be that comfortable with each other.”

Your lips pressed themselves into a tight line, hitching a sharp breath before it’s replaced with another stiff nod. There was no user’s manual of sorts that was given to you by your superiors. They merely told you to do exactly what Miguel needed, so if this is what he wanted—for you two to maintain distance—then so be it. If anything, it’s easier to breathe this way for both parties. 

And it was like that for a rather long time; the both of you never came too close to the other person. It was strictly a professional workplace relationship, one that didn’t issue any room for intimacy because it wasn’t needed. There were no lunch or dinner get-togethers outside work hours, there was barely any small talk between you both, and you and he didn’t even bother getting each others’ personal numbers despite being consistently around the other like air—both parties thought the work phones were more than enough. There was no need for you to learn about his likes, his dislikes, his favorite foods, and Miguel couldn’t certainly be bothered with your own slices of life. To each their own, if you minded your business about him, he’d do the same to you. 

It was a fair trade and a sufficient barter that satisfied you and him; there need not be any excess of the unnecessary.

That was, until a certain day that Miguel was held back during his usual hours to continue working on lab reports—work that didn’t allow him freedom from this hell of a company to see his own salvation.

“If it’s an urgent matter, Mr. O’Hara, I don’t mind taking on some of the workload,” you had said softly as you placed the last stack of packets on his desk that needed proper annotation. “I’m your assistant, after all. It’s my job to help you out.”

Miguel rubbed his forehead out of exhaustion and shook his head, “You’re my assistant from 9 to 5 only. I’m not gonna be like those shocking pricks and work you longer than needed,” he muttered and stretched out his neck, joints crackling. “Go clock out, (Y/N). I’m sure there’s someone waiting for you at home that needs attending to.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere had gone awkwardly quiet. The tension was only broken by the scritching of your shuffling feet before you coughed. 

“Um, there’s no one in particular like that for me, unfortunately,” you whispered through a forced laugh that quickly dissolved. “So again, I don’t mind staying late…”

Miguel stiffened in his seat and mumbled an apology for his blatant inconsideration. Right… you were still rather young and didn’t seem the type to have a family yet. “No boyfriend? Or girlfriend… I’m not one to judge.”

“No, Mr. O’Hara.”

“No parents?”

“I moved out, so no.”

“Not even pets?”

“None.”

“... perhaps friends of sorts?”

“...”

Another sigh heaves itself from his aching lungs. What he’d do for a cigarette right now to kill this awkward tension. You were a rather shy person that isolated herself from most people, but Miguel didn’t think you’d detach yourself this much from the crowd. 

You proposed your assistance once more, as third times always a charm. “Please let me assist you, Mr. O’Hara. I truly do not mind staying overtime if needed.”

Miguel, at first, thought you might be kissing his ass for a possible raise, but the thought quickly disappears when you genuinely appear concerned for his well-being given the fact he looked ultimately much more disgruntled than usual. Despite your timidity, you could be a stubborn one, so Miguel gave in before he tired himself even more with mild arguments that he was sure would drain whatever life he had left in him.

He inhales sharply and fiddles with his bag for a bit before he pulls out an array of keys, gently detaching a pair of them. One of them is his car key. The other—his house key. 

“Take these,” he said and gestured them to you. “I’ve trusted you enough to drive my car on multiple occasions, so now I’m entrusting you to my daughter.”

Your eyes widened briefly, brows raising to new heights. Blinking in the alikeness of an owl, you repeated, “Your… your daughter?”

Miguel supposes this is what succumbs to him after not revealing even the most personal, yet basic parts of himself to a coworker. He hasn’t even revealed his birthday to you, let alone his family, so he can’t say he’s too surprised at your reaction. 

“Yes, my daughter,” he repeats and starts scribbling on a post-it. “Her name is Gabriella, she just turned five and is in kindergarten. I’m gonna call up the daycare and tell them that you’ll be picking her up from school. After that, drop her off at the house and just… just kind of stay there until I come home. There should be leftovers in the fridge if she gets hungry. I’ll take a cab home… I dunno.”

Miguel sticks out the post-it note containing both the address of the daycare and his apartment number. With caution, you take and examine them closely with a mild surprise still on your face of the new information about your boss that you thought you should’ve learned a while ago. You begin to see yourself out of his office with an evident nervousness in your being before Miguel spontaneously gets up and grabs your wrist tightly, forcing you to look at him.

A chill goes down your spine when you see a menacing and unusual red glint in those pools of mahogany. His once-drained face is suddenly stony and rugged with his teeth bitten back to avoid any unnecessary threats. The physical contact makes your nerves go cold and paralyzes you into place to force you to stare into those eyes that you’re not sure aren’t even human, a sort of malicious crimson tint gleaming over brown hues.

“Do not… let anything happen to her,” he hisses under his breath, his tone jaggedly sharp, “Not a single scratch, yes?”

It takes a while for air to breathe itself back into your lungs, yet only a partial amount of it revives your body because all you can reply is a choked out, 

“Yes.”

Miguel lets go of your wrist like it’s a heated iron rod, the burn of it stinging his hand with the aftertaste of your skin still damped on his palm. You quickly leave after that, leaving him to sigh and stare into nothing before clutching the picture frame of his daughter that sits on his desk—praying that you’ll live up to his expectations and arrive home to an unscathed Gabriella.

And throughout the duration of the three years you and Miguel have spent side by side, with each repeated question he’d contritely ask again and again, he did each and every single time you had to take care of her. The hours became longer, more strenuous, and created a blockage between Miguel and Gabriella that only you were able to bridge between. Gabriella—whose particular shyness reminded Miguel of a certain someone—eventually warmed up to you and began to treat you much more familiarly as time passed, growing accustomed to wrapping her body around your legs when she saw you during pick up and always asking what was for dinner that evening as if you’ve been there since her birth.

Gabriella grew very fond of you, Miguel noticed. There was some sort of mimicry in her actions at times that mirrored your own habits like how she’d tilt her head and purse her lips to the left when she was confused like you did or she’d randomly walk briskly in the same fashion you marched. She’d slip in a mention of your name during small discussions here and there, a praise never failing to tail her words. 

“Miss. (Y/N) bought this headband for me! Isn’t it pretty?” 

“Oh, Miss. (Y/N) taught me how to solve that problem yesterday.”

“Can you make cookies like how Miss. (Y/N) does? Yours taste weird.”

While you weren’t always present around the O’Haras, Gabriella made sure it seemed like you were. 

There was a particular time that Miguel was helping her on some homework assigned over the weekend. The assignment had discussed different careers that children might be interested in the future and when Miguel had asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, Gabriella, who couldn’t have been more than six or seven around the time, replied all too simply, 

“I want to be like Miss. (Y/N).”

Miguel was astonished. He had expected an answer like a professional soccer player due to her love of the sport or a scientist like her father, but to aspire to be someone that seemingly was just an occasional companion? To him, it didn’t make sense.

“Like, do you wanna work for Daddy when you’re older?” Miguel asked, attempting to clarify what she meant since she knew enough to understand you were associated with her father. 

Gabriella shook her head and mindlessly continued to draw what seemed to be a portrait of you in… a pink dress? “Nuh uh. I wanna be a princess like her.”

Through furrowed brows, Miguel chuckled a little aimlessly. Of course she’d still believe fantasy and magical things—she was just seven after all. Initially, he wanted to merely correct his daughter, but was a little curious as to what sort of silly information you had been feeding her. “Miss. (Y/N) is a princess?” 

“Yep, she told me herself!” Gabriella exclaimed, her hand fisting a yellow marker that scribbled on a crown on the drawing. “She said she used to be a princess, but she ran away ‘cause a giant, fire-breathing lizard tried to kidnap her!” 

“I think it might’ve been a dragon, mijita,” Miguel corrected gently, trying to go along with the usual trope fairy tales portrayed.

“Nuh uh, it was a big and creepy lizard, she said!” she retaliated stubbornly.

“Well,” he started again, attempting to choose his words a little more carefully this time around. “How come you don’t wanna be like Ariel? Or Tiana? They’re princesses, too, right?” 

She shrugged. “I like them. But they’re not Miss. (Y/N).”

Something unnatural began to seep into Miguel’s chest. He knew that Gabriella liked you quite so, but he didn’t expect for her to almost admire you in such a fashion that inspired her to be like you. In his eyes, you were nothing but the assistant that loyally stood by his side and abided by his every word—to him, it seemed like you were more of a butler or servant than a princess. 

But in his daughter’s eyes… 

“Why? What’s so special about (Y/N)?” Miguel inquired with a growing curiosity to try and see you in the same light as Gabriella. 

She shook her head, displeased with the informality given to you by her father. “You gotta say Princess (Y/N). I don’t have to ‘cause she said it’s okay.”

He sighed, “Okay, fine. What’s so special about Princess (Y/N)?”

Gabriella set her marker down carefully and thought for a little while. Her eyes suddenly lit up with delight, an affirmative grin set on her lips. 

“Well, she’s really pretty… like reallyyy pretty. I wanna be just as beautiful as her one day,” she praised, making Miguel’s brows rise at the sudden compliment. “She’s really nice, too. She never shouts at me like the teachers or coaches do… and she always lets me have extra dessert when I do a good job on my homework.”

Miguel fell silent. Perhaps it was more than mere admiration, but idolization for Gabriella. She viewed you in a way that Miguel hadn’t even thought of because he only viewed you as his coworker. But in Gabriella’s eyes, you were more than just her babysitter—you were literal royalty to her. He shouldn’t be one to complain though—he’d take his daughter following in your footsteps over some others that might lead her astray. You were… sufficient enough, he supposes, even if Gabriella didn’t think so.

“She’s super smart too—like you, Papá! Maybe even smarter,” she retorts, making Miguel twitch. “And I like her voice a lot. I really like it when she reads me a story because her voice is pretty. Sometimes she sings this song to me to help me sleep.”

“Oh?” Miguel questioned, “¿Y, qué canción es esa?”

“I keep forgetting the name and words of it…” Gabriella pouted after a moment of attempted concentration. “But it went somethin’ like…”

She began humming an off-tune melody that struck a dissonant, yet familiar chord within Miguel, but it was impossible for him to find why it was so eerily familiar to him. Was it perhaps from an old song? Or a film he’d seen before? It was a calming song, one that was perfectly suited for a child’s lullaby, but something about it seemed almost so customary to him. 

“Ya gotta marry her,” his daughter said plainly and began to resume her artistry, ignoring the sudden startle she gave her father. “So that way, I can become a princess, too.”

Miguel helped himself to the nearby cup of water to soothe his choked throat after the scare she gave him. “Sweetheart, I’m not a prince, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” his daughter replied without missing a beat. “But you know what you are, though?” 

Dare he say that Gabriella had grown akin to you the same way she had with her father. Something about her praise and regard for you seemed to mirror the way that reflected alike to her father, yet Miguel couldn’t tell if she had managed to draw a line between the images of you and him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if Gabriella could even define a difference in her adulation between you and him besides the fact one was her parent. 

But when the thought of Gabriella potentially viewing you as sharing the same title as him—a parent—something seeds inside Miguel. He doesn’t know what it is or what it will grow into, but there’s one thing he knows for sure. 

The seed of you in his life and hers is here to stay, whether he likes it or not. 

Gabriella’s smile grew wide before she happily announced,

“You’re her knight in shining armor!"

PRESENT

If he squinted properly and took a closer look, perhaps Miguel could make himself hallucinate enough to try and visualize the golden chandelier above your head as your haloing tiara. It was the main light source nearly the entirety of the venue, but something about the way the light glistened around you made you seem almost holy, like you were a divinity gracing your presence on the wretchedness they called Earth.

Blame it on the wine, but Miguel couldn’t help but notice that you looked more celestial tonight; a unique sort of ethereal that he’s only seen in the finest of paintings. The banquet hall is covered in layers of silkened gold, only emphasizing your best features in the spotlights of reflecting amber. 

You’re talking idly (per usual, unfortunately) with a coworker from Human Resources that he’s seen you often have mild conversations with on the weekly, a rare familiarity that he only knows he’s been graced with in full; so it’s truly no surprise that there’s a placid stir of envy growing within Miguel as you’ve decided to not give your semi-cold shoulder a break even tonight, even with the rarity of a compliment given by him. At least there’s been somewhat of an improvement—you’re actually holding miniscule conversations with him every now and then as you both chatter with the crowd as long as there’s a third party.

Yet he still hasn’t been granted mercy of having a proper one-on-one with you, yet.

But beggars can’t be choosers, so Miguel must make do with what he’s offered.

The coworker, finally, is called by one of his project managers and politely excuses himself, leaving you to Miguel’s devices at long last. Like a flower’s petals given little to no care, your smiling face wilts into the solemn countenance that Miguel has grown accustomed to seeing for the past week when you turn your gaze back towards the table, a sliver of Miguel caught in the corner of your eye. In time, he just barely catches a glimpse of your eyes flickering toward his figure before they return to stare at the nearly empty plate of food with a slight dismal.

A choice of what words to say jumble in his mouth. They toss and jump about while not giving him full comprehension of what they mean and Miguel grows frustrated at his lack of intelligibleness because it wasn’t every day that his resolve could be so cowardly in front of someone. Usually he was the one that made egos shrink, but upon your grace, his own could only grow so small. 

You can tell there’s an awkward silence amongst you both despite the audible chatter throughout the banquet hall and the idle conversations among your tablemates, so you break it first but stiffly shuffling out your phone and dialing Gabriella’s babysitter for tonight—a blue moon occasion since neither you nor Miguel could be present. Gabriel is out of town and because there were only so many people in the world that Miguel could trust with his beloved, the elderly next-door-neighbor was the last resort. 

“I should probably check up on how Mrs. Darcie is doing,” you splutter with a dry mouth. “I forgot to teach her how the TV remote works and I’m sure she must be bored out of her—”

Unconsciously, Miguel gently pries the phone out of your shaking hands, the connection between skin and skin electrifying his nerves more than he liked. He takes notice of the size difference between your hand and his own and eyes carefully at how easily your fingers would be able to slip into the gaps of his all too easily; like two connecting puzzle pieces. 

He places it face down on the table to avoid further distractions. “I’m sure Mrs. Darcie is alright,” he attempts to soothe as he places his hand over your own, nearly caging it between his fingers. Miguel struggles with fighting the urge to squeeze it delicately—he doesn’t know if he’s earned that privilege, or if he ever did. “Gabi is most likely preparing for bed, we shouldn’t distract her.”

Eyes flickering toward your covered hand, the warmth that envelopes it from Miguel’s makes you swallow thickly. 

“Ah,” you murmur and timidly pull back your hand to place back on your lap to Miguel’s disappointment. “Right… Never mind then.”

And suddenly, he’s back to square one. Silence plagues the air again between you and him, only this time, it’s thicker and grimier almost. Perhaps it was the oddity that was the physical contact that added to the musk of it; Miguel prays that you didn’t find it uncomfortable. 

A fork is plucked between your fingers and you go to idly poke at your food to fidget with something other than your hands. “I hope she’s okay. Gabi, I mean. I-It feels a little odd leaving her with someone other than you. 

Rays of hope and enthrallment embellish Miguel’s being from the fact that finally… finally you’re the one attempting a conversation with him after much too long. And not only that, you’re beginning with something bold, even if you don’t realize it. Despite the fact you’re rather unconscious of what you’re saying, something within Miguel perks up at the fact that you’re worried about Gabriella in the same sense… that he is.  

That a parent is.

He fights the urge to physically shake his head to brush the thought off. Miguel hums, a semi-sorry attempt at being suede and casual. “Mrs. Darcie has had eight children in her lifetime, I’m sure that she’s definitely had her experience of taking care of kids,” he says seemingly nonchalantly. “Gabi, if anything, is lightwork to her.”

A soft delight pings in his chest again when you reply almost instantaneously, “She is indeed a good girl, very well-behaved.”

“She has her moments,” Miguel snorts, fondly remembering a few of younger Gabriella’s temper tantrums and outbursts of tears.

Something golden, something bright blossoms within him when he hears you let out a soft chuckle at his reply. It’s abrupt, but it’s short and sweet enough that he feels accomplished, enough for him to savor the taste of it. “All children do from time to time. But she’s definitely one of the better apples of the bunch.”

Miguel thinks you’re right; it wasn’t often that parents, new ones especially, were granted with the privilege of having obedient children, so he’s one of the lucky ones. Perhaps Gabriella being a good kid was the universe giving him mercy as a single parent, as society often thinks it takes two to tango when it comes to childcare most of the time. 

But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Even if Miguel wasn’t aware of it, some of the responsibility was lifted off his shoulders when you entered the picture, as the duties of nurturing a young child were now in your favor the moment you had signed your work contract. For that, he harbors guilt from time to time when he thinks that you never exactly signed up to be a babysitter, let alone a parent figure to his kin that you were still unaware of. 

And then it hits him.

It comes all of a sudden—his senses downpouring from the cloud of his daydreams and thoughts.

It’s not a good realization by far. If anything, it’s the very opposite, one that’s one the other end of the spectrum. It’s a deathly epiphany and one that he doesn’t like to acknowledge but is forced to.

Miguel stares blankly at the tablecloth, eyes droning into the satin folds of it as they mimicked the waves of a crashing ocean. A sort of paleness infects his face, the color of it draining slowly and he goes still when he feels his heartbeat thundering in his ears. 

You’re quick to take notice of your boss’s current disposition, growing wary of his wide, blank eyes and gritted jaw, along with his knuckles growing white as they fist his slacks. A shallow breath is echoed from him; you furrow your brows.

“Mr. O’Hara?” you murmur, leaning toward his figure. 

Miguel’s mind stirs. If Gabriella views you as a parent-figure, what exactly would you think of it? You’re not much younger than Miguel is, only falling behind a mere four or five years, but you’re still significantly young that you’ve got your whole life ahead of you that you’d need to experience by yourself. The remnants of youth are still planted onto you despite being well-adjusted to the adult world, so to put the responsibility of a child on your shoulders? Miguel feels contrition flood into him.

What if you didn’t even want children? 

It’s a fact that you care for Gabriella, but do you harbor the same type of love for her that she has for you? Does she even understand what your role is in her life and that there’s a strict boundary between you and Miguel and Gabriella? He knows he can’t just shackle you onto a weighing responsibility, but when Gabriella is a part of this dilemma, the complication increases tenfold.

Your boss seems to be frozen in time, seeing as how not a muscle in his limbs nor his face were moving, but his eyes were wide open, almost glazed with fear. A feathery hand goes to place itself over his tightened fist before you ask again, “Mr. O’Hara, are you okay?”

It’s a fact that you care for Gabriella, but do you harbor the same type of love for her that she has for you? Does she even understand what your role is in her life and that there’s a strict boundary between you and Miguel and Gabriella? He knows he can’t just shackle you onto a weighing responsibility, but when Gabriella is a part of this dilemma, the complication increases tenfold.

The worst case scenario infects Miguel’s thoughts—you standing in the same shadow of his ex, exiting through the same door she had walked through just a few days after his daughter’s birth and breaking his entire being into little pathetic pieces.

This time, however? He wouldn’t be the only one with a shattered heart.

A thick swallow goes down your throat. You gently shake his hand with your own to attempt to break him out of his frigid state, a worry beginning to settle itself in your stomach. “Mr. O’Hara? Can you hear me?” you declare a little louder than the first two times.

Your voice makes him blink and he clears his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at the sudden loss of composure. “Yes, I-I’m fine…” he mutters as he tugs at the tight collar of his dress shirt.

You nod with visible skepticism. Miguel turns away from your gaze to avoid further questioning, since he knows you’ve been at his side long enough to know his behaviors. “Are you sure?”

He nods and stifles a sigh, nodding. The flurry of what had just occurred in his mind lingers almost painfully and it takes him a while to remember where he is and why. Right… the annual celebration gala… with you… to make up for the date that never happened.

His mind is a mess. It’s an incoherent tornado of everything and anything, with images of all kinds flashing throughout his mind—young Gabriella’s drawing of you and her as princesses that she insisted on framing, your face of disappointment that you gave him when he ditched out on the date, a flashback of his ex slamming his old apartment door on him as an infant Gabriella screamed and wailed in her crib, you hugging his daughter after her winning goal, Miguel’s frazzled self as he showed up too late to his daughter’s first Parents Day with a teary-eyed Gabriella, him finding you quietly reading a sleepy Gabi a bedtime story after a long shift at work, you making baked goods in the kitchen with her.. you tucking in her into bed… you suddenly with a suitcase in hand, a sobbing Gabriella in the back as Miguel begged you to stay before you slammed the door behind you and leaving them—

Miguel stands up abruptly, making you jump. The collar and tie around his neck suddenly seem too tight and his throat runs dry. The air grows hotter and his vision starts to blur. 

“Mr. O’Hara,” you start as you also stand up, “Is everything alr—”

“I need some air,” Miguel barely chokes out before he leaves the banquet hall without another word. He can just barely hear you ask if there’s anything you could do before he turns a sharp right and leaves the entirety of the building altogether, choosing to remain in the back garden to breathe in fresh oxygen, a relieving chill to the air.

A hand goes to loosen his collar and tie and he can feel himself gain consciousness again. The sky is draped with an ink blue all over, speckles of the night stars scattering all around. The floral smell of many garden flowers fills his senses and Miguel grounds himself properly before he settles himself on a stone bench to balance in his mind.

He attempts to reason with himself. 

Clearly, you don’t mind being with children, and obviously you don’t mind being with and taking care of Gabriella. She’s not simply a job to you that you’re forced to work with—you’ve said it yourself. Otherwise, you wouldn’t go to her games nor would you remember to bring her small gifts of her liking. You’ve done things for her out of your own initiative many times. Gabriella is your world, Miguel thinks, as much as your hers.

Now there’s the problem of you being with Miguel, if your feelings haven’t changed all too much. In all honesty, Miguel thinks if he’s with the right person, he’s sure to put in effort into stabilizing and nurturing a proper relationship. He hadn’t had the time to go around and look for love because of work and Gabriella, so serving as this sanctuary that came to him was basically a perfect fit into his life—don’t mind it took him three years to notice it. You’re worth putting that effort in.

Finally… there’s the possible chance that you reject Miguel’s proposal of being Gabriella’s secondary caretaker.

…

Miguel attempts to process it in a more… positive light. One that won’t send him spiraling. 

But it’s nearly impossible.

How is it possible to settle a middle ground of happiness, or at the very least… satisfaction, between you and him and Gabriella? How do you imagine a happy ending to a dawning of Gabriella’s happiness? How can Miguel ever face you after asking such a thing?

His vision shakes again, another hurricane of impossible questions begins whirling in mind. The bile in his stomach churns uncomfortably and his hands grow clammy again. His feet feel like they’re sinking in the dirt. Somehow, even at a staggering height compared to most of his colleagues, Miguel feels small once more. 

Would he be able to cope with such a—

A loud crash and multiple screams suddenly break Miguel out of his state and he whirls his head to see what was happening inside. The peek of something green slithers inside the massive hole in the glass ceiling indented in the building, and it doesn’t take Miguel long to know what’s happening.

He sprints back inside the building and into the banquet hall, the opposite way where everyone is headed and takes a swift peek inside to what was happening. 

A horrifically large green lizard crawls on the floor, letting out an agonizing roar of sorts with its tail swishing about and knocking everything and everyone in its path over. Dr. Curtis Connors, the one foe Miguel had fought a few months ago and had just managed to escape his grasp, had come back for revenge in a newer, more improved, more terrifying form of his initial self-experiment. News of his identity had leaked out immediately the moment that he had defeated the mad doctor, and every work that was researched by him that was deemed irrelevant by Alchemax was unpublished and/or destroyed—that included raiding everything in his personal lab—an urgent executive order made by Tyler Stone himself. 

Hungry for revenge for the destruction of his work, Miguel was certain he was back for revenge as back when he was still sane, the amount of research that Dr. Connors had put in was extensive and yielded long years in the making, spanning over nearly three decades of research that was wiped away in the matter of a single day thanks to Alchemax. 

Miguel quickly turns a corner, hidden from the public eye, and commands his suit on before quickly re-entering the banquet hall. He swings up towards the domed ceiling and carefully analyzes the area.

There’s still a few people scattering from the room, shrieks echoing from the walls. His eyes go to search for where you are in desperation, praying you’re safe somewhere outside, but a flash of light pink catches the corner of his eye. He nearly snaps his neck when he finds you running in the opposite direction of where most people are headed—towards the garden.

“(Y/N)!” Miguel yells out without thinking and slaps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, you don’t hear him due to the commotion inside the area as you swim against the current of people. You fight the urge to fall down with every person that bumps into you amidst the chaos before you thankfully make it near the exit.

He lunges down from his spot on the ceiling, lassoing a few people that nearly get crushed under Lizard’s humongous tail and bringing them to safety properly on the way, making his way towards your figure. Rubble from the many columns begin to collapse on themselves; clouds of dust and debris fog the first floor of the hall with the wreckage already trapping some people inside. 

A large chunk from the wall creaks and begins to teeter over the south exit, where you’re headed. A certain distraction diverts you from noticing the large cement framework around the exit that’s about to topple on you to Miguel’s horror. In the nick of time, he just barely manages to snatch you by the waist from a thrusted sprint just before the framework collapses with a thunderous boom. 

You and Miguel cough from the dust it created. It takes a good second for you to process what your fate might’ve become, and it takes just another second for you to regain your consciousness. A good part of the exit is now blocked, but that doesn’t stop you from taking off your heels and attempting to climb over it. 

Miguel barks out and grabs your arm that’s now scathed with slight scratches. “The hell are you doing?!” he exclaims worriedly. 

You turn back with a teary and troubled look on your face, much to his shock. Abruptly, you turn back towards the exit and attempt to tug back your arm from his firm grasp. “M-my boss… he’s inside the garden,” you croak miserably out as you try to pull yourself over the fallen column. “I need t-to know if he’s safe…”

Lizard lets out another mighty howl and patters toward the stage, his tail once again swinging haughtily and ignoring anything in its path. Miguel shouts at you to duck and pulls you down along with him. You prop back up and without his arm on yours, you use it to your advantage and grunt yourself forward onto the column. 

Miguel wraps a large hand over your ankle and weighs you down from moving any further. “Hey, you need to get out, now. You can’t be here, no one should be,” he urges.

The shake of your head concerns him—right, you’re too stubborn for your own good. “I’ll be fine. P-please, just leave me be.”

“Not when you’re about to get killed,” he declares and juts your ankle more towards him. The motion makes you fall into his chest and Miguel uses one hand to properly secure you to himself, the other launching and swinging a web to the north entrance. 

You squirm and fight against him, pleading desperately for him to drop you and leave you alone. A frame of tears threatens to fall from your eyes from frustration and despair when you get put down. Miguel has to physically stop you from running back into the banquet hall once again—you put up a fight though. You thrash against him, clawing and weakly punching at his stronger arms, imploring for him to let you back inside. 

“You don’t understand—” you gasp as the remnants of the people inside flood out. Looking over his shoulder, you gaze at the exit solemnly. “Please… I need to know if he’s alright—he h-has a young daughter back at home and if anything happens t-to him—just please let me go!” you wail.

He grabs you by the shoulders forcefully and settles you down, the stream of tears falling from your eyes running his throat dry once again. Miguel has never seen you cry, or even come close to crying. Not when Gabriella forced you to watch what she considered “one of the saddest movies in existence”, not when an entire glass beaker had toppled and its shards pierced your skin, not even when Miguel had first scolded you about your many mistakes on the very first document you turned into him. 

Glassy eyes meet concerned, masked ones. Your lip trembled violently, the words all jumbled in your mouth about to spill. “Just let me check if he’s alright,” you just barely whisper.

He bores his gaze into yours as his composure does its best to upkeep him as best as possible. Miguel, from the inside of his mask, bites his lip and sighs. “I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.”

“What if you don’t?” you accuse with furrowed brows.

“I’ll bring him home safe and sound,” he says firmly. “You said he has a daughter, right? I won’t let her become an orphan. I swear on my life I won’t.”

Your gaze doesn’t falter, even when Miguel attempts to soothe you by chafing the chilled skin of your arms up and down in a calming manner. Unbeknownst to you, you and him share an image of Gabriella in your minds; it brings a sting of ache to your chests.

“How can I trust you?” you ask dryly. 

“Because,” he goes to weave a string of webbing through the north entrance and takes you out into the safety of the outside. He settles you on the corner of two intersecting streets that sit nearby the building, with your tears still falling and hands trembling. A hand carefully holds your cheek and wipes away descending tears on your chalky face, Miguel ignoring the squeeze of his heart with each one that puddles on the sidewalk. 

“... I’m your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

Spider-Man leaves you on the sidewalk idly with the blurry figures of your co-workers and other people in the company whizzing by you with no concern for anyone else other than themselves. It takes a moment for you to understand what just happened and with whom, suddenly hit with the pang of realization that you had just met the Spider-Man: the well-known vigilante protecting Nueva York from all corners, beloved by the public. Excitement can’t seem to conjure itself within you, however, your gaze still lingering on the building that Miguel was possibly in. 

A hesitant step takes you forward back to the building, but your phone vibrates abruptly from a notification from Mrs. Darcie. Word must’ve gotten out so quickly that it reached the O'Hara's neighborhood, as her text was asking if you and Miguel were alright. Your thumbs shake as you try and type up a response to let her know that you were at least alive, but you know that Gabriella wanted you both home. 

The least you could do is make sure half of that concern was eased. You were counting on Spider-Man to do the rest.

With an arm reaching out for a taxi, you rush into one and tell the driver to step on the gas, promising to tip extra. You’d be willing to give all the money you had with you if it meant that you could be with Gabriella for tonight.

You’ve underestimated the nightly rush hour this Friday night had brought upon, because there’s a sea of cars that are equally as stuck as you are amidst the road. Tangible fingers go to grip your hair frustratingly, and asking the driver to go any further was basically useless. Each minute you wasted on the same road you had been on for what was nearing twenty minutes made you more anxious by the minute. 

“I-isn’t there some sort of shortcut?” you ask the driver hoarsely. “I don’t care what roads you have to take, just please get off this one. I’m begging you. I have a child that’s waiting for me.”

His eyes give you a quick glance in the mirror, and empathy embeds itself in his equally tired eyes. He must be a father himself, you think, as he gives you an affirmative nod and swings off the road onto a much more bumpy and gravelly, but visibly less dense one.

It’s nearly an agonizing hour later off the road—it would’ve most likely reached around two or even three if you stayed on the main road—but you thankfully make it to the O’Hara’s residence. Your body moves on its own, flying out the elevator and speeding down the floor of the apartment. You burst open the door, visible sweat misted on your forehead and an ache to your limbs but all that is ignored when Mrs. Darcie greets you with relief, with a sleeping Gabriella settled soundly on the couch as her favorite TV show buzzes in the background.

She grasps you tightly by the arms. “My goodness, thank heavens you’re alright,” she murmurs quietly. “That must’ve been quite a scare… are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” you gasp out tiredly. “But how is she? Gabi, I mean… d-does she—”

Mrs. Darcie shakes her head. “She fell asleep a while ago, she doesn’t know. I just managed to get informed thanks to my son who works near the building. But where is Miguel?”

Dread floods your face once more, remembering why you left the banquet in the first place. Somehow, however, your phone vibrates and receives a text from the one and only. A loud sigh escapes your lips and you crumple to the floor as the feeling returns to your numb legs as Miguel’s texts ease your worries. 

Hey I’m alive and alright. I saw you leave earlier, hope you’re safe. I’m omw home. 

You fight the urge to burst into tears from the relief as Mrs. Darcie helps you back up. “I’m assuming that’s him,” she says gently as she encourages you to take off your heels. “What a waste of night and beautiful dress. Shame that blasted giant iguana or something had to ruin it.”

A broken laugh leaves you from her gentle humor. You glance down at the dress that the mysterious Lyla had given you tonight and sigh sadly at the many tears of the tulle and fabric. The dress looked expensive and you planned on wearing it again for formal events, but alas, fate has decided to toy with you.

“That’s alright,” you mutter as you help Mrs. Darcie gather her stuff back up so she can finally leave. “I have plenty of others to use in the meantime.”

The elderly woman leaves you inside their apartment after bidding you a goodnight to tend to Gabriella, who’s still sound asleep and oblivious to what was happening to the world and people around her. That’s a good thing, at least, you think to yourself as you tidy up the living room around her quietly. Ignorance is bliss, sometimes.

She’s still small enough that you’re able to carry her to her room even at her age and it reminds you a lot of when she was younger, when she’d pretend to be asleep so you could carry her yourself to go back to her room. Nowadays, she knows her bedtime and does it by herself, but assuming she had been waiting for you or Miguel to come home, sleep had snuck onto her as she waited and waited.

You put her down gently, hoping not to get any of the leftover debris on your soiled clothes onto her freshly-washed body. The action just barely stirs her awake, her eyes slitting open at the slightest bit. Your blurry figure just barely makes it to her senses and she grins sleepily.

A titter escapes her lips. “You look like a…” Gabriella starts, her words faltering due to a fading consciousness. 

“Like a…?” you whisper softly, a hand stroking her hair gently.

“Like a…” you can tell she’s trying to find the words in her very limited vocabulary currently, her brain threatening to shut off at any second now. “Like a princess, I think?”

You raise your brows at her description as Gabriella immediately falls back asleep. You suppose you do look much more dressed up from usual, but your cheeks tingle a hint of warmth at the comparison of literal royalty. You blame it on the drowsiness.

Your own tiredness begins to crawl up your spine as you stay by Gabriella’s side in her darkened bedroom, her quiet breaths soothing you like a lullaby. With heavy eyelids threatening to shut close at any minute, you fight the urge to give into the Sandman, insistent on Miguel’s return.

Miguel…

His name rings aloud in your mind for a moment.

Miguel…

Miguel…

“I promise you, I’ll make sure Miguel gets home safely.” 

Spider-Man’s familiar voice suddenly jolts you awake. Your brows crunch together. How on earth did Spider-Man know Miguel’s name when you merely referred to him as your boss? Perhaps he saw Miguel in the garden beforehand? Maybe Miguel had an earlier oncoming with him from before and Spider-Man just knew him from that one incident? Or… he just happens to know the names of all the citizens of Nueva York because… that’s just how Spider-Man is? 

Or, was Miguel actually Spid—you shake your head in the same second you think of such a stupid reasoning. That’s impossible…

… you know in your heart that it just is.

Any reason that you attempt to give, you think of it as either obnoxious or just simply impossible. Maybe you did let it slip that your boss’s name was Miguel… that just seems like the most plausible reason. After all, your adrenaline was at an all-time high and you could barely remember what had happened before the takeover, let alone the conversations you had. 

Whatever it was, it was going to bring Miguel back home, and that’s what ultimately had mattered in the end. It probably wasn’t even your business to prod around.

At Gabriella’s visible sleeping state, you stand up and start to head towards the bathroom to fix yourself up, but the sound of the master bedroom’s window suddenly shuffling open makes your nerves electrify. Miguel’s bedroom sat just right next to Gabriella’s, and it was also the bedroom that was nearest to the complex’s fire escape, so a break-in at this time of night was highly plausible. 

Grabbing one of the displayed metal baseball bats on the wall, you turn off Gabriella’s lights and lock the door behind, ensuring her safety first before yours. You’re careful to tiptoe around the more creaky parts of the floorboards, desperate to make yourself not seen by the intruder as you step closer and closer to Miguel’s bedroom. The door is just barely ajar, and the lights are on. A distinct shuffling, bed springs, and a masculine groan echo from the crack of the doorway and when all is silent from the other side of the door, you make your move and burst in, ready to swing at whoever threatens the O’Hara residence.

The bat is suddenly grabbed from your hands from a familiar neon orange webbing and thrusted to the side of the room, where it thunks against the wall and falls limply. You gasp aloud and with nothing to defend yourself with, you look up with fear in your eyes that suddenly turn to shock from the sight in front of you.

There, standing in the same blue and red vinyl suit you had crossed paths with earlier, without its mask completing the look… and thus, exposing the face of the man you had been waiting for to come back home to you. 

a/n ; second to last part to this mini-series and once again, i apologize for this nearly six-month delay, last semester was rough for uni. almost made this into two parts, but i felt like they just belonged together and i quite like the blend of them together.

thanks for the patience for those who stuck around and have waited far too long for this, you deserve this! i'm glad to see you all again <3 thank you endlessly for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and appreciated (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @raeisthebae @mvchmp @um-well @nintendh-e @eddieslooneymoonie @deputy-videogamer @xochyw @honeybeeznuts @aspens-cove @btszn @scaleniusrm @goldenpoison @the-pan-liquid (if you'd like to be either added or removed from the taglist, please lmk! i know it's been awhile, so hi again haha)

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader #fem!y/n

[flowerandblood]

The Gate of Salvation [2/3]

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: fingering, smut, sexual tension, angst, religious guilt, doubts related to faith, chauvinism ]

[ description: During the conclave, a new pope is elected, but to everyone's surprise, he does not intend to show himself to the crowds waiting for him. His ideas terrify the cardinals, and one of them convinces his niece, who is studying marketing, to talk to the new head of the Catholic Church in his presence. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

A mini-series created as a thank you and celebration of my 2'500 followers. I initially plan that it will have about 3 chapters.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The Song of Songs (Oneshot) Death and Ressurection (Oneshot)

Aemond as a Pope Edit Series Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After her meeting with the Pope, she had been writhing around all night, terrified and humiliated, unable to sleep. She couldn't forgive herself for her stupidity, for not seeing in time that it was obvious her uncle was trying to slip her over to the head of the Catholic Church like a snack he might be tempted to focus on.

The worst part was that he had hired her and she didn't know how she could take it back, defy the Pope himself, communicate that she was rejecting his proposal.

She got up before dawn, recognising that she would not get any rest anyway, and decided to take a warm shower. She thought while standing under the stream of hot water that she would try to distance herself, be professional and not give satisfaction to either her uncle or the Pope himself.

She hoped that when he finally decided to give any sort of interview the commotion around him would quiet down and she could quickly offer her resignation.

She sighed heavily, running her hand over her wet face, wondering how she was supposed to reconcile this madness with her classes at the University.

A car with the same driver as the day before arrived outside her townhouse again and took her straight to the Vatican; driving through its streets, she noticed that many people had pitched tents in and around St Peter's Square, waiting for any new information about their Pope.

She sighed quietly, resignedly thinking about how unnecessary his stubbornness actually was.

This time it was not her uncle waiting for her in the square, but a middle-aged priest who could have been her father, dressed in a plain black cassock. He smiled at her in a way that seemed genuine to her and she reciprocated the gesture when he indicated with a movement of his hand that she should move to follow him.

"The Pope is just having breakfast in the garden and he will receive you there." He said as they walked along the marble corridors filled with works of art; she looked at him surprised and sighed quietly, glancing out of the window, finding that it was indeed pleasant warm weather, the sky was cloudless.

They walked out one of the back exits to the cloisters into a small garden consisting of a maze formed of walls of shrubbery, which, however, easily led them to its centre, on which stood a large arbour styled in antique manner, with a dome and Corinthian-style columns.

She grinned with some kind of disbelief when she spotted his figure seated at an ornate small white table, his cassock also white, he held in his hands a newspaper he had just been looking through.

She thought with amusement that he was reading about himself.

Only when they got closer did she notice that other gazettes from different countries lay folded on the table top; the front pages of each asking who the new pope was, why he wasn't showing himself, why he was silent.

"Your Holiness." Said the priest standing next to her and nodded; the young pope, however, did not even bestow a single glance on them.

She pressed her lips together as she saw his thumb go to his mouth, he licked it and then used it to flip the page of the newspaper.

The priest who had brought her left them alone, as if he had already become accustomed to the lack of reaction and any culture on his part. She stared at him in silence for a moment, standing in front of him in the same dress as the day before, not having time to buy anything else.

"Holy Father." She said softly, wanting to get it over with, standing a few steps beside him.

He did not look at her, instead lifting his hand and extending it towards her, a signet ring of pure gold on his heart finger.

She looked at him for a moment in disbelief, then swallowed hard and walked towards him, grasping his warm hand in hers.

She leaned in, placing a quick, brief kiss on his ring and let him go immediately; he took his hand without even giving her a glance and went back to reading the newspaper.

She pressed her lips together feeling his intense, pleasant-smelling male perfume again.

"What do you think of what they write about me?" He asked, carelessly tossing the newspaper he had just read onto a pile of others, the discouragement on his face bordering on disgust, as if what he had read made him sick. "They are already reaching my family. Day and night they chat outside my mother's house."

She felt a tightness in her throat at his words and some kind of sympathy, because although he must have known what his decision entailed and what the consequences would be, some journalists crossed all possible boundaries, recognising no sanctity.

She shifted from foot to foot, looking at the French croissants that lay on one of the porcelain plates and a jar of strawberry jam, and reminded herself that she hadn't eaten breakfast. She grunted quietly, looking away, staring at the field flowers that grew around them – she spotted a gardener in the distance who was cutting the shrubs with his big steel shears.

"They won't stop until you give them something, Holy Father." She replied truthfully, hearing him snort under his breath.

"They will always want more." He replied dryly and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye – he was staring at her sitting with his legs crossed.

She shuddered and looked at him in disbelief as he pushed the other chair in front of her with his foot clad in white elegant shoes, moving it away.

"Sit down, child. You are pale. Did you eat breakfast today?" He asked disapprovingly, like a parent expressing their discontent. She shook her head and he sighed heavily, indicating with his hand gesture to the seat next to him.

She thought that this certainly had nothing to do with behaving according to protocol, but decided that it probably didn't matter much to him. She sat down next to him, smelling the intense scent of his perfume again, adjusting her dress, remembering not to sit with her legs crossed.

"Eat." He said dispassionately; she wasn't going to argue, figuring that since she was being forced to be at his every beck and call now, she could get something in return.

Therefore, she reached for the croissant and jam, which immediately drew the attention of her stomach – she casted him a wordless surprised glance as she heard the sound of the lighter being lit and the hiss of the cigarette he held in his mouth.

He took a deep drag and spread out comfortably in his chair, looking at her thoughtfully, letting the smoke out through his nose. He smirked, as if something in her gaze amused him.

"My chancellery contacted your University. They were happy to hear that you will be doing a sort of…internship here. You don't have to worry about your exams or classes." He hummed as if he was talking about something trivial and uninteresting, an irrelevant piece of information he had to convey to her, and took another drag, the tip of his cigarette igniting red.

"− what − but −" She started, but decided it made no sense; whoever he was, this man had clearly already planned everything for himself and had no intention of changing anything, much less asking her opinion.

"I thought you'd be pleased. Your uncle arranges for you accommodation and studies, the Pope makes sure you pass your exams without your personal involvement. Isn't that beautiful?" He asked with a sneer, and she felt a tightening in her throat, a cold sweat on her back; she stared wide-eyed at the half-cut croissant on which she had just spread jam, but lost the urge to eat.

He knew everything about her and thought she and her uncle were the same.

She pressed her lips together and leaned back against the backrest, placing her hands on the armrests even though she shouldn't be doing so and crossed her legs. She saw his gaze drop involuntarily to her bare knees, his cigarette burning slowly between his fingers.

"My uncle wants you to take me to your bed, Holy Father." She said quietly, recognising that she didn't have the strength for this, for their games, their hookups, the secrets they obviously adored, of which the entire Vatican was made.

She blinked when he chuckled, his pointing finger hitting his cigarette so that the ash from it fell to the stone floor beneath him.

"Tell me something I don't know. Eat. We have a lot of work ahead of us." He muttered, taking one last drag on his cigarette, letting the smoke out through his nose, extinguishing the remnants of it on his plate.

She stared at him with her heart pounding fast, thinking in disbelief that he really was a few steps ahead of everyone else.

He was perfectly informed, and although his words and actions seemed chaotic, there was purpose in them.

"What do you want, Holy Father?" She asked lightly, taking a piece of croissant into her mouth. He threw her an amused look and raised an eyebrow.

She had the impression that he took satisfaction in teasing her, his gaze fixed on her lips, which she involuntarily licked.

"Many things. Above all, holy peace and quiet, but I am not afforded it. Get up, let's take a walk." He said matter-of-factly and rose abruptly, putting his hands behind him, moving ahead without looking at her towards the corridors made of tall, evenly trimmed bushes.

She quickly swallowed the piece she just had in her mouth and stood up, following him, levelling her step with his, sunshine and birdsong all around them.

"We're being watched. It's harder for them to eavesdrop on me as I walk." He said coolly; she turned behind her and saw the gardener she noticed before, who was apparently just pretending to water the flowers around the arbour.

She looked at him in horror, realising that he must have been spied on all the time.

That they all wanted to know what he was going to do, surely he must have kept them in an iron grip since no picture of him had leaked to the press yet.

"What's going to make the atmosphere calm down and the journalists back off?" He asked discouraged, and she sighed quietly, looking up at the cloudless sky.

"Your private invitation."

She was surprised that her idea that he would hold a press conference where he would be invisible and only his voice could be heard appealed to him. He felt that, in fact, his faithful should hear his words and what he has to share with them, and this did not require his image to be revealed at all.

He decided to receive the TV and newspaper envoys in the Sistine Chapel, recognising that this was some kind of milestone moment that required a special place, a black veil was placed in front of his papal throne.

Although on the one hand it looked comical, on the other it added a sort of solemnity and impression of holiness, something tangible and yet inaccessible.

The cardinals and his office workers had prepared a script for him, which he tore in front of her eyes before the speech itself, handing her the shreds that remained of the pages, staring blankly at the black fabric in front of him. She took it from him, not knowing what else she could do; he demanded she be by his side in case someone asked an uncomfortable question.

Her heart was pounding like mad, she could feel the cold sweat on her back and wondered if he felt a similar anxiety.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and although his face was stony, he seemed even paler to her than usual, his large hands on which she could clearly see the outline of his veins clenched on his armrests – he sat comfortably on his throne with his legs crossed.

"Holy Father, why don't you want to show your face to your faithful? Is this some new kind of Vatican policy, a way of getting the whole world's attention?" They heard the question echoed by the first journalist on the other side of the curtain; she saw him press his lips together and swallow loudly before his cold, matter-of-fact, dispassionate voice began to spread around them.

"My face is not useful to my faithful for anything. They need my action. My causality. They need my intervention in matters of urgency, in the problems of paedophilia in the church, in the embezzlement and misuse of church assets, in the restoration of law and order, in the opening up of the church to young people who feel forgotten and unwanted. My face, my history, my personal views will distract them from all these things."

He said without stammering. She looked at him in disbelief, realising that he couldn't have prepared this answer beforehand.

He was saying straight from his heart what he was thinking and there was something touching about it.

Somehow she understood what he meant.

"What about the pilgrimages, what about the Sunday masses celebrated by the Pope?" Asked another journalist. She heard him sigh heavily, noticed that his hand trembled as he raised it to his face, tightening his fingers on the base of his nose.

"The Pope is not alone, he has his cardinals who can assist him in his missions around the world. As for the masses, I will attend them as a guest, but I will not be visible. The Pope is not unique. The Pope is chosen as first among equals. As Pope, I still remain a cardinal, one of the apostles. I am not Christ. I am not God."

She looked at him in pain, breathing unevenly through slightly parted lips, remembering what she had told him a few days earlier.

They need a guide, not another invisible God.

She couldn't believe that after what she had heard she had begun to feel sympathy for him – his answers seemed thoughtful and sensible, and she wondered if she had just seen his true nature, or if he was as perfect a manipulator as any of the cardinals.

She wondered how he had convinced them.

How he became Pope.

When it was all over he left without a word; the journalists were led away, and she prayed that it would help, that public opinion would calm down a little.

She watched all the news editions that evening with bated breath – the whole world quoted his statements and his decision, to her relief, most of the experts spoke warmly of him. The newspaper headlines also left her under no illusions.

The Pope has spoken. He doesn't want to show his face, only his actions.

The Pope who chooses the fight against paedophilia over the glamour of glory.

The Pope without a face − a new beginning.

The end of splendour − the Pope retreats to work like any of us.

The end of the church as we know it. The Pope at last again the voice of the weakest.

The next day she arrived in the Vatican with a stack of newspapers, eager to show him the result of their work, hoping it would satisfy him and allow her to return to normality.

"The Pope is exercising, but he said he would receive you." Said the priest, who was called Father Lenz, and who was apparently his private secretary, always waiting for her to lead her wherever he just happened to be.

"He's exercising?" She asked with amusement, and he just raised his eyebrows, himself clearly not knowing what he thought about it.

He opened the door for her and she stepped into a large room, with a beautiful baroque vaulted ceiling and hundreds of paintings on one side, rows of tall windows on the other, illuminating an exercise machine consisting of a small bench with a mattress on which he placed his back as he pulled on the railing at the end of which the weights hung, his legs braced on either side of the machine for balance.

He was dressed in white tracksuits.

She stared at the sight in disbelief, waiting for him to notice her; it only happened after a while when he took a break and sat down, reaching for a bottle of water standing on the old wooden floor. She lifted up a bundle of newspapers and he nodded, running his fingers through his hair, trying to calm his breathing after his exertion.

She walked over to him and handed him the magazines she held in her hand; she felt a pleasant throbbing between her thighs feeling the smell of his sweat mixed with the scent of his perfume, his lips slightly swollen and pink from the blood that pulsed faster through his body.

He flipped through the front pages of the papers one by one and sighed quietly; she thought with surprise that there was a sort of expression of relief painted on his face, as if what was happening frightened him somewhere deep inside and filled him with anxiety.

He put them down at last, looking ahead, grabbing the white towel that hung over the railing at the other end of the machine.

"I prayed to God after I was elected. I prayed that he would show me the way, and although he usually answered me in some way, that evening he was silent. It was a silence full of rejection, as if the heavens did not agree with the decision of the conclave. How was I to go out to the crowds in such a situation, to convince them that Our Father in the heavens was sending me to them?"

He asked, rising with a quiet creak from the metal bench, surprising her completely with his words; because of his clothes and the way he spoke she had cognitive dissonance and had to remind herself that he was the Pope and not just a young man close to her age.

His confession touched her in some way – she was able to imagine his despair on the evening he was elected as people chanted his name, but it was the voice of God that he wanted to hear.

He stood a few steps away from her, drinking the contents of his small water bottle to the end, and stared ahead, as if he had returned with his mind to that time, as if he needed to get it out of himself.

"That's why I asked my faithful to pray from me. And what did they do? They despaired. They despaired that they could not see my face, that they could not touch me, tear me apart, dissect my private life and my past. I have never felt so lonely." He said with a regret from which she felt a squeeze in her throat and lowered her gaze, not knowing what to say, reminding herself with shame that she had thought the same thing about him as all those people.

"Perhaps it was also the will of the heavens. In the end, when the time comes everyone will face God alone. Maybe it was his words: don't follow the crowd, don't conform, that's not why I sent you." She said softly, but immediately regretted her words, recognising that she had no right to interpret anyone's spiritual experiences, much less those of the Head of the Church.

She heard him snort with amusement; he pulled a lighter and cigarettes from his pocket and for a moment she thought he would want to smoke in this beautiful baroque chamber, however, he moved ahead towards a small door other than the one she had entered through.

"Come." He hummed, so she moved after him, knowing that it was pointless to resist.

For the rest, the more she got to know him, the more she liked him.

They passed through a narrow corridor and began to climb up a stone staircase that spiraled around a large pillar – it seemed to her that they were in some older part of this great complex. They reached a small wooden door, and when he opened it they emerged onto the roof of one of the buildings located to the right of St Peter's Square.

The view in front of her struck her –the sun was rising over the Vatican, lazily leaning out from above the church standing in the centre of the square like a nimbus, the air around them pleasantly cool and crisp.

She watched as he moved ahead and walked closer to the stone wall, firing up his lighter and leaning forward with a cigarette in his mouth – there was something so obscene about the sight that she smiled involuntarily.

He looked at her over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, taking a drag, then slid his cigarette out of his mouth with a motion of his hand and let the smoke out silently through his nose, shaking the ash to the ground with a flick of his finger.

"It has been reported to me that journalists are slowly making their way into my past. Don't worry, I don't think it's your fault. I knew it would happen, but I thought I had more time." He murmured lowly seeing her surprised, horrified face, suddenly as if tired and discouraged, taking another drag with a quiet hiss of fire.

She thought looking at his silhouette illuminated by the first rays of the sun, that he looked like a saint.

"I want you to hear it from me. Will you listen to what I have to say?" He asked calmly and she nodded, feeling her heart pounding fast, looking at him with her lips slightly parted, terrified of what he wanted to tell her.

"My mother I told you about is a nun. She adopted me a few years after I was placed in a convent orphanage." He said calmly, looking away, staring at the crowds of people walking around St Peter's Square.

"They took me from the woman who gave birth to me because she liked to inject various stimulants into her veins. She was asleep when one of her men decided he didn't like the way I looked at him, that I was complaining about being hungry. He decided that he would gouge my eyes out, but he only succeeded with one, my screaming would wake even the dead."

He muttered, not looking at her but somewhere in the distance, letting out a puff of smoke with a deep breath; she looked at him with her eyebrows arched in pain feeling the squeeze in her throat, her cheeks red with emotion.

She wanted to say something but was afraid to interrupt him, she knew that what he was telling her was of the utmost importance and she wondered if anyone else knew about all this, if he had confided in anyone.

"Sister Alicent after I was brought in wouldn't let me call her my mother. So I called every woman I saw that, cooks, cleaners, teachers. She adopted me in the end, unable to look at it anymore. She got a dispensation from the Pope." He said lowly, throwing the cigarette butt on the ground, crushing it with his completely white Adidas.

"Some trashy, cheap magazines are already writing about the fact that I am the son of a nun and the Pope, others with mockery recognise that I am certainly her immaculate conception. That they mock me doesn't bother me, but it fills me with sadness that journalists stand outside her house all day. She can't even go out shopping or gardening. I guess you think the only way out of this situation would be an interview where I would tell my story?"

He asked disapprovingly, looking at her finally; she was shocked and horrified that he was asking her opinion on such an important matter. She shook her head helplessly, shrugging her shoulders.

"You cannot allow them to make your mother a hostage, Holy Father. You must show strength. Call press conferences where you talk about what decisions you make, but don't answer questions about your family. In the Vatican, you are Pius XIII, not Aemond Targaryen. When they see that they cannot blackmail you, they will let go. In my opinion, you both have to bear it." She said what she thought, thinking in the back of her mind that journalists would always want more and the matter would only get worse.

He looked at her silently as if analysing her words and sighed finally, kicking a stone that lay under his feet with his shoe.

"Have you ever kissed?" He asked lightly and she looked at him with shock written all over her face, feeling her heart pounding like crazy, her cheeks burning with heat.

She couldn't believe such a question had come out of his mouth.

"You don't have to answer. I'm just curious. I've never kissed anyone." He replied after a moment, seeing her embarrassed reaction, as if he wanted to clarify and elaborate that his interest was purely scientific and theoretical.

She swallowed loudly, pressing her lips together, thinking that he had told her about himself, about the most private aspects of his life, and decided that nothing bad would happen if she answered him.

"Once, in high school." She muttered, stroking her arm in a gesture of uncertainty and embarrassment, looking away. She heard him hum under his breath, intrigued.

"Did it feel good?" He asked softly, standing a few steps away from her with his hands tucked into his snow-white tracksuit bottoms, cocking his head.

She looked up at him in disbelief, breathing erratically, clasping her hands tighter, involuntarily her gaze escaped to his full, glistening lips.

"It was a very moist, soft and warm sensation." She muttered feeling a tightness in her throat, her gaze fleeing from his eyes to his lips, unable to stop herself from imagining how wonderful it would be to feel how they tasted.

"Hm." He murmured, looking away thoughtfully.

They stood like that for a moment in silence – she could feel the wordless tension around them, as if electricity flowed through the air with their every word and movement.

"Did you confess this deed?"

She blinked and felt her heart stop. She shook her head, looking at him with slightly parted lips.

"Pardon?" She asked in disbelief, feeling discomfort in her lower abdomen and a cold sweat on her back, not believing that he was suggesting such a thing.

"Failure to maintain chastity before marriage is a sin." He replied indifferently; she pressed her lips together, feeling tears of shame and humiliation under her eyelids, her eyebrows arched in pain.

"So I am a sinner, Holy Father." She said coldly, and turned away, leaving without any pleasantries or even a simple goodbye.

She burst out sobbing as she ran down the narrow stairs.

It was only a kiss.

She just wanted to see what it was like.

In fact, she felt bad afterwards, but not because she thought it was a sin, but because she was not in love with this boy.

She asked Father Lenz for any of the drivers to take her home; seeing her face red from tears he asked what had happened, but she did not answer him.

She opened up to him, spoke about an intimate part of her life, and he could only judge her, make her another Eve, a fallen woman.

It was only a kiss.

She returned to her flat filled with regret and disappointment – she angrily pulled off her long dress she had bought and chosen specially to be able to present herself as expected, to keep herself humble, but for what?

She decided that she would never appear there again.

There was no kind of real contract between the two of them, she had only signed documents regarding her collaboration with the Pope's secretaries and a confidentiality clause.

She changed into her pyjamas, undid her hair, took the box of leftover cakes from the cupboard and lay in bed, browsing social media platforms on her phone, trying not to think about what had happened.

She tilted her head back and groaned in frustration when she saw that her uncle had started to call her. She muted her phone and flipped the screen down, sighing.

She lay back on her bedding, staring blankly at the window, and thought with pain that the man who should be giving her the strength to be a better person had made her doubt herself, made her feel sinful and dirty.

She started to think that maybe she should go to confession after all, that maybe he was right, that she was only making excuses for herself without wanting to admit that she was wrong, but she felt even worse at that thought and just burst out crying.

Exhausted by sobbing and remorse, she finally fell asleep, seeing only through her closed eyelids that the phone display lying next to her glowed again and again.

She shuddered, rising quickly to sit up in complete darkness when she heard someone's loud knock on her door; she looked around with a pounding heart, not knowing where she was, whether it was evening or morning.

She glanced at her phone and saw that she had slept for several long hours and the sun had set, on her screen 20 missed calls from her uncle and a plethora of text messages that she didn't have the energy to read.

She sighed heavily and got up, walking reluctantly to the door, knowing her uncle would now make a litany for her; she turned on the night light on the way so she wouldn't trip over anything and she turned the lock, opening it.

"Oh God."

She muttered, seeing the figure of the young Pope in front of her, still in the same white tracksuit and sneakers.

He had his hood up over his head.

He pulled the white earphones out of his ears with a soft flick of his hand – she could hear the heavy metal music playing from them.

"Will you let me in?" He asked indifferently; she looked at him in disbelief, thinking he was risking a lot by going outside just to see her.

She sighed quietly and stepped back, allowing him to go inside. She leaned out wanting to check if anyone had seen him and closed the door quickly.

She glanced at him over her shoulder and saw that he had turned off the music on his player and put it back in his pocket.

They stood for a moment in silence, his gaze focused on her naked thighs; she swallowed loudly with shame at the thought that she was standing before the Head of the Catholic Church in nothing but pyjamas consisting of cream shorts and a shirt buttoned up the front, under which she didn't even have a bra.

She turned her head, running her trembling hand over her face, her heart pounding like mad.

"I made a mistake." She heard his voice full of regret. "I wanted your uncle to pass it on to you, but you didn't answer."

"I didn't and don't feel like talking to anyone, Holy Father." She muttered, feeling a tightening in her chest, fiddling restlessly with the cross hanging on her neck.

She heard him swallow loudly and look to the side, pulling the hood off his head.

"I made you doubt in yourself. In your purity and your value in the eyes of God." He said lowly, and she felt tears gathering in the corners of her eyes for the umpteenth time that day. She closed her eyelids and tilted her head back, trying to control herself, not letting them flow out.

She did not reply.

"My words arise from my depravity, which I fight unsuccessfully. From my vanity and jealousy. I would rather have you locked up in a convent. You could then be by my side and no one would ever touch you again. You could be mine." He said softly, thoughtfully, looking at some point on the floor, as if he had drifted off completely in his musings – she felt her lips part in disbelief, her brow arching in pain.

I would rather have you locked up in a convent.

You could be mine.

What was she to reply to such a shocking confession?

She shuddered when he finally turned his attention to her, the gaze of his healthy eye sharp and piercing, while his artificial one was empty, white, lifeless.

"Though never before have my members reacted to the sight and thought of a woman, when I see you, I long to touch you, to taste you, to smell you. I have become addicted to your scent and try to recall it after evening prayer before I fall asleep." He spoke calmly, as if it was not an emotionally driven statement but something thought out, something that had been going on in his head for a very long time.

She felt with fear how her body reacted to his words with a greedy throbbing between her thighs and a moisture from which the material of her underwear was getting wet, her nipples hardened, more clearly visible from under her shirt.

She froze when she saw his gaze flee to her breasts, seeing exactly what she feared, his full lips parted slightly; she could hear his breathing clearly, fingers of his hands rubbing against each other in an anxious, nervous gesture.

"What do you feel now?" He whispered and she drew in the air loudly, feeling a tightness in her throat. She licked her lips dry from stress, taking a step backwards, hitting her back against the wall, feeling that she had nowhere to run. She helplessly clenched her thighs together, wanting to stop what was happening, seeing that his pupil widened at the sight.

"I'm wet." She confessed in shame, recognising that there was no point in pretending that there was something innocent in what was happening – her body was twitching with desire, begging for his touch and relief, her heart pounding like mad.

She heard him draw in a loud breath at her words while looking straight into her eyes, she saw fire in them, heavenly or hellish.

"Does it feel good?" He asked softly, gazing shamelessly at the spot between her thighs – she felt a wonderful heat in her lower abdomen and a tickling inside her, her walls were clenching around nothing at his question.

She thought helplessly that she had never felt anything like this before in her life.

"Yes." She whispered in a trembling voice, feeling her whole body quiver and pulsate, feeling desire in her fingertips, in her lips and down there, deep, deep inside her.

She shuddered as he approached her with a slow step and lifted her terrified gaze to him. His lips were parted in an anxious, hitched breath, in his eyes heat and darkness from which she felt a squeeze in her throat and between her thighs.

He stood over her, for a moment just looking at her – his trembling hands finally raised, reaching for the buttons of her shirt. They looked at each other with some kind of pain and suffering from which she felt a sting in her heart as a coldness enveloped her naked skin.

It seemed to her that it lasted an eternity – he took his time, his gaze fixed on the line of her bare body as he unbuttoned her shirt fully; he didn't expose her breasts, he just looked at her.

She gasped when he lifted his hand and ran his fingertips slowly over her sternum down to her stomach – she closed her eyes and sighed quietly, feeling her lips pulsate with desire, swollen and thirsty.

"− so soft − so warm −" He whispered; her quivering palm rose and touched his fingers, his hand larger and more massive than hers, she could feel the outline of his veins clearly under her skin.

She pressed his hand to her heart, heard him draw in the air hard as he felt it beat beneath his fingertips.

He looked at her, remaining still, as if frozen, knowing that one word from him, one expression of hesitation and they would be left with only shame, only regret, only disappointment.

She felt the tears under her eyelids, which involuntarily one by one ran down her face; he noticed it and shook his head, his breathing shaky, uneven, despairing.

"− you're so pure −" He whispered, nuzzling the tip of his nose into her cheek as if seeking refuge. She clenched her eyelids in shock at how intimate and desired this closeness was, his scent filled her entire lungs, his warm breath enveloped her cheek.

"− looking at you I feel terror because I regret − I regret that I will never feel you − that I will never give you what I want −" He muttered in a trembling voice; she felt his warm tears running down her skin.

They both gasped when his shaking hand tentatively began to slide lower and sobbed in pleasure as his fingers slipped hesitantly under the material of her shorts, deep between her thighs.

They were panting and quivering with desire, her trembling hands clenched on his arms as his fingertips pushed the material of her underwear aside with a shy gesture full of shame, she heard his low, helpless groan as he felt how wet she was.

"− God, help me −" He mumbled in a broken voice full of guilt – she tried but was unable to stop the moans of pleasure that left her mouth with each tentative movement of his fingers that brushed her swollen, throbbing womanhood, her body was so tense she felt she was on the edge.

"− please −" She whimpered pleadingly, placing her hand on his with a gesture full of desperation, wanting to feel him harder, deeper.

She tilted her head back as she finally felt him the way she wanted to, his fingertips digging into her fleshy, hot, moist folds with intense, circular strokes – she could feel his hot, ragged breath on her skin, his face pressed against her cheek, her hands clenched in a helpless gesture on the material of his sweatshirt.

Tears of despair and delight streamed down their faces, tired of pretending and fleeing, shivers ran down her spine every time the tips of his fingers teased again that tender bud from which her sobriety of mind was taken away; it seemed to her that their bodies were moving on their own, something hard and throbbing under his trousers rubbing against her thigh with desperate strokes.

"− forgive me − say you forgive me −" He mumbled pleadingly in a breaking voice.

She felt him trembling all over just like her, unable to stop now, knowing there was no way back, her face wet with her and his tears.

She reached her palm into his hair and combed through it with her fingers, letting out her breath with a loud sob, moving involuntarily to the rhythm of his hand as it pressed harder and harder against her fleshy skin with the lewd click of her moisture.

"− I forgive you − I forgive you and ask for forgiveness −" She gasped as she felt something approaching, moaning louder and louder.

She thought that despite the fact that he was touching her in this forbidden, sinful place, some incomprehensible kind of intimacy and innocence was added to what was happening by the fact that he hadn't exposed her naked body, that he hadn't wanted to possess her, only to experience something with her and in her presence.

"− good God, you're leaking − so sticky − I'll lick it off my fingers −" He whispered with a kind of awe, as if he were talking about something sacred and mysterious.

She felt that his words had done something to her – she cried out loudly, parting her lips in disbelief when suddenly a wave of warm pleasure surged through her body like a lightning bolt.

She felt wonderful tickling in her lips, in the tips of her fingers, in her breasts, in her chest, her inside's clenching greedily around nothing, her moisture trickled down onto his hand, she heard his low, surprised groan.

Her body suddenly became numb; she would have fallen if he hadn't put his arm around her in time, his hand ran over her cheek heated from the exertion.

"− you look like Bernini's Saint Teresa − so beautiful −" He mumbled in a trembling voice, panting hard along with her, looking at her dreamily. She sighed sweetly, laying her head on his chest, letting him embrace her tightly.

She could feel his manhood throbbing under the damp material of his sweatpants.

He came.

She stayed in his embrace not daring to look at him, not daring to think about what they had done, wanting to push back the moment when they would feel remorse, pain and regret, sinking only into this wonderful relief.

You look like Bernini's Saint Teresa.

A sculpture in which a holy woman curves in ecstasy after an angel pierces her with an arrow of Divine Love.

God's Delight.

______

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[wutheringcaterpillar]

18 years

Summary: After 18 years of marriage Thomas plans a special day just for you that he wants to be perfect even if that means keeping his kids out of trouble.

Warnings: Slight misogynistic Thomas, talk of termination.

Side Note: This is my first fic in awhile since I stopped writing two years ago on a different account, I hope it's okay! :)

The Shelby household was anything but perfect but for today Thomas was going out of his way to ensure that it was. Being a housewife and a mother was by far not an easy job.Thomas and you had been married for eighteen years. Did it get ugly sometimes? Absolutely. That didn’t change the adoration and love you shared for each other.

While you were out running some errands with Ada, Thomas has quite a few helping hands in cleaning up the house, and decorating it to the 10s. “Well brother, how’s it lookin’ eh?”

The silver chandelier presented the dining room with a warm glow that made the silver set table look ever so inviting. All the rooms were vacuumed and mopped, not a crumb in site. The floors glistened beautifully to his high standard. “Never did I think that my incompetent brothers would use their brains for a day and the outcome be satisfactory.” Arthur laughed in response, before giving Thomas a playful nudge. “Alright, that’s enough out of you.” Thomas rushed to the kitchen once he remembered he left the kids in there unattended. They were being not very helpful to say the least.

Annabeth, and Edward were now teenagers full of hormones and outbursts. It seemed like they would argue every day about the smallest things but today Thomas wasn’t allowing there behavior especially today.

“Does dad know about Jackson?” Annabeth scoffed at him with a disgusted face. Thomas did not allow her to date unless he appointed the young man to her. The same could not be said for Edward’s late night shenanigans that Thomas was aware of and Annabeth despised the double standard. “No, and I’d appreciate if you kept your fucking mouth sh-“

“Now, now. No need for bickering on a day that’s about your mother and all she has done for you.” Thomas entered the room dressed in a black and white suit and tie that fit him snuggly, giving off his normal professional sense. “I wanted to have a word with the both of you before your mother arrives which should be-“ He pulled his watch out of his suit to get a glimps of the time. “In ten minutes precisely.” Edward opened his mouth to speak but Thomas raised his hand to stop him. “I don’t want any interruptions I want you both to listen to the words that are about to come out of my mouth and I highly suggest you take them seriously or you will not enjoy the consequences. Eh?” He eyed them both with his eyebrows raised, both of them stayed quiet as they lightly cowered in there seats to there father’s stature. “Stand up. Both of you.” Without hesitations the teenagers stood up, not slouching but standing to s perfect straight line.

“No. Fucking. Fighting.” Thomas walked around them in a circle menacingly never taking his eyes off of them while they stared at the ground and listened to their fathers words. “I don’t care, if you don’t like the food. I don’t care if you don’t like sitting next to each other. More importantly I don’t care how either of you feel today. Today is about your mother. There will be no games, no arguments, no sports. More importantly-“ He stopped in his tracks now in front of them, hands on his knees as he leaned down so they had no choice but to look in his demeaning eyes. “No. Fucking. Fighting.”

There was a brief silence, as if to let the air settle and for what he said to soak into them. “We’re clear eh?” They both nodded and Thomas dismissed them. “Great now, go get formally dressed.” He watched as they both walked out of the kitchen. He greatly appreciated how much time and effort you spent in taking care of them and it’s time they return the favor for at the least one singular night.

Edward shoved his sister playfully into a wall, just around the corner to where they thought Thomas wouldn’t hear. Annabeth shoved him back and pointed up at him. “If you say one thing about-“

“Who your late night squeeze?” Edward began to laugh and Annabeth shoved him again.

Thomas heard from the kitchen and raised his hands in the air, disposing of his cigarette before he spoke to himself, annoyed. “What did I just say?” Thomas was going to let it go until he heard something break that sounded expensive.

In a quick pace to the hallway, he saw the both of you attempting to round the corner to the next room but they should know who their father is by now that nothing goes uncaught. “Eh! Over here now!” The siblings shamefully turned awaiting for all hell to break loose. Thomas was the strict parent, and that frightened them, which is what he wanted.

Glancing to the ground, an expensive, rare crystal dish was shattered on the floor, and he was going to be damned if Frances was going to clean it up. For Thomas’s sake he just hope you wouldn’t notice until after his surprise. “I said three, fucking words to you.”

“No. Fucking. Fighting.” He hit the both of them on the back of their heads. “Yes I’m aware of Jackson, I was hoping to avoid the subject today but I have ears so I suppose this will be addressed right fucking now to clear the fucking air. I pay close attention to anyone and anything around me and my family. You both should know that more than anyone. Seeing Jackson stops now. I don’t approve of him, my daughter will not be marrying some useless sack of shit like that. See him again. You will never leave this house again, got it?” Annabeth nodded with her heated cheeks. Edward began to quietly laugh to himself while his sister was being reprimanded.

That’s when Thomas was quick to call him out too. “I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re giggling at like I don’t know what you do with the little whores from school, sneaking them into my fucking house.” All grins from Edward diminished immediately.

“What you do is your business but in my fucking house. That’s my fucking business. Clearly your mother and I have given both of you too much privilege. I don’t care who you fuck but I’d be careful if I were you because the first girl you get pregnant, you’re marrying whether you love her or not. You know why? Because I say so. As for sneaking them in my house. Good luck with that from now on I’m sure you haven’t noticed but maybe you should take a look at the new people I hired if you could find them to watch the house whilst your mother and I are away for our anniversary.” Both of them were speechless and Thomas sent them up to their room. Thomas may be older than them but he wasn’t born yesterday. After all he spent plenty of those nights sneaking in and out of your house when you first started dating. He knows all the ins and outs of scheming.

The sound of car door closing grabbed his attention and panic mode slightly set in for him. Thomas Shelby didn’t panic but in the event of there being a chance that something may not be to your standard, he panicked. “Hurry on, your mother is here! Get dressed in proper clothes and not some skimpy, raggedy mess for once!” He yelled after his children.

The weather was chilly as winter was approaching in Birmingham. The snow was falling delicately from the sky once you pulled in with Ava and to say you were freezing was an understatement but the new brown wool blanket, she has gotten you should do more than help. “Ada you didn’t have to buy me anything. I have money.”

“Oh being married to my brother, believe me I know you have money, just wanted to treat you today is that so bad?” You shrugged, smiling at your sister. “C’mon let’s get inside.”

“Oh I hope Thomas was okay with the kids today, I know he’s hardly taking care of them alone without needing my help.” Ada set a comforting hand on your shoulder before reaching for the door handle. “Y/N if Thomas can’t handle them for a few hours, I don’t know how you’ve gotten this far.” You both laughed and once the door opened, you were met with a warm embrace there must’ve been a fire lit in the living room. Thomas came abruptly from around the corner after yelling something at Arthur that you weren’t able to make out. “Y/N! My dear loving wife!” Thomas pulled you to his side, and had Ada remove your jacket.

He was freshly shaven, and showered, smelling of mint and tobacco. His smile pierced your eyes, and he leaned down to kiss you softly. “How was your day out with Ada love?”

“Wonderful, was nice to get away from all the testosterone for a bit.” You giggled and then started noticing your surroundings. The floor was sparkling, not a sign of dirt or mud. The laundry basket was empty, the kitchen spotless, you went to turn into the dining room but Thomas quickly placed his hands over your eyes. “Thomas, what’s going on the house looks-“

“Happy anniversary sweetheart.” He removed his hands and the sight of the dining room was absolutely breathtaking. The curtains looked brand new, a dark cherry red colored that allowed the sun to poke through in a welcoming manner. The chairs were painted black and with gold patted seats to sit on. The food arrangements looked more than delicious and most importantly your whole family was there. Annabeth dressed in a a beautiful gold gown and Edward dressed in a suit and tie matching his father. Even the Shelby brothers looked showered and dressed to the tens. “Thomas I-“

He guided you to your seat, pulling out the chair for you. “Don’t say anything love, just enjoy dinner and don’t even think about doing dishes or cleaning up after this. We’ve got it.” Thomas winked at you as he took his seat beside you, the glowing of your smile and surprise leaving him just as happy as the day you said yes to marrying him.

18 years, and he still found time to manage to make it feel like the first day you fell in love with him. “I just want to take a moment to thank Frances who will also be joining us for this lovely meal. I couldn’t have put today together without any of you. Thank you for taking them time to assist me in doing this for Y/N, my beautiful wife whom I adore and admire more and more every day. Thank you for being such a wonderful mother to our kids and dealing with me. Not sure how you quite do it but I’m glad you’ve stayed and put up with me.” Thomas raised his glass of whiskey in honor of everyone.

Your eyes began to water to which he’d caught your tear of joy with his free finger. You mouthed a thank you to him and an I love you and dinner began. Once dinner was over Thomas made a final announcement. “Tonight Y/N and I will be leaving for Bali for our anniversary.” You gasped, hand covering your mouth in disbelief. You’d never gone and you had never found the time. Thomas wasn’t giving you an option to not have time. “We’ll return Wednesday afternoon and I’d just like to take a minute to thank Pol and Frances for watching the kids. Thank you all for coming, and I appreciate every one of you bastards.” Laughs filled the room while Thomas extended his hand for you to take and help you out of your seat.

Once upstairs you stared at your body in the mirror, just getting the feeling that something was off but putting it off your mind. “You didn’t have to do all this Thomas.” He came up behind you in the mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist, snuggling his head into the crook of your neck. “I did love. You do so much and never take time for yourself, always putting I and the children first. You need to be put first too.” Swinging around, you stared into your husband’s crystal blue eyes.

It has been a long, long ride for the two of you together, that will keep going. But this soft, sentiment man had taken awhile to appear and you’re not sure how you got him to come out but you were glad you did. “I love you Mr. Shelby.”

“And I love you Mrs. Shelby.” You giggled as he smiled down at you in awe, before placing his lips on yours, connecting them in a chaste, delicate kiss. “Mom, Dad the cab’s here!” Annabeth called.

“Would you shut up you idiot, dad probably already knew that.”

“Eh! No fighting, right?” There was a silence before they both responded in unison. “Sorry dad!”

“I don’t know how you managed to get them along for dinner but kahoots to you my dear husband because that’s something I could never do.” Thomas wrapped his arm around you, as you walked down the stairs together. “I’m Thomas Shelby. The name alone fucking scares anyone.”

“Well I guess I’m not anyone then am I?” Thomas shook his head smiling. “No, no you’re not. You weren’t even frightened of me when I screamed at some whore, for thinking she could seduce me.”

“Fuck no, if you hadn’t I wouldn’t be Mrs. Shelby now would I?” Thomas laughed once more before opening the car door for you. The snow covered ground glistened from the bright night sky as you scooted into the cab.

The ride was quiet whilst you rested in Thomas’s arms which he thought was rather odd, that usually meant something was on your mind. “Are you alright love?” Breaking a part from, you took his hand in yours. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Worry etched over Thomas’s face but it didn’t compete with the level of anxiety you were feeling. “Whatever it is you can tell me Y/N, we’re celebrating eighteen years of marriage nothing is going to run me off now I can assure you that.” You stared down at the seat, eyebrows etched together in concern of his reaction. Patting his hand you looked up at him slowly, paying close attention to his eyes. “Thomas I think I might be pregnant. I know it's a big age gap for Edward and Annbeth to be close with them but I still want to have this baby." Thomas didn't hesitate to speak as he did not want to worry you. "Sweetheart, how long have you known?"

"I think I've known for about a week and I know it sounds silly that I was nervous to tell you but I didn't know if you'd want me to get rid of it because I know we didn't plan for this."

"Darling we didn't plan for the first two." You laughed and Thomas pulled you into his arms, resting his hands on your stomach. "I'd never ever want you to think I'd want you to get rid of our child besides, I love when you're pregnant, your swollen tits, your glowing smile and glowing tummy. I love every part of you Y/N nothing is going to change that. Okay?" You couldn't help the tears that began to stream down your cheeks, that Tommy once again wiped away, and he smiled lovingly at you. You nodded and leaned into his chest. You were going to be okay, and today was more than amazing. It was perfect.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #ranaewrites